#THEIR EARLY WORK WAS A LITTLE TOO NEW WAVE FOR MY TASTE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vanilleandclove · 2 months ago

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we’re chained; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

in your twenties you took a chance at the brooding attending in the emergency department despite your modus operandi of never bringing your personal life into your career. luckily, jack abbot doesn’t either. only until that becomes a problem. key moments in your relationship with mr. jack abbot.

warnings: soft and filthy smut, crying during/ after sex, ptsd, arguments about state of relationship (this is based on an actual convo i had with a man lol), angst, heather and robby situationship, reader has a sister, alcohol consumption- covid, death, anti-vaxx views mentioned, I AM A DOC MARTENS BEX CONNOISSEUR- i hiked in them, trump is unfortunately canon, age gap: reader is mid 20s, jack early 40s. word count: 5.3k notes: situationships are my version of vietnam, listen to solo by frank ocean and hey by the pixies. oh they are so every breath you take by the police. also the reader is canonically a millennial mb.

next - thank you anon

august 20, 2015

“Doctor L/n, how do you treat compartment syndrome?” a voice pulled you out of your thoughts, severely regretting the only four hours of sleep given to you and shots of tequila with a girl you met at a bar down the street from your apartment.

“Fasciotomy with ortho consulting” you answered, the bright white LED lights did nothing to remedy the pounding headache.

“Half correct, do you know why?” Doctor Adamson instigated, he was the senior attending for Pittsburgh Trauma, after seeing the look on your face and four of your colleagues, he chose to answer himself “Trauma surgeons are the bottom of the food chain, work far more hours, earn less, specialize in all- if you’re lucky, you’ll get a consult, other than that, you’re on your own” his eyes bore into you, “Now, Doctor Greene is the surgical mentor for prospective trauma surgeons, he works with me, throughout your residency you will rotate through every specialty, remember, residents do not specialize. You change your path at any time, usually trauma only gets and accepts one fellow. Since you’re getting a taste of trauma today, your attendings are Doctor Robinavitch and Doctor Abbot, they’ve been attendings for a bit, they rule in my stead” Adamson continued on, “Your shift starts now and ends in 12 hours, best of luck”.

“Chopra and L/n, you’re with me, Sawyer and Tate, you’re with Doctor Robby” Doctor Abbot read off a chart, you and Amina Chopra were the only women in the residency program for both physician and surgical- at least first year wise.

“Jesus it’s like they hire based on looks” Amina turned to you with a smile on her face, “John Hopkins, you?”.

“Boston U” you answered, walking up to Doctor Abbot with her.

“Normally they don’t hand off surgery to us, last week we had the new interns and med students- it was a bit chaotic but since you’re both surgical junkies, I’ll guess you’re used to it” Doctor Abbot explained, “Also, best of luck to you two, upstairs is nothing but a sausage fest”.

Amina laughed a little too prolonged and loud, “Amina Chopra, graduated top 30 at John Hopkins, interned at University of Maryland” she blurted, her eyelashes fluttering.

Doctor Abbot spared a confused glance, tilting his head with feigned curiosity, “And you?” pointing his pen to you.

“Y/n L/n, dual-enrolled in medical school during undergrad at Boston University, interned at Mass-Gen” you confessed, only gaining an impressed look from both of them.

“Explains why your file says 23” Doctor Abbot responded, “Okay, this is Bridget, our charge nurse, she’s filling in for Dana who’s on maternity leave” he pointed as Bridget lightly waved with the phone tucked in her shoulder.

“Stabbing victims from a domestic dispute 6 minutes out” Bridget told him.

“Alright, trauma rooms are usually always available, boarding isn’t as common here unless there’s a holiday or Steelers game” he explained, “Your best friend is going to be these” Doctor Abbot pulled a pair of blades from his front pocket “I carry extra 11 and 15 blades, y’never know when shit is going to hit the fan”.

That was your first impression of Jack Abbot. His first impressed impression of you was when you were the only one who stopped a bleeder in the trauma room, the blood coated your gown and Amina’s face, you took charge of the trauma room as most just stood there.

Then came the nickname, Rambo.

october 20, 2015

“Do you know Pixies Doctor Abbot?” you broke the ice as you walked side by side, the cold air Pittsburgh and your lack of a sweater but mediocre layering did not provide the warmth needed. Your nipples became painfully erect and the slightest graze would bring both pleasure and pain.

“Okay one, we’re off clock just call me Jack” he chuckled, “Secondly of course your Mass-ass would ask that, thirdly, how old do you think I am?” he continued to joke.

The low-rise, tight, dark wash, denim jeans and the long sleeve undershirt with a tight fit short sleeve paired with black Doc Martens Bex shoes intrigued Jack as the past months he’s only seen you in black scrubs and sneakers- or your Bexs, like today. As did the navy blue loose shirt and light wash denim intrigued you. His camouflage backpack slung over his shoulder and your black Jansport knocked each other every other move.

“Okay… favorite song?” you asked, as you both stopped at an ice cream parlor just down the street from your apartment and Jack’s house that was a few blocks further.

“Hey” he answered, “Yours?”.

“Where Is My Mind” you responded, “Favorite band?”. You stared in his eyes as you waited for a response, a group of teenagers were in front of you both ordering.

“Pearl Jam”.

“Spoken like a true old man” you smiled, “Favorite Pearl Jam song?”.

“Uh uh, what’s your favorite band Rambo?”.

“Alice in Chains, my dad bought the Dirt CD when I was born” you answered, “Now?”.

“Trick question, it’s in between Last Kiss or Elderly Woman” he answered, his eyes not leaving yours, just in time for you both to order.

“How can I help you guys today?” the server asked, a smile on her face.

“May I get a double scoop on a cone of rocky road?” you asked, moving over for Jack.

“I’ll take a double scoop on a cone too with pistachio cream and pecan delight please” he answered as he scooted to pay, giving the girl a 10 dollar tip in cash- she almost refused before he insisted.

You continued your walk, the ice cream melting as you walked on. Your nose was cold and red beneath your makeup, you felt it become wet from the temperature. Jack laughed as you raced against the clock to finish your double scoop.

The pizza place next door to your apartment had music playing as couples and families sat together both inside and outside, the song was almost coincidental, Elderly Woman Behind the Counter In a Small Town by Pearl Jam. You smiled, wondering as Jack noticed.

“I guess today’s working in your favor” you looked up at him as he discarded the napkin in his hand. You came to a halt, selfishly wanting to spend more time with him.

He lightly smiled, “I guess so” you both stared into each other’s eyes as Eddie Vedder’s voice sang in the background, you didn’t dare to blink, fearing he’d disappear.

You breath sped up as your heart raced, the cold freezing your hands but Jack’s warmth radiated off of him. A human furnace. You licked your lips as if it was a hint, a hint he gladly took as his hand went up to your cheek to move your hair out of the way, wiping the residue of rocky road from the corner of your lip. His thumb lightly grazed your bottom lip as you internally pleaded for him to take action.

It was instant, as if you were magnetic. A beautiful collision to a supernova, as your lips collided and fought for dominance, you quickly surrendered.

“Come up with me” you whispered against his lips, he held you by your back. He exhaled deeply, craving you.

It took five minutes to get to your unit and crash on your couch with him, you were on top of him, legs on both sides of his waist as his hands found purchase underneath your shirts.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked in between kisses, Jack nodded against your lips as he unclipped your bra, his thumbs grazing your hard nipples, gaining a moan from you.

“Are you sure you want this?”.

“I’m not a virgin if that’s what you’re getting at” you backed up, grabbing the lower hem of your shirts to take off, shrugging your bra off with it and throwing them across your small living you, the look on Jack’s face was one of hunger. “Why?”.

“You can always back out if you want” he told you, groping your tits once more as he pulled you down to suck on your nipples. He felt the clench of your pussy through his jeans as his leg and prosthetic supported you.

You backed away in order to take off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body and freckled, scarred skin. Tales of war and life littered his torso, you only got more and more turned on from seeing him beneath you. You moved off in order to take off your jeans, the denim sticking to your skin. Jack sat up, taking your hips into his hands as he looked at your thin cotton panties, and the damp spot that formed. He kissed your navel, hipbones and thighs, purposely withholding your aching pussy. Your hands found their way to his curled brunette- a tad ginger hair that had a few greys peaking in, squeezing his nape as his mouth covered your pussy over your panties.

Moans flower out of your mouth as instinct, pulling at the loose curls in the back of Jack’s head, earning a groan from him. His fingers crawled up to the hem of your underwear, pulling them down to reveal your glistening lips. He looked back up to you, your eyes watering from the tiniest amount of pleasure his tongue gave you. He stood up, jeans still on his body as his cock strained against the denim. Your hand cupping him, a smirk gathered on your face.

You walked him to your bedroom that overlooked the sidewalk, you drew your curtains before sitting down on the edge of your bed. You undid his belt, just about to pull his jeans down, his hand stopped you. A wave of insecurity followed upon Jack as his prosthetic got caught on the denim, he shook it off as he proceeded to take off his jeans, slinging them on the floor with his foot. His briefs revealed the hard-on you had given him, his hands going to take it off once more. Your legs screwed shut in a mix of fear and sexual frustration.

Jack’s bigger than the other men you have taken. Way bigger. Girth wise you almost prayed in solidarity for your vagina.

“You okay?” he breathed, gaining a nod from you, his hand cupped your cheek, angling your head up, “Say it”.

“I’m okay” you answered, you were hungry, feverish even.

He satiated your thirst and hunger, again and again. Not a care for your neighbors, your bedsheets, your apartment that smelt like candle wax that drizzled down your bodies, the sun that peaked through in the morning as he took his leave while you slept.

Leaving you confused with a significant ache between your thighs and knees.

october 31, 2015

Jane Doe was all you could get from the 29 year old woman who was hit by a drunk driver at an intersection, it was 10 pm and already overtime. Except you were the one who volunteered to be oncall last week.

You were stubborn she could be brought back even despite her organs failing. She was the same age as your sister.

“L/n it’s a lost cause, step aside” Abbot’s stern voice broke through your ears as you kept on resuscitating the young Jane Doe, “Doctor L/n step down” he pressed further, attempting to grab your hand to pull you off only to be elbowed in the nose. Your ears kept ringing and you couldn’t differentiate the flatline from the minor tinnitus, “Fuck” he groaned, just before he locked your arms above your head.

The flatline blared out in the room as it was just you, Jack, and Jane Doe, your face red with anger and resentment, just as red as the blood that gushed out of Jack’s nose. Jack reached over above your head to trigger the alarms to silence, you were the first to make a sound, a sucked in breath followed by a light wail.

Was it the dead woman who reminded you of your sister? The fact that Jack fucked you 11 days ago and has since ignored you profusely? The overwhelming flow of trauma the past hour that has since died down? Or was it you? You and your inappropriate feelings for your attending that surfaced when he kissed your forehead as you came, the feelings when he kissed your breasts and fondled them like no man ever did, when he stared into your eyes as his thumb and index finger pinched your clit with precision as he other hand was occupied in your throbbing heat. The vibrant hickeys that have now faded to a whisper of what they once were.

“Go home” Jack stated, pulling you away from your thoughts, “I’ll have you reassigned by the turn of the week” he cleared his throat.

You shook your head, “I’m finishing my shift and getting the fuck out of here” you wiped your tears and pushed the doors wide open, finding solace in an empty patient room.

Then the curtain was pulled back by none other than Robby, “Do I even wanna know why Abbot’s bleeding and you’re crying like a puppy just died?”.

Your throat was burning and sore, the eyeliner that coated your waterline was smeared and running. You pressed your lips into a tiny line, “It’s nothing” your emotions forbade you from speaking any higher, or even adequately communicating.

“Doctor Greene wants you to scrub in for thoracotomy, you sure it’s nothing Rambo?” his eyebrow raised, “You did good tonight, if anything, we learned a lot from you”.

You nodded as a way of thanking him before getting up from the bed you sat on, the world kept spinning even after the one-night stand of your life.

december 20, 2015

“Well honey how’s residency going?” your mom asked, “Meet anyone?” She was wrapping presents as Notting Hill played in the back.

There was Jack, who you’ve had the displeasure of working with the past week. He grilled into you hard, only for two days ago, he took you into the supply closet and fucked you. Neither of you spoke of it, you had a bruise on your ass from the metal digging into your skin, Jack’s hand gripped onto the railing and bent the metal.

“It’s going well I think, Amina is nice we go

out every Friday for celebratory drinks. We’re the only female first years”.

“You’re hiding something” she pointed out, seeing your cheeks flush, “Who’s the guy?”.

Motherly intuition.

“There is no guy- at least officially”.

“Y/n! Please tell me you’re being safe about it” she sighed in disbelief, chuckling lightly.

“I am! We are!” you confessed.

You sent nudes to him, the dirtiest shit imaginable. He left his dog tags at your apartment yesterday before he left, today you wore them and sent a photo with just them on. Put him in a frenzy for hours. By Christmas he was begging you to come back to Pittsburgh as soon as possible.

The first time you spent the night at his house was December 26, 2015, he picked you up from the airport. A little hurt by the fact that he’d go out of his way just for sex. Work and interpersonal relationships only cloud the mind you kept telling yourself.

july 4, 2016

You never mentioned or asked about Jack’s years in the Marines, afraid it wasn’t your place.

So, in Independence Day fashion, after work you let him stay at your apartment. The firework show took place next to your apartment, you had bought ear plugs just in case.

It wasn’t the firework show that freaked him, if anything it sent off his heart to beat a little faster but nothing too serious. It was the illegal fireworks people threw while he was deep inside of you.

“Don’t stop please” your nails dug into his back, eyes rolling back, your window was open for fresh air just as you heard a whistle. You turned your head, hearing the sound whistle come from outside, paying no mind as you were just about to cum.

Just as an M-80 bursted in the air setting off car alarms in the surrounding area and for Jack to immediately pull out of you and shield your head.

He stood there, guarding you as another M-100 and some firecrackers went off. When you tried to move he gripped your arm immediately, tightly, his brain was on autopilot.

“Jack let go please” you pleaded, his hand was gripping onto your bone at that point and it hurt, “Jack” you repeated, his pupils blown out and his skin began to sweat as his breathing became uneven.

You couldn’t move neither could he, you wrapped your hand around the one that gripped your arm painfully, staring into his eyes even if he couldn’t concentrate or control himself. The feeling of your hand led him to grip onto your shoulder tightly, painfully.

And for the first time, Jack frightened you.

“Jack” you whispered, your eyes swelling up with tears even as you fought it off, the death grip he had on your arm and shoulder hurt. “C’mon come back to me” you pleaded, then you figured it out. “Hey Siri, play Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in A Small Town by Pearl Jam” you announced, your phone luckily catching it as the song played softly, enough to be heard.

You tried to lean in for a kiss only for Jack to regain control from the familiarity. Bruises starting to form on your arm and shoulder, you thought nothing of it as he came back to you.

jack’s 40th birthday - 2017

The first time Jack let you in was the night of his 40th, he had gone out with Robby and some other friends to a sports bar. By the end of the night you were on his mind.

Not the fact that you bypassed his alarm system and stood in his kitchen at 1 am the night of when he got home in nothing but aquamarine lingerie with a cupcake and candle in hand.

He smiled at the sight and craziness, as much as he did crave you, he was tired. So instead of sex, you put on his spare clothes and cuddled up on the couches watching a replay of the Pirates v. Cubs that you missed. He played with your styled hair, as your legs intertwined with each other, the cool metal sending goosebumps all over your skin.

He thought you were asleep when he said I love you.

You weren’t but, you also knew about the amount of beers in his system and the fact that you weren’t dating. Just fucking with a few extra steps.

Though the next morning you made sure to put the aquamarine lingerie to good use.

january 20, 2018

The first big argument you had was just as your residency was about to end and you had to apply to fellowships across the nation, you knew you’d get the Pitt guaranteed, you were the only one that stuck to trauma. But it was the formality that you were following.

So when Jack found out you had offers on the East Coast and not once told him, he flipped out when you stayed the night.

“Jack, it's my career!” you shouted, you first started fighting in the backyard patio, now you were both in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, the towels from the shower you both took hung on your body, “It’s a formality to apply- they pay me to go there and tour”.

“I just don’t see why there’s a need” he shook his head as he spat out the toothpaste.

“Bullshit, when you were in my place you applied elsewhere too” you raked your fingers through your hair, you felt like shit, like he was undermining your career that you built for yourself, “There’s a need because I’m gifted Jack, you were once in my shoes, I would think you’d be more understanding than this”.

“I am understanding, what I don’t get is why that far?”.

“It’s not binding for fucks sakes” you repeated yourself for the past hour, now you were at your wits end, “I’m not staying to fill some sort of void within you Jack, if I stay it’s for the betterment of myself and my career”.

You wanted to break him for making you feel like you were betraying him from a possibility. To make him feel what he was making you feel. Only thing was you were breaking both of you, not for the greater good, not for yourself or him, for approval that you were enough.

All he could give was a nod, he walked out of the en-suite. Grabbed a few clothes to throw on and slammed the dresser and door. You followed suit as he put shoes on and went to the key rack.

“Where are you going?”.

“I need a breather” he curtly replied, not sparing a glance at you once, a faint sniffle emitted from him.

“And that’s where?”.

“If you thought for even a second that this” he pointed between both of you, “Was filling a ‘void’ within me you’re completely fucking mistaken” he cursed, “I’m leaving, you can go to California for all I fucking care”.

You scoffed in his face, refusing to break, “What did you even want from this huh?” you egged on, “Sex and ‘I love you’s’ without any form of attachment? You lead me on 3- almost 4 years and keep me here ‘cuz I’m good fuck?”.

“We agreed to this!” he became irritated, “You’re the one who insisted that a relationship is only going make it complicated just for sex to be fucking complicated” his blood ran hot, “I have been willing to spare my feelings to cater to you and your lack of commitment with this, now you want to leave”.

“It’s a fellowship Jack! It’s a year!” you groaned, “I didn’t think you needed titles and stone cold definitive answers for you to know I love you” you blurted. You never once told him you loved him, whenever he told you he was under the impression you were asleep or unaware.

He was stunned at first, “I can’t do this right now with you” he continued on with leaving.

You wouldn’t see him for another four hours, by the time it reached 12 am you were worried he got into a bar fight, car crash, got shot in an accident- you were paranoid beyond words and reduced to tears.

When Jack came back home he shot you a text, ‘Come outside’. It was freezing and you still went anyway, seeing him sit on his truck bed opening in his driveway.

You took the spot next to him, shivering slightly. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in my life since…” Jack trailed on, “I want you to further your career, I want you to accomplish fucking feats in trauma surgery. Just as much as I want to go home with you or to you. I can’t be selfish about it, but I am, and it’s not fair to you”.

“I want to stay”.

“But-“.

“I want to stay” you repeated, “It’s not entirely because of you, it’s because of this” you used your finger to draw a circle in the air, “As of right now they’re are 7.6 billion people in this world and only one of them I can be everything I want to be with” you cheekily confessed, “So it’s ‘but’ nothing. I’ve been wanting to be with you since I met you. I just thought people would think it’s preferential treatment and I fucked my way up”.

“I can’t hold you back”.

“You’ve taught me enough to blow those fucking boards and competency exams through the roof- I mean I did a lot of the work but you are quite the teacher” you responded, “Plus, when you’re frail and old we can go to California”.

Jack laughed, you spent the rest of the night cuddling, just before you lightly slapped him for worrying you.

december 24, 2018

It was your first Christmas together. You told your parents there was no possibility of you being able to go, the ED is always swamped during the holiday season. You and Jack had a promise to keep: home by 1 am, warm shower together then presents and maybe sex unless you both crash.

It was 11 pm and your hand was deep in a man’s chest cavity, “Push another round of epi” you demanded, Greene nowhere to be found, you were just a fellow, technically not fully authorized to perform surgery especially in a trauma room.

“Okay no everyone stop, push local anesthesia, I’m going in, I need new gloves and protection glasses now” you demanded, getting a few looks from the interns.

“Y/n cardio is swamped, now’s not the time for a cardiac ablation, especially here” Princess muttered to you, you looked up.

“Seal off the doors, I want only authorized personnel in here only, call Greene, tell him I’m doing a cardiac ablation, our patient has an irregular heartbeat, I need to control that before anything else, I’m going to close him up” you instructed, “Princess please get me a catheter with electrodes”.

“Abbot has them next door” she responded, you looked at the nurse on the phone.

“Call Abbot and tell him I need a catheter with electrodes immediately, he’s authorized to come in”.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Jack cursed under his breath as he made his way downstairs, seeing you close up the Santa impersonator. “Cardiac ablation?”.

You nodded, “Patients stable and closed up, Jesse cut off his pants for me” you told him.

“Can I stay to watch?” he breathed your neck, handing you the catheter.

“Not too close or else I’ll be sticking this in you” you murmured back, Jack took his place next to the monitors.

“I need all the interns to the back, you may not get any closer than that, if you’re paged I’ll clear it later” you shouted, Princess handed you your 11-blade as well as moved the stray pieces of hair.

You made the incision on the groin, inserting the catheter while applying cryoablation. As the scar tissue formed, his arrhythmia stopped completely and he was stabilized, you did it within 10 minutes in complete silence.

“I know you did not just perform surgery unauthorized in a non-sterile trauma room” Gloria’s voice boomed none less than a minute after, the entire floor heard her grilling into you.

All you could do was laugh at it, you saved a man’s life and cured his arrhythmia, he was conscious before your shift ended and gave his thanks, luckily, he didn’t need a pacemaker. He did guarantee that when and if you have kids, he’ll be glad to be Santa for them.

The drive home was quiet as it was 3:40 am in Pittsburgh, snowing and windy. Jack and you took separate cars and he made it home before you. You cursed today as your back and feet hurt, you bruised your hand twice over, and you missed the celebration with Jack.

When you parked next to Jack’s truck in the driveway, the garage being a mess from the Christmas bins being everywhere, you could almost crash, but you’d prefer Jack’s warmth over suffocating in a car so you opened the garage door and went inside.

Greeted with candles and rose petals all over the place as Frank Sinatra’s rendition of The Christmas Song played. You could cry right then and there when you turned your head to face the living room, seeing the fireplace burn and the Christmas tree lit.

Jack’s hands found their way to your coat, startled for a second from wondering where the hell he came from. He took it off, hung it on the coat rack and let you walk through the house.

“There’s a bath drawn with your name on it Rambo” he whispered in your ear as he ghosted a kiss on your neck, you giggled from not having heard that nickname in over a year. “After we can drink that wine you’ve been talking about the past week, open a few presents…”.

“Wait for me?” you whispered back.

“Always”.

You didn’t make it to open presents, falling asleep on the couch on top of Jack after two glasses of wine. Thankfully, that didn’t become a tradition, you made it a habit to take day shifts during holidays. The next year he gave you an all-inclusive spa membership, you got him a new grill. It was a quiet moment for you both every year, a comforting quiet moment.

august 20, 2020

“You’re working tonight baby?” you questioned, as you poured two cups of hot cocoa for Jack’s niece and nephew. Jack placed a kiss on your cheek.

Since the pandemic, you were hardly working, they strictly put surgical teams as oncall only as a safety measure. But you saw the strain on Jack. So when his brother insisted on breaking lockdown protocols and having his children stay over, he was displeased and stressed.

“Yeah, Adamson’s not doing well, Robby wants me to rotate out with him” he told you, “I think him and Collins are a thing” he chose to gossip.

You scoffed, “After all the shit he gave you for being with me he does that? At least we were in different departments but they better hope no one finds out” you then added, “But I do love Heather so good for him”.

Jack smiled before looking at you a tad bit more seriously, “I may be back tomorrow or in two days, you think you can drop them off at my brothers?”.

“Yeah might just force them to get vaccinated too” you tried to lighten the mood, “Seriously they’re the first to come to you for medical advice but when it comes to preventive medicine they get psyched out” you sighed.

“Trust me I know” he shook his head, there was a comfortable pause between the two of you, one of knowing and begging to be safe, “I love you”.

“I love you” you replied before kissing him, “Stay safe please hon” he bid his farewells to his niece and nephew who were engulfed in monopoly on the island counter.

When he came home, he broke the news about Adamson, spent the day holding you in bed as his brother bit the bullet and picked the kids up. You were worried about Jack’s health with the sleepless nights, he insisted you were becoming stir crazy. The next week you had six surgeries, Greene would’ve assisted you but he retired the month before, leaving the trauma department to you.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot angst #the pitt #michael robinavitch #the pitt x reader #x reader #shawn hatosy #vanilleandclove

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deceptive-daydreams · 11 months ago

Text

I Want Your Midnights

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

A New Year’s party at the mansion where you and Logan pretty much sneak away to dote on each other

Contains: Tooth-rotting fluff, drinking, allusions to sex, slight angst for like 2 seconds

This is just a cute little thing I thought up but also this is my first time writing for Logan, pls be gentle.

Champagne lingered on his tongue, you could taste the slight bitterness and nearly recreate the bubbly fizz you’d basked in just minutes ago. Since then, it had been teeth clashing together mixed with endless kisses and large hands pawing at your dress. He’d been scooping up handfuls of you like he’d never get enough, like it’d never satiate his hunger, his pure desire for you.

Maybe it was the tipsy haze you’d found yourselves in but the corner of the party quickly became your paradise, an island meant only for the two of you while everyone else counted down the seconds. They gathered in front of the TV with their champagne flutes in hand, seeking the ones they’d kiss and embrace into the new year.

Meanwhile you’d started early, nipping on one another’s lips, noses squished to cheeks, fingers tangled in hair. “Be right there” turned into a false statement, a lie you told to Rogue when she waved you both over into the family room. You didn’t mean to lie, it’s just that gravity kept you in Logan’s lap, rendering you useless and unable to recall the proper motor skills to carry yourself into the other room.

Logan grinned, an uncontrollable thing that he’d deny anyone else saw should they ask the following day. And before you could tease him, all smiley and eyes crinkled, he nuzzled into your cheek, nearly purring like a well fed cat but rather than food, your attention kept him beyond satisfied.

“Happy New Year.”

At this he rolled his eyes, more playful as opposed to his usual standoffish self. Always more playful in your presence.

Remnants of a deep rouge painted his upper lip, the color bleeding into his skin, coating some of his stubble. As your thumb trailed along his scratchy jaw, you admired your unintentional artistry, hints of red that just belonged.

He was too handsome for his own good, so much so that you’d taken it upon yourself earlier in the night to undo the top buttons of his shirt. A miniscule gesture that warned him of your intentions for later, a means to tease but done so elegantly in the plain sight of party guests and your closest friends.

He’d caught your wrist then, a delicate yet firm hold as he muttered “Careful, doll.” Your face had gone hot, flustered under his dark, heavy-lidded gaze.

That’s how you’d ended up in the corner, taking it upon yourselves to give into the hunger taunting you both in the midst of lurking eyes, marveling at him, at The Wolverine, soft and pliable in your possession.

Tame.

Only you would be able to gently tuck a glass of champagne into his large hand that usually clung stubbornly to a beer. Only you could so nonchalantly place it in his hold without a single gripe. And it drew the attention of nosy acquaintances and even well loved friends as they stared.

Logan didn’t care for staring.

It wasn’t lost on you that he was so used to the universe working against him, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, just patiently welcoming disaster as if it were an old friend, as if it’s all he’d ever known. Cause it was. But with you, there had finally been peace and that terrified him.

He didn’t have to say it. You just knew.

Intimacy scared him, getting close scared him. And it took attempt after attempt to even scratch the surface of his ever-bleeding heart, to even begin to bandage it up and create some sort of healing process because prior to you, liquor had been his chosen antidote for life’s tragedies.

After several lingering stares, you could feel the way he’d tensed up. He hated attention like this, didn’t know what to do with it other than scowl and storm off. Which is why you lured him into this particular corner before his thoughts could get to him and yank him out of his content state, soon to banish him back to his room where he could fester.

Now you had him right where you wanted him, pink cheeked and kiss bitten, gazing at you through his eyelashes like the flirt you knew he could be. A warm hand rested on your hip, thumb tracing the fabric of your dress again and again, almost to soothe himself rather than you.

“What, you’re too manly man to say it back?” You taunted, dropping your voice an octave to mimic him. Then, all too sweetly you batted your lashes, “Aren’t you gonna wish me a Happy New Year?”

“You’re a brat.”

You only pouted, overdoing it as you puckered your bottom lip the farthest it could go, eyebrows raising unnecessarily high. You were always so much more expressive than him, something that pulled laughs from deep within his belly if he wasn’t careful. Earning a true Logan laugh had become the highest honor, it only ever happened in the solitude of your room when you’d pull the most ridiculous jokes out of your ass that made no sense whatsoever but left him hunched over gasping for air. It didn’t help if he was sleep deprived either, which was usually the case when he’d show up to your room in the dead of the night.

No one knew about the Logan laugh, no one but you and you’d keep that like an oath. He rarely let his guard down but you’d been able to coax him out from behind the walls he built.

Playing with the hair at his nape, you leaned in, whining “Am not!”

Logan hummed, his forehead pressing against yours. “That so?” To which you hummed back, lovesick in the eyes.

From the other room, the chorus of counting echoed against the walls, the remaining ten seconds of the current year before the slate would be wiped clean. Logan never believed any of that shit, he’d complained about so called “new starts” and “resolutions”, how they were false hope. And yet he’d attended the party anyway, because although he didn’t believe in any of it, you did.

“3…2…1…”

“Happy New Year, Logan.” You tried again, gently molding your lips to his.

Rather than recite the words back, he cradled your head in one hand, the other cupping your face while he deepened the kiss, something passionate and dizzying. Something so unlike the animal the world made him out to be.

Truth be told, being an animal happened to just be a piece of him, a piece that you’d never ask him to downplay or rid himself of. But in moments like these, that animal surrendered to a more domesticated side, submissive in some manner, in a means of absolute devotion to his person.

He’d been hard headed and mean, you couldn’t lie and say he’d never been harsh with you before he let you in, but the harder you tried the harder he found it to push you away. He knew the moment you cracked him and burrowed into his skin, into the cavern of his ribs where his cold heart rested, would be the moment he realized it was the beginning of the end for him. For as many wars as he had been in, the most violent had been love each and every time.

Logan fought hard.

But he loved even harder.

Instead of reciting the words back to you, he’d offered you something far more endearing. He pulled away ever so slightly, a strand of saliva still connecting you, nose nudging into yours as his thumb caressed the highest point of your cheek. His eyes regarded you with such admiration, a spark in them only he permitted you to witness.

“I love you.”

—

Well into the early hours of New Year’s Day, when the party had died out and girls were wandering around like zombies with their heels hanging off their fingertips, you and Logan had snuck into the kitchen. Just as everyone was wrapping up their festivities, you two had only just begun as you reached for some cold slices of pizza and sat atop the counter across from each other.

“Tired yet?” Logan asked as you yawned, a knowing smirk on his face.

Releasing your hair from the confines of your perfectly imperfect hairstyle, you smiled lazily, confirming “Exhausted. Just exhausted.”

“Gettin’ old like me.” He teased.

Again, you pouted, an exaggerated plump lip jutting out toward him as you hopped off the counter, collecting empty bottles on your way to throw out a pizza box.

“No one’s old like you.” You quirk a brow.

“Ouch.” He smiled, finishing off his beer and following your lead, collecting the remaining empty bottles.

You didn’t bother turning around to see him grinning but you knew by his tone, the unmistakable sound of his upturned mouth. “Oh, you’re my old man and you know that.” With a sigh, you tie off a garbage bag, hiking it over your shoulder before you feel the weight of it disappear, instead a gentle hand lingers on your waist.

“Watch it, princess.” He warns, giving your hip a squeeze before swatting at your ass, passing you to take the garbage out. And as your lovesick eyes hold him in your sight for as long as possible, he opens the door with a wink before stepping out into the cold.

In his absence you busied yourself with tidying up the rest of the kitchen, discarding party horns and kicking balloons out into the hall. It was Storm’s idea to go all out this year, usually you’d settle for a slumber party to ring in the new year but she’d insisted that there was change to be had and a majority of the others agreed. It wasn’t often that Charles would allow for loud, extravagant parties but with a few ground rules, everything came to life.

Now it appeared as if the house was empty although it was anything but as everyone had relocated upstairs to pass out for the night. A few individuals lingered in the family room, snores faintly heard down the hall as you chuckled to yourself.

A pile of confetti on one of the counters caught your eye, underneath it appeared to be a collection of polaroids, the ones Rogue had been taking all night of everyone. They had been temporarily forgotten amongst celebrations and toasting but come tomorrow they would showcase precious moments printed in time that everyone would treasure.

One in particular pulled a gasp from you, the kind that made your heart ache in the best way possible. Right before your eyes on glossy paper was the tender moment between you and Logan in your secluded corner, or what you had thought to have been secluded at the time. You sat in his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck while he gazed up at you with adoration dripping from his expression. Both of his large hands held your waist and it seemed you were talking his ear off. The moment seemed so fragile, your cautious fingers holding it by the corner.

Just as your eyes well up with unprecedented emotion, familiar lips press against your temple, strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

“What do we have here?” Logan murmurs into your skin, “Most sexy woman alive taking pity on the old man-“

“Shut up.” You laugh wetly as you turn in his arms to push at his chest, still holding onto the photo like a delicate artifact. At this rate it would have to be pried out of your cold, dead hands.

Logan’s brown eyes softened on you, his knuckles reaching up to brush your cheek before asking, “What’s wrong, bub?”

What he failed to realize was that nothing had been wrong at all. In fact, it was the total opposite. For once everything had been exactly how it should be. You were right where you should be. Years of trying to fit in meant nothing to you when you fit so effortlessly right in his arms, right by his side, just with him.

“Nothing.” You whispered. And meant it this time.

#logan howlett #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader

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beenbaanbuun · 1 year ago

Text

nudes w/ yunho

words - an amount

genre - smut

warnings - nudes, dom!yunho, degredation, finger sucking, masturbation

——————————————————————————

A smirk grew on your face as you read over the text you’d just received from your boyfriend.

‘Can you stop sending me nudes?’

You sat there in your lace underwear set, a wet puddle forming between your thighs as you thought about all the things he’d do to you once he was home. He was very big on punishments, much to your enjoyment. Sometimes, you went out of your way to annoy him, just so you could spend the night under him as he played with your body as if it was his own personal toy.

‘Why?’ You shot back, fingers slowly making their way down to your core. Technically you weren’t supposed to play with yourself without Yunho’s permission, but what he didn't know wouldn’t hurt him. And if he did know? Well, it's not like the consequences would be anything you wouldn’t be more than happy to deal with.

‘I’m at work, Sweetheart.’ Despite his kind words, you knew that he was seething. You could see him when you shut your eyes. Jaw clenched and eyebrow raised as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. Just thinking about his anger made another wave of desire surge through you. As you trailed your fingers around the edge of your panties, you couldn’t help but notice another gush of slick coming from your twitching hole. God, you couldn't wait for Yunho to get home.

‘I just wanted to show you my new panties.’

Your fingers made their way beneath the soft material and your breath hitched as your fingers caught on your clit. A breathy moan made its way up your throat as you toyed with the little nub for a moment or two, gently rubbing circles before pinching it lightly. You imagined it was Yunho, but your hand felt completely different to his. It was smaller for a start, and you could never play with yourself in the same way he did. He could make you squirm in a way you didnt even think was possible.

If making you cum was an art, your boyfriend had mastered it. You, on the other hand, were still learning, and bringing yourself to the edge was much harder than he made it seem. Even on those nights that he simply refused to touch you, inspecting you carefully from across the room with a smug smirk, it was so much easier for you to cum. At least then there was a firm voice instructing you where to move your fingers, whether to add more or less pressure, and exactly when to do so. Now, you felt lost. Without the presence of Yunho, there was no hope for you.

The initial pleasure soon dissipated and in its place came disappointment. You were just aimlessly touching your clit now, a frown present on your face as you pleaded with whoever was up there that Yunho would come home from work early. You were certain that all you needed to cum was a firm hand and a deep voice to push you to your limits.

Yet even with your lack of ability to push yourself to the edge, it wasn't until your phone chimed that you actually removed your fingers from your panties. You brought them up to your face, carefully studying the way they shimmered with your slick. You spread your middle and your index fingers, watching as your arousal stretched between them like a spider's web on a dewy summer’s morning. It was pretty, in some sort of weird, erotic way, and you couldn’t help but admire it. Not for long though, a thought suddenly striking you and pulling you from your trance; Yunho would make you lick them clean.

That’s all it took for you to guide them to your awaiting mouth. You pushed them to the back of your throat, almost gagging on them before you closed your lips around them. It didn't taste particularly exciting - you were all too familiar with the taste of yourself by now- but it reminded you of your boyfriend nonetheless. Of all the times he’d choked you with his long fingers after pulling them from your creamy hole. So with a smile on your face, you circled your tongue around your fingers, sucking all of your slick off of them.

As you did so, you lifted your phone up to your face, and read the latest message from Yunho.

‘You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, Sweetheart.’ You had to grin because yes, you did. In fact, it was the knowledge of what he may do to you that led you to orchestrate this whole situation. You wanted Yunho to dominate you, and you wanted it bad. The lack of power as he controlled your mind, body and soul tempted you like nothing else. The way he can so easily seize control of you, reducing you down to nothing but his puppet was something you desired to no end. It was as peaceful as it was exciting, hushing your mind until there was nothing left but him.

So yes, you knew exactly what you got yourself into.

‘Hurry back before I cause any more trouble.’ It took you a while to type it out with only your non-dominant hand, but Yunho waited for your reply anyway. The moment it sent, you spotted the three little dots that let you know he was typing. It felt good to know that you had him wrapped around your little finger, just like he had you.

‘Already on my way.’

The words popped up onto your screen and you grinned, knowing that he’d soon be there to take care of you. You turned your phone face down on the bed and closed your eyes, simply letting yourself relax into the buzz of excitement that flowed through your body.

———

It took Yunho a little over 30 minutes to get home, by which time, you'd fallen asleep. It was no secret that over the years you spent with your boyfriend, you'd developed a little bit of an oral fixation, specifically when it came to his hands. Having his fingers pressed to your tongue always seemed to put you even deeper into a submissive headspace; despite your fingers not comparing to the length, girth or warmth of his own, they still helped you relax deep enough for you to fall into a quiet slumber.

“Jesus, Sweetheart,” were the words that woke you. Deep and smooth as always, coming from the man you loved most in the world. He sounded like chocolate, making you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “After all that, you’ve passed out on me. Couldn’t even wait a few minutes for me to come home, hm?”

You mumbled something. Nothing of any particular meaning, but it made your boyfriend coo anyway. He always found you cute when you first woke up.

“If you’d behaved earlier, I might have let you sleep,” He said, and through your sleepy haze, you recognised the familiar condescending tone he usually used when the two of you were in bed together. Despite the fact that your brain was still coming to terms with being awake, you could still feel the ache in your pussy kick in again. “Unfortunately, my sweet girl isn't so sweet after all. Nasty little whore needs teaching a lesson.”

You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him access to the place that you so desperately wanted him. The display made him let out a low chuckle, which in turn made your hips buck slightly. Just the sound of his voice was enough to drive you crazy with need.

“Yun,” you whined, the words coming out jumbled, your fingers still pressed firmly down on your tongue. Only now did you crack your eyes open wide enough to get a good look at him. He was all dressed up in his dress shirt and slacks, sleeve rolled up to his elbows and hands in his pockets. He looked just as handsome as he did ‘in-charge�� and you loved every second of it.

“She speaks,” He squatted down so that his face lined up with yours. You couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked with those long black bangs sitting on his brow bone and that cruel glint in his eye that warned you of just how much trouble you were in. “Shame you can’t use that brain to follow instructions, huh?” The question was rhetorical, but you nodded anyway.

You felt a warm hand wrap around your dominant hand’s wrist and pull. With a pop, your fingers were finally free from your wet cavern, but not for long. You watched with the utmost interest as Yunho opened his own mouth and encapsulated your fingers inside. He hummed deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tasted your spit on your fingers. His tongue moved on its own, lapping at the appendages as if your saliva was going to be his last drink. It felt so dirty, but he didn't even blink an eye. It's as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You never knew that your fingertips were an erogenous zone, but the feeling of his tongue trailing along them only served to make you wetter. You squeezed your thighs together, ignoring the painfully loud squelch as you did so. Your panties were embarrassingly soaked, but you couldn't help it. Not when Yunho was acting like the embodiment of temptation itself.

“You taste so sweet,” he mumbled as he pulled his mouth off of you. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn't help but notice that his pupils were blown out, lust taking over his face entirely. You couldn't see yourself, but you were almost positive that you were faring no better. “And that's why you’re my sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You gave him a sleepy giggle as he went back to lapping at your fingertips with the tiniest of kitten-licks. His tongue danced along them, dipping in between and swirling around the tips.

“I love you, Yun,” the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. He smiled. A proper smile full of joy and love. It made your heart pitter-patter giddily.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” He leaned forwards to offer you a sweet kiss to the lips. It was short lived, but it made your heart flutter like you were a schoolgirl receiving a letter from her crush. When he pulled away, his eyes were much darker, and that fuzzy, gentle feeling was replaced with hard, powerful lust. You swallowed hard as Yunho let a twisted little grin paint his face, “but I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

#yunho hard thoughts #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez smut #yunho x reader

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tooearlyforthis · 1 year ago

Text

Be Mine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (5.8k wc) After what felt like forever pining after her friend, Y/n finally got asked out on Valentine's Day. Or, at least she thinks she did.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, a little angst, no beta this already took too long

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Happy Fourth of July! What better way to celebrate than posting the Valentine's fic I never finished in time cause life is crazy right now?

The coffee shop bustled as the morning sun rose. Locals grabbed their cup of joe before the start of a long work day and while most groaned in protest, Y/n craved it.

The start of a new day and the endless possibilities it might hold excited her. Though, her days almost always ended in the exact same way. She would show up early, order the two coffee orders she memorized years before, and grab a table. Her companion was always late, on the days they drove separately at least.

But still, she arrived at least 10 minutes before their scheduled time. Partly because the morning line could get crazy long, but mostly so she could people watch. Sitting and watching the daily lives of the people in her hometown made her see how vastly different people led their lives.

She could be like Dr. Reinfeld who arrived in the first wave of the morning rush, quick to get his black coffee before running off to surgery. Or she could live more relaxed like Deborah McCallister who worked as a waitress at Enzo’s on Main Street. That woman was always so kind to her, coming over to talk most days.

“And the butcher shop is still going well?” Deborah asked, her hand leaning on the chair opposite Y/n for balance.

Y/n nodded. “Meat won’t sell itself,” she joked.

The older woman laughed, probably a little too hard as she reached for another sip of coffee. Y/n only smiled, offering a small chuckle in return.

“Well it isn’t my two favorite ladies!”

The two women looked over by the door where Steve Harrington sauntered in with a grin. He was wearing a pretty basic outfit. Straight jeans, Nike’s, and a stripped shirt with his Family Video vest over top. But god, did he look good. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the way his hair bounced with every step as he walked over to greet her.

Deborah got to Steve first, engulfing him in a huge hug. “Oh Steven, you look taller every time I see you!” she exclaimed.

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” he told her, pulling away but giving her a wink.

Deborah hit his arm slightly, clearly amused by the young boy. “I have to get going, you two have a lovely morning.”

“You too, Mrs. McCallister,” Y/n replied as the woman left. Steve quickly sat down in her absence, reaching over to grab the coffee Y/n had ordered for him. She knew his order by heart and Steve found that the drink tasted perfect against his tongue. “Wow, suck up.”

He put the drink back down, finishing his last sip with an emphasized gulp. “Hey, I’m not a suck up. The ladies just love me.”

“Oh really?” He took a sip from his cup, agreeing with a hum.

Steve wasn’t wrong, though Y/n would never let him know that. Here she was, knowing him personally for only a few years and she already found herself falling for him. It would never happen, she was sure, and she was fine letting her infatuation stay just a silly crush.

But some days she wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t been babysitting Dustin that day in 1984. If his “pet” hadn’t escaped, if they didn’t look towards Steve Harrington for help. There would be less monsters in her life that was for sure. But then again, she wouldn’t trade it for anything else. She wouldn’t have known Steve had changed; wouldn’t have become close friends with him. And she wouldn’t be sitting in this coffee shop before work, chatting with the only other person in their party who wasn’t in high school.

“How was your night?” Y/n asked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Her and Steve usually got dinner after work if their shifts matched, but last night he had to cancel for some unknown reason.

Steve’s face scrunched at her question, shaking his head vigorously. “Not really a topic I wanna visit right now…how about you?”

What about her? Steve canceled the only night she had been looking forward to in weeks. Her parents were always at work, the kids swarmed with school work. There was nothing but him.

She shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing. “You know, it was fine.”

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” He said it so nonchalantly she almost choked on her muffin. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was February 14th, Valentine’s Day. Y/n felt like her heart skipped a beat as she tried to hide her surprised expression. He just asked her out right? He totally did. “We can have dinner.”

She tried to stay calm, to not seem too eager to say yes. Spending Valentine’s Day with Steve felt like a dream come true. Never in a million years did she think that he would like her back.

“Sure,” she said, trying to stay calm. She looked down at her coffee to try and hide her reddening cheeks. “I would love to.”

“Cool,” Steve replied, not looking at her but rather his watch. “Shit we’re both gonna be late we should go.”

With no other mention of it, no more discussions of the night to come, they left for their respective shifts. But throughout the day, for Y/n at least, she couldn’t stop thinking about the night to come. This date would change everything about their relationship and she couldn’t wait.

Her palms were sweaty. How did she get them to not be sweaty? Turning up the air conditioner in her car, she held her hands out, letting them dry against the air. How was a night like this even happening? She never thought someone like Steve would like her. He had the looks in high school and once he became nicer it was like a package deal.

She spent too long that afternoon getting ready and deciding what to wear. She was nervous because she didn’t know what Steve planned for them. In the end, she decided on a pair of jeans and a low-cut shirt. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to be wearing something like that but it was sure to catch his eye. Walking up to the front door, she dried her hands on her jeans one more time. Then, she knocked.

Steve answered nonchalantly, wearing pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt. Y/n was a little confused. Was this how he showed up to all his dates? Suddenly, she felt overdressed, even when he glanced down at her chest -- the very reason she wore that shirt. Looking away quickly, Steve ushered her inside.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, come on in,” he said. “I ordered a pizza, it should be here soon.”

Nodding, she entered. She had been in the Harrington home so many times before but now it felt different. There were stakes with every step, every interaction could determine how the night would end. She followed him into the living room, watching as he lazily fell onto the couch.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked.

It made her falter for a moment. Here she was with the man of her dreams on Valentine’s Day and they were doing what they would do any other night. He put no effort into it. Nothing to make her feel wanted on the romantic holiday.

“Sure,” she said, sitting down next to him. She placed her bag on the coffee table before leaning back, trying not to get too comfortable.

He put on Fast Times which wasn’t what she would’ve expected for a date, but then again Steve really liked the movie. She tried to enjoy it, tried to think that this date wasn’t letting down every expectation she set for herself. But as the movie went on and Steve’s interest was more in his lap than her or the movie, she felt her last bits of hope slowly fall.

“Is everything okay?” she decided to ask. Figuring that maybe something else would be the root of why this date was so shitty.

He looked up at her with a shrug. “It’s nothing, not something the two of us usually talk about.”

That made her perk up. What was the forbidden subject he was speaking of? “Try me.”

“Are you sure?”

She waved her hands. “Go for it.”

Sitting up, he turned to face her on the couch, crossing his legs in front of him. “It’s just- I went on this date with Nicole on Thursday and it was just another blah date you know? There was nothing special about it and it just got me thinking about if dating is even worth it at this point.”

He kept talking but the words began to muffle as Y/n’s thoughts took over her mind. He went on a date with Nicole. On the day that they were supposed to hang out. And above all this, he’s telling her about it while on a date with her.

Steve went on about finding the one and how he didn’t think it would be possible in the small town of Hawkins but Y/n was focusing too hard on trying not to cry. This wasn’t a date at all. He invited her over on Valentine’s Day to hang out and she had made it out to be her dream come true.

How could she allow herself to think this way? To get so worked up over a friend that she was on the verge of tears? She was frustrated, confused, even embarrassed that she had even assumed he wanted to date her. Y/n wanted to leave, to run out his front door and try to forget like the night had even happened. But still she remained frozen in her seat as Steve rambled on.

When Steve finally stopped, looking at her to answer a question she didn’t even hear him ask, his expression turned worrisome. Tilting his head, he tried to move closer to her. “Hey what’s wrong?”

Why was she still there? Why was she letting herself feel this way? There was nothing stopping her from leaving. She could get up and walk out the front door if she wanted to - and so she did.

Standing up, Y/n grabbed her bag that she placed next to her. “I just remembered,” she said, clearing her throat. “I-I have to help Max with something just— I need to go.”

“O-okay,” he responded warily. Where was this coming from? “Do you need me to walk you to—”

“Nope!” She was already heading toward the door without a second glance. “See you later, Steve.”

The door slammed before he could say more. She didn’t want him to. Didn’t want him to see how she let the tears flow as she walked to her car. How she blasted the music loud on her drive home to distract her. She needed to distance herself from him. This felt like a wake up call, someone telling her to get over him and figure her own shit out before seeing him again.

She wanted to stay friends with him, she really did. But after tonight, she didn’t know how that was possible.

After Y/n stormed out of his house, Steve was confused. She had such a good memory that she never would have forgotten if Max needed help. Nevertheless he watched her go, unable to question her more before leaving.

Steve was supposed to see her the next day anyway, picking her up for coffee before their similarly-timed shifts. But when he knocked on her door that morning, ready to see one of his best friends, he was confused yet again.

“I’m not feeling the best,” she told him. “I’m just gonna drive myself today.”

“Okay do you need—” The door closed before he could finish his sentence. “Anything…” he finished to himself.

Y/n’s behavior for the past two days was so unlike her that Steve began to question everything. What was going on? Did she need help? Did he do something to offend her?

It wasn’t until an hour into his shift a few days later did Robin confront him about it.

“Okay dude,” Robin began. “You’ve been in a sour mood all morning, what's up?”

“Y/n’s been acting weird,” he told her, knowing the two girls were also friends. “I-I don’t know why, I guess I’m just concerned for her.”

“Have you actually tried asking her?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid okay?” He jumped up on the counter, resting his hands on either side of his legs. “She slammed the door in my face last time I tried to talk to her.”

“Sheesh.”

“Yeah, I know. And she hasn’t called me at all. She would always call me at night ya know? On day we couldn’t see each other? I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

The bell in the front of the store rang, indicating someone entering the otherwise empty store. “Well you can ask her again,” Robin told him, motioning to the door where Y/n had just walked in.

He jumped off the counter immediately, fixing his shirt as she walked up to the counter. “H-hey how are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she dismissed, barely making eye contact with him. When she finally glanced up, she was looking over his shoulder. “Robin, would you mind helping look for a tape?”

His coworker glanced at him for a moment before going back to their mutual friend. “Sure, yeah.”

Steve watched as they walked off toward the romance movies leaving him completely dumbfounded. What happened that was so bad she wouldn’t even look at him? As he contemplated to himself how to get his friend back to normal, the front doorbell rang again.

El and Max strode in, giggling to themselves as they made their way in front of Steve. He groaned when he saw them. “What do you two shit heads want?”

“Pump the brakes, dude, we just came in for a tape,” Max said with attitude though he guessed he deserved it.

“We already paid for it,” El chimed in. “Robin said it was here?”

He looked over to where Robin and Y/n had walked off to. Only Robin was visible from behind the shelves and he couldn’t make out a word or what she was saying. By facial expressions alone he could tell they were talking about what was bothering Y/n and it pained him that she wouldn’t tell him any details.

“Earth to Steve?” Max called out, making him realize he had been staring off, not answering the kids in front of him.

“Sorry, uh, I’ll go get it from the back,” he mumbled, walking away.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. But over the past two years of getting to know Y/n, it’s like he couldn’t remember life before her. The air felt lighter with her around, her presence never failing to put a smile on his face.

So when that all suddenly disappeared, it felt like his world was falling apart. He had to know what he did. He had to know how to repair their relationship. Because if he doesn’t, well, he don’t know how he’ll survive.

By the time Steve emerged from the back room where the reserved tapes were kept, Y/n was gone and Robin say chatting with the girls from behind the counter. The stopped talking as he approached.

“Here, girls,” Steve said, sliding the tape across the table.

“Thanks,” El said with a smile. She took the tape, both girls turning to leave.

“Hey, Red,” he called out. Both of them turned around, but Max knew the nickname was directed at her.

“Yeah?” Max said, slightly annoyed. He could tell she just wanted to leave and watch their movie.

“What did Y/n need help with on Saturday?”

Max’s eyes furrowed, her nose scrunching up. “Saturday?” Steve nodded to confirm. “I didn’t see Y/n Saturday, I was with Lucas.”

“Oh,” he said, the pieces forming in his mind. Y/n lied to him. Actually lied. They had never kept things from each other but to flat out lie to get away from him? Steve felt more hurt than ever before. “Never mind, I must be remembering wrong.”

“Okay…” Max said, still confused. Nevertheless, she turned back with El, leaving with their movie.

There was a rage bubbling inside Steve and it felt like he finally reached his boiling point. As the door closed, the bell above it ringing out, he pivoted on his heel to Robin. She was still sitting behind the counter on a stool, looking down at a book she had brought to read during their shift.

“She lied,” he announced.

Robin looked up confused. “Huh?”

“Y/n, she lied to me. When she left my house she said that she forgot she needed to help Max with something but she didn’t. Max said she was with Lucas.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look across his face. He knew her long enough to know she was withholding her opinion.

“She told you, didn’t she? When she came in?” Shrugging, Robin ignored the question. “Come on, what did I do?”

She titled her head at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Steve sighed, hopping up on the counter. He rested his hands on either side of him at the edge. “No, I don’t.”

Rolling her eyes and with an unapologetic tone, she asked,” When was the last time you saw her?”

He shook his head, “Saturday.”

“No, Steve, what was the date?”

Today was the 16th so working backwards….Steve’s eyes went wide. “Shit,” he cursed. “I asked her to hang out on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, dude.”

“Fuck, were we on a date?”

“I mean, her extremely attractive best friend who she’s been in love with for like ever, asked her out on the most romantic day of the year. How was she not supposed to think it was a date?”

Steve rubbed his hands over his face. How could he be so stupid? How could he make such a careless--

“Wait,” he paused, looking up from his hands. “She’s in love with me?”

“Well, yeah,” Robin said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s been crushing on you since forever, did you not know that?”

“Of course I didn’t know that!” He hopped off the counter, surging toward her. Robin’s shoulder shot up in surprise as his hands landed on her knees. “I-gosh I messed up, Robs. Big time.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she replied, pushing his hands off of her.

He stumbled back, raking a hand through his hair. To think, one of his closest friends liked him, and he was oblivious. He had been crushing on her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He still remembered it like it was yesterday.

That little shit Henderson showed up at the Wheeler house, forcing him to come look at his basement at the demodog he stupidly was keeping at a pet. Y/n was there, his babysitter apparently. It was already dark out as they approached Dustin’s house, flashlights in their hands as they approached the basement doors.

Y/n was sitting there with her own flashlight, waiting for help as she tapped her foot against the ground. When their lights shined on her, she stood up. Steve felt like the wind was knocked out of him. She was a natural beauty, that was for sure. The way she stood so sure of herself, so confident in every choice she made. It was hard not to fall for her.

And in the days, weeks, years following, she only proved more lovable. She laughed at his stupid jokes, the ones the kids groaned and moaned over. She noticed when he wasn’t feeling well, remembered obscure things he was sure he had only brought up once. Steve had only started dating other girls to distract himself from the fact he could never be with her.

To think not only she liked him back, but they had already been on a date? It made him feel awful in ways he didn’t think possible.

“Rob,” Steve began. “I gotta make it up to her. I-I can’t lose her, she’s the best thing to happen to my life.”

Despite his anguished look, Robin smirked. “I think I have an idea.”

To say Y/n was having a tough week would be an understatement. She didn’t expect the rejection from her best friend to hurt this much. But there she was, a week after Valentine’s day, canceling yet another coffee morning with Steve.

She had barely seen him since that day she stopped by Family Video, and was thankful that she didn’t need to see him in the following days. Work had been borderline unbearable

Y/n had barely been home for five minutes after her Friday shift when there was a pounding at her door. She recognized the banging immediately as Robin - it was not the first time this week she had done this.

“I know you’re home, L/m! I saw your car in the driveway,” Robin said, muffled slightly, by the door.

Sighing, Y/n walked over to the door, swinging it open wide. Her friend was quick to walk in, not waiting for an invitation. “You’re interrupting my ice cream dinner,” Y/n told her.

“No ice cream tonight!” Robin exclaimed. She pointed a out a finger. “No more wallowing over some stupid guy.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “That guy is both of our friends.”

“And he is still stupid. Nance invited me to a party, and you’re going too.”

Groaning, she said, “I don’t think I’m up for that tonight.”

“Well tough luck!” Robin surged forward, pushing on Y/n’s shoulders until she was forced to take a step up the stairway. “You’re going.”

Maybe Robin was right. Maybe a party was what she needed to get back on her feet. A night out with her friends, to get stupidly drunk and take her mind off things for a while. Knowing Robin wouldn’t stop pestering, Y/n reluctantly let her push her up the stairs.

Before she knew it she was dressed, standing outside a house she didn’t know. It didn’t really matter when a party was happening. If you knew there was a party you could show up, didn’t matter if you knew the person hosting it.

It was loud as they squeezed through the propped open front door, music filling their ears at a deafening level.

“Nance and Jonathan said we’d meet upstairs!” Robin yelled over the noise. “We’ll group up there and head down together!”

“Sounds good!” Y/n yelled back, desperately trying to grip Robin’s hand in an attempt not to lose her. The house was so crowded she was afraid if she let go, she wouldn’t find her friend again.

Robin seemed to know her way around the home, quickly navigating to the stairs. They climbed over a couple making out at the base, squeezing to one side to pass people descending from the second floor. The sounds of music grew softer the further up they went, less people making it easier to walk.

They were finally able to speak at a reasonable volume. “She said it was a guest room,” Robin informed Y/n.

She only nodded in response, still blindly following her friend. Robin opened a door, ushering for her to go in first. She was right it was a guest room, and she didn’t like the guest she saw in it.

Steve was perched on the edge of the bed. He was hunched over, playing with his hands as they rested against his thighs. When she walked into the room, she stood up.

Y/n felt all the color drain from her face. She turned around without thinking, trying to find an escape. Robin has already closed the door behind her, locking it. Still Y/n turned the door knob, hoping that with rapid tugging it would magically open - it did not.

She banged on the door with an open palm. “Rob, let me out, you can’t do this!”

“You guys need to talk!” Her friend shouted back, and Y/n knew there was no point in begging an further.

She slowly turned back around, a pit in her stomach. This was not how she wanted to face him. So soon, so suddenly. She tucked her hands behind her back, leaning until she was flush with the door. Looking at him was proving to be harder than she thought, but when she finally gazed up at him, she could see he moved closer. His was still fidgeting with his hands, swaying back and forth between his feet.

“I’ll be back later!” Robin yelled for the last time, footsteps slowly fading from earshot.

“I don’t know why Robin thinks she needs to lock us in a room to get us to speak,” Y/n elected to say, looking back down. Maybe ignoring what she felt would make their problem go away.

Steve scoffed. “Maybe cause you haven’t spoken to me in over a week. When was the last time we went that long without communicating?”

A beat. It was silent, the only sounds coming from the party still raging on outside. Y/n didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, of course, but saying it out loud proved to be too much.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day and I should’ve known better—“

“It’s fine, really,” she said with a shrug, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. The quicker she dismissed the misunderstanding, the quicker they could go on and forget how much she embarrassed herself. “It was stupid of me to assume it was a date anyways.”

When he didn’t say anything return, Y/n looked up. He was looking down at his hands, his eyebrows furrowed as his forehand scrunched down. She knew him well enough to know he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“Ever since Nance,” he began and Y/n thought she could die right there. Of course he was brining up his ex. They were all friends now, sure, but the mention of her in the context of his love life still made her grimace. “Ever since we broke up, it’s been hard for me to see the signs that a girl likes me.”

Oh, this is how he was choosing to let her down easy? She felt her cheeks reddened, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. She would give anything to leave, to run out of this room and never speak about it again. But of course, the door was still locked behind her.

Steve continued. “Even when I was actively on a date or hitting on a random girl at Scoops, I just never got my groove back….I think it’s partly because I was trying to get over you and I thought it would make me feel better.”

Something in Y/n’s brain short circuited as the words left his mouth. “W-wait,” she stopped him. He looked back up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time that night. “You liked me?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a step forward. “I never stopped. Which is why I am so, so sorry for last week. I really hoped when we ever went on a day, I would be smart enough to know that it was one.”

Despite the hurt that he had caused, despite being angry with him for over a week, Y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile form on her lips. A small chuckle came out with it. She looked up at him. He was taller than her, standing a few inches above her own height, but that didn’t inhibit her from looking into his eyes.

“Do you really mean it?” she asked him, her voice soft despite being the only two in the room. “Cause I-I don’t think I can get hurt like that again. You’re one of my best friends and I can’t lose you-“

She couldn’t finish her sentence as he leaned in. The taste of shitty beer filled her mouth as his lips slotted against hers. His woodsy cologne taking over all of her sense of smell. Steve’s hand rested on the small of her back, slightly pushing her into him as his other hand rested against her cheek.

Y/n thought that this is what princesses must feel like when they finally kiss their prince. The overwhelming sense of completion, like they didn’t know a part of them had been missing until that very moment. He took over every sensation of her body, like they were becoming one with every movement of his mouth against hers.

When he pulled away, she couldn’t help but sigh at the loss of contact. Steve’s breath, still strong with beer, was against her as he stared at her from mere inches away. She found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a sentence. By the way he was smiling she knew she was blushing hard.

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, the hand on her back rubbing small circles to sooth her. “I’m yours, okay?”

Y/n smiled again, forcing herself to nod. “Okay.”

“Sooooo,” he began, drawing out his words. “Does this mean you can be my valentine?”

She chuckled, leaning down into his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft against her cheek. She could feel his lips pressed a kiss on her hairline. Gentle, tender, lovingly. Looking back up, she did nothing to hide her smile. It etched across her face, her lips turning upward.

“Yes,” she said, “I’d love to be.”

Their mouths reconnected so quickly, she barely had time to finish her words. She could feel Steve grinning against her mouth as he used on hand to cup the back of her head. The other found its way to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Lips danced in unison, slowly exploring each other’s mouths, but Y/n couldn’t help focus on the growing bulge pressed into her thigh.

Smirking, she pressed further into him. Steve groaned as she practically grinded into him, making him stumble back slightly. But Y/n didn’t stop there. She kept pushing, moving him back until his calves hit the edge of the bed.

It one clumsy motion, Steve fell back, pulling Y/n with him. They both yelped as they hit the mattress, bouncing lightly before their bodies sunk in. Y/n placed a hand above his head to stop herself from falling onto him, her legs on either side of his body. Steve’s hand was still wrapped around her back, now clutching at the fabric of her shirt.

After they finally settled in, the mattress becoming still, they couldn’t help but laugh. Steve’s head fell back as he chuckled, his neck stretching up so enticingly. Y/n wanted to suck there, find what made him tick. That spot that would make him crumble under her touch.

Looking back into her eyes, she said, “I could get used to this view.”

Grinning, Y/n replied, “You and me both.”

She was about to lean forward, to kiss him on the part of his neck she so desperately wanted to feel when she heard the turn of the door lock. Y/n and Steve’s stares shot to the door, watching as Robin began to walk in.

“Okay has everyone made up- oh my god!” Robin covered her face. “My eyes! My eyes!” She shut the door without saying anything more.

Steve groaned, making Y/n turn back to him. He had his eyes closed, eyebrows scrunched as his head fell back against the mattress. “Oh we’ll never hear the end of this,” he said.

Y/n slumped back against the bed next to him, the sheets creasing inward at her weight. “No, I don’t think we will.” She couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m sorry it’s not funny.”

Steve chuckled, tiling his head to look at her. “It kind of is, we almost gave her a heart attack.”Y/n laughed again, pulling a hand up to cover her mouth. “She could use a little scare with all the Vickie shit she put us through.”

“Oh I can still remember those days before their first date.”

“It was like a tornado went through my house.”

As their laughs faded, she couldn’t help but stair into his eyes. They were so beautiful, despite being just a plain brown. To her, they were as rich as the coffee they drank most mornings. As warm as the setting sun when she would get off of a shift, Steve waiting to pick her up in his BMW. She could stare at them for hours on end.

“We…we should probably go back to the party,” Steve said reluctantly. “Before she starts blabbering.”

“Probably,” Y/n replied, though neither of them made a move to leave. They stayed on the bed, laying on their backs. Her arm was basically overlapping his and she could feel the most touch of his finger caressing her own. Looking down the length of his body, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the bulge in his pants. “Will you be okay going back with that?”

He looked down too, realizing what she was talking about. He groaned, like he suddenly remembered the aching problem in his jeans. “Yeah yeah, I just have to think of something sad like hurt puppies or-“

“Or,” she interrupting him, moving closer against his side. She fully clasped her hand in his, bringing up her other to trace a line down the center of his chest. “We can stay up here for a few more minutes. I happen to know a much quicker way to deal with your problem.”

Steve took in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising under her fingers. His eyebrows raised too, like he wasn’t expecting her to be this bold. Without saying anything else, he bolted upright in the bed, making Y/n fall back against the mattress. When she looked up, she saw him running to the door, turning the inside lock to occupied. She giggled at the insinuation, even though she was the one who initiated it.

And as Steve sauntered back over to the bed, leaning over to plant another kiss upon her lips, she couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she was his, and he was hers.

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostolgia @sweetdazequeen @blckburd

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hannahssimblr · 4 months ago

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It’s an innocuous day in January when, for the first time, I realise my life can come apart just like anybody else’s. Like theirs, mine is a seam, a thousand tiny threads holding it firm, an analogy somewhere about a stitch saving time. Or nine. I don’t remember. My mother is too high class to sew her clothes. When they tear or wear at the elbows and knees, she buys more, because people like us don’t need to repair.

Friends at school with fraying cuffs on their uniform sleeves, hems of their trousers unrolled and hanging raw about their ankles. Shirts, a rectangular echo of a pocket on the breast of the thing worn for years after being attacked in the hallways by boys who tore them off for fun. Happened to me too. Inevitable. A rite of passage on my first week of school. I wore a shirt still creased from the packet the next day, because my clothes never had to be old, worn, damaged. When something tore, another one appeared in my room. I was from the big house on Vernon Avenue. I had the PlayStation 2 before everyone else. My clothes were always new.

But this, all of this, is like when Jen’s school trousers ripped up the back the time she tried to climb on the cistern to have a cigarette out the window. The threads had been giving for a while. They just waited until that moment to let her know, in a violent display of embarrassment in front of the girls she was hoping to impress. It’s like when the elastic in your swimming togs gives up one day, falling to bits around your body after months of cooperation, eaten secretly by the chlorine the whole time.

It starts with nothing. A pretzel. The bakery near the university I get my breakfast some mornings. Simple, a bagel and a coffee which I’ll take with me to class. Tuesday, that day. The day I have art history at nine with Steffen, the lecturer that fancies my girlfriend and loathes me. It’s my most dreaded hour of the week, one that calls for the comfort of a pretzel and a coffee, essential to get me through the slog of it, keep me sane while he pretends he cannot understand my German and corrects me sneeringly in front of everyone, determined to embarrass me.

Card declined.

“Ah, weird.” Trying again then, and another denying beep. Smiling sheepishly at the barista, explaining I don’t have cash on me.

“It could be a problem with the machine. You can take it. You come here all the time, so just pay later if you want.”

Thank her. It was nice of her. Tell her I’ll be back in a couple of hours, after my classes, but I won’t be. My card is declined in the little Italian deli where I’ve met Astrid for lunch. It’s awkward this time. They’ve already made our sandwiches up.

“I’ll pay it,” says Astrid after a long, uncomfortable pause, and presents a little blue debit card while it strikes me I’ve never actually seen it before. Never knew what her debit card looks like, and sort of assumed in some sense she didn’t even own one. Why would she? I think. What does she ever have to pay for?

The sandwiches, I suppose. Tasting worse than ever now, they are spoiled by the pungency of my guilt. We eat them by the river, hands freezing around the tinfoil wrapping, frowning at the water, as the wind lifts white peaks from its surface. “So weird about my card,” I say, but Astrid is disinterested, doing that flippant waving thing with her hand. “Sometimes the machines just don’t work as they’re supposed to. That’s why having cash is good.” She wants to talk about this Iranian film she and Dalia saw in an indie theater. I let her, all the distracted by thoughts of my bank account. It’s fine, surely. I have money. People like me have money.

Early evening, with my earbuds in on the gym’s treadmill, and I hear a message chime. Jonas. I wipe the sweat from my brow and read it. It’s about the water bill. A message so unbelievably dull that usually I’d ignore it for a few hours, but now my stomach twists. I went back to the bakery after college to pay for my breakfast, and my card was declined again. It looks like I stole that pretzel now. I told the barista I’d come back in the morning with actual euros for her, and she smiled in this vacant way that made me feel like a liar, wanting so badly to explain to her I’m not, like, poor, or whatever. I can pay for it, while knowing that explanation would only make me look worse.

And now Jonas is asking about the water bill, saying I never paid it. I step off the treadmill and stare at my phone. A drop of sweat hits the screen, magnifying the pixels, little dots of coloured screen, and emphasises the word paid for me, like I didn’t already understand the central theme of the text. As in, I have not paid my share of the bill.

“I have,” I respond. “It should just come out of the account automatically.”

“It hasn’t,” he says, and sends a photograph of the bill, big überfällige Zahlung across the top of it in terrifying red lettering. Overdue payment. Surely not. My legs start feeling a bit weak, which is very dramatic. It’s fine. I have money. I hold on to the arm of the treadmill anyway, in case I decide to fall over. Someone is asking if I’m still using it. I tell him no and head for the changing rooms.

I call Jonas from the UBahn on the way home, immediately confrontational on the phone to him. “I paid that bill.”

“Well, you haven’t,” he’s eating something. “If you had, then the letter would not say ‘überfällige Zahlung’.”

“That’s obviously a mistake.”

“I don’t think so,” rustling noises, him unfolding the paper for further examination. “I have never seen a mistake before like this, if that is the case. It’s more likely you didn’t pay.”

“I’ve direct debit set up, so.”

“Okay, then maybe your account is empty.” He says it so casually, mouth full of whatever he’s having for dinner. The nonchalance enrages me.

“Don’t be so stupid,” I hiss, and someone on the train looks over. “There’s no way. I have loads. There’s something going on with my account today, is all. This is normal.” I have no idea whether it’s normal or not, but am sure there’s merit to saying it with such conviction.

“When did you last check your account balance?”

Well, I’ve never checked it. The sight of it frightens me and reminds me of the drain and eventual cessation of life. Completely reasonable reason. “Jonas, I am telling you that this is a mistake.”

“You can check. When you get home, check.”

“Yeah,” I say, and hang up as the train hurtles from a station into a black tunnel, rumbling through the darkness.

“You look unwell,” Jonas greets me as I arrive and untangle my scarf from my neck, choking me now, and kick my boots outside the door. Indeed, I do. My reflection is pale and wild-eyed, hair tousled from grabbing at it, like one of those Wall Street guys in the documentary my economics teacher made us watch to explain the recession.

“Where’s my laptop?” I already know where it is. Need to look. Can’t bear to. Pushing through the apartment now with everything in a dizzying blur, shaky cam, the smell of Jonas’ cooking, him trailing behind, offering me a plate of it, as if I can even think about putting food into my mouth.

My laptop is on the bed, tossed all casually on the rumpled duvet. Macbook. How much are these things worth? I never cared before this moment. Jonas is in the door as I type the banking website into the address. My codes then. Fuck sake. Don’t know them. I have to navigate through a chat with my mother to find them, heightening the suspense. Then punch them in. Check balance.

It’s like being punched in the head, the feeling. Then there’s this long, deathly silence, because Jonas knows without me having to say it. He knows by the look on my face.

“Do you–”

“I have four euros in my account.”

We look at one another for one endless moment, and I can tell he wants to laugh a bit, because it’s a funny kind of shocking. Four euros. A comically depressing number.

“It’s fine,” he’s saying now. “You just top it up with more,” and then I look at him with the most scathing look I have in my repertoire, because for the first time, he’s the one who looks like the privileged idiot. I feel I have to speak to him slowly to control the emotion in my voice. Tremors anyway, wobbling there beneath every word. “Where do you suppose I get the money to top it up, Jonas?”

He falters. “I thought your parents gave you money.”

“They don’t.”

“But you… We all thought they were funding your lifestyle.”

“They weren’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“But Jude,” he says, shaking his head at me. I don’t like that. “You were spending so much money all the time. We all thought you had an unlimited amount.”

“I wasn’t,” I snap. “I wasn’t, really.”

“The holidays you went on. The gifts for Astrid, the way you eat at restaurants every day…”

“Those things didn’t feel expensive. I thought I had enough money to cover it, or, I don’t know, I didn’t think. When I sold my car, I–it looked like…” I break off helplessly. “I got an A in maths, Jonas. How can this happen?”

“It’s basic subtraction.”

“This shouldn’t be happening to me.” my laptop fades to black now, the account disappearing from sight, but the reality still ringing in the surrounding air. I think of all I am about to lose. A vision of my life crashing down around me like a house of cards. “Astrid! Oh, God, Astrid. What is she gonna do?”

“She will have to buy her own things for once.”

I groan, head in hands, unable to formulate a response. How can I speak when my life is basically over? Condemned to the streets. One of those people rummaging through skips with holes in my shoes, saying mad things to people at the bus stop, terrorizing the feral pigeons in the town square. There he is, crazy bird man, a cautionary tale. He got an A in maths in his leaving cert, and this still happened to him.

Jonas, there by the door, deciding it's the perfect time to ask whether I've paid rent this month.

Without looking up. “No,” One glance at my account was enough to show it’s been struggling along for a while. Hundreds becoming tens, whittling down through December to the last few euros. Pocket change. It’s been bad for a while. “No, I didn’t pay rent.”

“Hm,” he says. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Looking at him in despair, considering, briefly, a tantrum of some sort. Pure childhood panic. If I cause enough of a scene, this will all go away. Looking into Jonas’ face is frightening, because I can see it there. He doesn’t know what to do either. He isn’t going to help me.

“What do I do?” I ask, as if he knows. Pity in his eyes, watching me flail.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Perhaps you can get a job.”

A job. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. A job. An actual job. Kill me. That’s the last thread. The one causes the seam to give and ruins my life. You don’t understand. I want to explain. I’m from the biggest house on Vernon Avenue. I had a PlayStation 2 before everyone else. Instead of saying that, I lie here like a corpse, staring at the ceiling, wishing some heavy piece of furniture would crash through it and turn me into one for real.

“It’s not bad,” he says, not understanding how bad it really is. Unable to fathom the intricacies of my life.

I don’t bother to answer. It’s the financial equivalent of being pantsed in the schoolyard. The blankets ripped off my sleeping body on a winter morning. I am a creature accustomed to the shade beneath a rock, exposed at last to the light, nothing left to shelter me.

A job.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2012 #back again with more #a different vibe established #hehe #deserved imo #bye bye bank account

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toomuchracket · 1 year ago

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if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth.

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

��i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #office nerd au #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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oxymorayuri · 9 months ago

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i love your style, can i request a one shot hurt/comfort with doflamingo please 💖💖💖 i would also love if you did with rest of the characters too, thank you so much ✨💖💖

A/N: Hello my dear, thank you for waiting :3 Let's start with our pink feathered guy. I struggled hard with myself whether to finish the other guys first, to upload and link everything together but I couldn't help it… :x So please be patient until I have finished the others :3 [Law ✦ Kid ✦ Ace]

word count » 3857 genre » hurt | comfort | angst summary » Lately, Doflamingo has been doing only his own thing… You hardly see each other. He rarely takes you to parties and generally doesn't take you out anymore…

❝ 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑚𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒❞

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: gremlik

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

It's a morning like any other. Waking up in the huge bed between expensive pillows and covers made of silk. The early sun beams in through the large windows and as your eyes fight against the morning fatigue, you feel with one hand the side where Doflamingo is lying only to realize that he is no longer lying next to you. Again...

You should be used to it, but you leave the cozy bed pouting and slip into your slippers.

"He seems to be quite busy once again…" You mutter to yourself unsatisfied in front of your dressing table while you clean your face. You're not even sure if he spent the night in bed with you.

Maybe he has a new woman?

No, he would have dumped you long ago if he did. You put on the necklace, the last gift he gave you, and gently stroke the gemstones.

Doflamingo has an extraordinary taste and every piece of jewelry is the perfect accessory for your fine appearance. You don't miss the jewels, you miss the effort he made to find jewelry that complements your beauty.

You reminisce as the sunlight shines through the expensive designed room.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Look at me beautiful, the moment I saw those jewels, I thought I was looking into your pristine eyes." He gently guides your chin upwards and studies your shining eyes.

"I tend to believe that your eyes are real gems, but you can't put a price on them."

With his thumb, he gently strokes under your eye and holds the side of your face. You lean into his touch and place your small hand against his, not wanting him to let go of you.

“You don't have to pay, my eyes are yours alone...”

He smirks at you with satisfaction. He likes to hear that you belong only to him. And he will do everything to make sure you give him everything you have...

“You belong by my side.” His lips brush gently over yours as he speaks such firm yet loving words. A smile slips from your lips and you wrap your arms around him to kiss his lips.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Those were the days when you spent time together in the palace garden as if you had just fallen in love. Just the two of you, sometimes all day. Not even work could distract him when he wanted to spend time with his precious girl.

Such days started with Doflamingo watching you sleep until you woke up and not leaving the bed before your lips met. And now? Now you wake up every morning, alone…

You feel like you've been thrown to the side.

In a bad mood, you get ready for breakfast with the family. You strut down the long corridor, your heels echoing in the heights of the palace.

You have deliberately chosen to wear a short pink dress combined with a matching fur coat that Doflamingo gave you. This will definitely bring out a reaction in him.

The massive doors open to the dining room and you enter the hall. A few of Doflamingo's people have already taken their seats. Luckily for you, you discover Baby 5 sitting in her chair.

"Good morning, lady y/n!" Beaming with joy, she waves to you. Without giving it much thought, you take the chair next to her and have a chat with her as the empty seats at the table fill up.

Your cheerful banter is interrupted by Buffalo speaking up.

“L-Lady y/n?…” He stammers a little uncertainly with reddened cheeks.

“Why are you sitting in my chair?” - “Huh? Ohh, I just wanted to sit next to Baby 5 today.” You smile at him with your irresistible lips. He immediately turns bright red like a tomato, since your body language is as seductive as it is beautiful. His awkward behavior makes you chuckle a little.

"Feel free to take my seat, Buffalo." you say gracefully as you turn away from him to continue chatting with Baby 5.

The hall falls silent for a moment as Doflamingo finally enters the room and you wonder where he was, when he was neither at breakfast nor in bed with you…

You grind your teeth in anger and Baby 5 notices your grumbling. Concerned, she gives you a little nudge with her elbow and looks at you with friendly eyes.

"Lady y/n, what's wrong?" - “I'll tell you later…” You say in a composed voice while your eyes follow Doflamingo. After Doflamingo takes his seat at the short end of the table, he looks at Buffalo sitting next to him at the side.

While Buffalo looks at him somewhat uncertainly, Doflamingo looks down at him rather coldly. His gaze goes straight to the seat where Buffalo is normally sitting, seeing you but there is no trace of any emotion on his face.

You swallow a little as you consider whether it was such a good idea to swap chairs. But you quickly dismiss any doubts on the grounds, that he doesn't pay much attention to you either. Why should you play his little darling?

With a little huff, you turn your eyes away from him and talk to a few people at the table.

Nevertheless, breakfast was quite pleasant up to a certain point… With one ear you followed the conversation between Doflamingo and Trebol, as they talked about a small banquet with his underground customers.

Your ears perked up when it came to who would be accompanying him. Normally you would stand by his side at such events...

Ohh, how you miss the times when you two were admired from all the sides, while dancing or socializing together...

Doflamingo not only likes to have you by his side, but also likes to involve you in important conversations. Of course, such parties are not just for entertainment, they are the perfect place to put things into motion...

Whenever one of his business partners brought up suggestions or ideas, he always asked for your opinion. Besides your beauty, your sharp mind arouses him.

And you? You feel strong at his side...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"What do you think, beautiful?"

He leans slightly towards you and examines your brooding face with a broad grin. With a finger on your lip, you smile seductively at him as his sly smile comes into your field of vision.

You turn your head to the gentleman in front of you.

"You know, you're asking for a lot of money from us investors for such cheap material…" Your eyes, usually so seductive, look down at him with hostile confidence.

The man starts to explain himself, stammering and beads of sweat gather on his forehead.

“I don't need to have another conversation with you, we'll decline and I'll remember this stupid talk and check out the other deals we have…”

His offer was not unusual, but you wonder why Doflamingo should invest so much in him again, when the other projects are running well...

Doflamingo's laughter echoes beside you. He is always amazed at your sharp tongue and proudly pulls you towards him.

"How about we just cut all the deals? This guy is cheeky and greedy, a real snake." - “That would make it a lot easier.” You smile lovingly at Doflamingo.

Together you leave the frantic gentleman behind, without even responding to his pathetic pleas.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Violet will accompany me again.” His words make you freeze and you look at him with narrowed eyebrows.

She's going to accompany him again?

You clench your fists under the table and look over at Violet, who glances a little anxiously into your eyes.

You try to think clearly, Violet is not someone who would betray you. She's your friend, but you have to confront her.

After breakfast, you catch her in front of her room and question why she's his date and, more importantly, why she didn't tell you!

“I'm sorry y/n but I wasn't allowed to tell you anything, he's still the king…” With guilt covered eyes she begs for forgiveness and with a deep sigh you cave in.

“I forgive you… Actually, I'm glad you're accompanying him and not some other girl." You let your arms hang down in frustration.

"Believe me when I say, that he doesn't even pay any attention to me... I don't even know why I have to accompany him."

She pouts a little and you giggle in response. She doesn't seem to enjoy being by his side so much and even though you feel sorry for her, you're glad it's the opposite for you.

Your mind is made up, you have to confront him. According to Violet, he's down by the pool, so you go back to your shared bedroom and put on something exciting.

With your feminine hips swinging, you show up at the pool in a sheer beach robe, only to see a couple of cheap sluts from Senor Pink clinging to Doflamingo.

You freeze in the middle of your walk and watch the spectacle of the girls dressed in their bikinis, fussing over him and fondling his chest... Even though Doflamingo seems to ignore them, it drives you crazy that he lets them touch him like that.

Angrily, you stomp over to them. With your hands on your hips, you stand in front of Doflamingo, who is lounging in the sun and enjoying a drink. He turns his gaze to you, his attitude towards you is rather indifferent and that makes you feel confused. Why is he behaving like this?

“And... are you enjoying the sun, Doffy?” The words come from your lips more mockingly than being a genuine question.

The girls giggle outrageously but you don't really know what's so funny… you just try to ignore them completely.

Somewhat annoyed, Doflamingo straightens up and pushes the ladies away from him.

“Fufufu ... you're acting quite sassy considering your position, aren't you?"

Position? His words make you angry.

“My feelings are neither a position nor a status in this castle. I thought we shared feelings, but the way you're behaving, I seem to be the only one who cares!” You turn your gaze away from him, tears already threatening to well up in your eyes.

“How I behave?” His voice takes on a threatening tone, a tone that you are familiar with but which has never been directed at you.

You gulp a little as he towers over you, drawing a sickening laugh from Doflamingo.

“Yes, the way you behave. You're dismissive, always gone and now? Now you're letting yourself be touched by these cheap whores…" You look hurt yet disgusted and Senior Pink's girls hiss and spit insults at you. But they don't interest you much and your gaze is fixed on your reflection in Doflamingo's sunglasses.

“Fufufu - look at you beautiful. Do you miss me?”

He runs his fingers through your silky hair, as always, but it feels wrong. There's something nasty about his aura. It's not his usual sly demeanor that he shows you and which you love, he doesn't take you seriously... and he's playing with you...

But you don't allow yourself to be bullied. Your eyes are fixed on his, at least wherever you guess his eyes are, without letting your unease become obvious.

“And what if that were the case?”

His hand glides along your shoulder over to your little neck, where his thumb presses lightly against your throat, before forcing you towards him. As the tips of your noses touch, you see the faint outline of his pupils but you remain calm and composed.

"I couldn't care less. Not after what you have done!" He squeezes and cuts off the air you breathe.

You reach for his hand in a panic, but you can't even move a finger. You are far from physically strong and you feel yourself losing your footing as Doflamingo lifts you into the air.

"…What I did?!" puzzled, you try to push the words from your lips.

Doflamingo throws you on the floor, his eyes wander over your exposed body and instead of being attracted to you, the arousing sight of you makes him mad.

“The way you act towards others, the way you dress… I would have expected more elegance from you!” You don't understand a thing. How I look and behave? But you thought that was the most important things for him?

“You're crazy!” You snap at him and grit your teeth. Doflamingo crouches down to you and laughs over you.

“Me and crazy? Fufufufu…” He shakes his head and grabs you by the chin. His lips brush gently over yours but you don't feel love, you feel fear.

“I'm rather generous towards you…” Tears well up in your eyes, he has never treated you so worthlessly. He has treasured you like his most valued possession and now he grumbles words you don't understand.

Doflamingo's eyes flicker briefly, and his chest tightens as he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks. Irritated, he lets go of you and steps away, giving you the chance to escape. What remains is a blonde king who suddenly doesn't understand what he's feeling.

Is it remorse?

But you don't have time to pay him any attention and run away. On the way to your bedchamber, you bump into some of the family, who all seem quite worried when they see your sad expression.

But no matter what they say to you, you just keep running while hot tears flow down your cheeks.

You cry yourself a river on the bed, your makeup all smudged but you don't care about messing up the expensive sheets. They have no value to you if you don't share them with Doflamingo.

All you can hear is the door to the room closing with a bang and the clacking of Doflamingo's shoes coming closer to you… You look at him briefly, but his cold, unaffected gaze makes you feel completely worthless. How can he look at you like that?

“You look pathetic.” His words are dry and pierce through your heart. You can imagine that you don't look very presentable. Your clothes are out of place, your hair is messy and your makeup is smudged all over your teary face

You squeeze your eyes shut and suppress your tears, you don't want to let his words hurt you even more. You're fed up with him punishing you for something without even talking to you. You still have no idea what the hell his problem is.

"Maybe I wouldn't look so pathetic if you treated me like an equal and told me what your fucking problem is!" you point your finger at him angrily.

Compared to Doflamingo, you look tiny and frail, but your frustration has turned to anger and you're not going to let someone who's supposed to love you talk down to you.

He grabs your finger and pulls you towards him in a blink of an eye. A devious smile forms on his lips.

"Looking so angry, you're quite cute." You turn your head to the side, away from him and Doflamingo grinds his teeth in dissatisfaction.

“You said you were mine, but you lied!” - “No! I didn't!" Frustrated, you slam your fists on his chest, trying to push away from him but his hands hold you tight.

“I'm all yours Doffy… please believe me…” Realizing that escaping Doflamingo's tight grip is pointless, you surrender and hide your tears by burying your face on his chest.

Unexpectedly, Doflamingo grabs your chin tenderly and pulls your face up to look into his eyes. You refuse a little, embarrassed at how unflattering your face looks.

“Look at me.” His voice doesn't seem affectionate, but you can't hear the spiteful undertone and obey his words. With tears filling your eyes, you try to maintain your gaze.

"If you're all mine, why do the others feel so free and hit on you right under my eyes?"

Your eyes widen. This has nothing to do with you. Not directly. It has to do with him being irritated by other men who are literally drooling after you.

You are delighted that it is not entirely because of you but it is not fair to make it solely your fault. If he blames you, it will be difficult to convince him otherwise, but after all these years at his side, you have some kind of feeling about how to talk to him.

“Doffy, do you love the way I look?” - “Of course.” His answer comes fast. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your face.

"And you love the way I act too… don't you?" - “Without a doubt, you're everything a man could wish for.”

“See? If my humble self can live up to a king like you, what do you think other men see in me?" His veins show on Doflamingo's temple. Clenching his teeth, he grumbles.

“I don't care about that!” - “And neither do I!” You stare silently into each other's eyes until Doflamingo sighs a little exhausted and lets go of you.

He takes off his shirt and lies down on the bed, his arms folded behind his head and his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

He thinks hard about your words, because you're right. It's only natural that other men turn their heads towards you when the sight of you catches even his attention.

If even you could get hold of his heart, of course you'll get hold of everyone's hearts. You are perfect in his eyes.

Never has he seen you even come close to responding to the wretched creatures… Actually it is the opposite, but he doesn't like the fact that all kinds of eyes can look at you so shamelessly.

You carefully take a seat on the edge of the bed and give him a moment of silence.

"…It all started when Crocodile praised you excessively when you were talking to other guests…" You remember. It was a gala party like any other, but you remember very well how differently Doflamingo treated you when you returned to his side.

You feel a little sad that he has such distrust in you… Everything you do, you do only for him.

Not to mention it's a bit ridiculous, since some of the clothes were personally chosen for you by Doflamingo. All your efforts only serve to live up to his image of the "perfect woman" and so far, you have been rewarded with everything you could wish for…

Knowing that Doflamingo is a very demanding man, you have made it your personal goal to live up to his expectations, but this seems now to be your undoing...

You can tell from Doflamingo's tense expression that he is still quite angry as he remembers Crocodile's words. In his eyes, it is more than impudent that someone would dare to say such words to him.

“I've never noticed how greedily the eyes of others follow you. At one point I thought about taking the lives of everyone who lusted after you, until I realized that would have been everyone…"

You reach for his hand without giving much thought to whether Doflamingo would allow it or not and stroke it gently.

"Keeping you away from everyone's prying eyes is the only option left to me." You know his actions are not right, because the ones who suffer are only the two of you, but nevertheless you can understand his actions.

He takes off his glasses and touches his nose between his eyes, lost in his unexpected feelings. He's not quite sure why he's telling you this at all…

You should obey him, but seeing you cry has triggered completely different feelings in him. Before you, there were numerous women who adorned his bed and no matter how much they cried and begged for his attention, nothing had stirred in him.

"If you want, I can stay low… I dress differently and avoid men… I just want to continue to be by your side...” - “No. You should be able to show off your beauty.”

Your heart skips a beat as he looks into your eyes with seriousness, but you don't know what other compromise you can make.

“I see…” You look sadly at the covers. There must be another solution than locking you up in the castle like a bird in a cage. Doflamingo's fingers intertwine with yours and he gently pulls you close. He lifts your chin with one finger and his usually hidden eyes show you the love he has suppressed all this time.

"However, seeing you cry like that made me realize how much I missed your smile." Are you dreaming or is that really your Doffy talking? You are at a loss for words. Even if the situation isn't resolved yet, a hint of a smile comes to your lips.

"Doffy, I'm just crying over you!" You give him your most genuine smile as you look into each other's eyes before continuing with your words. After he has revealed his true feelings to you, it is your turn to express your own thoughts.

"No one else could ever make me feel this way… I long to be with you… And I can understand your feelings... There are enough women fighting over you, but I never thought you could replace me." - "And I can't anyway, because you're the only one worthy of being by my side." He interrupts you in a lower voice.

“I know and the same goes for me. No one can take your place. Not even by force, because I know you wouldn't let them.” You snuggle up to him. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that you can finally be close to him again, that you can finally smell his intoxicating smell and feel his warmth.

His hand strokes along your fine curves, up to your shoulders and back down to your hips. You don't know how to solve this problem, but now you're sure that Doflamingo hasn't forgotten about you.

"I didn't know you feel the same way I do y/n." You shake your head with a smile, while he caresses your cheek.

“Imagining someone else standing by your side is already painful but not being by your side is hell, Doffy…” After longing for his tenderness for so long, you dare to allow yourself to kiss him.

After you shared a slow kiss, filled with longing, he nudges his nose against yours.

"Even if your makeup is all smudged, you're still the most beautiful woman in the world…"

That's it for today, my beloved ones. I hope you enjoyed it, kisses to you <3

𝑊𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑦𝑢𝑟𝑖.

#doflamingo one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece oneshots #Doflamingo one shot

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Law and Order - A Once In A Blue Moon Story

Part I

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: When a blind date leads to disaster, you're almost ready to give up on men. Until he sits down on the bar stool in front of you. This man is different - sensual, gorgeous, confident. He makes you want to live a little on the wild side. What do you do when a night you don't want to forget turns into a forbidden relationship by light of day? How do you cope, especially when he doesn't seem to want a thing to do with you?

Warnings: Rough sex, illicit relationship, dom/sub overtones, toxic relationship, inbalance of power in the work place

Word Count: 5766

Author's Note: Hiya lovelies! It's been a while since I've posted a story on here. I kind of lost my muse and had to find her, and my love for writing all over again.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern for chatting with me about this story and making sure I'm handling all of the things which happen in the best way I can!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Next Part

Part I

The noise washes over you in waves, inane chatter and shrieking from the velvet booths lining the walls, combined with the genteel clacking of cutlery against china in a migraine-inducing din. The bar you’re in is popular, with tables occupied from wall to wall. Normally, you’d consider yourself fortunate to be seated at one of them. There’s one reason why you’re not. Blind dates have never gone well for you. Either your dates are drab and dull, or you’ve been partnered with the worst men on the planet. Rude, boorish, vulgar, you name it, you’ve been on a date with a man bearing the unsavory trait. Tonight’s date isn’t shaping up to be any better.

You’re sitting at the tiny bar-style table playing with the wine in your glass, watching the carnelian liquid slosh as the liquid warms by the second. Your attention is completely on the droplets of wine sliding down the sides of the glass. Your date could care less. He doesn’t seem to notice your boredom or frustration. In fact, you’re not sure he’s even looked at you all night. He’s chattering about something involving stocks and bonds, the details so boring your eyes nearly roll back into your head while peering over the rim of his pint glass at every cocktail-dress-clad girl in sight. Drinks at this swanky bar were supposed to turn into dinner. You’re not sure this date is going to go that far.

Moreover, you’re not sure you want it to. You’re on this date as a favor for a friend. She’d sworn up and down that this guy was a real gem when she was setting you up with him. She’d spent days talking him up, pointing out how kind and hot he was. Sure, he hasn’t been the worst date you’ve been on. He is easy on the eyes, and nice at first impression. But he isn’t anything special. Maybe you have loftier expectations for your relationships than most. Or maybe you just want to go on a date where you can have a conversation, not be talked at in a mockery of one. In any case, you don’t find yourself too disappointed. You’re starting a new job in the morning and you should be fresh for your 8 AM orientation time - an early night would have been your preference. But your watch says it is already past 7 PM and getting later by the minute. This man can’t seriously think he’s so suave, can he? He’s been sending you alluring gazes and smug grins all night long, uncaring of your silence.

“So, whattaya say to skipping dinner and heading back to my place for the rest of the night?”

You’re not sure you heard him right. Mind churning, you sip on the wine, barely tasting the liquid. You’re not sure what he expects. Did he expect you to jump him the minute he offered? You’re resettling your mental estimation of his intellect downwards by the minute.

“I’m awfully hungry,” you demur. “Dinner sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’ve got something that’ll fill you up back at my place.”

His voice is greasy enough that you feel a little disgusted just hearing it.

“Yeah?” You make your voice breathy like you’re a little turned on by his display. You lean forward, knowing the deep vee of your dress is showing off the slightest hint of the lace edging your bra. He smirks pompously, chest-puffing outward, eyes tipping to your exposed cleavage like iron ore to a magnet. He has the audacity to lick his lips, and while before you would have let him down gently, now you want to hit him where it hurts - his ego.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it all by yourself.” Your grin is sharp. “Like you probably have been every night for the last few years of your life.”

He looks a little like he’s been slapped, this finance bro, with his lips gawping unflatteringly.

“Do you have any idea who I am in this town?” He’s turning red under the collar, eyes bugging out.

“Nope.” You say the words flippantly, sipping on the last inch of the red wine at the bottom of your glass. You may not like the man, but he has good taste in wine. “Nor do I care to.”

You lean in then, your off-putting grin widening across your cherry lips.

“I have no interest in getting to know a pompous, over-blown man-child who loves to flaunt their success in other people’s faces. So no. I won’t be coming home with you for a night in. I think I’d throw up if I saw the ‘something that fills me up’ you’ve got over there.”

He’s so angry, his face screws up at your words, the flush creeping up to his face.

“Bye-bye, now!”

He nearly knocks over a waitress and two fellow patrons on his way out of the door, sputtering impotently the entire way.

You’re still chuckling to yourself ten minutes later when a fresh glass of wine is set in front of you.

“That was artfully done.” You startle a little at the words, your head whipping up so fast that your neck hurts at the sudden motion. The new man settling into the barstool before you is a cut above the gentleman you spoke to. Your face must show some confusion because he continues, “I saw you chase that guy away.”

He’s gorgeous, broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitted suit. Every inch of his appearance screams luxury and class, from his auburn hair to his well-groomed mustache. He’s got long-fingered hands, one holding a cut crystal glass holding amber liquid, the other bearing a signet ring on the index finger as it rests on the table between you. There are eyes on him from all over the bar, and yet he doesn’t seem to notice. His whiskey eyes settle only on you like you're all he wants to see.

“Thank you.” You grin, sipping on the wine, the rich red liquid delicious on your tongue. “But it was necessary, I’m afraid.”

You nearly gag just thinking about the last words that idiot said to you before he left. At least you had the good sense to cut him off before he tried to strong-arm you into getting in bed with him.

“I kind of overheard what he said.” This stranger is smirking, confidence exuding from every pore. You’re drawn by his easy demeanor, as much as you are by his opening words. Hopefully, they’ll lead to an actual conversation. “It’s obvious he has no idea how to get to know a beautiful woman like yourself.”

“Is that so?” You lean forward again, wondering if a flash of your cleavage will take him in. But he doesn’t take the bait you’re presenting so alluringly. All he does is take off the suit jacket he's wearing, revealing the tanned vee of his neck in a white button-up shirt. You have to hide your hungry glances behind the rim of your wineglass when he rolls the sleeves up to the crook of his elbow.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’d much rather get to know you instead.” He leans forward too, and as he does, you see gold glinting from between his pecs.

“I promise I’m nothing like that idiot you chased away with your cherry-lipped smile and acid words.”

You shrug, running a finger over the rim of the glass. “I don’t know anything yet.”

He shrugs then, sipping on his drink nonchalantly. You drag your eyes up and down his person. He lets you check him out with good grace, a smirk tipping his lips up and eyes hot as they return the languid glances. “But maybe, just maybe, I’d like to.”

As he’d introduced himself to you, Bradley is a breath of fresh air. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, hanging on his every word. He’s flirty, kind, yet down-to-earth. He's a professional working in the city, loves his family and friends, and reads actual, genuine books. If only your friend had set you up with Bradley instead. Under his knowing gaze, you find yourself spilling things you’ve never told another soul.

The crowd surges around you as the night deepens. But still, you stay, sitting on the stool, downing glass after glass of plush, rich reds and fruity, dry whites while wishing Bradley was drinking his whiskey off your lips. With each word shared, each story, the spark of attraction smoulders between the two of you. Between one trip to the bar and the next, he settles on the stool next to yours.

If you thought he was breathtaking across the table, he's heart-stopping sitting next to you. His effect on you is worse because when he's close, you just have to look down to see the mile-long expanse of his legs, muscular thighs practically straining against the expensive wool blend of his trousers.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, beautiful.” His eyes are searingly hot a few inches away from you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, a big hand splayed just under your breasts. “But I’d very much like to take you home tonight.”

You gasp at the feeling of his breath across your lips. One inch closer, and you’d be kissing him.

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is quiet, a little hoarse from the alcohol, nonstop chatter and laughter. “I don’t usually go home with strange men at the bar, no matter how attractive they are.”

He smiles, tipping his head to the side. His voice is a rumble as he whispers into your ear, tone wheedling, his other hand trailing down the neckline of your dress, fingers hot over the delicate skin of your chest.

“I promise if you want me to stop at any time, I will. I’ll call you a cab and send you home with my number saved in your phone as soon as you say the word.”

You’re losing your words, your arguments at his voice. All the reasons why you shouldn’t go home with a near stranger dissipate with every minute you stare into his eyes.

“Take me home,” You gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as he plays with your necklace. You knew he was tall when he walked away to get your new drink, but when he helps you off the stool and drapes his suit jacket across your shoulders, he dwarfs you easily. You have a sneaking suspicion you may be in trouble.

He leads you out of the bar with a steady, warm hand at the small of your back. Despite the crowded streets, a taxi shows up the minute he raises his hand, power and confidence an aura emanating from him. The taxi ride to his apartment downtown is an alcohol-fueled swirl of sensation. Your focus is split between the broad palm splayed over your bare thigh and the filthy litany spilling out of his bitten lips. He keeps the words just barely audible, a placid grin on his face every time the cab driver looks back, and you’re fighting the urge to drag him into filthy kisses the entire way.

Would you be able to taste the whiskey on his tongue? Or would he taste like the mints, sharp and peppery with an underlying hint of sweetness he’d popped as you left? You can’t know for sure, not until you’ve finally got him behind closed doors.

And what doors they end up being. When Bradley unlocks the doors and ushers you in, your jaw drops to the floor. His living room is a gorgeous, high-ceilinged room, with walls half distressed brick and half grey-toned wood panelling. The floors are soft, sandy wood. While you very much would like to see the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two of the four walls, complete with a rolling ladder like you’ve only ever seen on television, your eyes are drawn to the massive windows showing off the beautiful San Francisco skyline, lit up in the night.

“Your apartment is beautiful.”

“It’s not the only thing that is.”

You whirl around at the words, fighting the heat threatening to overtake your face. If Bradley looked practically edible languidly sprawled over the barstool, long legs brushing against yours, he looks divine standing in his living room with his bright white shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

“I-I don't usually do things like this.”

You curl an arm around your waist, hugging yourself. Standing here in the center of his cookie-cutter-perfect living room, you feel like an outsider, like the speck of lint or dust spoiling the facade. You don’t belong here. You don’t deserve to stand opposite a man this beautiful, be propositioned or devoured by him. Yet when you glance upward, his face shows you nothing but heat and hunger.

“Shh, sweetheart.” The pet-name makes you shiver, gooseflesh forming on your bare arms and pimpling over your collar bones. “I know you don’t. But we have all night to figure out what you like. We'll go as slow as you need.”

You’re not sure what you’re looking for in his face. Reassurance? Compassion? Want? Hunger? You see all those things and more. He lets you stand there in silence, eyes drinking you in, comfortable just watching and being watched. The more you see, the more you can feel your mind change. With the haze of alcohol thrumming through your veins fading a little, your brain is making more decisions. It was lust, pure and simple which got you here. Now your brain has to decide what you want to do here. More and more, the decision seems to be following him, letting yourself fall. You’ve never been impetuous, not where matters of the heart are concerned. Maybe you should be for once. The words end up tripping off the edge of your tongue of their own volition.

“What if I don’t want to go slow at all?”

You know what it means when a man smiles at you like that, eyes molten, tongue sliding out to wet his lips. He prowls forward then, feline grace rippling the muscles of his torso. His arms feel like silk over steel as they crush you to his chest. Your heart stutters, breath catching as he leans forward. But he doesn’t kiss you. He seems content to breathe you in, foreheads pressed together. His mustache traces ticklish and light over your upper lip with every breath. You want nothing more than to smash your lips to his.

“I bet you don't, beautiful.” His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he traces one calloused fingers over your lacquered lips. “But I get the feeling you don't know what you want. You've spent all night so far telling me you don't let people take you home on the first night. But here you are, practically gasping for every touch of my skin to yours. So what’s going on in that pretty little head?”

The words make you squirm a little, thighs rubbing together futilely.

“I wonder,” His tone goes soft and contemplative yet light as he slides his hand up the expanse of your soft thighs, tenderly squeezing the muscular flesh. “Were you searching for a man to take you in hand? Someone who would smack that pretty little ass when you're being a brat? Is that why you chased that guy away so easily? Did you know instinctively he wouldn’t be able to do that for you?”

When you moan, it feels like you've lost the game he started playing. But you're not disappointed, not when his lips quirked upwards in a proud grin. And not when you feel his finger sweep over the damp gusset of your panties, teasing and light.

“Fuck, I knew you'd be gorgeous like this.”

You shiver against him, muscles trembling, fighting against the urge to move his hands where you want them most. But even the slightest motion has those big hands clamping down over your wrists or swatting at the meat of your thigh, just harsh enough that you jolt. Your head is spinning already.

“You're so quiet, so compliant and obedient, my good girl.” You have to swallow your whimpers at the term of endearment. “I can’t wait to see how good you can be.”

You nod, maybe too eagerly, if the smirk taking over his face is proof.

“See?” The phrase is almost mocking as he purrs, “So damned pretty and soft and sweet.”

Your voice shakes as you try to collect your composure, breaking despite all the force of your will.

“I'm not that sweet. I can be rude and domineering and brash.”

He chuckles, pointing to a dark hallway, branching off the living room.

“Go to my bedroom, sweetheart. Take that sinful little dress off and sit on the bed.”

You're so gone for this man already. You don’t know his last name, what he does for work, or anything important. But you don’t care. As you trot into his bedroom, all you can think about is how his lips looked as they said, “good girl,” and how desperately you want to be good for him. Your hands are rough as you tug at the suddenly constricting fabric of your dress. You want it off; need the suddenly scratchy fabric away from your skin. When the dress lands on the ground in front of the bed in a bundle of dark fabric, you feel like you can finally breathe.

“Such a pretty girl.”

You startle at the whisper. You hadn't turned the lights on when you walked in, navigating in the half-light of the streetlights below. A switch clicks in the silence, and you're surrounded by a halo of light. Bradley's in the shadows still, and you can’t see even a glint of his eyes.

“Turn around, baby.”

You feel exposed all of a sudden, wearing only your lacy bra, barely there panties, and heels. His voice seems to echo around you, muddled and sibilant as they murmur words - orders - your way.

“Hands on the bed frame, beautiful.”

You stumble over your own feet as you rush to follow his instructions. With your eyes next-to-useless in the cool darkness of the room, it feels like your other senses are in overdrive.

“You look hotter than sin standing there like that, gorgeous.”

You can feel the puffs of his breath over your sensitized skin, the fine hairs covering your arms standing on end at his presence ghosting over you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet, so compliant and obedient for me. Keep those legs apart for me, now.”

He chuckles darkly, the sound deep and velvety soft. You have to fight your whine as your knees nearly buckle at the way he sounds.

“You like that?”

You whine when his big hand smooths over the expanse of your back.

“I knew you’d like having someone tell you what to do. I knew you’d look delicious like this, spread out for me like that. Pretty girl, my pretty, pretty baby.”

Your brain fritzes out at those words, all higher-level thoughts blanking out at the possessive curl to his voice. Your prior dalliances - you'd never call them relationships because they were too short to be labeled as such - were never bold enough to become so possessive with you. You never thought you would like it. But hearing Bradley call you his, even when you know this is only for tonight, makes your toes curl and your panties uncomfortably wet.

“What happened to that fire, huh? What happened to the feisty little thing who sent a man away for asking you to hop into his bed on the first meeting?”

His words are a little mocking as those big hands smooth over your waist, plucking at the waistband of your panties.

“Bet his eyes would fall out of his head if he could see you standing here, just like this. With your pert little ass on display and your pussy all wet for me.”

You moan at the words, gasping at the feeling of his hands as they tug the lacy fabric down, flinching at the snap of the clasp of your bra as he pulls that away, too. Your skin flushes with heat at the feeling of the soft kiss he presses to the small of your back. But the tender teasing touches disappear shortly after. He leaves you standing there, wearing only your red-bottomed heels, aching for his touch, shivering as the cool air wafts over your heated skin. You have a feeling he’s still there, your ears picking up each infinitesimal rustle of fabric and soft brush of footsteps on the floor. He’s just left you standing splayed out for his own amusement.

How is it possible for you to feel both turned-on and uncomfortably exposed at the same time? Your fingers ache from holding onto the smooth wooden surface of the bed frame. As your patience wanes, your fidgeting increases.

“Bradley?”

You’ve never heard yourself sound like this, plaintive and strung out, aching for someone else's touch. It feels like you’re breaking down walls you’ve never known you had put up. All you can do is hold onto the bedframe and pray you aren’t vulnerable with someone dangerous.

“Nuh, uh, uh, pretty.” The hushed admonishment comes with the press of lips against your shoulder blade.

“If you want me, then you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

You tremble at the words, grip tightening on the burnished wood until all you can feel is the tug of stressed muscles. You let your head fall until your hair is obscuring everything from sight. You’re not sure you can say these words, not without feeling horribly, uncomfortably exposed.

“Touch me, please.”

It’s the barest whisper, but you know he hears you. His hands are hot against your skin as they draw you up. You surrender to the sensations of his calloused fingers trailing over your stomach. They’re teasing and light as they shape your breasts, palms hot as they hold you close.

“Oh, baby, you feel better than I even thought possible.”

Pleasure sinks molten and sweet through your veins at the gorgeously rough purr in his voice. You sag against him, barely trusting in your limbs to hold you. You can feel his smile as he presses hot kisses down the side of your throat. The scratch of his stubble makes you gasp. With every press, the ache between your thighs intensifies even further. But Bradley doesn’t move his hands, no matter how you wriggle or try to push his hands down to where you so desperately need them.

“Please, Bradley.”

It feels like you’ve been begging for his touch forever when he finally moves. His hands twirl you around, and you find yourself crushed to his chest. His eyes are molten, prismatic as he tugs you close. It feels like you’re drowning in him. You curl your arms around his muscular neck, staring deep into his eyes as he peers at you.

“Please, what, baby?”

There’s a mocking tilt to the smug grin on his face as he looks you over.

“I told you what I need from you tonight.”

You whimper at the words, trying to surge up, aching for some more contact from him.

“Kiss me.”

“Good girl.” You’re not sure you’re ever going to get tired of hearing him call you a ‘good girl”. But then his lips cover yours, and you’re not thinking about anything but him. These kisses, just like all of the others tonight, are hot and claiming. You twine your fingers into the curls at the base of his skull, gasping at the press of his tongue.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart.” His lips slip down the side of your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse in a knee-weakening manner. “Mmmm, darling, do you want this to go any further?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to respond in anything other than a breathless, needy moan.

“Well, you know what you have to do, beautiful.”

You’re growling when you wrench his mouth back down to yours. “I just want you to make me cum.” You say the words between needy kisses, pushing the shirt up until you can finally wrest it off. The heat of his skin feels so good against your own. When you look up, the smile taking over his face is breathtakingly gorgeous, eyes blown wide as he lays you down on the pristine, cool sheets of his bed.

“You’re too beautiful to be real.”

You shiver as he places a kiss against your sternum, open-mouthed and wet. The shiver turns into a moan when he wraps his lips around one taut nipple and sucks. Each rough pass of his tongue has pleasure coiling in the pit of your stomach. It feels like you’re searching for oxygen like you’ve never breathed it before when he finally pulls away. You’re half expecting him to tease you again, when he laves his tongue over the other, nipping and biting. Your moans spiral through the air. You know what he’s doing when he traces those kisses down your torso, but you don’t have the patience for any more teasing.

You tug him into a messy kiss. Your teeth clash against his somewhat painfully, but when he crawls over you, you can’t find it in you to mind.

“Baby, you have to let me make sure you’re ready.”

“I don’t care.” You’re aware you sound like a complete brat, but Bradley seems endeared by it. He lets you manhandle him onto the bed, eyes shuttering as you settle on his lap, core settled over the sizable bulge in his trousers.

“I want you,” you’re practically sobbing as you grind down in his lap. “I’ve wanted you since you sat down on that bar stool.”

“Please.” It’s a desperate plea. “Stop teasing me. I’m ready.”

“Shh, beautiful. I’ve got you.” He smoothes a hand over the plane of your stomach, uncaring of all the places you hate about yourself.

You can’t believe your eyes when he finally pulls the remainder of his clothes off. He’s golden and gorgeous, tan glowing as the moonlight loving highlights every muscle. You’re still not sure why a man like him wanted to take you home, not when he looks like he does. His hands smooth over you, parting your legs as he kisses you. Each press of his lips to yours are deep and tender. You search for his lips every time he pulls away and gasp when he nips at the pout on your lips in retaliation. You can feel the blunt head of his cock against your folds as he grinds into you, the rough slide of skin against skin easing as you grow wetter, needier beneath him.

When he presses into you, you nearly come at the first thrust. He’s big and thick, stretching you in a way you’ve never been stretched before. He settles into a languid pace. You feel claimed with each slow thrust, all friction and heat, pressure collecting at the pit of your stomach.

“Please,” you babble, pleading for him to continue, “Don’t stop, please.”

It feels like there’s lightning in your veins. Lightning which crackles and sparks until it feels like you’re one exposed livewire lying on the bed. He gathers you up then, settles you down on his lap, hands clamped on the corded muscle of his shoulders as you go ragdoll-limp in his arms.

“There” It’s a soft, sub-audible moan as he hits that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. He fucks you slow and sweet, right there, until you can barely feel your face and your eyes roll back in your head. You jolt when he brushes the pads of his fingers against your clit, massaging the hardened nub until you’re practically screaming his name. That’s how you cum, with soft kisses, shaking in his lap. His hands are big as they cradle your ass. You shiver as he thrusts half-a-dozen more times before finishing, his head resting on your sternum, breath hot against the sweat-drenched skin.

You slump to your side, boneless and exhausted, relishing in the cool press of the sheets. He slumps with you, still buried in you, closer than you’ve ever been to another person. You could drown in the molten sweetness in his eyes, the deep caramel depths drawing you in until it’s all you can see. He kisses you until your lips feel puffy and bruised. When he slips out of you, you ignore the mess, beginning your slow progress as you slide to the edge of the bed. He doesn’t stop you, long limbs sprawled over the sheets of his bed like a Greek god in repose.

He lifts his head, eyes blinking blearily, sleepily as you collect your clothes, pulling on each piece methodically.

“What are you doing?”

You flush in embarrassment. “I’m heading home.”

You can hear the rustle of the sheets as you pull the wrinkled fabric of your dress on. His hands are hot as he turns you around. You’re unbalanced, only one heel on as you look into his eyes.

“You could stay, you know?”

You shiver, tugging him into one final, soft kiss.

“I could. But I won’t.” You step into the final heel before turning around again. His hands are gentle as they tug the zipper on your dress up.

“I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

Bradley nods, curls bouncing, throat working as he looks you over. You’re trying to look at anything but him, not wanting the temptation of his lean, muscular body.

“Be safe.”

Your Uber home is quiet, tense. Half your heart, it seems, is left in that posh bedroom, wrapped in cool Egyptian cotton, drowning in whiskey eyes. Your sleep is just as disturbed.

You wake in the morning sweetly sore and groggy. But you can’t focus on a mind-blowing fuck, not this morning. Warring with exhaustion this morning as you take a tram downtown are your nerves. You’re nervous. This is the job you’ve been working towards your whole life. Call it fascination from a lifetime of watching legal dramas combined with a love for arguing and here you are. Three years of law school at Stanford and near perfect exam scores and here you are. Standing in a richly appointed conference room with five other rookie law school graduates waiting for orientation to start on your first day.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Law Firm of Kazansky, Mitchell, and Bradshaw.”

Your head seems to fly up at the words, and at first, you’re not sure whether you’re still asleep or drunk out of your mind. Because your eyes have to be deceiving you. There is no way Bradley is standing in the conference room with you. He’s flanked by a tall flaxen-haired man with a cocky grin and a buxom brunette in the snazziest pantsuit you think you’ve ever seen.

“I’m Bradley Bradshaw, senior counsel at the firm. My specialty is contract law. With me are my colleagues and fellow senior counsel, Jake Seresin, with a speciality of criminal law, and Natasha Trace, with a speciality in corporate law. We’re going to be your mentors at the firm. Let’s get one thing clear. We ask you all to jump, you ask us how high. Work hard, and we’ll have you taking cases of your own in no time.”

You feel like your skin is crawling with each word and each elapsed minute. Your palms are sweaty and your heart is racing as you distractedly count each minute until you’re left in a barren corner of the office in front of two empty cubicles with your training partner, a sweet-hearted brunette with a labrador retriever’s friendly personality named, Miguel “call me Mickey” Garcia. He’s already digging deep into the files Bradley handed over while you take a short walk to Bradley’s corner office. It’s just your luck you’d ended up having the man whose bed you were in last night as your mentor. And it’s just your luck that the first file you’d picked up had a post-it note on it asking for you to come by when you could.

Almost all the shades are drawn when you knock.

“Come in.”

He holds one of those long fingers up as he finishes up the conversation he’s having on the phone. You feel like you’re seconds away from being fired with every insolent look he sends your way.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Bradshaw?”

He smirks then.

“Yeah, I did.” He shapes your full name with his pouty, kiss-bitten lips, lips you bit last night, as he looks over you.

“Obviously you know nobody can know what happened between us last night.”

“Yeah, obviously.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pretending not to notice how your body aches at the sight of him, for want of him. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing,” He leans forward with a grin. “I'm not sure what last night was like for you, but for me, it was just like any other. I met a passably pretty girl at a bar and took her home. She left in the early hours of the morning after a mediocre fuck. That's it.”

You can feel rage rising, cold and sharp enough that it occludes the edges of the bleeding wound he’s caused with a few callous words.

“Now, I'm your mentor and boss. Professionalism is everything to me. My mom is the best lawyer I know, and one of the partners. She can’t know I fucked up so prodigiously with one of our rookies. And I will do anything to make sure she never does.”

It’s obvious last night meant little to him, much less than it meant to you. You wanted to track him down tonight, wanted to see if he would want to go out with you again. Obviously that isn’t an option anymore.

“Enjoy the files. Let me know if you or Garcia see something I didn't see in them. That will be all.”

Your head is reeling when you walk away, and you're quiet, withdrawn. Garcia doesn’t notice how your skin crawls with every footstep walking past the door of your small office or how you flinch at every laugh and loud conversation. Last night you were a nervous professional, worried about the job but hopeful for your date to go well. Now you’re the rookie who slept with her boss. You're his dirty little secret and he's yours. Your career, your life, and everything you've ever worked for hangs in the balance.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @cherrycola27 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989

@eloquentdreamer @redhope446

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #law and order #once in a blue moon #top gun #top gun maverick

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vampirecorleone · 2 years ago

Photo

"Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?" | "They're okay." | "Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor." | "Hey Halberstram." | "Yes, Allen?" | "Why are there copies of the style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?" | "No, Allen." | "Is that a raincoat?" | "Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself. Hey Paul! TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW, YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU, FUCKING BASTARD!"

American Psycho (2000) dir. Mary Harron

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echantedtoon · 6 months ago

Text

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch25 As Days Go By In January

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k @bloodymarysgirl21

@artbyrebel @abaker74 @lunarluna9482

@rainbowidol @lanabanoms @whatarewe-choppedliver

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

(This chapter night be a little cluttered but that's because it's a big filler chapter for the next chapter when things really take off. For better or for worse?...Well what fun would it be if I spoiled anything?)

The new year was an odd feeling to the body.

It felt like everything was new but the same as always all the time. And thus you decided to make yourself a new year revolution bucket list. Spend more time doing the things you loved with the people you loved! You had so many more friends than you ever did at any point in your life, and you were going to start spending more time with them. Starting with your oldest and most dearest friend!

The clinking of a plate and teacup being sat upon the table as the spices from the noodles and broth they say in. The smell accompanied by the scent of Earl grey tea placed right next to the bowl by a smiling face.

"Here you go. One of these days I'm going to learn how to make my own noodles then it'll truly be made from scratch."

Murata breathed in the delicious fragrance before sighing and picking up the chopsticks you leant him. His stomach growling. "Thanks, Y/n. Can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal."

"It's ok. If you want I'll pack you up what I had to make for baking class. It's just taking up space in my fridge and we both know that I don't really enjoy spicy foods all too much anyways."

He looked at you. "Hey. You really don't have to do that. Sabito an' I get by fine on our own-"

"It's not a trouble. At this point it's just taking up space in my fridge and I'd hate to waste food." Your only other option was to give it to Giyuu and Shinobu..or call up Mitsuri as a quick food disposal but everyone was very busy with classes as the finals for the year were approaching and every chance to study counted. Plus Murata needed it more. "All I ask is for my containers back when you're finished."

"Alright. I'll get it. You'll be making me take them home anyways." The smile on his face was a rare one for him and how stressed he usually was. "Thanks."

You smiled brightly at him already on your way to go empty out your fridge. Honestly most of the dishes stuck in there was just foods you had to bake for health class to pass and then just got stuck left in your fridge as most of it was spicy foods you didn't like all too much. But Murata and his boyfriend liked these so they'd go to them.

So into the tupperware containers they went as you dug them out from cabinets and sorted out the fridge situation. Busing yourself by speaking to the happy man slurping down the udon like he hadn't had a good tasting meal in the last year. He'd stopped by just an hour ago for old times sake and you were happy to catch up with your old friend.

"How's college been?"

"Mood," he answered muffled by his full mouth giving a sigh as the delicious taste waved down his throat. "If I pass this year then maybe I can graduate early! That way I don't have to work that stressful pizza job anymore."

"Oh. Well don't strain yourself studying. Get some sleep before you start staying up all night."

"Right. Right." He paused a moment to watch as you poured spicy miso soup into a small container for him, eyeing your form before taking a sigh to brace himself. "So .um. How's your boyfriend been treating you?"

"Gyomei?" You took a second to look back over your shoulder at him. "He's been nothing but the perfect gentleman. I'm very happy with him."

Murata slowly nodded looking concerned. "I see. And he.. hasn't done anything that's bothered you or hurt you in anyway?" He rolled his wrist. "Especially with the whole I'm seeing nearly half the college thing. Sounds like cheating to me."

"Murata!!" You scowled hard at him making him hold up his hands. "Why on earth would you say that?!"

"I'm sorry! It just sounds really suspicious to me! And you can't blame me with your dating streak...N-No offense."

"Gyomei is not dating around with every person he sees!," you growled pointing a spoon at him threateningly, "He's polyamorous. NOT a cheater! I know exactly every one of his partners and all of them are lovely people who see no one but each other! There's a big misidentification between being poly and being a cheater!"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!," he repeated trying to calm you down. "I just wanted to be sure you were ok."

"I'm perfectly secure in my relationship with Gyomei. He's been completely upfront with everything and doesn't seem anyone outside me or his partners which I have stated before that I'm perfectly fine with him doing." You jabbed the spoon towards him firmly. "And I'm not seeing them, he is. So you can not make such rude accusations towards my BOYFRIEND, Murata."

"Ok, ok! I apologize!" You huffed still scowling at him before turning back to the task at hand. "I just wanted to be sure you were ok. You're like a sister to me and seeing you go through do much well..."

You sighed. "I appreciate your concern but you know me. If Mei was just like the other guys I dated, then I wouldn't even have gone on a second date with him let alone be his girlfriend. Look. I promise you IF anything bad happens, which it won't, then I'll be outta there faster than a cheetah. Ok?"

He sighed again too. "Alright. But if you ever need any help-"

"You and my aunt are the first ones I'll call. Now hush up and eat your udon before it goes cold."

He deflated but busied himself by eating the food and trying to lessen the tension in the air caused by his sudden disturbance. About ten minutes passed between him emptying his bowl and sipping his tea in silence before he spoke up again.

"So..where is he now?"

"He's helping a friend study for a history exam he has next week. He won't be around today if that's what you're worried about."

"No, no. Just curious is all."

"You'd like him if you ever got to meet him. Even my aunt likes him."

"Your aunt is crazy no offense."

"Auntie is crazy in a 'lets go to a restaurant with my pet tarantula' kinda way. She's not crazy in a 'seeing things that aren't there' kinda way."

"Hm. Touche."

He took another sip of his drink as you sighed before there was a loud knock at the door causing both of you to turn to said door as loud knocking cascaded from the other side.

"Oh! That's probably Auntie! I told her to come visit me this week!" Excited by the thought of your aunt coming by to visit you too, you placed down what you had been packing up, sped walked to the door, threw it open, blinked at wbo was on the other side, and then smiled. "Hi, Guys. I wasn't expecting you three to show up."

"HI, Y/N!!," Mitsuri instantly shouted with a full arm wave at you. Behind you keeping away from her furiously waving arm was Sanemi and Obanai whom looked more bored.

"What are you guys doing here? I thought you were studying for final exams?"

"Those aren't until May which is months away," Sanemi grunted softly pushing Mitsuri's arm away from him before she accidentally sent him flying into the snow. "We're going to a concert tonight and wanted to know if you wanted to come along."

"Oh..Well I've never been to a concert before so I wouldn't know what to do there."

"It's not like a famous singer or anything, it's just a show party thrown together by a bunch of locals."

"Oh. Sure then! Sounds fun! Just let me finish up in the kitchen first. You guys wanna come in?" Stepping aside to allow them in immediately of course Mitsuri's attention turned to the kitchen.

"Do I smell udon?!"

"Yep! Do you want some?" She nodded eagerly making you smile and gestured to three of them to follow you. "Come on into the kitchen then. I'll fix you guys some."

Murata had been confused holding his cup as you returned only to be followed by a woman and two men he didn't know. Mitsuri didn't seem to have any problems with there being a literal stranger in your kitchen however both Sanemi and Obanai stopped in their tracks to stare at the confused man sipping away at his teacup. And equally as confused look graced Sanemi's face however Obanai's eyes widened... Before they narrowed suspiciously looking him up and down before pointing an accusing hand to him.

"WHO is HE?," He spat out rudely.

The tone made you look up from putting a lid on a container before blinking. "Oh, right. Guys, that's Murata. He's my best friend from highschool."

"Um.."Murata glanced the three individuals with confusion. "Sup?"

"HI!! OH MY GOSH!! I DIDN'T KNOW THAT Y/N HAD OTHER FRIENDS!! THAT'S SO SWEET!!," Mitsuri gushed in enthusiasm as usual.

He winced at her loud tone but nodded. "Uh..Yeah. Hey. You're the girl who was in the play right? My cousin was the Nutcracker." Obanai glared harder at him.

"No way! I never would've guessed!!"

"So who are you guys?"

"That's Mitsuri." You continued to finish packaging his food since you were almost done anyways. "And Sanemi and Obanai."

"PFT?!" Instantly Murata nearly spat out his tea but he didn't. Instead it puffed up in his cheeks making him comically look like a chipmunk in horror before he eventually managed to swallow it down and proceeded to get into a minor coughing fit making you look at him. "*COUGH COUGH HACK!!* S-Sanemi Shina- *cough* -gawa?!"

"Yeah." Much like Obanai he gave a suspicious look crossing his arms. "What if it?"

"N-Nothing! Nothing!" Murata squeaked out looking a million shades suddenly paled now with a gulp. "I-It's just...Y/n spoke about you a lot is all."

"Yeah. These are the friends I told you about!" You turned with three tupperware containers stacked up in your hands before you proceeded to plant the three in front of your terrified friend. "They're all studying to become teachers! Isn't that neat?"

"Great!," he squeaked out high pitched, "We can always use more teachers!"

"What are you studying?," Obanai bluntly asked almost challenging him with his gaze.

"...Murata's studying computer science and programming! He wants to be a game developer. Isn't that great?", you answered for him when it was obvious that your terrified friend couldn't.

"Huh...I suppose." You have Obanai a frown making him sigh. "Snake On A Train is a good game though."

"Hey, Murata. Maybe you should get these home to Sabito before it goes cold."

"OKYEAH!!"

Helping your terrified friend find an excuse out, you politely showed him out the door sighing before returning to the kitchen finding Mitsuri helping herself to the entire large pot of udon and Sanemi still staring at everyone completely confused.

"What the hell was his problem?"

"Sorry. He's just-..Shy around some people."

"Uh huh."

He didn't seem to believe you but didn't push the issue figuring his reputation had just been what scared off your friend not taking offense to it. Thank goodness. Obanai however was suspiciously still eyeing where Murata was sitting like he personally offended him.

"Who was he?"

"My friend from highschool? I told you that." You eyed Mitsuri still slurping down broth, noodles, and veggies like it was nothing. Well...at least you wouldn't have any leftovers cluttering your fridge between Murata needing food and her appetite. "He just stopped by to visit me since we hadn't seen each other since Christmas."

"He wasn't trying to put the moves on you?" ...You, Mitsuri, and Sanemi both turned to give him looks. Yours confused and surprised and Sanemi a 'what the hell are you doing ' meanwhile Mitsuri's looked shocked before changing to beaming in happiness at her Boyfriend as if just confirming something. "Uh.." He quickly took notice of the situation before backtracking. "He..told me about the pub incident." He explained pointing a quick finger at Sanemi.

Did he assume Murata was hitting on you because he was eating in your kitchen? That was weird. "No. Nothing like that. Besides Murata already has a boyfriend so I don't think he's interested in me like that at all."

Obanai's eyes widened. "So...he wouldn't like-.."

"Not unless I suddenly turn into a man and changed my personality to be his type overnight. Which he's already in a long term relationship anyways so there's like zero chance there, Obi. You shouldn't jump to conclusions like that."

His eyes looked so cartoony widd as he stared at you before he looked away. "Right...Sorry."

"It's ok, but next time just ask me nicely before jumping the gun." You explained to him reminding you of the kids in the daycare.

"Anyways," Sanemi started looking at you, "-are we going or not?"

Well that was very awkward and confusing but luckily nothing bad had happened like Sanemi getting angry with Murata over a misunderstanding and it was only the second week into January. At least the 'concert' was fun even if you could call it that. It was just a small gathering of about thirty or so people and some mediocre bands played off tune or too loudly. But you had fun spending time with the three of them for a couple hours.

More days passed by and it was the same thing as usual mostly. Get up. Go to work. Do classes. Get the notes you couldn't get from Shinobu or Giyuu. Shopping. Bills. Chores. And the like. The third Monday of January you spent some time with the Kocho sisters and Giyuu. He'd asked you to come play shogi with him like you had promised him on Christmas and you agreed because a promise was a promise after all. The sisters were there. Shinobu was helping Kanae study for an upcoming exam using flashcards and a fake test to which Shinobu would 'grade' her on after to help. But they took time out to come over and talk to you about their current obsession.

"Have you read this book?"

You took a moment to glance at the book Shinobu held up to you. Of Butterflies and Devils. Before shaking your head no and turning back to the board game at hand. The entire game was confusing to you and the last two games you'd already lost quickly to the blue eyed man sitting across from you.

"Can't say that I have. What is it about?" You glanced around the pieces trying to calculate the best move. Didn't help that Giyuu had most of your pieces while you only had one of his.. eventually you settled og moving your third to last one to the left.

"It's about two sisters fighting against this unfeeling evil presence of their world." She spoke almost as if it was a personal journey she had gone through. "The entire story is their journey leading up to their first climax against the devil. Unfortunately the older sister passed away-"

"Shinobu, don't spoil the entire story for her." You glanced at Kanae on your other side as she held up a second much thicker book than the one Shinobu held. Poisoned Stained Glass was displayed on the cover. "That one is just a prequel story to the actual novel here. I think it's quite a lovely story even though her journey is quite tragic. You should read them sometime. Then you can join our book club."

"Oh. Sure! But I don't have them." You blinked as Giyuu held up your piece in his hand having made a move while you weren't looking.

"I win again," he said simply.

You sighed at the fact he managed to beat you again. You really weren't very good at shogi. "Sorry, Giyuu. I'm not really much of a player."

"Why are you apologizing?," he asked simply placing down your piece again. "I find playing against you enjoyable. The entire purpose of the game is to find enjoyment not win isn't it?"

Huh. Spoken like a true team player or a really good coach. He was definitely going to make a great gym teacher. The entire statement had you smiling and nodding your head. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Practice makes perfect as they say so do you want to go another round?"

"Yes. Very much. This time I'll help teach you how to play." Already he was moving to reset the little wooden pieces. "That way you can make better moves."

Sounds good to you. You blinked as Kanae sat her book in front of you with a smile on her face. "Here. You can borrow my copy to read then we'll show you the third installment in the series about their youngest sister."

You opened your mouth to answer her but before you could say anything Shinobu suddenly put her book on top of her sister's making even Giyuu blink. "Read this one first! It's the prequel so it'll help make the second one make more sense."

"Oh. Ok. I'll be sure to give them a read when I can."

Seemed interesting enough anyways. You'd be nice and give them both a read in-between work and other obligations as you went along. You didn't see why you couldn't indulge in some of your friends' interests too especially when they've been nothing but kind to you after all. Speaking of friends you also ran into another friend of yours while going on an outing with Gyomei.

Nothing fancy. Just a dinner together and a little walk around a new party of town you hadn't been to but Gyomei had, so you allowed him to lead you around the still snow covered ground and looking at a few new establishments you'd never seen. A mechanic shop, a book store, what looked like an antique store-

You blinked as Gyomei slowly stopped also stopping you as your arms were linked before he gestured to the antique looking store. "Kyojuro works there as the assistant manager. Should we stop by and say Hello?"

Kyo? You smiled. "Sure. I haven't seen him in like three weeks. It'll be a nice surprise."

Gyomei agreed and lead you across the cold street and towards the small shop. It wasn't anything fancy. Just your average small shop that looked like it sold antiques and donated items like clothes, toys, and other random things. Yep. Just your average hand me down store. Though you did spy a few foreign cook books you were interested in. The one from France made you completely stop and skip from Gyomei's arm to go rummaging through the shelf of books and magazines. Picking up some cheap cookbooks you were very eager to look through.

"Did you folks find anything you like?"

Both of you turned and you lit up at the sight of a brightly smiling flame haired man holding up a decently sized cardboard box in his arms. "Kyo! There you are! Mei said you worked here!"

"INDEED!!" He shouted loudly with a bright smile on his face. "Welcome to Greatwill!! A percentage of every purchase goes to the local woman's shelter! How can I help you today?"

He must've still been acting professional cuz he was still on the clock. No matter. You were still happy to see him so you held up the old pre owned books. "Can I buy these really quick?"

"Of course! Just let me finish putting up this china set and I'll get right to you!," he said holding up the box.

Definitely caught him in the middle of working. Only watching as returned to a shelf to finish unloading the breakable china onto the shelves before making his way over to the counter and smiling brightly at you holding your books.

"Did you find everything ok?"

You nodded. "Definitely. I can't wait to look through these recipes. Aren't you working a bit late though?"

"I was about to close up the shop actually. You both caught me right when closing."

"Oh. Hey. Do you wanna come have dinner with us?"

Kyojuro and Gyomei blinked at you surprised by your offer. "You're...inviting me to dinner?"

You nodded. "Only if you'd want to though it's been a while since I last saw you and I'd like to spend time with you too. As long as Mei doesn't mind." You turned to him in question.

Gyomei hummed raising a brow as he stared in your direction. "I..do not see why not as long as he is comfortable with it."

"But of course!" The flame haired man beamed at you both in happiness. "I'd love nothing more than to join you both for dinner! But first thing's first. That'll be ten forty five for the books."

The night was pretty casual. You three had a few burgers at some small hole in the hall restaurant just catching up with him asking his his exam went and how his dad was doing at his new job. You were happy to hear Mr. Rengoku was doing a lot better now than you last saw him. And you were happy to see Kyojuro also doing so well seemingly much happier now that he didn't have to worry about his father struggling with a job. Speaking of which you've learnt through the grapevine that the Shinazugawas were doing much better as well. Most of Sanemi's friends had helped to chip in with helping Mrs. Shinazugawa pay off the massive debt her deceased husband left behind. So now Sanemi's siblings wouldn't be forced to take on part time jobs after all which was a relief. That poor woman didn't need to go through that. Before parting on good terms for the evening and heading on home.

You supposed the Uzui's heard of you hanging out with practically everyone else so not to be outdone, Makio sent you a text inviting you to come over next week and see where they put up the painting of you. You agreed and the last Wednesday of that month drove over to the Uzuis' home. Greeted at the door by Makio whom invited you in and found the other two ladies preparing lunch in the kitchen but made sure to greet and talk to you for a little bit before Tengan danced his way down the stairs to greet you.

"Well if it ain't my lovely muse!~," he greeted you brightly upon seeing you there.

"Hey, Tengen. How's your next painting coming along?"

You noticed that he was wearing that paint stained apron and he had his hair tied up in the same messy bun he always wore when you posed for him, so you assumed that meant he must've been painting again.

He lit up giving a wink and finger guns. "Sharp eye. My neighbor commissioned me to paint her this cherry blossom landscape but that's not what you're here for." You blinked when he all of sudden threw an arm around your shoulders and squished you against his side. "How about I show you where I put that portrait at?"

"Sure!"

With a smile he brought you upstairs and over down the hall a bit before he showed you the wall right next to the guest room proudly. On it was the absolutely beautiful painting Tengen had painted you last month. It's a surreal feeling seeing yourself somehow so beautiful and painted. Made you happy seeing Tengen's face so proudly smiling at it.

"I think you picked a nice spot for it," you complimented making him smile. "I'd love to see your other painting when you're finished."

"Will do! You'll love it! Cherry blossoms are one of my favorite things to paint!" He motioned with his hands lighting up like a kid in a candy shop. "After all, they're absolutely beautifully breath taking and the romantic undertones are perfect for that special someone."

"I didn't take you for a romantic, but then again you work at a host club so that checks out."

That actually had him blinking before looking amused and loudly laughing. "Hahaha! I'd like to think I'm quite romantic with all my partners, but I was actually referring to the painting itself as romantic considering the guy whom commissioned me plans to gift it to his crush next month."

You rose a brow a bit confused. "Next month?"

Now Tengen's brow rose. "Did you forget?" He motioned at nothing with his hand when you didn't catch on. "Valentine's Day!"

"Oh." Realization dawned on you. "I must've forgotten with how busy I've been this month." Although you did notice the fliers advertising for the upcoming Sweethearts Dance the university was hosting but soon after forgotten about them.

"Yeah. Y'know it's tradition to confess under cherry blossoms? Well it's still going to be too cold for them to bloom next month so the guy figured that he'd confess by giving his own cherry blossoms. Courtesy of yours truly of course!~"

"Aw! That's honestly kinda sweet."

"Yeah! I'm treating all three of my wives to an expensive dinner and treating them like the queens they are!~ And of course Kyojuro's not going to escape my flamboyant love either! What about you guys?" He looked interested tilting his head at you. "What are you and the big guy doing for V Day? Wait! Don't tell me. The big lug's taking you to that cute dance right?"

"Oh...um." You looked away suddenly shuffling embarrassed. "I uh-...Never celebrated Valentine's Day romantically."

Slowly magenta eyes blinked at you. "Huh?"

You shrugged. "Well...I do celebrate it just not like everyone else."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I just-..Well Valentine's Day is about celebrating all kinds of love not just romantic. So I just sorta celebrated self love. Every year."

"Uh huh." He hummed looking you up and down. "Haven't you ever been to a dance before?"

"Once. At prom...But it didn't go so well."

"What happened?"

You frowned deadpanned. "Well my 'date' ghosted me and didn't pick me up, and when I decided to just go myself I found out he just decided to dump me and go with one of the cheerleaders instead. I spent the entire time just drinking punch standing around like an idiot because no one asked me to dance." That and you only got home because Murata was there and like a good friend had offered to drive you back home.

His eyes widened at that. "Wow. That's despicable."

"I know. Before Mei I've had really bad luck with dates."

"I see.." It was then that his eyes lit up with a bright idea that made him. "Well I'm sure you'll have a good dance one of these days."

"I doubt that but thank you, Tengen. I appreciate it."

"But of course.~ Now why don't you join us for lunch? Hinatsuru makes some delicious gyudon."

You hadn't really expected anything to happen after that encounter with the Uzuis. You simply had lunch and then left soon after not giving Tengen a second thought to anything he had said as he saw you off digging a phone from his pocket. Just choosing to focus on work and school through the rest of the month and into the first few days of February.

When it happened.

You were in the nursery when it happened. You had just changed the diaper of one of the babies and put them down for their nap when your coworker poked her head in with a mixture of shock and 'i just saw a ghost' on her face.

"Hey, Lacey. Are you ok?" You looked concerned by the thousand yard stars she was giving you. "You look like you saw a ghost."

She just stiffly looked at you before pointing behind her towards the front lobby. "Th-Th-There's-..For you?"

You were further confused furrowing your brows. "For me?..Is there someone in the lobby?"

She stiffly nodded making you him. Who could be in the lobby at this hour? Classes weren't over yet so nobody could've been here to pick up anyone yet. By the look on her face, it could've been Sanemi scaring the living daylights out of her again but that wouldn't make sense if he was still in class. Curiosity got the better of you as you bypassed the frozen, pale woman and left the infant wing towards the lobby. Up the hallway you noticed something up ahead. A much taller figure was already standing there and you recognized him immediately.

"Gyomei?" The man in the apron turned to you with a blink as your footsteps approached from up the hallway. "What's going on?"

"That is what I was just trying to figure out." He turned back forward across the lobby and you did too.

What you saw had you stopping in your tracks.

"Guys?"

"HI, Y/N!!," Mitsuri was the first one to answer giving you a full armed wave and smile.

Everyone was there. Hinatsuru, Giyuu, Obanai-

"What are you all doing here?," Gyomei asked confused as if reading your mind too. His brows rising. Did that mean Lacey told him to come to the lobby too? "Shouldn't you be at work or have classes?" His head tilted as his brows furrowed. "And how come I smell so much floral?"

"Why are you guys holding flowers?"

Each and every one of them held some kind of flowers. A full on bouquet for most even if Sanemi and Obanai looked entirely flustered and red faced about it refusing to make eye contact.

"Kanae donated them from the florist shop but enough of that?" Tengen smiled brightly at you as if proud of his little mischief plan. "We came all the way here to ask you both something!"

Ask you both something? You glanced at Gyomei but he just seemed as lost and confused as you were continuing to just stare ahead in sheer dumbfoundedness at the group of people in front of you both until you looked back up when Tengen got down on one knee.

"Gyomei. Y/n." With the most mischievous grin on his face he dared to hold up the roses to you both. "Will you do us the honor of going to the dance with us?~"

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subconwell · 1 year ago

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You like Huey Dewey Louie and the News? Their early work was a little too new wave for my taste. But when Duck Tales came out in '87, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and

#ttcc #toontown corporate clash #pacesetter #graham ness payser #im NOT tagging the movie you know what it is #i dont always post art but it's on my twitter might as well throw it on here too

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hand-picked-star · 11 months ago

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The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 25 ( final)

DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fantasy. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT.

Final Chapter

Three years later.

It was the eve of Diwali, the festival of lights. The Rajput haveli was a vision of grandeur and festivity this evening. The entire estate was adorned with intricate decorations. Strings of twinkling fairy lights draped over every window and doorway and vibrant rangoli patterns were meticulously crafted at the entrance. Rows of gleaming diyas, their soft flickering flames casting a warm, golden glow, lined the pathways and courtyards, creating a serene and enchanting ambience. The air was filled with the scent of freshly made sweets and the sounds of laughter and celebration, as the household came alive with the spirit of joy and togetherness.

Arnav and Khushi had been celebrating their Dewalis with the Rajput family instead of their own Haveli, which they had finally managed to build according to their own taste. It was especially Khushi's touch that could be seen in every corner of the new Raizada state. Though they had a beautiful house of their own, they very much enjoyed spending their Dewalis with the Rajputs. Because, all of their near and dear ones were here and with Mahindar and Manorama's advancing age, they wanted to celebrate the festivals surrounded by all of their children.

"Oh shit."

Arnav hurriedly entered the room and locked the door behind him. Khushi was in the midst of getting ready. was adjusting a delicate gold necklace around her neck. She had styled her dark hair elegantly in loose waves that had gone perfectly with the stunning deep red sari, she had worn. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of concern as she looked up from her reflection.

"What happened?"

"The string of my trousers just snapped. Did you bring a spare?" Arnav replied, noticing how gorgeous she looked.

"Let me see."

As Khushi proceeded to see Arnav's broken trouser string, a mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

"Aren't you a bit too eager to see my treasures, Mrs. Raizada?"

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she said, "Take it off."

"As you wish."

Arnav grabbed her waist, gently placing her on the desk in her room. The old desk was not that big, leaving her back pressed against the wall. He moved to stand between her legs, gently pushing them apart.

"What are you doing?" she whispered yelled as his hands slid up her thighs. He wrapped one of his hands around her waist, pulling her a little closer, while he put the other hand against the wall, above her head.

"Nothing, just testing how sturdy the desk is," he said leaning closer to her. A playful smirk curled on the corners of his lips.

"Arnav, everyone is waiting for us downstairs."

"A few more minutes won't hurt them," he said, capturing her lips in a teasing kiss while his hands gathered her saree around her waist. He touched her in between her legs, finding her already eager for him.

"Ap aise nahi kar sakte," she whispered, biting her lips.

"Kyun nahi kar sakta? Biwi ho tum meri, my legally wedded wife." A soft whimper escaped her lips, as he pushed his fingers in between her nether lips. "And look at you," he murmured, "....already so ready for me. The idea of us on this desk excites you, huh?"

Khushi swatted his shoulder lightly and smiled, her eyes full of mirth. "Shut up."

"Make me."

In the past few years, so much had changed. What hadn't was the undeniable pull between them. Despite the upheavals in many aspects of their lives, there they were, still wrapped up in their own little world.

He looked devastatingly handsome, as always-nothing special in that. But the navy blue kurta he wore today made his eyes stand out even more, and they were now focused on Khushi, brimming with mirth.

Khushi clutched his collars and pulled him close as she fused their lips together, successfully wiping off the teasing grin on his face. Meanwhile, Arnav got rid of his trousers and entered her in a swift motion. Both of them moaned softly, their pleasure barely contained. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. Her back arched slightly while she adjusted to him. His lips travelled down her neck alternately sucking and kissing her soft supple skin. Her head fell back, eyes fluttered shut.

"Don't leave marks. It would be very awkward in front of the relatives." The desk beneath her creaked softly as he began to move.

"Shhh... I won't... at least not where everyone can see." He whispered, lightly sucking behind her ear.

Their rhythm grew frantic. They tried desperately to muffle their moans, as he pounded repeatedly into her. He then realized they were making lots of noises.

"Shit, your bangles.''

"Huh..?" When Arnav saw his wife completely blissed out and lost in the sensation. He just shrugged his shoulder and went back to his previous activities. Soon, their moans mingled in each other's necks as they finished together.

Both were breathing heavily. Khushi cradled her face against his shoulder, her fingers gently playing with his hair. While Arnav tried to catch his breath by resting his head on her neck. A sudden knock on the door startled them. Instead of pushing him away, Khushi clutched his neck even tighter, holding him close. Akash Bhai's voice came through the door.

"Khushi?"

Regaining her composure, Khushi answered in a shaky voice, "Haan, Bhai?" Her body froze in place.

"Where's Arnav? Hasn't he come yet? Bareilly wale Fufaji usko kabse dhoond rahe hain."

"Hume nahi pata, Bhai. Humne unko nahi dekha."

Khushi noticed her husband's shoulders shaking lightly. She cast a glare at his shoulders as if willing them to stop.

"Theek hain, main dekhta hoon. Tum jaldi tayaar hoke niche aao."

As Akash Bhai's footsteps faded, Arnav couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. He looked back at his wife, his amusement contagious. Khushi tried to give him a stern look but ended up laughing along with him, playfully swatting his chest. Arnav gazed at her affectionately before capturing her lips with his.

As much as he loved to kiss her whimpering lips, he loved kissing her smiling ones even more.

After freshening up, Arnav headed downstairs. As soon as he reached the bottom, two little bodies collided with him, and he effortlessly scooped them up into his arms. Three-year-old Akansha, a spitting image of Anjali as a child, brought back memories of his sister's younger days, while five-year-old Ajit, a perfect blend of Akash and Payal. They grinned up at him. Arnav settled into a nearby lounge chair, both children comfortably perched on his lap.

Little Akansha said in her baby voice, "Mamaji, thank you for the gift. Ma said me to thank you." She placed a tiny kiss on his cheek.

Not to be outdone, little Ajit mimicked her. "Ha, Mamaji, thank you."

Akansha quickly turned to him, frowning. "Arre, buddhu, wo sirf mere Mamaji hain. Tumhare nehi."

"He isn't your Mamaji either," Khushi chided little Akansha lovingly. "Remember what I told you? When you go to our house, you'll call him Mamaji. But when we come here, you have to call him Fufaji."

Arnav scrunched his nose in response, "Don't confuse the children, Khushi." Then, turning back to them, he added, "Why don't both of you just call me Uncle, okay?"

Both of them nodded and sprinted off to play in the courtyard.

Meanwhile, two pairs of brown eyes eagerly awaited their turn on his lap. As soon as it was vacant, they climbed onto each of his thighs. A sweet, confused voice asked, "Daddy, do we need to call you that too?"

"Oh, no, I've worked too hard for you to ever call me that."

"Well, your daddy was very close to being called 'Uncle' by my children once upon a time," Khushi said, lightly touching the little girl's nose.

Arnav cast her a mock glare and mouthed soundlessly, "How dare you?" In response, Khushi just laughed.

While little Ayushi snuggled against her father's neck, little Kush played with his toy, absorbed in his own world. Roma Chachi had remarked aptly that Khushi had indeed given birth to their own reflections, as the three-year-old twins were perfect mirrors of their parents.

While little Ayushi was a bit clingy and voiced her need for attention, little Kush was more reserved. Arnav saw himself in Kush more and more as the days went by. Though Kush didn't seek attention outwardly, inside he was just as eager for snuggles and cuddles as his sister. Even if he pretended otherwise, he desired the same affection. So, Arnav made sure to give both children equal attention. And in some cases, he made an extra effort to give affection to Kush while he was still open to it. Because, As Kush grew up, Arnav knew his little boy might not appreciate his father hugging him as much as his daughter might. It's just a man-code.

Arnav pulled little Ayushi closer, planting a kiss on her head, while he affectionately rubbed his son's back. Khushi watched them with a soft smile, her heart swelling with warmth and tenderness. It had been three years since their birth, and Khushi had been pestering Arnav for another child, but he kept refusing. Their birth had traumatized him enough. Arnav till date clearly remembered and almost felt the panic that he had gone through that night.

He had arranged for the best midwife in the area and had called a trained nurse from the missionary hospital for the delivery. The doctor had come as well and assured him that everything was alright and that the birth would proceed naturally. And there he was, pacing in front of the room where Khushi had been for two hours-two hours of listening to her whimpering and screaming in pain. Arnav was just minutes away from asking Hariprakash to fetch the doctor again when a deafening cry of a newborn pierced the air.

A joyous shout of Roma Chachi came from inside, "It's a boy!"

A few moments later, Roma Chachi emerged from the room with a little crying bundle and approached Arnav. But at the same time, another scream from Khushi nearly stopped his heartbeat. Roma Chachi tried to pass the baby to Arnav, but he grabbed her upper arms and asked urgently, "What's happening inside? How's Khushi?"

A hushed whisper circulated among the women in the room who had come to assist with the birth, noting Mr. Raizada's reluctance to take the baby in his arms. Roma Chachi looked around, guessing how the situation must appear, and spoke to Arnav in a hushed voice.

"Take your son, Arnav. Khushi will be alright."

Chastised by his mother-in-law, Arnav looked at the baby, who had stopped crying and was now gazing at him with wide eyes. He took the baby in his arms and sat on a sofa in the corridor. The baby's little body squirmed in the palm of his hand. Father and son stared at each other for quite some time. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness washed over him, though he couldn't exactly name the other emotions coursing through him. He just kissed the baby boy's forehead lightly and spoke softly as if the baby would clearly understand his words, "I'm not mad at you. I'm just scared."

A little while later, Anjali took the baby from Arnav while Khushi's screams continued to echo from the room, driving him to the brink of madness. He asked Hariprakash to fetch the doctor and also asked Anjali to go inside and see what was happening. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and Arnav's heart pounded at the sudden silence. Roma Chachi emerged with another bundle, her face radiant with a brilliant smile. "There was another baby-a girl. It's a little Khushi."

Arnav placed his hand on the baby's head and asked, "How's she?"

"She will be okay, Arnav," Roma Chachi reassured him and transferred the baby to Arnav. He felt her snuggle into him as he placed a soft kiss on her crown. Since then, Little Ayushi never missed a chance to snuggle into her father's arm.

When everybody went home and the babies were settled with Anjali and Payal in the next room. Roma Chachi decided to sleep in the room, attached to where Khushi was. She was sleeping soundly after giving birth. The doctor said she had lost a lot of blood. Although the bleeding had stopped, she had become very weak. She looked pale, alarmingly pale actually and her breathing was shallow. Fear gripped Arnav's heart despite everybody's reassurance.

He spent the night holding her hand and sitting on the floor near her head, counting her breaths. He didn't know when he fell asleep, his head resting near their joined hands. But he woke up to Khushi's gentle fingers lightly gliding through his hair. When he opened his eyes, she urged him to lie down beside her on the bed. He obliged, and she didn't waste any time snuggling into his chest, her arm draped across his belly.

"Will you be angry with me for the rest of your life if I leave this world before you?"

Arnav's heart dropped at her question. "Don't ask me questions like that."

"Answer me, please."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I can never be angry at you."

"Good, I don't want you to be angry at me at all."

"Then don't even think of leaving."

Khushi tilted her head to look at him and smiled tiredly. Arnav placed a soft kiss on her dry lips. "I felt like I would never see you again, or our babies..... I was so scared."

Arnav gulped down the lump in his throat and didn't say anything in response, only pulled her closer to his body.

She had been quiet for a while, and Arnav thought she had fallen asleep when she spoke again."We have two babies now," she said almost disbelievingly.

"Yes, we do. We didn't even know how to raise one."

"Shhh, we'll manage," she said dreamily. "One baby is for you, one baby is for me. Did you hold them?"

"Yes, I did."

"I haven't yet. I guess I had fainted at the end," she said sadly.

"Why don't you get some sleep and gather some energy, Mommy?" he said lovingly. "If they're to be like you, we'll have a lot on our hands."

"What are you saying? I was a very quiet kid."

"Sure, you were," he whispered against her forehead.

"You were no better, mister. I know all the stories from your childhood, so you can't deny it. At least I didn't get stuck in a patila."

Laughing, Arnav gathered her in his arms even tighter, and both of them fell asleep like that.

"Bhaiya, Bhabi, come quickly! Roma Aunty is calling you," Amelia's voice called out across the courtyard to the little bubble of the family of four, who were just chatting.

Over the years, Amelia blossomed into the remarkable young lady she was destined to be. As the cloud of melancholy gradually lifted, it revealed her true essence—a kind, compassionate, and fun-loving individual, fiercely protective of those she loved.

"Let's go Mrs.Raizada."

He extended his hand toward his wife.

Khushi looked up at his extended hand, recalling a time when he had reached out in much the same way to guide a little girl out of the darkness.

Khushi scooped up Kush in her arms as Arnav held Ayushi. Hand in hand with their children nestled in their arms, they joined the rest of the family. The warmth of the burning diyas cast a golden glow over them.

In the end, as they embraced the spirit of the festival, they realized they found their perfect piece of forever in each other's arms, in each other's eyes, knowing that this was where they were always meant to be.

----------THE END----------

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @msbhagirathi @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte

#ipkknd #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #arshi #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta #13 years of ipkknd #whispers of the heart

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validinsanity · 5 months ago

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Sprinkles chapter 2

summary: Konig finds a small little animal in danger. Having a bleeding heart he takes it in and tries to care for it. Being out of depth with taking care of things instead of killing them; he struggles both with his new ward and making friends with his fellow operator; Horangi.

chapter 1

aint too happy on this chapter but i wanna least try to update this once a week to be more confident in my work n consistent. so enjoy! Oh n tell me what hc yall have for konig's face/hair. need ideas for upcoming projects <3

König was exhausted. He’d managed to sleep in short burst, but the anxiety of missing a feeding time gnawed at him. What if he didn’t wake up when it needed food? What if he had rescued the tiny creature only for it to die because he wasn’t careful enough? The weight of the responsibility he had taken on sat heavily on his chest.

It was 4am, and he was running on maybe three hours of sleep. He sighed, finishing off the last of the milk. He’ll have to go visit the mess hall again it seems. Groaning, he reached for his hood. It wasn’t likely anyone would be there this early, but he could never be sure.

The hood acted like a barrier, a shield between him and the rest of the world. When he’d transferred over to Kortac, he’d been overjoyed there were no strict uniform regulations. At first, he had used his normal baklavas, but once he felt a little more at ease, he’d switched to his custom sniper hoods– softer, more comfortable, easier to make in a pinch. Even now he’d sometimes fall asleep with them on, finding them comforting rather than a hindrance.

Yawning, he approached the mess hall entering without a second thought. He stumbled around on autopilot, weaving through tables towards the self-serve area. He would get some coffee for himself as well while he was here. The usual coffee that they served was horrid. Tasting more like burned charcoal than actual coffee. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Spotting a pot of coffee already being made, König set aside a small cup of milk again and set the microwave to warm it. He waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Oh what he wouldn’t give for some whipped cream or good chocolate.

“Surprised to see you out in public without your uniform, König.”

“Scheiße! Horangi!” He’d nearly had a heart attack.

Chuckling Horangi got up from his seat in the shadows. In his sleep deprived state, König had failed to notice the man’s presence. Of course, someone else was responsible for starting the coffee machine.

König glanced down at himself—old black t-shirt with a faded band logo, loose grey sweats, arms fully exposed. Scars and blemishes that littered his body laid bare. A wave of discomfort settled in. He always kept himself covered. Compression shirts, long sleeves, pants—anything to avoid the stares. Oh how he wished he had changed now.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Why are you even awake at this hour?” He growled. König stood taller, glaring down at Horangi. He had to redirect this back into something he could control. Just like in the field he could turn his nerves into adrenaline and mask his anxiety with false bravo.

“Could say the same to you.” Horangi sneered. He stepped closer, taller to his full height glaring up at König that he felt cowed by it.

Horangi had always been the only person on base not to be intimidated by him. Everyone else whispered about him–his brutality, efficiency, sheer size. They all saw him as a monster.

Yet despite this; when Horangi first joined a joint mission with König he’d just whistled called him a big fucker. The room had gone quiet, everyone expecting some kind of fight but König had been so taken aback by the comment he’d just got up and walked out. Since then, Horangi had treated him like anyone else in the team. Never once backing down when he felt König was in the wrong.

Even now König wasn’t sure what to do with the man.

Horangi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look I’ve had a shitty night.” König could now see the disheveled look the man had. His uniform looked like he’d just half put it on in the dark. His usual field pants were on but his top was left unbutton with its sleeves rolled up. On full display were his eyes and most notably his arm tattoos. “I don’t mean to start anything. Just hard not to when you do…” waving his hand Horangi signaled to König’s crossed arms and stiff posture. “That. You always seem to want to pick a fight with everyone. Even when there isn’t a fight to be fought.” Moving past him Horangi grabbed the now finished coffee and poured two cups. Turning back he offered König one. Hesitantly König took it, feeling its warmth seep into his hands.

“Es tut mir leid.” he muttered "Sorry. It’s a habit.” He exhaled, forcing himself to relax. “People see me and immediately try to…” shrugging helplessly he wasn’t sure what more to say.

“Dethrone the king?” Chuckling Horangi pulled down his neck gaiter

König blinked, caught off guard.

Horangi took a sip of his still hot coffee. “Noticed you keep to yourself a lot. Must suck being all alone there at the top.”

Grimacing at the man’s ability to swallow coffee so hot. König stared at his own cup avoiding looking at the man’s face.

“I’m fine.”König said, voice quieter now. “I prefer being alone.”

Because being alone meant one could see how much of a failure he really was. It meant no one could judge him for fumbling through social cues that everyone else seemed to grasp effortlessly. It meant no one would realize that his entire presence–his size, his mask, his reputation–wasn’t armor. It was a shield.

A flimsy one, at that.

Horangi scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Startled, König looked at Horangi, eyes wide.

Horangi downed the rest of his coffee like it was a shot. “No one likes being alone.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp. “You don't have to keep hiding behind that crown of yours.”

König stiffened as Horangi motioned to his hood.

“Maybe everyone else is fooled by your whole ‘big scary König’ act. But I see it for what it is.” A smirk spread on his face pulling on his pretty scars. “I’m not afraid of you. Even more so I think you're a pretty damn good ally to have. I’m glad to have you on my side.”

König’s heart stuttered. His hands clenched around the cups, clammy and now trembling, he felt hot and cold all at once. He had no idea how to process what he’d just been told.

Horangi stepped closer, clapped a hand against his arm in a casual pat, jolting the man, and turned to leave. As he reached the door, he gave a lazy, two fingered salute.

“See yea around.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Absolutely flustered and unsure of what to do, König rushed back to his room. There he could make sense of whatever the hell just happened. More so he had to take care of his ward.

#konig #könig #konig cod #könig cod #Horangi #horangi cod #korangi #fanfic #Körangi #call of duty

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jujutsubaby · 1 year ago

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after hours (part 5)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: after your wild night with toji, you're forced to return back to reality. and by reality, you mean geto and gojo's house party. you're so tired, but nothing a few shots won't fix :) wait, hold on, who's that girl gojo is all over? wait, are you...jealous? ☆ warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! implications of sex, moderate to heavy drinking, partying, jealousy, sexting, over the shirt action, kissing, y/n and other characters get high/drunk/crossed and horny lol ☆ tags: modernAU, academiaAU ☆ a/n: HAPPY VDAY BABES xx 💜🖤💜🖤 sorry it's been a while since i updated this series (i got my period and then had lots of werk to do but im BACK). hope u guys enjoy some gojo and reader sexual tension >:) also to the anon who sent the passive aggressive msg about me not updating after hours...hope ur happy now 😒 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

“morning, riko!” you greet the raven haired barista sleepily, “iced cappuccino with soy milk, please.”

“what…are you sure?” riko says, her face surprised. you always order your signature iced matcha latte with oat milk, unsweetened of course. riko knows it, every one knows it.

“yeahhh, i know. i just had a late night and then an early morning…” you groan. you won’t lie — you feel like you just got hit by a thousand trucks and your eyes are stinging (and probably red from the lack of sleep). “i’m bad at time management,” you confess sheepishly.

riko giggles. “not as bad as your friend trying to order a latte and pretending he likes it”. you sneak a glance at geto, who’s taking a sip of his americano and grimacing at the taste, which makes you smile at his lovesick gesture. “does he know we have other beverages?”

“ehh, i think he does but…he’s just trying to impress a very pretty girl who works here,” you say, trying your best to be obvious…but not too obvious that geto would be upset.

“oh my god, y/n! you know kuroi is happily engaged!” riko jokes, laughing lightly.

“oh darn, i have to break the bad news to suguru…he’s gonna be sooo upset,” you say sadly, pretending to wipe away a false tear dramatically, as riko rings you up for your order. just then, you think of something awful that suguru would definitely kill you for, but you’re already pretty bold for wearing the same outfit from last night that you got fucked in and showing up 30 minutes late to meet your friends, so fuck it.

“speaking of which, riko…are you doing anything tonight?”

“besides closing up…nope.” she answers.

“well, a bunch of us are going to the new barcade that opened up downtown this evening. i’m thinking around 9, think you can make it? you can tell suguru himself to lay off kuroi,” you joke jovially.

riko laughs heartily. “i’ll see you guys there”, she says, handing you your receipt, as you wave goodbye and head to your friends in the corner table. you try not to act flummoxed as you approach your friends, suddenly acutely aware of the how your hair was all over the place (why doesn’t toji own a hairbrush?) and that your jumpsuit was clearly wrinkled and that you hadn’t been able to take a shower yet. god, this was not your sexiest look.

“do they usually allow walk of shames in this cafe? i thought it this was a safe space?” satoru grins, already thinking of 30 ways to roast you for showing your face here after being 30 minutes late. he’s trying to push away any thoughts of you getting fucked by toji out of his head.

“shut up! i…i didn’t bring any extra clothes and i woke up late, okay!” you say, defending yourself earnestly.

“leave her alone, satoru,” suguru chastises, as he scoots down a chair to make room for you. “anyway, why were you talking to riko for such a long time? did she…say anything? it’s my haircut isn’t it? i just wanted to trim the bangs a little bit but they went sooo overboard and now-“

“oh my god suguru, chill!” shoko says, rolling her eyes. “he hasn’t been able to shut the fuck about riko and it’s so annoying that me and satoru are thinking of just asking her out on his behalf, at this point.” suguru tries hard to hide a blush before trying to deflect, but you interrupt them both.

“no need,” you say, turning to face suguru, “you can ask her yourself what we talked about…tonight. at the barcade.” you smile wide with your teeth and give suguru pleading eyes, hoping he won’t get upset with you for taking the liberty to speed run his first date with riko.

his face immediately is unreadable, and satoru elbows his ribs hard and hits his back. “congrats, pal! you finally have something to look forward to tonight that isn’t on your nintendo switch.”

“yeah. i mean…i d-don’t care. at all. i mean…good for her for coming. i don’t know if i’ll even be there but if i see her then i see her. no big deal…” suguru says, mostly to himself.

everyone at the table laughs, and you find your initial weariness of your extended walk of shame slowly melt away. you take a sip of your cappuccino, as utahime complains about how tired she is from playing animal crossing with shoko all night. you feel soft thinking about how utahime probably stayed up later than her usual early bedtime for shoko, knowing full well she has to wake up at 7am the next morning for both getting coffee and teaching her 1st period homeroom at the local high school. shoko has been recently trying to fix her sleep schedule from her night float rotation all junior residents had to do at the hospital their third year.

“also, before i forget, pre-game at ours at 7. we’re inviting nanami and haibara and some other people,” satoru says absentmindedly, his eyes focused on responding to a text on his phone before turning and facing you. “you’re still good on giving me a ride to lab today, right y/n?”

oh shit. “oh, umm, yeah, definitely still good with that.” you say quickly. you don’t exactly remember when you offered to give satoru a ride, but you assume it was one of the many times you tuned him out when he spoke. who’s satoru texting? the intrusive thought came out of nowhere, but you push the newfound irritation back where it came from.

satoru and you walk back to your car while you both lament about how awful this week’s lab has been. “i mean, why even give us a lab when we have a final in like less than a week?” you say exasperatedly, as you search for the keys to your cream white mini cooper and unlock it.

“speak for yourself, i finished that lab last week.” satoru boasts, grinning at your when you give him a confused look. “i’m only going to help the cute girls in class with their work.” he shrugs. what a slag.

“you’re a whore,” you scoff, slightly annoyed at satoru. so he has time to help some random cute girl in class but not his best friend. you buckle in, and take pleasure in watching satoru struggle to situate his legs inside your tiny cramped car. his knees are bent at awkward angles, and his head practically touches the roof of the car.

satoru groans loudly and dramatically. “you have the smallest fucking car in the world, y/n, y'know that?”

“fits me perfectly,” you say nonchalantly, as you back up and drive out to campus.

“well it baaareeelyyyy fits me,” he pouts, the sun visor bumping his head while he pulls it down.

“it’s not even that tight,” you assure him..

“it’s very tight, y/n. i can feel the walls squeezing me.”

“get over it.”

“oh, so it’s okay if toji says that to you but when i say it, it’s a fuckin’ problem?”

you practically choke on your saliva and swerve into the other lane upon hearing satoru’s comment. “h-how did you know…he said that to me?” you say incredulously. there’s no way he like…hacked your phone or something right? maybe you accidentally butt dialed shoko last night and they all heard you moan god knows what. the storm of thoughts in your head is interrupted by satoru’s laughter.

“i didn’t know he said that but now i do.” oh, god. you fell for it like a fucking idiot, y/n. you try to retort something back but you’re left speechless. actually you’re a bit impressed — satoru got that out of you masterfully, and you have to appreciate the tact (or perhaps lack thereof) he had. you try to be angry towards him, but it’s futile as you both start laughing.

“i hate you — stop making me laugh it’s not funny i need to focus on the road, idiot,” you say in between giggles. your eyes stay fixed on the road as you playfully flick satoru’s head (he lets you — your laughter makes his heart beat faster and he ignores it). satoru grabs your hand with his and starts rubbing your fingers together in an effort to warm them up.

“you’re hands are so cold all the time…” he murmurs. to him, it feels so natural to play with your hands, and you let him (his touch brings an undetectable heat to your face…and other parts of your body). you look steal quick glance over at him, and are overcome with a sudden and foreign shyness that instinctually forces you to retract your hand back to the wheel almost immediately. you clear your throat, before announcing to satoru that he was here.

satoru’s knees and joints crack as they are finally released from the prison of your mini cooper, and he dramatically lets out a sigh of relief. he gets out of the car and makes a show of stretching his long legs and arms. his collegiate basketball crewneck slides up, and you catch a glimpse of his toned abs and happy trail. you hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch before snapping out of the trance and rolling your eyes. “have fun harassing the cute girls in your class!” you say sarcastically, as he flips you off before heading to class.

during your drive back home, you don’t want to process the familiar feeling you felt last night when satoru texted you before you had sex with toji. the thoughts you had of him choking you and kissing your while toji played with your titties. oh god, you’re thinking about it again! stop it!

your neck aches from staring at your laptop screen for the last two hours as you try to make going out tonight worth it by studying extra for your final exam next week. your neck cracks loudly in all the right places and you head straight for a quick hot shower. you practically moan when the hot water hits your scalp, and allow the water to wash away all the stickiness of your complicated relationship with toji and satoru. tonight’s just for having fun and not doting on the future, you tell yourself, but not before taking a look at your soapy chest and thinking this is just the perfect picture for toji to see. you quickly snap a pic, promising yourself you won’t be one of those desperate girls toji always brings over to his house.

y/n: [1 Photo] hi :)

okay, you know you had just sent the photo to toji, but it did kind of break your heart that he didn’t immediately respond. okay, sure he’s a single dad so he might be busy…or he’s fucking some other girl. your heart drops slightly at the thought of him blowing some other unsuspecting girl’s back out, and the sadness quickly turns to annoyance. you’re better than this, y/n. who cares anyway — no one sucks dick like you do. you smirk. you definitely aren’t the type of girl who would hook up with anyone, but you know how to not sell your skills short. if toji was busy with his own life, well, so were you.

you hop out of the shower, checking your phone once again to see if toji had responded, only to be met with a text from satoru in the group chat:

satoru: [1 Photo] got the goods 😛

you open the photo to see him with a couple packs of white claws, and suguru in the background looking intently at two wine bottles in his hands. no way is satoru’s lightweight ass is gonna make through even one can before getting sloshed, you think to yourself.

shoko: what’s sugu doing?

satoru: deciding on what wine to get for riko lmfao

you can’t help but smile at how cute suguru was, being so nervous for something that wasn’t even a formal first date.

y/n: awww 🥹 get the rosé bby

shoko: y/n if ur ass isn’t ready in 10 mins i s2g i’m gonna leave without u

you scrunch your nose and throw your phone on the bed — if you really hurry you could easily be out your door in fifteen. after thinking for five minutes, you decide on a classic little black skirt with a slit on the side paired with a lace cropped bralette (that honestly really did wonders to your boobs). you wore an oversized leather button down shirt, sheer black tights, and a pair of black gogo boots. you quickly fixed up your hair, figuring that “wet” look was already trendy anyway. after applying your makeup at the speed of light (you went for a subtle yet sultry neutral look), you grab your little purse and sprint out your room, and see that shoko was staying true to her word, as she was just about to head out the door. she sees you, stops, and grins.

“you barely made it,” she teases, as she holds the door open for you.

“you bitch.” you respond, rolling your eyes. “is utahime meeting us there?”

“yes she’s already there,” shoko says, not looking up from her phone as she calls an uber. so that’s why she’s been dying to get out of the house so impatiently.

as both of you get into the uber, shoko pulls out two gummies from her purse and offers one to you. “pregame the pregame?” she says, and you both start giggling as you pop the gummy in your mouth. it’s probably not going to hit for a while, which leaves you plenty of time to get there and say your greetings to nanami and haibara before you get extremely crossed. you check your phone one last time, only to be met with no texts from toji.

“thanks for the ride!”, shoko yells out as the uber driver speeds away.

“umm, i’ve never been to oovoo javer…”, you say through giggles uncontrollably. oh, fuck. this must’ve been one of those fast acting gummies. shoko must have been feeling the effects too because she starts laughing noiselessly and you both are doubling over outside of satoru and suguru’s apartment, grabbing each other for support so you both don’t fall from how much you both are laughing.

the door of the boys’ apartment flies open and it’s some couple open mouth kissing each other, stumbling their way out of the confines of the living room rager that lied ahead for both of you. you and shoko both bit back another giggling fit before stepping in. suddenly, two arms engulfed both of you in a strong yet familiar bear hug.

“himeee~” you hear shoko greet cheerfully.

utahime hiccups, already a bit tipsy. she pouts jokingly before shoko kisses her cheek and you squeeze her torso back in another bear hug. “you bitches are awful for leaving me with dumb and dumber…” she says, punctuating her words with hiccups.

“i’m sorry, 'hime. let’s grab a drink. i also packed you a joint,” shoko apologizes before utahime drags the both of you to the kitchen for a drink. in the kitchen, you find nanami slouching against the fridge, looking annoyed as ever, and haibara animatedly talking to some lower class men. haibara locks eyes with you and immediately turns and embraces you in a warm hug, while nanami manages a shoddy wave.

"ahhh my favorite little babiessss~" you squeal, pulling both guys closers to you and giving them a strong hug. you always get very touchy and sentimental when under the influence. "i haven't seen you guys in sooooo long!"

"please let go, y/n." nanami says calmly, but not before briefly squeezing you back for what felt like half a second. wait a minute -- what the hell is nanami doing here? he never comes to these things.

"wait why are you he-"

"save it," nanami interrupts, running his fingers through his hair. "i'm only here because i wanted a referral to the lab gojo works at, and he said yes but that i needed to come over this evening so he could ask me some questions regarding the referral application."

"oh, yeah! what questions did he want to ask you?" haibara asks quizzically.

nanami takes an even deeper sigh. "i showed up and he asked if i wanted to take a shot and when i sad 'no just ask me what you need for the referral', he was like 'that's the question, do you want a shot?' and that's how i got fucking tricked into coming to this godforsaken rager." nanami seems truly miserable having fallen for satoru's scheme so easily. "anyway...given the circumstances, i did take a shot..." he groans, slowly sliding down the fridge onto the kitchen floor.

you and haibara laugh, and utahime hands you a white claw. you open the chilled can, and take a sip, your hazy state of mind helping you not feel the slight burning in the back of your throat.

"speaking of that idiot, where is he?" you ask, your eyes scanning the room for his bright white hair. you frown not seeing him anywhere, but your face quickly relaxes when you see suguru and riko heading to you and your friends. oh nice, suguru finally managed to ask riko to come to the pregame, too.

"hey riko!" shoko greets, "didn't expect to see you here..." she teases.

riko giggles and take a sip of her wine. "i couldn't say no to seeing my favorite customers!" she steals a quick glance up at suguru and you swear you see him blush. "also, this wine suguru picked out is amazing! how did you know i love rosé?"

you bite back a smile, making quick eye contact with suguru. "oh...lucky guess..." he shrugs, playing it off nonchalantly.

"oh by the way, i got a joint for us to share," shoko says, pulling it out of her bag. "anyone interested in puff puff passing?" she asks, already holding utahime's hand and heading to the balcony. suguru and riko follow suit, and you quickly bid nanami and haibara farewell.

as you turn around, you bump into the man you've been looking for, wearing the same basketball collegiate crewneck, white hair disheveled, and a drunken flush to his face.

you don't even get to say hello to satoru as he lifts you up in a giant hug that encompasses you and spins you around, making you squeal. you can't help but wrap your legs around him, knowing full well you probably shouldn't since your skirt was not long enough for it, but you needed to feel the warmth and comfort of his body around yours. you always got a bit too touchy feely when you were under the influence...

"eeep satoru~ put me down!"

"nope, missed ya", he mumbes into your hair. oh, he's definitely drunk right now. sober satoru would never openly admit something like that and it makes you giggle.

"please~ my skirt is too short for this ahh~" you plead, unwrapping your legs from his torso, all of sudden feeling embarrassed through the warm haze engulfing your body. satoru finally puts you down and shamelessly eyes you up and down while taking large sips of his beer.

"that skirt can definitely be shorter," he says cheekily, his blue eyes filled with drunken mischief. you roll your eyes dramatically and also take a sip of your claw.

"you're drunk, satoru..."

"and you need to get drunker!" he yells, already grabbing you a shot glass and pouring some of rankest shit you've ever smelled. the music starts pounding louder, and you need to raise your voice even higher to make sure he hears you.

"aren't you gonna take one with me?" you shout.

"y'know i'm a fuckin' lightweight, baby~" he frowns, handing you the shot, a little bit spilling with his sloppy actions.

you scrunch your nose at the strong stench. "i'm a bit stoned though so only one, okay?" you say to him. you close your eyes, hold your breath, and down it. your eyes water and you have to prevent yourself from dry heaving as you immediately grab the nearest can of cola on the table and chug it as a chaser.

"wooow, you're such a baby," satoru jeers, thinking about how you've always needed a non-alcoholic drink to wash down your alcohol. you're not a heavy drinker by any means -- not even a moderate drinker. as as a social drinker, you always feel the need to try to at least sort of keep up with your friends when they drink the rankest and cheapest liquor. thank god satoru has always been a lightweight.

"shut up~" you say, rolling your eyes. you grab satoru's arm and pull him closer to the balcony where all your friends are. he slides his arm down so that you're holding his hands. your heart beats faster, knowing full well your vices always made you...hornier than usual. you're trying really hard to not look back at satoru, but you steal a glance anyway. his flush face and tired eyes are all of a sudden looking really attractive to you. your eyes slide down and look at his hands, the shape of his long calloused fingers gripping your hand and you can't help but imagine how they would feel pumping inside you. oh god, was he always this attractive? ugh! why can't toji just message you back so you can just go over to his place instead of having to lust over your best friend?!

you both enter the balcony, and the cool yet humid evening air hits your face, allowing you to finally breath something that wasn't beer and sweat. that is, until the stench of weed hits your nose.

"ugh, this shit's gross! i dunno how you guys can fuckin' stand the smell," satoru complains, dramatically making a gagging face.

"and you call me a baby?!" you snort, still trying to not be obnoxiously flirtatious throughout the night to satoru. you cannot let the horniness win tonight. god, what's gotten in you? you're never this...desperate? it's satoru's fault because he's looking so good tonight, you tell yourself. you pass on the joint, and try to focus on the conversation at hand, but it's hard when satoru puts his arms around you and pulls your closer to his chest.

almost instinctively, you melt into his chest, allowing yourself to feel his warmth and focus on his breathing chest. you smell the beer from his mouth as he laughs at something suguru said and you giggle too so people can know you're sort of paying attention.

you're a perfect mix of drunk and high, and you're feeling blissful being out on this balcony with your best friends, albeit minus the thoughts of how good satoru was looking tonight. is it even that wrong to think that your friend looks hot? you're not being delusional right?

"suguru is definitely being a comedian tonight for riko, isn't he?" you tiptoe up to satoru and whipser into his ear, thinking you're being subtle. unfortunately for you (and suguru), the loud music isn't being carried out to the balcony, and everyone hears you, and starts laughing. oh shit. you immediately pan over to suguru and see him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"oh my god, suguru i- riko, i'm obviously joking!" you say really fast, slurring through your words as the shot finally is taking effect into your body. "obviously, suguru is the funniest person i know!"

"second funniest but i'm letting suguru tell all the jokes tonight. he needs this more than i do." satoru smiles brightly, looking at his best mate and making a kissy face at him.

"okay, riko, we are actually. um. we are leaving. and going to my room or the living room or literally anywhere else but here," suguru says, abruptly standing and helping riko up.

"wait what no, i wanna hear more about this-" she starts to tease, but ends up laughing.

"you're taking her to your room?!" shoko teases, raising her eyebrows comically. utahime chokes on the joint and starts laughing coughing and you do too, before you immediately stop. you cannot get on suguru's nerves tonight, as you know that'll make him too in his head to actually focus on having a fun time with riko.

you lift your body weight off of satoru and make way for suguru to leave. satoru side steps in front of suguru and pulls him into a hug, to which he scowls and tries to break free of. "mate, we LOVE you. i love you. and y/n loves you. and i'm going to absolutely obliterate you at street fighter at the barcade tonight." satoru slurs through his words and you almost feel bad for riko for having to deal with you and your friends.

you give a sympathetic look to riko as she trails behind suguru, patting his back softly and giggling. you're about to whisper a quick sorry to her, but she takes you by surprise by whispering "i hope i get obliterated by him tonight."

your jaw drops and you could almost cry laughing at what riko just said. i mean, okay, yeah it makes sense, and good for her but oh my god? i didn't know she had that in her?, you think to yourself.

"queen, i hope it happens. i'm for real manifesting this for you," you whisper back quickly and she sips her wine and giggles and follows suguru out of the balcony.

you turn around incredulously to shoko and utahime and look up satoru, all of them completely in shock at what they heard. there's a moment of silence to process before the intrusive thoughts win in your head. "honestly, i hope i get obliterated tonight, too."

shoko groans. "shut the fuck. up! you literally got obliterated last night! can you be normal about physical touch for just one night?"

"i can't, shoko, you know i get horny when i'm crossed~" you whine, your doe eyes getting wider in desperation. oh cool, you're off the deep end now. you're just fully horny and admitting it in front of satoru who will, at the very least, use this as incriminating evidence tomorrow.

"i can help with that," satoru flirts brazenly through the alcohol in his system, bringing you closer to him and holding you tight.

"desperation is such a turn off," utahime says almost immediately.

you giggle as you melt into satoru's chest once more. "what's going on, toji not treatin' ya right?"

your body almost instantaneously goes rigid upon hearing his name, and your senses almost clear up. you whip your phone of your purse, completely ignoring satoru's question and check your messages to see if you got a notification from toji, only to see nothing. you groan and rub your temples in stress. "okay guys, gather around. this is an emergency," you say as everyone huddles closer to you.

"it's not an emergency, FYI", shoko clarifies, already having heard this story in the uber ride here.

you explain to utahime and satoru about how toji had not responded to your explicit picture since this afternoon, and how you're feeling stupid and insecure about it. "i mean, is there something wrong with me? did i cross a line? how can you ignore the same titties you sucked on less than 24 hours ago?" you say frustratingly, the alcohol once again allowing you to give way more detail than you normally would.

"you see, it's a bit hard for me to, like, understand exactly what the situation is. i think i need to see the picture you sent him to really understand and help you out, y/n." satoru says with dead seriousness as he locks his eyes with you.

"oh yeah of course!" you say as you unlock your phone and are about to show him before shoko grabs your phone away and utahime flicks his forehead.

"you nasty disgusting pervert..." she mumbles, shaking her head.

"she was literally about to show me~" he whines. "i was asking as a friend, a homie."

"okay, listen y/n. he's probably busy. he's literally a single dad, and maybe he's busy with megumi. maybe he's trying to find a real job besides being a gigolo, we don't know but it's lame to dwell on it. let's just finish up this joint and head to the barcade soon, okay?" shoko assures, holding your hand as utahime puts your phone back in your purse. god, you love them so much it hurts.

you nod your head rapidly, as satoru gets a chime on his phone.

"ohhh, shit!" he exclaims, "this girl i helped today during lab is here. and she might actually show me her titties unlike you guys, so...i'm gonna leave."

you roll your eyes in even more annoyance. great, now satoru is gonna be hanging out some random airhead while you're left to your own vices for the rest of the night? you really don't want to spend the night waiting for toji to text, and you don't care to particularly ask satoru for help. but it does make you even more desperate knowing that you're still pretty drunk and everyone in your friend group seems to be getting laid tonight except for you. maybe you can find someone cute in the barcade?

as you all bid satoru goodbye, you continue to enjoy a couple more minutes with shoko and utahime while they finish smoking the joint. once it's finished, you all are ready to head out.

"okay, you get satoru, and we'll get suguru and riko," utahime instructs. that's so high school teacher of her, you think and bite back a smile.

"who's gonna kick everyone out of this...pregame house party thing?" you ask, gesturing to the 20 or so people getting progressively more drunk and sweaty in the boys' living room and kitchen.

"suguru will handle it, not our problem," utahime says, lighting out the joint into the nearest succulent pot in the balcony. she grabs shoko's hand and leads her out of the balcony, and you follow suit.

your nose is once again met with the stench of beer and sweat, and you make a face. your eyes scan the room full of party goers for satoru, as it shouldn't be hard to find the tallest person in the room with the brightest hair, but with no luck. ugh, he's probably somewhere in the rest of the apartment with that girl, you think, not looking forward to meeting some random slag satoru was probably going to sleep with.

as you made your way through the living room to the hallway to the boys' room and bathroom, trying your best to avoid the damp sweaty skins of people and sticky floors, you realize you need to pee really badly. you shove your way to the empty hallway and quickly down the rest of your white claw before beelining to the restroom at the end of the hallway.

as you're nearing the corner turn, you hear...oh god, are you hearing? moans? of course, someone is bound to hook up at this trashy party and make you feel even worse for being so drunk and horny and having no one tonight. that's okay though, you have a plan: you'll do your best not to make eye contact to the couple just turn right into the bathroom. just as you're about to execute this plan and turn the corner, you hear them moan, "o-oh satoru~" and your head immediately whips to the direction of the person who made the offensive noise.

you're not sure what you feel and you think you feel many things, including but not limited to: disgust, hostility, annoyance and...jealousy? wait, no, that can't be right.

your eyes widen and your jaw drops and you scoff as you see satoru french kissing some floozy outside his room, his hands up her shirt feeling her titties. wait, are you jealous or turned on? wait, what's happening?

satoru hears your scoff and rapidly removes his hands from the girl's shirt and stops kissing her to look at your bewildered and exasperated face. you give him a look that says "are you serious?" before you chuck your empty white claw can at him (he deftly dodges it) and shout, "get a room! but also get ready, you horndog, we're leaving to the barcade!"

you don't wait to hear an answer as you immediately slip into the bathroom and lock the door. god what was that? okay, let's break this down, you think to yourself, desperately scrambling to get your intoxicated thoughts in order. your head is slightly spinning and you lean on the bathroom sink for support as you try to sort out why you're feeling your chest drop in what you can only identify as jealousy. no, you're not jealous because you're in love with satoru, you're jealous because it just doesn't make sense.

if satoru is gonna fuck around with anyone tonight, it might as well be you, right? it's just rude, like as a friend, to kiss someone else who's not your friend when your friend is really horny, right? god, are your inebriated thoughts even making sense?

you try to snap out of delirium by turning on the faucet and drinking some water, trying to sober yourself down. or maybe you actually need to just get another drink? maybe you just need to find some cute guy to buy you a drink at the bar later and you'll snap out of it.

actually, maybe toji should just fucking text you back so you can go crawling to him at the end of the night so he can obliterate your pussy. you fish your phone out of your purse only to be met with no notifications from toji. you click on the message between you and toji, and start to draft out some lewd and lecherous texts to him. you thankfully, you don't have time to contemplate your actions or hit send before you hear the music die and people groaning.

you hear suguru yelling at everyone to get the fuck out and either go home or to the barcade, and you hear satoru start singing closing time, slurring the lyrics. this is the guy you're jealous about? this is the fella you want to lowkey fuck?

you pray that either a) toji messages you back or b) you find a nice non-creepy guy at the bar who's willing to at least make out with you, or 3) you instantly get sober after peeing.

only time will tell.

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