#Three keeps concerning their coworkers

[adventurer-gearld]

Quick break from cleaning duty

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, obsessive/possessive behavior, and manipulation.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's the best security you could possibly ask for. You've been told that hybrids aren't very good for protection, that you'd be better off just getting a regular dog or, better yet, not living alone in one of the sketchier neighborhoods of a notoriously unsafe city, but those people haven't meant your Kento. Stern, stoic, and loyal - he keeps you safe, helps around the house, and doesn't need (or want, for that matter) half of the attention a normal dog would need. Really, it's more like having a personal bodyguard than a pet. You're sure he'd prefer if it if you treated him more like the former than the latter, too.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who'd practically be human if it wasn't for the adorably pointed ears on top of his head, the wiry tail at the base of his spine, and the dull canines you sometimes catch a glimpse of during one of his rare smiles. It's clear that he doesn't consider himself to be like most hybrids, so you do your best to treat him like a roommate - giving him his space, making sure he has his privacy, constantly resisting the urge to run your hands through his hair and apologizing profusely when you inevitably fail. He claims he doesn't mind, not if it's you, but you've seen the way his lips curl when strangers so much as approach him, how he rolls his eyes when he sees other hybrids sitting on their owners' laps or begging for treats. You're not eager to get on his bad side, even if you do occasionally catch him slipping into your bed in the middle of the night.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's mistaken for your boyfriend at least once a week. It's your own fault, really. He likes to walk you to work, run errands while you're away, all the things a stay-at-home boyfriend would usually do if he were as loving and as attentive as Nanami. It's always embarrassing, even if all you have to do is nod to one of his less-than-human features to clear up the misunderstanding. Still, it happens so often, and you're not proud to admit that from time to time, you don't have the energy to do anything but smile and nod when your elderly neighbor compliments the 'hunk of a man' living with you.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who's less naturally protective than you think he is. He's concerned with your safety, of course, but that's not a privilege that extends to the male coworkers he catches with a hand on the small of your back, to the friends who drag you out of your shared apartment and don't bring you back until the early hours of the morning. He spends more nights than he's proud of standing outside of your bedroom door, listening for any signs of life, waiting for an intruder, or a nightmare - any excuse to cross that unspoken boundary. It'd be more practical to spend his nights on the foot of your bed like every other drooling, filthy mutt hybrid, but that's not the kind of relationship he wants to have with you. Not if you have to think of him as a dog to get there.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who has to fuck his fist three times a day to offset his humiliating instincts. He tried for complete abstinence at first, not to think about you in that context at all, but there's only so many hours of his day he can spend with his knot pressed into his stomach, his cock twitching every time you bend over or brush against him. Still, it's far from a long-term solution. How could it be, when he still cums untouched every time you scratch the base of his ears?

Guard Dog!Nanami, who volunteers to take care of your household chores so he'll have an excuse to root through your laundry while you're away. He's surprised you haven't noticed just how much of your underwear mysteriously vanishes with every load, but even if you were less oblivious, he'd rather you be suspicious of him than ever find the hoard of tattered, stained, ruined fabric he keeps underneath his mattress.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows this can't go on for much longer. He loves you, and he respects you, and he knows that you'll never really see him as anything more than a pet, but he's can't seem to bring himself to see you as a master. And, when he's walking you home late at night after yet another unplanned bar crawl, when he's listening to you whine half-coherently about how hard it is to live with a hybrid that's so close to human, he may pass a darkened alleyway and listen to the long-buried, animalistic mind urging Nanami to claim what belongs to him.

Guard Dog!Nanami, who knows that you'll never make a very good master and he'll never make a very good pet. But, that doesn't mean he can't hope that you'll both be better off after your roles are reversed.

[wileys-russo]

alexia, you shouldn't have tried to outdrink me, bathroom floor

a.putellas II cold tiled floor

"i think you should slow down amor, we have all night." you felt your fiances arm sling around your waist, tugging you back down into your chair as you stood to get another drink.

"ale, baby estoy bien. i've had three champagnes!" you laughed, flattered by her concern and trying to pry her arm off which held a stony grip. "i know. but we have hours to drink and dance cariño, why rush?" the blonde smiled charmingly as your eyes narrowed.

"who said i was rushing anything?" you spoke calmly, raising an eyebrow. "or should i say amor, what do you think i am rushing?" you questioned as alexia's smile never faded, feeling her thumb trace shapes against the sliver of skin poking out the slit down the side of your dress.

"nothing princesa, lo siento a slip of the tongue." alexia assured, free hand picking up her own glass and sipping, eyes never leaving yours which bore into her suspiciously. "you don't think i can keep up with you, do you?" you realised with a laugh, though it was anything but humerous.

"well those are your words princesa, not mine." alexia shrugged, but making no move to actually deny the allegation. "dios mío, you do! you do think i cannot keep up with you." you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.

"i didn't say that. do you think you cannot keep up with me?" alexia smiled, resting her chin on her fist, thumb still tracing absent minded shapes against your skin.

"no. i can! and i am going to prove it to you." you finally wrenched her arm away, standing up and heading for the bar, the pair of you at a wedding for one of your school friends.

the pair of you hadn't been all that close when you were in school, you had mutual friends but no real mutual interests or hobbies. you hadn't paid her much thought until a few years later you were at your best friends bridal shower and so was alexia, seated next to you.

the pair of you got to talking and spent the entire night practically glued to one anothers side, and neither of you were ashamed to admit you actually did have a lot more in common than you thought, just never having really given one another the time of day to figure it out.

you'd hung out a few times after that but lost touch, alexia rising quickly through the ranks of the barcelona femeni team and you focusing on your job as well as taking a few months off to see more of europe than you'd ever dreamed of.

then just like fate one day your paths had crossed again.

it was a couple of years after you'd lost touch but you recognized her right away, heard her voice a few tables over while you were out for dinner with a few coworkers, watching as she rose to go to the bathroom confirmed it was her.

you didn't think she'd seen you but she had, waiting for you by the door as her own friends had left before yours, giving you quite the fright as she called out your name while your head was buried in your phone trying to order an uber.

she'd offered you a lift home and that had quickly turned into the two of you driving around for hours, alexia having you laughing harder than you had in years as she routinely 'missed turns' or 'misheard the directions' on the way to your house.

you'd teased all she had to do was ask you to hang out if she wanted to spend so much time with you and she'd done exactly that at four in the morning.

years later and here you were, engaged and very happily planning your own wedding, seated together at one of your friends, having spent the morning getting ready, exchanging sweet kisses and talking for hours about your own pending nuptials.

though now your wife to be was not in your good books.

"trouble in paradise hermana?" alba teased as you stormed off, her and a few of alexia's interment family present at the wedding as well, the bride to be close with the whole family having known both you and alexia since the early years of high school.

"she thinks she can out drink me." alexia smiled, unfazed by your reaction as she finished her own drink, snaking her sisters and pushing her hand away when she reached for it again.

"i hope she does!" alba huffed, swiping the glass back and rolling her eyes as alexia only smiled, having finished its contents. "qué cariño, no drink for me?" alexia tutted as you returned with a new drink in hand.

"no. would you like to dance?" alexias eyebrow raised as you quickly chugged the drink in hand, placing it down on the table with a thump. "sí mi amor i-" alexia started but you shook your head.

"no, i was talking to alba." you held your hand out to the younger girl who laughed loudly at her sisters expense, alexia's smug smile falling away as her sister grabbed your hand with a grin and the two of you raced off to the dancefloor, leaving your fiance with a sour taste in her mouth and a scowl on her face.

it was hours later when alexia realized she may have let this game go a little too far.

"alexia." she looked up from her conversation with a slight frown as her mami appeared, taking the seat beside her. "you have proved your point hija, take her home." eli nodded across the room where you were still on the dance floor with a few of your friends, more tripping and stumbling than dancing.

"who told-alba." alexia realised with a sigh, eli chuckling. "sí, now take your fiance home and get her some water." eli smiled, alexia nodding in agreement and quickly apologizing to her friends, standing and headed for you.

~

"vamos cari i need you to work with me here!" alexia grunted, trying to hold you up with one arm and unlock the door with the other. "no i wanna dance!" you whined, having tried to break or run away nearly the entire time alexia had all but wrestled you out of the wedding reception and into a taxi.

you'd easily gone one for one with your drinks, though alexia was quickly realizing maybe she should have swapped some of your own with water or kept a slightly closer eye when your friends had swept you off to the dance floor when you were already looking a little shaky on your feet.

"vale, and we're in!" alexia breathed a sigh of relief popping the door open, kicking it shut behind her and now able to use both her arms to prop you up.

"lets lay down for a second amor, sí?" alexia sighed, gently lowering you onto the sofa as you giggled and mumbled things alexia could make no sense off, clearly in a world of your own.

"i am going to get you some water, stay here por favor." your fiance kissed your forehead and pushed the stray hairs out of your face before standing back up and hurrying to the kitchen.

though she hadn't even opened the fridge when she heard a crash and hurried back to the source, biting her lip to stop her laugh seeing you now on the floor, one heel flung across the room having hit something and knocked it over.

"my feet are killing me!" you whined, head thumping against the carpet as you tried to sit up to take off your other shoe, head spinning and mumbling something else before collapsing back to the floor.

"oye mi vida, que voy a hacer contigo?" your fiance chuckled, bending down and slipping one arm under your neck and the other under your legs, effortlessly picking you up bridal style.

"put me down! i have a fiance, te patearía el culo." you slurred, poking her shoulder accusingly as the blonde only smiled, carrying you off toward your shared bedroom. "sí, lo haría. good thing i am right here then!" alexia grinned, lowering you onto the bed.

"ale! hi baby, come lay down." you gasped, arms suddenly shooting to wrap around her neck trying to pull her down into bed with you. "not yet. soon, prometo mi amor." alexia promised, kissing your cheek and gently prying your arms off.

you groaned and called out for her again as she dipped off into the bathroom, grabbing what she needed and laughing as she returned to again find you trying to wrestle off your other shoe.

"hey hey! you are going to fall off the bed again cari, let me." alexia sat down on the end of the bed, undoing and slipping off your heel as you babbled away clearly trying to talk to her but making no sense at all as your fiance only hummed.

darting off again she grabbed some clothes from the closet and returned, grabbing your hands and pulling you into a sitting position, carefully helping you pull your dress up and over your head, pushing away your wandering hands which tried continuously to pull her down with you.

changing you into something much comfier to sleep in she helped you lay back down and got on her knees on the floor beside your side of the bed, gently wiping away your makeup and still humming as you drunkenly babbled nonsense, poking and prodding at her with giggles.

"i love you, estúpida." alexia chuckled a half hour later once you had finally seemed to settle, both of you changed and makeup free as you lay pressed together in bed, alexia's large hands rubbing up and down your back as you started to doze off, mumbling a response making her smile.

"you love too."

it was the early hours of the morning later when alexia awoke, panic kicking in as she realised she was alone in bed, sitting up boltright as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room, heart racing as she couldn't spot you.

but then, finally she made out something a few feet away, kicking off the covers and padding over toward the bathroom with a frown, pulling the door open as a hand flew to cover her mouth.

"oh cari." the taller girl chuckled at the sight of you laid down on your back on the floor, a pair of her prada sunglasses covering your eyes and a toilet clearly half filled with vomit which your fiance grimaced and flushed.

"no! that's so loud." you groaned right away, hands flying to cover your ears as alexia stepped over you and perched herself on the corner of the bath staring down at you with an amused smile.

"cállate putellas." you warned with a mumble as the blonde held her hands up in defense. "i did not say anything mi amor, not a word." your fiance reminded, toe reaching out to poke at your side as you whined quietly and lazily swatted her foot.

"no but you want to." "sí, tal vez." "mierda, hurry up."

"you shouldn't have tried to out drink me!" the blonde laughed, your hands again covering your ears as you grumbled her gloating was too loud and kicked her halfheartedly, alexia moving to sit beside you.

"why are you on the floor?" alexia asked much softer now, thumb grazing your cheek affectionately. "the tiles are cold. feels nice." you mumbled making her grin grow.

"but your hangover does not hm bebita?" she couldn't help but tease as you groaned again and with much effort rolled onto your side so you could hug her bare leg.

"i am never drinking, never ever ever again."

[nhaaauyen]

is it casual now? ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

modern sev x reader au: after a shitty day at work, you go to the beach to release some stress, only for a certain coworker to show up.

series masterpost: floating wc: 4.2k author's note: everything that happened in this fic did actually happen with a girl I was seeing LMAOO (except for the kiss cause i was too shy) but i’ve been wanting to write an ode to this memory for so long! though the title was named after casual by chappell roan, i actually don't recommend you listen to it when you read this because this is anything but casual ~ My Song Recommendation

Sev: Why are you at the beach at 11PM? You: ? You: Why can't I be? Sev: Because it closes at 12am Sev: And you said before you don't go out past 11PM on workdays You: I didn't know you worked for the beach patrol Sev: Lol

You stare at your phone screen, watching the three message dots bounce back and forth. You know you're being an asshole, but you can't help the snappiness in your tone. Sevika never cared or talked to you outside of work before, so why does she suddenly care now?

The typing bubbles disappear and relief washes over you, but a small, masochistic part of you wishes she'd actually sent something.

Sev: Are you good?

The three-word question glares at you from the screen. 

Are you good? Absolutely not. 

But this is Sev, the woman who doesn't bother with greetings or a courtesy "How are you" despite working together for months. How do you answer a question that could unravel the emotions you're barely keeping at bay, especially to someone who's never asked before?

You: Yeah  You: I'll go soon so you don't have to stalk my location haha Sev: Alright

You stare at the tiny message bubble until the blue light stings your eyes. Finally, you shut off your phone and toss it onto your makeshift blanket.

The beach is eerily quiet save for the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the water and illuminating the foam as it rushes up the sand. You sit there as the incident at work replays in your mind for the hundredth time. Your head server's harsh words, the embarrassment of being scolded in public, the shame from how quick you were brought to tears - it all comes rushing back, making your chest tighten. 

The cool sand beneath your fingers grounds you somewhat and you inhale deeply, letting the briny scent of the ocean fill your lungs. 

A cool breeze picks up, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You shiver as you sit there, feeling small and vulnerable, and you can't help but wonder how you'll face everyone tomorrow. The thought makes your stomach churn, and you close your eyes, trying to shut out the world for just a little longer.

As you close your eyes, a new sound cuts through the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. The crunch of rubber tires over pebbles grows louder, and suddenly, a bright light washes over you. You squint, momentarily blinded by the harsh glare of headlights.

"You really had to make me search for you, Pagli?"

Your head whips around in shock, eyes wide as you see Sevika stepping out of her car. You scramble to your feet, brushing sand from your clothes.

"Sev? What are you— You didn't have to come here," you protest.

She approaches with a casual shrug. "Well, too bad, cause I was near here anyways. Had to make sure you weren't drowning or joining a beach cult."

You can't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. "A beach cult? Really?"

"Hey, you never know," Sevika retorts with a smirk. "I don’t know what you like to do late at night."

You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go home."

"Nah, I think I'll stick around," she says, plopping down on the sand next to where you were sitting. "Unless you've got some secret midnight rituals planned?"

You roll your eyes, but feel your resolve weakening. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," Sevika replies with a wink. "Now, are you gonna sit back down, or do I have to drag you?"

After a moment's hesitation, you sigh and lower yourself back onto the sand. "Fine, you win. But don't expect me to be good company."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sevika says softly, her tone gentler than before. "But I'm here if you want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need."

“I’m good.”  You replied.

“Fine with me.” 

As you sit in silence, Sevika reaches into her pocket and pulls out a joint. You can't help but shake your head in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable," you mutter.

She glances at you, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Do you just have an unlimited source of that or something?"

Sevika just shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips as she places the joint between them. As she fumbles for her lighter, she catches you staring and pauses.

"Do you want some?" she offers casually.

You hesitate, fingers fidgeting in the sand. "No... uh, I never tried."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Serious?"

"Yeah," you admit, feeling a bit self-conscious.

Sevika's expression softens slightly. "Well, Pagli, I'm in a sharing mood, so..."

You shake your head quickly. "Nah, I'm gonna embarrass myself. I don't know how to..."

"It's easy," she assures you. "Just inhale, hold it for a bit, and release."

You eye the joint warily. "Uh, shit... Yeah sure."

Instead of handing it over, Sevika brings the joint to her lips and lights it. You watch intently as she demonstrates, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she inhales. She holds it for a moment, then slowly exhales a stream of smoke into the night air.

Your eyes are fixed on her, taking in every detail of the process. There's something almost mesmerizing about the way the smoke curls from her lips, dissipating into the darkness.

Sevika turns to you, holding out the joint. "Your turn, if you want."

You hesitate, your heart racing a little. Part of you wants to refuse, to play it safe knowing that you wouldn’t risk humiliation in front of your coworker when you end up messing up, but another part of you was just completely over this day.

Slowly, you reach out and take the joint from her fingers, your skin brushing against hers for a brief moment.

You take the joint, bringing it to your lips with nervous anticipation. Trying to mimic Sevika's actions, you inhale deeply. Immediately, your eyes go wide as the smoke hits your lungs. You start coughing violently, your throat burning.

To your surprise, Sevika gently pats your back. "It's okay, Pagli! Damn. You just gotta practice some more."

As your coughing subsides, you realize this is the most Sevika has ever talked to you. It's oddly comforting, despite your embarrassment. You hand the joint back to her and she casually takes a puff, with her head leaning back slightly as she exhales.

"You're not cold?"

"No, why?" you ask, puzzled.

She gestures at your outfit. "Because you haven't changed out of your work uniform."

Instead of answering - because you know where that conversation would lead - you reach for the joint again. This time, you focus intently on mimicking Sevika's technique. You inhale, hold it for a moment, and exhale. There's still a slight cough, but it's significantly better than your first attempt.

"Hell yeah!" you exclaim, feeling a small surge of pride. "I sorta did it!"

Sevika gives you a half-grin that makes your heart skip a beat. "See? You're gonna be a pro soon." She pauses, her grin widening slightly. "But you're gonna get super hungry later at this rate."

Your eyes widen as realization hits you. "Oh fuck, you're right. I didn't bring any food," you say, a slight pout forming on your lips.

"I brought something," she offers, "but in exchange, you have to tell me what's going on."

You roll your eyes, you weren’t going to fall for that. "I can deal with it."

"Fine," she shrugs, "then no more." She makes a motion as if to put out the joint.

"What? I'm still practicing!" you protest. "What happened to trying to get me to the pro league?"

Sevika just laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm. "Sorry, there's an entry fee."

You sigh, knowing you're cornered. "Fine," you mutter, then barely above a whisper, add, "I fucked up bad at work today."

Her expression turns serious. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, you tucked a stray hair behind your ear and avoided eye contact. "There was this creepy guy at one of my tables. He kept specifically asking for random things like more napkins or refills, and I knew why he did that." You shudder slightly at the memory. "I wanted to switch with a male server, but we were too booked so I just tried to bear with it.  I didn’t think he would cross any lines since it looked like he was with family too."

Sevika listens intently as you continue, "It got too far when he kept making me uncomfortable, saying he would tip well if I gave him my number." Your hands clenched into fists in the sand. "So after I came back, I... I 'accidentally' spilled water on him."

You can't meet Sevika's eyes as you finish, "I knew it was unprofessional and petty, but I was so frustrated. After getting yelled at by the head server, it kind of hit me what I did."

As you fall silent, you feel a mix of shame and lingering anger. You wait anxiously for Sevika's response, afraid to see judgment in her eyes.

But Sevika's response catches you off guard. "He deserved it," she says firmly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Huh? But I made a mess because I couldn't keep my emotions in check. You know there are always going to be horrible customers..."

She cuts you off with a shake of her head. "Nah, he deserved it. It's a shame you couldn't stay to watch when I kicked him out and announced that he was trying to grope one of our servers in front of his entire family and the restaurant."

You stare at her incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. "No way? You actually did that?"

Sevika shrugs nonchalantly. "What's Silco gonna do? I'm the best general manager he's got." She pauses, a prideful glint in her eye. "Though our head server might need a bit of retraining."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Sev, the Sev, actually stood up for you. A wave of gratitude washes over you, and you suddenly feel shy.

"Thank you... for that," you murmur. "It meant a lot."

She just nods in response, a comfortable silence falling between you. Sevika passes you the joint again, and this time when you take a hit, you manage to do it without coughing. 

"I did it!" you exclaim, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

"Look at you, you might get into the Olympics next." She teased.

The tension from earlier completely dissipated, and you can't help but feel a newfound appreciation for Sevika.

"Okay, you gotta slow down now. This is your first time," Sevika warns, pulling the joint away as you reach for it again.

"Nooo, give it," you whine, making a half-hearted grab for it.

She shakes her head firmly. "Nuh-uh." Sevika puts out the joint despite your protests.  Then, without warning, she announces, "I'm lying down."

"What?" you ask, confused by the sudden change.

Sevika doesn't respond, just leans back onto an apron acting as your beach blanket. After a moment's hesitation, you did the same. It's only now that you realize how close she is. You can see the rise and fall of her chest, steady and rhythmic.

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. "Do you hear that?" you murmur. "The waves sound amazing." A small giggle escapes your lips.

"It's hitting you now," Sevika observes, amusement coloring her voice.

"Shhh, Sev. Listen," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper.  If only you didn’t close your eyes at that moment, because then you would’ve seen the shy smile appear on her lips at the nickname that she only lets you use on her.

As you concentrate on the sound of the waves, you became aware that you're also following the pattern of Sevika's breathing. It's oddly comforting, this synchronicity between her, you, and the ocean.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you dare to look over at her. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize she's staring at you with those stormy gray eyes that never seem to reveal anything. The intensity of her gaze sends a jolt through you, triggering an immediate panic.

You sit up abruptly, your heart racing. Sevika follows, concern etched on her previously relaxed face. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, I'm hungry," you blurt out, desperate for a distraction.

Sevika just laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Here, I’m glad I brought this," she says, reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a colorful bag of sour gummy worms, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet night.

The sight of the candy, so unexpectedly bright in contrast to Sevika's stoic character, makes you laugh. You watch as she pulls out a gummy worm, the candy stretching slightly before she bites into it. The casual act feels strangely intimate in this moment, and you find yourself transfixed by the movement of her jaw as she chews.

"Want one?" she asks, holding out the bag to you.

Your fingers brush against hers as you reach for a candy, sending another small shiver through you. As you pop the gummy worm into your mouth, the burst of sour flavor feels like a shock against your tongue.

While you devoured practically half the bag, Sevika stretches languidly before lying back down on the sand. You followed suit, turning to face her. This time, feeling way less sober than the beginning, you don't shy away from her gaze.

You notice one of her usually tucked fringes has come loose, falling softly across her forehead. Your fingers twitch with the urge to brush it back, but you manage to restrain yourself.

Sevika's eyes are fixed on you, her expression softer than you've ever seen it. "I'm tired," she mumbles, her voice low and slightly husky. "I want to sleep... this feels nice."

A dopey smile spreads across your face at the sight of her uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Do it," you encourage gently.

"Wake me up in a bit?" she asks, her eyelids already starting to droop.

"Of course," you assure her.

As Sevika's eyes close, you sit there, taking in the moment. You listened to the rhythm of her breathing mix with the sound of the waves and the refreshing sea breeze. 

Suddenly, Sevika makes a noise that's almost like a whine. "It's cold," she murmurs, not opening her eyes.

"Really?" you ask, surprised.

"Yeah," she confirms. Then, to your shock, she says, "Come here."

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika is draping her red jacket over both of you. The action brings you even closer to her, and your brain struggles to keep up with this new development.

You find yourself studying Sevika's features up close. Her nose, which you've always thought was cute but never dared to admit, her long lashes resting against her cheeks, and the scar that runs across her cheekbone.

The warmth of her body so close to yours, the scent of her cologne mingling with the salt air, the soft sound of her breathing - it all combined to create a moment so intimate and unexpected that you feel almost dizzy with it. You're acutely aware of every point where your body is almost, but not quite, touching hers.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure she must be able to hear it. But Sevika's breathing has evened out, suggesting she's drifting off to sleep. You lie there, barely daring to move, caught between the desire to savor this moment and the fear of disturbing her.

You find yourself caught in Sevika's gaze as her eyes slowly flutter open. The moonlight reflects in her dark irises, creating an almost ethereal effect. 

"What are you staring at?"

Your heart skips a beat. "You," you reply without thinking, then immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks.

A smirk plays at the corner of Sevika's lips. "Mmm... you're plotting my murder, right?"

You can't help but chuckle softly. "Haha, of course.  I’ve been waiting months for this moment.”

"Damn," she sighs dramatically, through her eyes sparkled with amusement. "At least I get a gorgeous view before my final moments."

The air between you suddenly feels charged. You fall silent, profoundly aware of every breath, every subtle movement. Sevika's hair has fallen across her face, obscuring part of her scar. Without really thinking about it, you reach out, gently tucking the errant strand behind her ear.

As you start to pull your hand back, Sevika's fingers wrap around your wrist. Her touch is gentle, a stark contrast to her usual brusque demeanor. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Don't," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft lapping of waves.

Sevika holds your hand gently, her calloused fingers tracing over yours with surprising tenderness. She examines each fingertip as if committing them to memory. Just as you're getting lost in the intimacy of the moment, she breaks the silence.

"You got tiny ass hands, Pagli.”

You blink, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

Sevika bursts out laughing, the sound rich and wonderful. Her head tilts back, revealing a full set of stunning teeth. The sight momentarily captivates you, but you quickly recover, determined not to let her win this moment.

"You know, I was only trying to steal the gummies," you retort, trying to keep a straight face.

Her eyebrow arches challengingly. "Really? Come and get it then."

Before you know it, you're both wrestling on the makeshift blanket. Sand flies everywhere as you tussle, laughter filling the air. It's been so long since you've felt this carefree, this alive. Your worries from earlier seem like a distant memory now.

Somehow, you manage to gain the upper hand. You find yourself practically pinning Sevika down, your faces mere inches apart. You can feel her warm breath on your skin, catching the faint scent of weed. Your heart races, and for a moment, you're tempted to close that small distance between you.

Instead, you break the tension by snatching the bag of gummies from her grasp. "I win!" you declare triumphantly.

But even as you say it, the victory feels hollow. The gummy bag hangs limp in your hand as you watch Sevika accept defeat with surprising grace. She's still beneath you, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her eyes locked on yours.

You wish you could reach out and caress her face, trace the line of her scar, feel the softness of her skin again. The urge is almost overwhelming, but you hold back, unsure of how she'd react. The moment stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and possibilities.

Sevika pats the spot next to her, inviting you back. You settle in, acutely aware of her warmth beside you. Her eyes, dark and curious, search your face.

"What are you thinking about now, Pagli?" she asks softly.

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. "I want to play with your hair."

Immediately, heat rushes to your face. You're about to stammer an apology when Sevika takes your hand, guiding it to her hair. The silky softness surprises you, and you can't help but run your fingers through the strands.

Sevika's eyes flutter closed, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Encouraged, you begin to gently massage her scalp, marveling at how relaxed she seems.

"What does Pagli mean?" you whisper.

A smirk plays on Sevika's lips. "Crazy girl," she replies without skipping a beat.

"Huh?!" You're not sure whether to be offended or flattered.

"It's because you do crazy and bold things. I like that about you."

Your stomach flutters with warmth at the admission. Sevika leans into your touch, murmuring, "That feels amazing."

Gradually, she shifts closer, until her head is tucked against your chest. You can feel the steady pace of her breathing, the warmth of her body against yours. Without really meaning to, you find yourselves practically spooning.

As you stretch out, your feet brush against her shins, and you realize just how much taller she is. It's oddly endearing, this contrast between you. Your fingers continue their gentle exploration of her hair, occasionally trailing down to trace the curve of her neck.

The moment feels soft, intimate in a way you never expected. The sound of waves provides a soothing backdrop, and the moonlight casts a gentle glow over you both. You're struck by how vulnerable Sevika looks like this, all her usual sharp edges softened.

You want to say something, to put into words the feeling blooming in your chest, but you're afraid to break the spell. So instead, you hold her close, savoring the unexpected comfort of this moment, wondering how something so beautiful could arise from such a difficult day.

You keep replaying the moment when Sevika's strong arms practically dragged you into cuddling her. The memory sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your hand moves almost of its own accord, slowly rubbing circles on her back. You hear her sigh contentedly, the sound filling you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the physical closeness.

Just as you're sinking deeper into this blissful moment, bright white lights suddenly flash on, startling you both. A loud voice booms across the beach: "THE BEACH IS CLOSING IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY BACK TO THE PARKING LOT."

"Urghhh," you groan.  You instinctively buried your face into your hands.

Sevika's response is even more vocal - she lets out a louder, more dramatic groan that vibrates through her chest and into yours. The sound is so unexpected and so uncharacteristically cute, that you can't help but laugh.

Your laughter seems to break the spell. Sevika lifts her head, her hair mussed from your earlier attentions, and gives you a mock glare that's softened by the smile tugging at her lips.

"What's so funny, Pagli?" she asks, her voice husky with lingering sleep.

"Nothing," you say, still chuckling. "Just... I never pegged you for a whiner."

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it," she grumbles.

You lean in close to Sevika, whispering conspiratorially, "They can't kick us off if we hide in the sand, right?"

"Yeah, or if we stay really still," she adds, barely suppressing a grin.

You both freeze comically, trying to blend in with the beach around you. But as the final announcement blares across the sand, you finally admit defeat.

As you both reluctantly start to gather your things, you can't help but steal glances at Sevika. Her hair is tousled, her clothes rumpled from lying on the beach, and there's a softness to her expression that you've never seen before. It makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

Just as you're about to lead the way back, Sevika suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you back towards her. Before you can react, her lips are on yours.

You were suddenly frozen, till your brain practically yelled, Fucking kiss the hot girl back you dumbass! Your hand immediately slides into her hair, and you respond back to the kiss with the same ferocity.  All the tension that's been building between you tonight finally finds its release. Her lips are softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a passion that takes your breath away.  

But the moment was short-lived when it was cut short by another blaring announcement. 

Sevika breaks away, growling, "I'm going to break that speaker."

You can't help but laugh at her annoyance, the sound bubbling up from the happiness overflowing in your chest. You lean in, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "C'mon, we can continue this later."

Sevika nods, a small but genuine smile playing on her lips. She has that look on her face, that is just so content and full of adoration that your legs practically felt like jelly.

“Race you back to the car, loser has to buy dinner!” You yell as you spirit across the sand.  

You were fortunate enough to get a head start because once Sev realized what was happening, you could already see a blur of her movement closing the distance through the corner of your eye. Your hair whipped wildly in the wind along your combined unadulterated, giddy laughters echoing in the night air.  

With her athletic build, she easily caught up to you but instead of surpassing you, her hand found yours. Her fingers intertwined with yours, fitting perfectly. The warmth of her palm against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You two slowed your pace into an amble, the sound of waves fading behind you. Every so often, you steal glances at Sevika, still hardly believing this night has been real.

When her car comes into view, Sevika gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You turn to look at her, finding her eyes already on you, soft and full of something that makes you unsure of whether this moment was a dream or not.

Sevika tugs you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We should do this again sometime," she murmurs against your skin. "Minus the getting kicked off the beach part."

You chuckle at the joke and tuck your head into her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Thump. Thump.

"Thank you," she says quietly, her voice a small murmur above your ear, "for making a shitty day end beautifully."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. 

"Thank you for finding me."

[luveline]

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?” 

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.” 

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too. 

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork. 

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively. 

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.” 

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?” 

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say. 

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.” 

“What happened?” 

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face. 

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.” 

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.” 

You frown at one another. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again. 

“I’m consistently below average.” 

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.” 

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does. 

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.” 

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.” 

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?” 

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day two + three

Summary: It is now day two (and three) of the trip and you are very adamant on ruining the experience; Illumi doesn’t take too kindly to that.

Word count: 14k

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi tweaks tf out, lots of arguing, reader is a huge brat and gets put in their place

Day one Day four + five

Taglist: @lilyalone @yamekocatt

Something feels off.

You’re reluctant to leave your workplace once again, staring out the window and into the shadowy abyss before you. There were a few parked cars and the road was lit up with flickering street lights, making it look like something out of a horror movie. Those lights have been broken for some time now; they should really consider fixing those. 

You worked overtime again, wanting the extra funds so you could join your friends at an upcoming concert. You originally had no intentions of going, figuring it wasn’t worth it since you didn’t care for the artist too much. They kept hyping it up, however, eventually making you give in and start working extra hours in order to pay for the expensive tickets. 

You didn’t know the consequence of doing so would be encounters with crackheads after work. 

You bit your tongue. You shouldn’t have declined that ride from your coworker earlier, but you wanted to take a quick trip to the grocery store and didn’t wish to inconvenience them further. You did have your own car, but it was at the shop at the moment as something mysteriously damaged the engine and rendered it unable to start. This forced you to walk to and from work for the last week. You sigh, your hand hesitating for a moment before you pull on the door handle and step out into the crisp night. 

It’s rather quiet.

You cautiously look around before you begin speed walking; taking a brand new route despite how unconventional it was. Unfortunately, they always seem to find you no matter what.

Not even five minutes have passed before a taxi beeps and pulls up next to you, the driver’s movements stiff and puppet-like, his eyes vacant as he smiles creepily at you. 

“It’s d-dark out… n-n-need a ride?” his speech was somewhat slurred.

This was the fourth time this week a taxi had summoned itself, the driver attempting to coerce you to hop in. You glare at him, pace quickening even further as you look for a way out, your hand slowly gripping the switchblade hidden within your coat pocket. 

“It’s f-f-free of charge… just w-wanted to m-m-make sure you go-got h-home safe… You have s-s-someone waiting for you?” he says, still slurring. 

It was always the exact same stuttered lines: state that it’s dark, ask if you need a ride, state that it’s free of charge, pretend to be concerned about you, then ask if there’s someone waiting for you.

You felt as though you were in some sort of simulation; to say it freaked you out was an understatement. 

“I’m calling the police.” you say as you bring your phone out and dial the emergency service. If he were following the same script as the others, calling the police would cause him to drive off.

He doesn’t though, he must be going off script today. 

He lingers far longer than the others have, driving as slow as your quick walking speed, jittering and jerking the steering wheel to avoid running into parked cars, expression in an almost trance-like state as he keeps his smile. He doesn’t react to you telling the dispatcher about your current situation, slowing the taxi even further when you try to linger behind it in order to give them the license plate. 

“Do you h-have any… romantic interests?” he asks, the sheer audacity of this question caused your jaw to drop slightly. When you fail to answer in a timely manner, he keeps going. “W-What about exes? Do you… have any of those?”

You sneer at him once you finish giving his description and your current location to the operator. The person on the phone sounds a bit indifferent as they inform you that a police car is on the way and that you should try to move to a more populated area. 

“You live alone… d-don’t you?” 

You hadn’t even realized he was still talking. 

“Fuck off!” you shout at him, tightening your grip on the switchblade. You were beyond tired of dealing with these creeps. What did they want with you? You glare at him, eyes catching the gold piercing on the left side of his head — a strange place for a piercing.

Right as you were getting ready to bolt, a cop car suddenly pulled up; it’s red and blue lights causing the taxi to speed off into the night. It came unnaturally quick, but you didn’t think about that fact. You were already frantically recounting what had just happened before the male officer could even get out of the car, clearly distressed and completely forgetting about the dispatcher still on the phone. They soon hang up when the officer informs them through his radio that he’s arrived.  

He took your statement after calming you down and offered to give you a ride to the grocery store as you were still insistent on going. Your heart rate slowed once you reached the safety of the store, the presence of other, hopefully normal, people gave you a sense of relief. Rubbing your temples as you enter the store, you take your time gathering your items, picking up a few extra snacks to help relieve your stress. 

You call an Uber to pick you up as you don't want to walk home anymore, the driver was a kind older woman who advised you against being out so late despite its hypocrisy. You rushed inside once you reached home, your dog greeting you with a wiggly dance and tappy paws.

Something still felt off. 

You won’t be working overtime anymore, you’d have to cancel those concert plans. You sigh as you kick off your shoes and place your purchases on the counter. 

Your dog whines.

You walk over to the back door and open it, watching as they cautiously step out and quickly relieve themself before practically running back in, their fur standing on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you crouch down to pet them, trying to soothe them of their worries as well as your own. Your paranoia made you think the taxi driver was out there.

They only whined again, large eyes staring at you before darting to the living room window, their tail no longer wagging. You stand up and go to wash your hands, hoping they’re just hearing the neighbor or some critter of the night passing by.

You make dinner, giving yourself and your pup something gracious to comfort the both of you before starting your nightly routine. 

Your dog is growling at something. 

You step out of the bathroom and head downstairs, confusion on your face as you watch them pace back and forth from the living room window to the kitchen window.

You head to the back door, hoping letting them out to investigate would calm their nerves. Opening the door only seemed to make it worse, however, as they began barking, tail tucked between their legs as they backed away from you. 

Concerned, you decide to call the police again. You’d been calling them since your second encounter with the taxi drivers, your fears never being dealt with, the officers doing nothing but telling you that they’ll “take your statement and check for the taxi around the neighborhood” and to “call back if something happens.”

You’ll be found dead if this keeps up.

A female officer and her male partner arrive and you immediately explain your earlier encounter, telling them about the weird questions you’d been asked, the driver trailing you for a whole block, and the other police officer taking your statement. 

“Could you check around my house? My dog has been on edge since I got home and I’m afraid he followed me here.” you plead, not sure you’d be able to sleep tonight if they didn’t give you a peace of mind. 

They agree to check, leaving you anxiously waiting by the front door with your pup by your side. After a few minutes, you faintly hear a slight commotion, causing your heart to drop and your dog to bark. 

You continue to stand there, unsure of what to do. After a few more moments, the doorbell rings. You’re slow to open it, only sighing in relief when you see it’s the officers once again. They appear to be fine, though they look sluggish all of a sudden. The female officer informs you that it was just a raccoon hiding within the old grill out back, her words slurring and her eyes droopy.

“Oh?” you nervously chuckle, eyebrows wrinkled with worry. “Was that all?”

“Yeah… it was j-just a biggg raccoon… We’ll take your s-statement and ch-check for taxis around the n-n-neighborhood… C-Call back… if something… happens.”

There goes that exact same line again. As they slowly turn around and begin to leave, something within the female police officer’s hair reflects the porch light for the briefest of moments. You’re confused and shut the door immediately. Your hands are on your hips as you look down at your dog, worry still on your face. You let out a huff, choosing to return to your nightly routine as there wasn’t much else you could really do right now. 

Your dog has quieted down as the night progressed, much to your relief. They haven’t barked for a few hours now and slept peacefully at your feet in the living room. You’ve been talking with your friends, getting their advice about the whole situation and agreeing that you needed to find a better place to live. You hang up the call after a while and look down at the fuzzy creature by your feet. You give them one final pat before heading off to your bedroom upstairs, turning off the lights as you make your way up. 

You leave your bedroom door slightly cracked in case your dog chooses to come up and sleep on your rug. You glance over at the window — the moonlight seeps into the room, perfectly illuminating your face. 

It’s rather quiet.

You don’t know how long you’ve spent laying in bed, scaring yourself as you think about today’s   events, but you eventually fall asleep. Maybe tomorrow you could start looking for a new place to live. 

…

Something feels off.

You’re awoken, a bit groggy as you wipe your eyes. It’s still dark outside. How long were you asleep for? You give your eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness, turning over on your right side.

…

Your heart jumps into your throat, all traces of tiredness instantly leave your body as you stare up in horror at the featureless, black figure standing next to your bed. 

“Don’t scream and I won’t kill you.” it warns.

Your breath hitches, you couldn’t scream even if you wanted to. What the hell is that? You scoot away from it, nearly falling off the bed in the process. 

You swallow hard, “What are yo-“

“Be quiet.” its voice was low and smooth, a complete contradiction from its appearance. “You really love making my job harder, don’t you? Why couldn’t you just get in the car the first time, hm?”

You don’t answer. Your heart was beating rapidly. You can’t read its expression, all you see is it’s big, black eyes looking down at you. You couldn’t make out any attributes of the figure, it was like one big, black blur in an almost humanoid shape. 

A few moments of silence pass as it simply stares at you, as if thinking about something, the room slowly filling with a black mist. Your eyes quickly dart to your bedroom window then back at the monstrous entity. Maybe if you’re fast enough, you could jump out the window-

“Don’t even think about it.” it takes a single step toward you. “Things will go much smoother for you if you come with me willingly. If you so choose to be obnoxious, however, I will knock you out. You have five seconds to decide what you’ll do.”

“Y-you better leave this house right now, or else I’ll call the police!” your stuttering foiled your already awful bluff. It was close enough to do whatever it wanted to you before you could even reach for your phone. What the hell was the police supposed to do about this thing anyway?

It only tilts its head, large eyes staring eerily at you. After a few moments of silence, it finally spoke, “Very well.”

You scream as it charges at you, blacking out instantly as the black mist completely engulfs the room.

.

.

.

You scream and flail your arms as if you were being attacked, eyes shooting wide open in the process. Your breathing is heavy like you’d just ran a marathon; sweat beads form on your forehead. It takes a couple seconds for you to calm down, coming to the realization that it was only a nightmare. 

A nightmare regarding a memory rather.

Your breath is shaky as you sit up on your elbow, leaning over the side of the bed. You felt nauseous, anxiety bubbling within you as you tried to control it. You look up towards the bathroom door, then towards the TV in front of the bed, then finally towards the man sitting upright behind you.

Looks like you’re still in a nightmare.

You let out a frustrated groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed and covering your face with your hands. In your daze, you had forgotten where you were, only to be harshly reminded upon locking eyes with Illumi. 

“Good morning.” Illumi starts with his typical flat tone, observant of your quick shift from disorientation to exasperation. “Are you comfortable?”

“In a way.” you mumble, closing your eyes as you try to fall back asleep. You didn’t feel like having to deal with him first thing in the morning. 

He continues regardless, “You sound uncertain.”

“The bed is comfortable, yes.” you mumble yet again.

“But there is something you’re uncomfortable with, right?”

It’s him.

You let out another groan as you knew he’d keep questioning you, wanting you to explain all of your answers in explicit detail while not understanding your point behind them. You take a second to stretch before propping yourself up on your elbow once again and looking back at him.

You were skeptical about this unusual attitude of his, thinking it was a new manipulation tactic he’d randomly thought of trying. You’re curious as to how long he’d let you push him over, though.

“Were you watching me sleep all night?” you ask. Your tone hinted at a bit of annoyance which caused Illumi to tilt his head slightly.

He admits casually, “Yeah.” 

If there’s one thing you appreciated about Illumi, it was his honesty. His ability to nonchalantly admit to anything he was willing to answer both amazed and frightened you. 

“No wonder I had a nightmare.” you say, looking away from him. It took everything in you to say something so blunt, so confidently. 

Illumi doesn’t respond, confused by your sudden shift in attitude. You’d just woken up and you were already trying his patience. He keeps his attention on you, watching as you throw the blankets off and slide out of bed. You stretch yet again, back turned to him as you do so. 

“I’m hungry.” you state in an almost entitled tone.

“I’ll tell them to begin preparing breakfast now. You should freshen up in the meantime.” 

You take a deep breath. “Are you dictating what outfit I’m wearing today as well?”

Again, Illumi doesn’t respond — you turn to look when you hear the bed creak, a tad bit worried he was on his way to rip your head off. You knew you wouldn’t even have time to react if he was, though. 

He slowly walks to the wardrobe, shuffling through it for a moment before retrieving an outfit. You notice that he’s already dressed, he must’ve gotten ready while you were sleeping then hopped back into bed so he could continue staring at you.

What a creep.

The outfit was catered to your taste, but it clearly had a touch of his inspiration written on it from how… tight fitting… it appeared to be. You look at the outfit with disdain, allowing your facial features to tell him just how you felt about it. 

He’s indifferent to your scornful look, however, only staring back as he waits for you to take the outfit. He wasn’t changing his mind about this. You’re reluctant but you snatch the clothes from him, nearly stomping into the bathroom. 

The outfit turned out to be more tight fitting than you had anticipated. You hate him. 

You eventually come out of the bathroom, ignoring the way Illumi’s head immediately turned in your direction, and move to sit on the lounge chair.

He was on the phone, presumably calling the butlers to prepare today’s events — eyes still lingering on you as he spoke with them. He hangs up after a minute, fully turning to look at you. 

“That outfit looks great on you.”

You look away from him, eyebrows furrowed. “It doesn’t need to be so snug.”

“It suits you.”

“Of course YOU like it.” you roll your eyes at him, quickly getting tired of his ogling.

He takes a moment to eye you further before speaking, “Let’s go.”

You follow him out of the room and down the hall, that surreal feeling from last night returning once again. As you walk into the main section of the hotel, you instantly notice a huge lack of butlers. 

“Where did everyone go?” you ask, still looking around for other souls. 

“I told them to stay out of view since you have a tendency to stare.” he simply states, staring forward as he leads you down the halls.

You scoff at him. If anyone had a tendency to stare, it was him since his unblinking eyes never seemed to leave you. It was perspicuous that he didn’t want last night’s dinner experience to take place again, only wanting your attention on him and him only. 

“You know,” you suddenly speak up, voice a bit louder than usual, “If you truly want my opinion on things, l'd say you’re failing in terms of atmosphere. It's not normal for a place as busy as a hotel or a restaurant to be so devoid of other people, it makes it feel as though you and I are having a standoff.”

Illumi doesn’t acknowledge your comment right away, only continuing to stare forward as he attempts to process your audacious attitude. You already knew why he was doing it like this: he wanted to keep you away from what he deemed as “distractions.” you were smart enough to recognize and deflect his manipulative tactics to the best of your ability, which is how you’ve managed to retain your sanity for this long. 

You know he loves you — obsessed rather — although incapable of expressing it in a healthy manner. He arrogantly assumed you'd reciprocate the feeling with time and some gentle conditioning, but you never did out of spite, preventing yourself from falling for him as a way of fighting back. Not that you could fall for him anyway. He was far too rough with you, especially when he first brought you to the estate. He didn’t know how to handle someone so fragile, breaking your wrist when you swung on him and crushing your throat when you cursed at him. 

It took a while before you found out why he’d taken you, connecting the dots when he casually mentioned one day that he felt drawn to you before summarizing the five months he spent stalking you. He referred to you as his spouse once, but you were more of an experiment to him in the beginning, his feelings towards you cementing as time went on, confirming to him that he was indeed in love with you. You took advantage of that to the best of your ability, enticing him occasionally, giving him a false sense of your affections when you really wanted to avoid punishment, even if it didn’t always work out in your favor. 

“You’ve woken up in a bad mood, you’re just being grumpy.” Illumi finally responds.

“I’m not being grumpy. You may be used to being alone, but I’m not. For me, the lack of people takes away from the experience, it makes it hard to focus.”

Illumi swiftly glanced down at you before looking forward again, expression remaining neutral. You were dancing around the subject, hiding your true intentions under the guise of helping him improve the atmosphere. 

“I see, but I don’t think exposing you to the public would be ideal.”

“Ideal for yo-”

“Ideal for us.” he corrected, putting emphasis on the word “us.” 

Your attempts at persuading him into taking you somewhere more public wasn’t working, in fact, you were only succeeding in annoying him. Perhaps you were being too ambitious right now. 

“Surely not.” you mumble mainly to yourself, folding your arms as the two of you continue to make your way through the hotel. 

You reach the restaurant and sit at the same table, last night’s rose petals and candles still present. The butlers were nowhere in sight and there was a partition put up to block your view of the chefs. The glass wall was also covered with a thin drape, allowing light in but not see-through enough to give you a clear view of the people below.

Pay attention to him. 

“So uh,” you begin, feeling awkward as you try to get used to his direct staring once again, “what are we doing today?”

“We’re doing what I’ve planned.” Illumi states, not elaborating.

You attempt to pry for more details. “Could you be more specific?” 

“No.”

What a jerk. 

Despite the day just starting, the two of you were already getting on each other’s nerves. Since you can’t look out the window to distract yourself, you ultimately decided you would interrogate him in an attempt to fully understand the situation you were in. 

You take a long, deep breath before speaking. “You know,” you start, looking directly into his eyes, “I’m curious to know what made you decide to do all of this, did you watch some cheesy romance movie or did someone give you the idea?”

…

After a few moments of silence, Illumi slowly blinks at you. This was the first time you’ve seen him blink, mainly because you tend to avoid eye contact with him. He was caught off guard by how you directly questioned him, your bold confidence as interesting as it was concerning. 

“I was not inspired by anything. This is a simple product of my own ideas.” he stated, eyebrows slightly raised.

That’s doubtful, though you knew he wasn’t lying. 

“I see… men in romance movies typically don’t kidnap their partner, it was foolish of me to think you’d be inspired by that. Perhaps you were inspired by a horror movie?” it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact as you spoke, trying your best not to react to his silent indicators screaming at you to shut your mouth. You’d already dug yourself a hole, however, may as well keep digging. “Tell me, what inspired you?”

He’s glaring at you now, slight but noticeable. 

“Like I said, there’s no outside inspiration. I chose to do things this way on my own volition.”

“And that’s exactly why I described it as the ‘typical Illumi experience.’ it’s empty, devoid of life, and unnerving.” you say boldly.

His glare disappears, his neutral expression returning as he slowly tilts his head to the side. 

“‘Empty, devoid of life, and unnerving,’” he repeats slowly, “quite a descriptive set of words. Is it truly that way for you?”

“Yeah, I thought I made that clear by now.”

He straightened himself, blinking slowly once again. “It’s unfortunate to hear you see it that way.” 

His voice feigned politeness, turning his attention to the food now being brought to the table. The presence of the butlers doesn’t stop you from retorting, however.

“I gave you a clear solution to help you improve but since you’re so focused on isolating me, you won’t hear it.” you narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t respond until the butlers have left the room entirely. 

“Is your solution to see other people?” he finally responds in an almost sarcastic tone.

You hated the way he worded that. 

“Yes, the place is empty.”

“It’s not empty, we’re here.”

“We are two people.”

“The butlers and hotel staff are here.”

“Paying guests,” you were becoming annoyed with his intentional stupidity. “people from all walks of life who just want to enjoy some time at the hotel with us. You know what I meant.”

“You should eat before it gets cold.” he looks down, picking up a fork and beginning his unnatural eating habits. You don’t heed his indirect warning to drop the subject, however. 

You continue, “Tell me why you won’t.” 

He doesn’t even look up at you, pretending you hadn’t even said a word.

You speak again, determined to keep going until he gives you an answer. “Give me a reason.” 

“Drop it.” he replies after finishing his plate.

“I won’t until you give me a reason!”

“The reason I chose not to have people here should be evident.”

“And it should be evident as to why your little date with me is a waste of time! You refuse to listen to me at all!”

Illumi is silent. He didn’t like your tone. Your words got to him more than it should and he couldn’t understand why. He was doing everything he could to make this date go smoothly and you were doing everything you could to make sure it wouldn’t.

He didn’t like how aware you were — how aware of him you were. You should have given into Stockholm syndrome months ago, yet here you were forcing him to actually try to earn your affections. Him. A professional assassin who was raised for the sole purpose of killing, whose soul was filled with nothing but darkness. You had made it clear that he could rip you away from your past life, torment you, and force you to go out with him, but he couldn’t force you to love him. Genuinely at least.

Illumi wondered if he should even continue trying…

No. He’d put too much effort into this to call it off. You were just looking for a reaction, that’s it. 

The thought that you wouldn’t be resentful had he taken a healthier approach to your relationship does not cross his mind. In fact, his mind is clear as he gazes upon you, no emotion present on his features. 

You slowly began to eat once it was apparent the topic wasn’t up for discussion anymore. At least the food was good, even if it failed to distract you from the near deadly tension in the air. His presence felt more suffocating than normal, though he wasn’t releasing aura, causing you to quickly eat just so you could get out of here sooner.

He makes no move to stand nor does he speak once you finish, making you awkwardly sit before him a little longer. This was your fault. You should’ve just shut your mouth. The effects of his staring was taking its toll on you the longer you sat there. 

“What’s the plan? Are we going back to Kukuroo Mountain now?” you ask. As much as you hate being in that room, you’d prefer your solidarity over this.

Illumi doesn’t reply, only turning his head slightly before standing and beginning to walk out of the restaurant. He didn’t feel the need to explain anything to you, leaving you to figure it out through his actions. You considered staying seated, but ultimately got up to follow him, knowing that’s what he expected of you. 

You trail slightly behind him as he leads you out of the hotel and into the parking lot, a black Mercedes truck parked just outside the entrance. He opens the passenger side door and just looks at you, not even bothering to give you a verbal command or even a gesture. You stare at him for a moment, wanting to irritate him, before climbing inside and buckling yourself up. 

You stare at the hotel as he walks around and hops into the driver’s seat. He soon begins driving. He appears to have a destination in mind, not Kukuroo Mountain as he’s driving opposite of when you were first taken to the hotel. 

He’s not a quitter, unfortunately. 

He was taking you to a grand mall, one he, of course, cleared out. He still wanted to please you despite your earlier ungratefulness, or so he convinced himself.

The ride was soundless. He chose not to turn on the radio. His eyes unmoving as he stared straight ahead, left hand on the wheel while his right hand sat dangerously close to you on the armrest. 

There were a few more Mercedes trucks within the mall’s parking lot; you could see there were butlers inside as Illumi drove past them, the pink haired butler from yesterday making direct eye contact with you through the windshield of her car. He parked, glancing at you for a brief moment before moving to open the driver’s door. 

He climbed out of the car while you stayed put, you watched as he circled around the front to come open your door. You wished the car had magically started itself and ran him over. You take your time unbuckling yourself, sighing before taking his hand as he “assisted” you out of the truck. 

He led you inside the mall, stopping once you reached the middle of the food court. It was completely empty, just as you’d guessed. You look around as he stands there, staring down at you. Your uncomfortableness is evident as you awkwardly shift your weight and fiddle with the hem of your shirt. 

“You’re free to begin shopping.” Illumi finally stated, giving you the go ahead. 

You gave a quiet “oh” before looking ahead, hesitant to take a step. You genuinely didn’t even feel like moving, not wanting to participate in his plan to keep the date going. Eventually you begin walking, figuring since you were here, you’d get some stuff to entertain yourself with back at the estate. You felt no interest in visiting clothing or jewelry stores considering Illumi would police when you wore whatever you got.

“This is so ominous.” you mumble, hands in your pockets as you walk through the food court and into the main shopping section of the mall. You were curious to know how Illumi did it, how he was able to almost completely clear out all of these places. Did he strike a deal with the owner? Did he kill them and take over the place? You turn towards Illumi, “How come all these big places are so empty? What did you do?”

“Does it matter?” his response was quicker than you’d anticipated. He didn’t appear to be upset though, maybe you could pry some details out of him.

“Did you kill the owner or something?” you look back at him as you’re trailing ahead slightly, his eyes meet yours for a moment before looking forward again.

“That would’ve been the cheapest route, but no.” Illumi admits. “I didn’t kill them.”

“So what did you do?”

Illumi is silent for a moment, as if contemplating something. He then says, “I rented the place for a period of time.”

“You rented this entire mall?!”

“I did. For two hours to be exact, so make the most of it.”

He chose to humor your questions. Good.

Your pace is slow as you walk, taking note of how certain stores were closed down. The accessible stores contained a couple butlers and a store clerk, the butlers standing directly in front of the checkout as if trying to block your view of the clerk. You continue to peer inside but make no effort to actually enter any of the stores. 

You tried to the best of your ability to ignore Illumi’s looming presence behind you, finally entering a store that caught your eye. It was a store that sold adult craft projects ranging from diamond art, to crochet, to even DIY houses similar to the greenhouse you had. 

You quickly look around. You felt invisible, but under a microscope at the same time. The clerk looking down from what you could see of them, the butlers occasionally glancing at you with their stoic expressions but ignored your presence for the most part, and, of course, Illumi gazing directly into your soul. Examining a diamond art kit, you check the price tag out of habit.

“You shouldn’t worry about the tags.” Illumi’s voice scared you a bit despite how gentle it was. 

He’s right. You shouldn’t worry about the price tags. 

You grab as much as you can hold, almost considering buying out the entire store, but not wanting to be questioned as to why you wanted ten of the exact same craft. 

As you approach the checkout with the items in hand, the two butlers gently take them from you and proceed to purchase on your behalf.

You stand and stare at them while they do their job, Illumi placing a hand on your shoulder and nudging you back, “You don’t have to wait for them to finish.” Illumi spoke as he watched the butlers. “We can go to the next store now.” 

You don’t respond to him, side stepping out of his hold and walking out of the store. As you enter a video game store, you purchase, or rather the butlers purchased, several games, most of which you’ll probably never even play but interests you enough to grab. You’ve kept your back turned towards Illumi the whole time, a privilege only a select few could enjoy, wanting to keep him out of your line of sight as much as possible. 

“You’re acting strange.” he stated as he followed you out of the store, “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself.” you said, head lowered as you walked.

“You’re deliberately avoiding me.”

You stare down at your feet for a few moments before responding, “You're like an entity that only I can see whose sole purpose is to haunt me.” your tone was indifferent as you continued to stare down, an echo accompanying your footsteps while silence accompanied his own. “I feel like you're not even real and I’m just hallucinating.”

Illumi didn’t understand what it was you were talking about, and neither did you really, his eyebrows slightly raised as he fully turned his head to face you. 

“I’m very much real.”

“That’s the issue.” you close your eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. Which was truly better? A real person tormenting you or a hallucination tormenting you? Illumi had no words for your comment — he turned to face forward again, eyes leaving you for much longer than they ever had since you entered the mall. “I don’t even know why you’re dragging this out, it was doomed from the start.”

He’s quick to respond, “Was it? Or are you just intent on being difficult?”

You can sense a ping of his aura, causing you not to respond further. You stop walking, you’re now at the far end of the mall standing next to the escalators. You watch the moving stairs for a bit before looking up into the skylight. 

The slight humming of the escalator was strangely comforting — the sun shone perfectly down upon you, bathing you in a warm light. You looked down at your feet once more; you felt like crying. The nostalgic feelings you were trying desperately to repress were becoming too much to bear. 

Illumi watches, studying your strange behavior as you stand there with your eyes closed.

“What are you doing?” Illumi asked after watching you for almost a full minute. 

You consider ignoring him, but you can still sense him releasing the tiniest amount of aura.

“A skylight in my room would be nice.” 

“Your room is underground.” Illumi stated matter-of-factly. His response was quick, almost as if he’d predicted you’d say something like that.

“You’re more than capable of giving me a room above ground then installing a skylight.”

“I am.” he gave you a subtle side eye. He indeed had more than enough funds to make your new room, he just didn’t like the thought of giving you one. He assumed it would give you ideas, ideas he didn’t want to have to severely punish you for. 

“So do it.” you open your eyes and look at him, meeting his black, empty ones. 

“Your current room is sufficient enough.” he retorts.

“I like natural light, Illumi.” 

His aura is no longer present, his shoulders dropped slightly. He continued nonetheless, “You can survive without sunlight.”

He won't budge on your request. He saw nothing wrong with keeping you in a windowless room and having you take vitamin D supplements. This was normal to him after all. 

“Anytime I request something that would genuinely make me happy, you dismiss it immediately.”

“Your requests tend to be quite ridiculous.”

“But renting a mall isn’t?!” your voice was getting loud, you were frustrated with him. “You’d rather spend all that extra money on bullshit than something that would actually make me happy?!” 

“This date was supposed to make you happy. In fact, everything I do is for your well-being.” Illumi spoke slowly, making sure to look you dead in the eyes as he said this.

Despite your outburst, Illumi remained stoic. Not a trace of annoyance or even irritation within him, he was completely neutral.

Deep breath in, hold it, breathe out slowly.

You turn on your heel, walking past him and back towards the food court. You stop near the exit doors, peering out the glass and into the parking lot. 

“I’m done shopping.” you were beyond finished with this. 

You wish he never came up with this pathetic little date idea and just left you back at the estate. You hated the constant mind battles between the two of you; you were mentally exhausted and just wanted time away from him to reset, preferably the rest of your life. 

“We’ve been here for thirty-five minutes. We have about another hour and twenty-five minutes to shop.” he says casually. You don’t respond, only glaring at him before looking out into the parking lot once again. His eyes continue to linger on you. “You should shop some more.”

It was clear it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. 

“Save your money-” you attempt to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t worry about my money. I’m telling you to continue shopping.” he spoke, signaling he was slowly becoming a bit irritated despite his very, very calm expression. 

“I already got what I wanted.” you glare at him again.

You knew exactly what you were doing. You were intentionally rushing so you could leave sooner and waste the money he’d used to rent the mall.

He was aware of this. 

“Do you not know how to enjoy yourself at a mall? I’m giving you a great privilege here.”

“It’s hard to enjoy a mall under these circumstances.”

“You’re just being difficult.” Illumi retorted, trying to make it seem as if your unhappiness was your own cause. 

“That’s NOT-”

“Watch your tone.” his voice sounded menacing, causing you to shut your mouth immediately.

His aura returned, his patience was running thin. You’re quiet for a moment, glancing out into the parking lot and daringly taking another step towards the doors.

“Can…” your voice is low as you speak, “can we just go back to Kukuroo-“

“Let’s continue shopping.” Illumi cuts you off once again.

You’re not daring enough to take another step, let alone actually make your way through those doors, as much as you want to. You continue to stand there despite Illumi’s request. Would you even be able to open the door before he grabbed you?

Your question was unfortunately answered when he moved swiftly and stood directly in front of you, basically teleporting before you. He cupped your face just as fast in a firm, almost tight hold, forcing you to look up at him. His hands were surprisingly warm.

“(Name).” he’d drawn out your name in a sickeningly soft tone, his eyes failing to match the gentleness of his voice. It was a sight you didn’t want to behold. You step back, to which he lets go, and turn to proceed back into the main shopping section. His eyes linger on you before he clapped his hands together once, all traces of aura instantly vanishing. “I’m glad you’ve decided to enjoy this experience further, (Name).” his voice was still soft, almost cheerful as he followed close behind you. 

Your heart is still beating rapidly as you walk through the mall, slowly taking your time exploring each of the stores. You don’t buy anything though, you were simply staring at the merchandise as if they were artifacts in a museum. Illumi starts pointing out things you’d like, or rather things he’d like on you, when you fail to make a purchase after the third store. 

Only an hour remaining.

You began staring at items for far too long, attempting to shave off as much time as possible, ignoring Illumi when he asked if it was something you wanted. He bought them anyway so it didn’t matter. He began purchasing anything you stared at, annoyed but not commenting on your stubborn attitude.

Only thirty minutes remaining.

As you walk the halls, you choose to stop and examine a statue you’ve passed at least three times. Illumi stands awfully close to you.

“You’re testing my patience, (Name).” he says. You don’t feel his aura, thankfully, but you knew you were pushing him too far.

“I don’t know what you want-”

“You know exactly what I want.” he slowly brought his hand to rest on your shoulder. You don’t sense any hints of mischief behind it, but you knew better than to trust it. “I thought this would’ve been a nice way for us to bond, but, of course, you’re obstinate.”

“Bond?” you ask, voice somewhat soft from the threat of his hand on you.

“Yes.”

“How?” you asked. Despite being held captive for months, you still fail to fully understand how Illumi thinks. You can feel his grip on you tighten slightly before resting once again.

“We bond whenever we are with each other, that’s how it works.”

You’re too tired to correct him, not that he’d understand anyway. “Tell me,” you start, “what is the purpose of this, Illumi?”

“This is the second time you’ve asked me this.”

“You never answered why you’re doing this, you only stated you weren’t inspired by anything and chose to do this on your own free will. I’m asking you why you’re doing this.”

Illumi is quiet for a few seconds before responding, “I wanted to spend time with you, that’s all.”

“Really?” you questioned.

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” you brought your hand up to your chin, trying to think of a possible ulterior motive. There was definitely more to this, but you couldn’t think of what it was. 

Only twenty-seven minutes remaining. 

“We don’t have much time left here. I believe it would be wise for you to do what I expect of you.” Illumi states as he removes his hand from your shoulder.

You go along with it, just wanting to get it over without being overwhelmed by Illumi. 

One minute remaining.

You half assed the last twenty-six minutes of shopping, but it was good enough for Illumi. He didn’t complain, or speak at all really, as he watched you hand the butlers random items you’ve picked up.

Once that was done, he led you outside and back into the truck, a weight being lifted off your shoulders when you felt the wind blow against your skin.

You didn’t bother asking him about the next location, knowing he wouldn’t tell you. He put on some music this time; he must be feeling better. 

Your tiredness instantly evaporated once you realized he was driving into the city, other Zoldyck trucks joining and forming a motorcade around the two of you. 

The car comes to a stop on an empty street, your eyes scan the butlers standing guard, locking on the pink haired one for a split second, before moving to the blockades blocking off side streets. Illumi does his chivalry deed before walking you towards the bus stop. 

Your head doesn’t stop swiveling, turning towards the buildings, to the lake, to the butlers, to the birds pecking at the ground, to the approaching bus. 

“Is this a tour bus?” you ask, instantly recognizing it as you’d been on one with your friends before. 

“Yes.” he responds flatly. 

As the bus pulls up, you get a good look at it. It was a big, red double decker bus, the windows a little too tinted to be legally owned by any company. You’re a little quick to climb inside once the doors open, it was empty aside from two butlers seated at the very back.

“Can we sit on the roof?” you ask, wanting to feel the breeze on your face but also wanting a vantage point to scout for other signs of life. 

“No. Sit here.” 

Illumi doesn’t offer any reasoning, only pointing to a row of seats on the right side of the bus. You take the window seat and Illumi sits next to you, caging you in.

Perhaps you should’ve let him take the window seat instead.

There’s a screen in front of you playing a pre recorded audio commentary as the ride begins, it was the only voice heard within the bus. Your heart sinks a little when you see people walking about and civilian cars waiting at intersections. It was a normal day for them. 

You look forward, then behind you, ignoring Illumi and the butlers’ curious eyes, as you confirm that the bus indeed was part of another motorcade. You slump slightly, looking out the window and at the curious faces of pedestrians completely unaware of what was going on. 

You had barely caught anything the audio commentary had explained about the various landmarks you’d passed, too busy reminiscing on past times to even care. The bus had done a full loop around the city, soon coming to a halt at the bus stop it picked you up from. 

Instead of walking you back to the truck, Illumi holds your hand, correctly this time as he didn’t give you time to freak out, and walks you to a nearby grassy area along the lakefront. His hold was a little tight.

There was a large blanket set out underneath a lone cherry blossom tree, Shiori setting down a singular basket, bowing to the both of you, then leaving. 

You both settled onto the blanket, Illumi sitting unreasonably close despite the vast amounts of space. You allowed yourself to relax a bit regardless, taking in the view of the lake mixed with the falling cherry blossom petals. You paid no mind to Illumi as he fumbled through the basket, using hand sanitizer but not offering you any.

He carefully unpacked the contents, laying out a meal too small to be enjoyed by two people. You silently glance over at it before looking forward again. The view was nice, various skyscrapers and buildings lined the horizon, and a few clouds decorated the big, blue sky. 

It was silent, you and Illumi haven’t spoken to each other since you got on the bus — it was better that way. Illumi savored your docile demeanor, content that you were finally relaxing around him for once. He wasn’t fixated on you surprisingly, only gazing upon the city view before him.

You’d sat there for about ten minutes, relaxing enough to shut your eyes as you envisioned yourself in another place, before Illumi finally spoke up, “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

You slowly opened your eyes, looking at the mini meal sprawled out on the blanket, then at the fork Illumi held tightly before closing them again. 

“No.” you said simply. This was a trap.

Illumi tilted his head as he looked at you. “Why not?” 

“Why aren’t you eating?” you question him instead. “You’ve been holding that fork for a while now, and yet you haven’t reached for anything.”

You were suspicious. This was a one person meal and Illumi was holding the only fork you could see yet made no move to use it. This could only mean one thing.

“This is for you. I’m not hungry.”

You sit upright. “Where are all the forks?”

“In my hand.” he stated nonchalantly. “What would you like to eat first?”

You were becoming nervous. “Just give me the fork.” you state, holding your hand out to him. 

“What would you like to eat first?” he repeats, looking down at the options before him and ignoring your hand.

“Please don’t do this to me.”

“You will eat the chicken Alfredo first.”

You retract your hand as he reaches for the chicken Alfredo, opening the container and allowing its savory scent to escape. You watch in horror as he collects a few noodles onto the fork and holds it up to you. 

His intentions were clear; he was going to feed you.

“I can feed myself.” 

“I know. Open your mouth.”

“Illumi-“

The fork was shoved into your mouth, the prongs hitting the back of your throat and causing you to choke. You cover your mouth when he pulls the fork out, coughing through your nose as you collect yourself from the sudden assault. At least the chicken Alfredo was good. 

“Hopefully you’ll listen this time. Come.” 

He scooped more noodles and chicken onto the fork, holding it out to you again. You glare at him before complying, allowing him to feed you gently this time. The cycle continues until the entire meal is gone, leaving only empty containers. 

He didn't say anything else once he was finished, but you noticed a slight smile on his otherwise expressionless face. He was happy. Very, very happy. 

Both of you sit in silence for a while, Illumi enjoying your presence and you ignoring his. Eventually he stands up, motioning for you to follow. He leads you back to the truck, performing an unneeded act of chivalry as he helps you inside, before pulling onto the road, the same Mercedes trucks driven by Zoldyck butlers surrounding the vehicle once more.

Illumi had one more activity planned for the day, one he was sure you’d love: a botanical garden. He had a slight smile on his face as he drove, eyes never leaving the road but he was definitely paying close attention to you. 

It took a short while, but he eventually reached his destination, quickly helping you out of the car before guiding you through the gates and into the garden. He seemed quite eager. The garden was huge, so he expected the both of you to be there for at least two hours, walking and analyzing all the different plants.

You were partially in higher spirits as you took in the different sights and smells, your facial features softening slightly. You were docile as you followed Illumi throughout the garden, engaging in conversation with him about all the different plants. He educated you on the purposes of different plants, ones that healed, ones that calmed, and ones that were extremely toxic but had a sweet, almost candy-like flavor. You don’t question him about that. 

He felt like he was truly bonding with you for once as you engaged with him. There wasn’t an ounce of negativity within you as you walked beside him, though you weren’t exactly beaming and doing heel clicks. You were calm; that was enough for him.

The sun had set and the moonlight bathed the garden in a white glow, fireflies fluttering about in the near darkness. You two had already begun the long walk back to the entrance a few minutes ago, silent as you listened to the chirping of numerous crickets and other critters. 

“It’s nice being able to enjoy nature like this.” Illumi stated as he stared ahead. 

“Yeah.” your tone was indifferent. “I used to go on walks like this all the time, but then something really unfortunate happened.”

“Hmm.”

Illumi only gave a simple hum in response, not wanting the mood to turn unpleasant so suddenly. Thankfully you didn’t say anything else to force an argument, quiet as he led you back to the entrance and into the car. 

The drive back was smooth, the only sounds being heard was the humming of the engine and the soft music coming from the radio. He takes you to the restaurant upon entering the hotel and dinner was just as quiet. You must be too tired to challenge him as you simply stare down at your plate. Good. He was finally able to enjoy a meal with you without getting a headache.

After dinner, he took you back to your shared suite, both of you showering before hopping into bed. You immediately roll onto your side, facing away from him as you try to escape into a deep sleep. He’s sat up in bed though, silently staring at you. 

The curtain covering the balcony door was partially opened, allowing the moonlight to flood the room and perfectly illuminate your figure. The sight causes him to reminisce for a moment.

“You were happier today —” Illumi spoke, voice a bit soft, “in the later half at least.” he’s silent for a moment as he thinks to himself. “I want to discuss something before you nod off.”

“Mhm.” you lazily hum.

You’d contemplated ignoring him in hopes he’d think you were sleeping, but you could count zero times that actually worked for you before. 

“Despite the rocky start… did you enjoy yourself today?”

He was seeking reassurance. He was being vulnerable. 

You’re in no rush to respond, allowing the silence to linger longer than he’d like. You think of all the different types of responses you could give him, ones that would please him enough to get him to shut up, ones that would severely upset him, and ones that would probably lead to him laying hands on you. 

“Would you enjoy doing your favorite things with someone who torments you?” you ask, ultimately deciding your answer would be up to Illumi. 

“So you enjoyed it? That’s good to hear.”

You don’t bother to correct him, knowing it would lead to a back and forth that would never conclude. 

Illumi, on the other hand, is completely satisfied, despite misinterpreting the true meaning behind your indirect answer. He was convinced that, ignoring your earlier defiance, today had been a total success and a step forward in the right direction. 

He’d only hoped he could make even more progress with you tomorrow.

.

Day three

.

Illumi rises very early, as he usually does, and gets himself ready for the day. His movements are silent as he walks about the suite, putting his clothes on, combing his hair, and more. He stands next to your side of the bed for a moment, gazing down upon your sleeping face and admiring your relaxed features.

He stares for way longer than he intended to before quietly making his way out the suite and to a secluded area. He makes a long phone call before returning to the suite and sliding back into bed, sitting upright as he stares at the blank TV.

You stir three hours later, yawning and stretching before sitting up. You wipe your eyes then look back at Illumi.

“Morning.” he greets.

“Hi.” your voice was softer than you meant it to be.

“Sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

You slide off the bed and head to the bathroom before he could ask you more pointless questions about how you slept. You complete your morning routine, taking a moment to stare at yourself in the mirror, before opening the bathroom door and standing in the doorway. Illumi slowly looks over at you. 

“When are we leaving?” you ask, wanting to limit the amount of time spent locked in an enclosed space with Illumi. 

“Whenever you’d like.” he responded simply.

You silently maintain eye contact with him for three seconds before making a request, “I want to pick my own outfit today, Illumi.”

Illumi taps his chin as if contemplating before sliding off the bed and heading toward the wardrobe. You watch him from your spot in the doorway as he lays multiple outfits out onto the bed, all featuring short sleeved tops and shorts coupled with some form of sandals for shoes.

“Take your pick.”

Sometimes you wonder if he’s intentionally misinterpreting you just to play mind games or if he’s really that unaware. You know it’s the latter, though. 

“This isn’t what I meant.” you state as he stares at you.

“You said you wanted to pick your outfit. I am giving you options to pick from.”

You decide not to fight it as this was the most control you’ve had over your own outfit in several weeks. You pick one that seemed to have the least of his inspiration and head to the bathroom with it. 

Illumi watched as the door shut behind you, clueless as to why you still had a problem with him even when he let you do what you wanted. He doesn’t dwell on it, packing the leftover clothes back into the wardrobe and calling the butlers to prepare breakfast. 

Once you were done and ready, he escorts you to the restaurant as usual. You feel a ping of unexplainable dread bubbling within you, but don’t think too much about it, chalking it up to the thought of having to deal with Illumi for yet another day for who knows how long. 

As you sit across from Illumi, you notice the rose petals have been replaced with fresh ones, some white and pink ones thrown into the mix. You fiddle with them as Illumi blankly stares at you. 

“We will be spending a lot of time outdoors today.” Illumi said. He figured he’d be the conversation starter during breakfast today as yesterday’s breakfast conversation led by you turned out to be very unsavory. “It’ll be good for the mind.”

“Yeah, I bet.” you continue fiddling with and even slowly tearing apart the rose petals. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing?” Illumi inquired.

You don’t even look up at him. “What’s the point?”

“Do you not want to know what we’re doing today?”

“It’s not like you’d tell me anyway.”

“How do you know?”

You finally look up at him. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

You’d prefer if Illumi just kept his mouth shut as you weren’t in the mood for his pathetic attempt at a conversation. 

“For what? You’re not the talkative type.”

“I just wanted to talk.” he simply states. His voice had been slightly softer as he spoke with you.

“Is this another bonding experience of yours?” you mock, mentally rolling your eyes. 

“Yes.”

Of course he doesn’t sense your sarcasm.

“You know,” you start, noticing how Illumi stiffened slightly. “You know” was always your way of starting an argument. “communication in a healthy… relationship… is key. If you truly wish to bond with me, you’ll tell me everything you refused to tell me before.”

“I’ve already been doing that.” he states, referring to all the tiny bits of information he’s given you the last couple of days. 

“There is something bigger I want to know, something you’ve been refusing to talk to me about since you took me.”

Illumi looks down at the pile of mangled rose petals in front of you before looking back up into your eyes. He could already predict where you were headed with this and knew it would most likely lead to something that would put the progress he believed he made with you in jeopardy. You were simply seeking some sort of approval from him to talk, though.

“I’m not interested in this discussion.” Illumi boldly replies, the softness in his voice long gone. 

“It’s the least you could do, Illumi.”

“No.” he didn’t budge.

“You’re only going to end up sabotaging yourself.”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed at your subtle threat. You were basically telling him that if he didn’t have this conversation with you, you’d make the date hell for the both of you. 

“There is nothing positive that could come from this discussion; therefore, I see no reason to have it.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.” Illumi says boldly. You were slightly taken aback by how quickly and effortlessly Illumi pinned the blame onto you, completely believing he’d done nothing wrong. “I see no point in giving you the chance to start unneeded drama.”

“You don’t need to give me the chance, it will happen regardless. I’m throwing you a bone by trying to settle things in a civil manner.” you say, watching as his eyes narrow even more.

“There is nothing to settle. Nothing will change whether you know or don’t.”

“You’re obligated to talk to me at this point.”

“I’ve been talking to you this entire time, I’ve fulfilled that obligation. You’re only going to throw a fit and ruin what we have going on currently.”

“You think we have something going on between us simply because we didn’t argue for a few hours?” You mock, your balled up fists resting on the table.

“Yes.”

Your words are caught in your throat as you realize just how out of it he truly is. Two butlers come and deliver breakfast, gently setting the plates of food in front of you and Illumi. They quickly leave, probably sensing the tension in the air, and Illumi immediately begins eating. He’s eating much, much slower than usual, though. 

He’s staring down at his plate as he does so, avoiding eye contact with you and hoping you’d just drop it for his sake.

You don’t.

“What was… the aftermath of my disappearance?” you ask, carefully choosing your words due to past experiences with Illumi’s negative reactions. Usually bringing up this topic was punishable by strangulation. Illumi had only warned you once before not to ask him about it, not explaining why or what he’d do if you did, only leaving you to find out through trial and error. “I deserve to know that much after so long.”

The dread coupled with asking the forbidden question is building in your stomach. You instinctively hold your hands under your chin, preparing yourself in case your plan to hold this date over his head doesn’t work. 

He doesn’t look up at you, but he’s not eating anymore either. Illumi had his reasons for not wanting to talk to you about this. It wasn’t because he felt guilt or shame for what he’d done, no not at all, it was because he didn’t want to deal with your reaction to it. You were a screaming, crying mess back then and even though you’ve calmed down to some degree, you’re still quick to return to your old roots. 

He found you as fascinating as he found you irritating, no longer questioning why he couldn’t bring himself to just kill you and move on with his life. You were a breath of fresh air, someone who kept him interested, someone who kept him wondering, and someone who always managed to surprise him with how bitchy you continued to be.

The realization that you’d rather be stifled until you’re unconscious than favor his simple demand sinks into him. You truly are an unruly brat. He finally looks up at you, which causes you to stiffen.

“What do you want to know?”

Illumi was made aware that you’d never shut up about it, and he wasn’t fond of the thought of cutting your vocal cords. He caved into your threat, to some degree, thinking that if he chose his words carefully, he could make it out of this discussion with minimal damage. He’d just have to walk on eggshells for a few minutes, eggshells he put down. 

Your eyes widened slightly. Was he actually agreeing to talk with you about it?

“You’ll… you’ll tell me?” you ask, hands slowly coming down to rest on the table.

“If we can move forward quickly afterwards and you never bring it up again, yes.” Illumi responded, making sure to place clear conditions.

“I will, only if you answer all of my questions truthfully.”

“Understandable.”

Your heart was beating rapidly as you looked into his eyes, all questions you had about the subject nearly leaving you before you quickly collected yourself. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come. You open them again after a moment, staring straight into his black ones.

“Have you harmed any of my friends or family since you’ve taken me?”

“No.” his answer was quick and concise. You were relieved. 

“Was I reported as a missing person?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… influence my case at all?”

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly. Yes he was answering your questions, but he wasn’t elaborating. “What did you do?” you ask.

“I made sure your case wasn’t thoroughly investigated.”

“Could you be more specific? I want to know the details.” you say with a hint of irritation in your voice. 

“I paid detectives to ignore all the statements the police took from you and to limit how long search parties spent looking for you. You were concluded as a runaway.”

Your eyebrows furrow even more as you think how distraught your family must’ve been when you vanished, what they must’ve been thinking when greedy detectives fed them lies in order to make a quick buck. You hate him.

“Why me?!” you yell at him.

You were beyond fed up with this, beyond fed up with him. He tilts his head at you, expression neutral as he brought a hand up to his chin as if he was thinking. 

“Indeed. Why you?” he doesn’t say anything else as he continues to stare at you in that pose.

“Why me?! Tell me, why are you doing this to me?!”

He takes a moment to respond, “That is indeed a good question.”

“You don’t even know why, do you?”

“No. I don't.” Illumi admits casually. “But even without knowing, the need is still there.” He straightens himself again, hands moving to rest on his lap. "I originally intended to kill you. I thought you were using some kind of power to control me. Imagine my surprise when I found out you weren't a nen user."

“A nen user? What the hell is that?”

He doesn’t answer your question, only silently looking at you. When you fail to say anything further, he looks down at his plate and continues eating in his usual quick fashion. It’s over with. He’s relieved.

You ponder momentarily, looking down at the food before you as you contemplate what you’re about to say. It was a long shot, but did you really have much to lose?

“I want to talk to my family. I want them to know I’m still alive and well.” you say confidently, not a trace of fear in your voice. 

If Illumi wasn’t obsessed with you, he would’ve killed you right then and there for making such a stupid, ignorant request. His frustration is calmly taken out on the fork he’s holding, his tight grip bending the metal into all sorts of shapes as his neutral expression remains fixated on the plate before him. It was a terrifying sight.

“Absolutely not.” his voice is terrifyingly nonchalant. “This discussion ends here.”

His aura warns you. You don’t care, though.

“I want to talk to them.” you repeat.

“We are not discussing this any further. Eat your food. Now.”

“Why can’t I talk to my own family?”

Illumi looks up at you, you see something flash in his eyes. “If you talk to your family, they’ll come looking for you. And if they come looking for you, I’ll kill them. By keeping them unaware, their safety is guaranteed. I’m doing you a favor.”

Your hands balled into fists once more. “How?! How are you doing me a favor?!”

Illumi replies quickly, “By not killing them from the start.”

“How can you say that and expect me to be happy with you?!”

“Because they’re still alive.”

“And so that’s it?!” your voice is starting to get loud. “Because you didn’t kill my family, I’m supposed to love and accept you?!”

“Correct.” he states boldly.

His aura was becoming more suffocating despite his completely neutral demeanor. You grit your teeth in anger.

“You’re fucking insane!” you shout at him, slamming your fist on the table and causing your untouched drink to spill. Illumi watches as the reddish pink fruit punch soaks into the table cloth. “Why would I want to live the rest of my life with someone like you?! I’d rather you just kill me at this point, it would be mercy!”

This is why he didn’t want to have this discussion, you were forgetting your place. 

“Watch yourself, (Name).” he says as he looks up at you. “This is your only warning.”

“Fuck you.”

Illumi abruptly stood up, the force knocking his chair back a few feet. Your anger immediately vanishes, fear taking its place. He grabs your wrist tightly, yanking you out of your seat and dragging you out of the restaurant. He had enough, your audaciousness had gone unpunished for far too long. 

Your weak attempts to pull away were only met with him tightening his grip more, causing you to cry out. It felt like he’d crush your wrist if he tightened any more. The tears had already begun streaming down your face, but you refused to beg for forgiveness. 

He’d taken you back to the suite, practically throwing you on the floor as he slammed the door shut behind him. He stood there, staring down at you with a look that would normally kill. 

“I’ve been very patient with you, I’ve been very lenient with you, and I’ve been very considerate of you, and this is what I get in return?” he asks.

You remain on the floor, wiping your tear stained eyes before looking up at him. “I don’t owe you shit. You ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? You don’t know what ruining a life even means.” he takes a step towards you. He was convinced he saved your life, saved you from what would’ve been a violent death. You don’t seem to understand the type of person he is. “If I really wanted to, I could make your life a living hell. You understand that, don’t you?”

You glare up at him, your intense hatred for him evident on your face. “I hate you.”

Such a childish response should not have any sort of effect on him, but it did when it came from you. His aura quickly became overwhelming, striking you with complete and utter terror as you lay frozen on the ground. His eyes wide, his pupils shrunken to dots, and his hair floating in the air. You’d activated his bloodlust. 

His aura reached far and wide, paralyzing the hotel employees and causing the butlers to think he’d finally killed you. 

“No, you don’t. You love me.” he spoke his words as if they were fact, something you could not argue with. He takes another step toward you, eyes boring into you. “Isn’t it funny how you beg for death yet freeze in terror when the possibility of death becomes a reality?”

His voice was unnaturally soft for the state he was in. He was happy, happy that your talk of wanting to die was nothing more than a bluff, a tactic to control him. You didn’t actually want to die, you were just overreacting.

After a few seconds, he calmed down. His face returned to his neutral expression, his long hair falling back down into place. It’s as if nothing had even happened.

“Hm…” he hums, looking down at your paralyzed figure on the floor. He ponders for a few seconds before suddenly crouching down, scooping you into his arms, and gently placing you onto the bed. 

Without thinking twice about it, he lays beside you, one arm awkwardly outstretched on top of you as his head sits atop of yours. He was comforting you, though he didn’t know it. He had gotten an uncontrollable urge to do so, one he’d never gotten before, and was in no state of mind to resist. 

He stares out the balcony door as you lay unconscious in his arms. This feeling was foreign to him, just as everything relating to you was. He couldn’t comprehend how he felt right now, but knew he was at ease as he absorbed your warmth and slight twitches.

Illumi doesn’t move at all as he waits for you to wake up, awkwardly sprawled out partially on top of you as he continues to blankly stare ahead. His mind was empty, he felt no desire to dwell on what had happened, only allowing time to pass as he accepted this bizarre feeling. 

You eventually begin to stir, but he still doesn’t move, only shifting his eyes to look down at you. You slowly sit up, groaning as you do so, and wiping your eyes in the process. His arm falls lower than you’d like, causing you to grab and remove it off of you entirely. Neither of you say a word, but the tension doesn’t feel as heavy as you’d expect it to be after something so traumatic. 

Illumi remains in his awkward position, watching as you slide off the bed and head to the bathroom. You stay in the bathroom for quite some time, your quiet sniffling and sobbing reaching Illumi’s ears. He doesn’t move to check on you, or rather put a stop to your crying, choosing to sit by and let you cry it out for once. 

He finally gets up after a while, thinking he’d given you more than enough time to recover and move on. He pulls out his phone, quickly texting Shiori, before moving to knock on the bathroom door. He casually states that the two of you will be leaving soon and encourages you to come out. 

You don’t respond but you do comply after a few minutes, eyes reddened and slightly puffy. He doesn’t comment on it, only silently walking you out the suite, outside the hotel, and into the truck once more. 

Despite almost brutally murdering you twice within a five minute time span and bruising your wrist, Illumi was nonchalant. He has the radio playing so he must be in a good, or at least neutral, mood. 

He parks near his next destination — the beach — and assists you out the car as usual, his hold much, much gentler than it ever had been. He continues to stand there after shutting the door behind you though, holding your uninjured hand and watching Shiori as she appears out of nowhere. Shiori doesn’t say a word as she gently takes your injured wrist. You don’t know what she does, but the pain and bruising is suddenly gone. She swiftly bows before leaving.

You’ve never verbally questioned her magical abilities but you mentally thank her as Illumi proceeds to escort you towards the beach. You think to yourself how strange this whole ordeal is but don’t feel the need to comment on that obvious fact, only remaining silent as he takes you over to two lounge chairs set up under a beach umbrella. 

You sit down, propping your head up on your hand as you stare out into the ocean. This was relaxing. Shiori appears once again, placing a pineapple smoothie inside of a hollow pineapple on the little table beside you before leaving just as quickly, a red umbrella and a swirly straw placed inside for maximum corniness. You ignore it. 

There was a surprising sense of tranquility within you as you sat in the lounge chair; the breeze felt nice, the sound of the waves was like a massage for your ears, and the occasional seagull noises gave you a sense of nostalgia. 

Your mind was calm, yet racing all at once, a feeling you were all too familiar with. You fully relax onto the chair, kicking your sandals off and turning onto your side — away from Illumi. You rest your head on your hands, shutting your eyes as the warm sun cleansed you of your stress. 

An hour passes, then two, then three.

“The view is nice.” Illumi finally speaks, continuing to stare ahead of him as he had been doing since he sat down. 

You don’t acknowledge him, not that he minded — for once — as he retained his calm demeanor. 

Illumi continued after a few minutes, ”We’re going to have dinner with my family back at Kukuroo Mountain tomorrow.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach. You immediately sit up, looking over at him for the first time since you came here. 

“What?!” you ask, clearly distraught over this unfortunate information.

Illumi turns his head slightly, shifting his eyes toward you as he repeats himself, “We are going to have dinner with my family back at Kukuroo Mountain tomorrow.” he turns forward again. “It’ll only be for a few hours, we’ll come back to the hotel once it’s over.”

“But-but why?”

“Because we have more to do here.” Illumi states. God, you can’t stand him.

You fully sit up in the chair, “I’m asking why are we suddenly having dinner with them when you’ve never introduced them to me before?” 

“They’ve been wanting to meet you since they found out about you, especially my mother.” Illumi taps his chin with his pointer finger. “I reached a compromise last night: you said the lack of people took away from your ability to enjoy time with me, and my family won’t stop pestering me about you, so by taking you to have dinner with them, I’m killing two birds with one stone.” 

Unbeknownst to you, the rest of the Zoldycks, at least his mother and father, had been extremely curious about you. Illumi had only mentioned you to his father when he was asking for permission to construct your living quarters near the Butler’s Quarters as well as when asking for his advice on courtship. The idea of Illumi being in love with someone completely caught the man off guard, but he gave Illumi what he wanted nonetheless. 

His mother found out when she questioned her husband about the construction workers, her jaw dropping dramatically before immediately bolting to find Illumi. She spread the news and hounded Illumi since then, never missing an opportunity to ask a question about you, which were all left unanswered, and even going as far as to harass Shiori and any other butlers who saw you in person. She never got the answers she wanted from them, courtesy of Illumi. 

His father, on the other hand, was patient and allowed Illumi to do his thing, thinking he was finally transitioning into the next stage in life. That doesn’t mean he didn’t order his loyal, pink haired butler to keep tabs on you, having her use her monocle to record her very rare interactions with you. He even had her join the large group of butlers Illumi took with him on his trip, giving him intel on what went on as everything unfolded.

Illumi was aware and assigned her with jobs that would keep her the furthest from you.

“What?! Why would they want to meet me?! Did you lie about me to make me seem cool?!” your voice raises slightly.

Illumi doesn’t react to it. “I only told my father that you were my partner, that’s it. I’m guessing he told my mother who then told everyone else.” 

Illumi didn’t want to introduce you too soon for one simple reason: you weren’t ready. He wanted you to be his happy, willing partner in everyone’s eyes, even those who knew better, and was concerned your lack of respect and unpredictable behavior would ruin that image. 

It made sense for them to be so curious, none of them had ever imagined Illumi of all people finding a lover and being so committed to them. They were intrigued and wanted to know who it was that Illumi thought worthy enough for his time, effort, and affections.

You’re clearly terrified at the thought. 

You sink back onto the chair, pulling your knees close to you as you think of all the different ways you’ll be humiliated and brutally tortured, how high their expectations of you must be, and how they’ll laugh when they find out you’re just a normal, average person. They probably thought you were also some kind of murderer, taking jobs and lives left and right. It was nerve-wracking.

“I don’t…” you start, “I don’t want to…”

Illumi looks over at you. “I did what you wanted, you can’t back out of it now.”

“Why'd you even bother telling me this? You never told me your plans before!”

“You said communication was key in a healthy relationship.” he answered.

You don’t say anything else to him. Whenever you thought you’d gotten the upper hand, Illumi found a way to counter it. You wondered if you would still have to meet his family tomorrow if you had kept your mouth shut the other day or if Illumi would’ve even told you about it if you hadn’t started that argument during breakfast.

He was taking you into consideration, just in all the wrong ways. 

The two of you sit in silence once again, your mind dreading tomorrow’s dinner and his mind as relaxed as can be. You continue to sit there for a couple more hours before Illumi announces it was time to head back.

Your mind never stopped racing, replaying thoughts of them attacking you over and over again. You don’t say anything during the car ride, you don’t say anything during dinner, which was much appreciated, and you don’t say anything as you ponder in the shower, only coming out after Illumi rushes you for taking too long. He slides onto his side of the bed after coming out of the bathroom, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. You were already tucked under the blankets, trying and failing to fall into a deep slumber as your mind continued to torment you with endless possibilities.

Illumi browses through channels until he ultimately settles on a random cooking show. He didn’t particularly care for it, only wanting something to fill the silence while he waited for something. You shift constantly before laying on your back, allowing yourself to watch as the contestants on TV failed to execute a successful dinner service, a British man pointing out all their faults and demanding they fix it. 

Watching the show eased some of your anxiety so you stay up for another couple of hours before you feel yourself beginning to drift off. You turn onto your side once more, getting comfortable as you try to fall asleep again. 

Illumi sees this and swiftly powers the TV off, completely turning the room pitch black as the curtain covering the balcony door was shut. He continues to sit up, however, eyes lingering on you in the darkness. 

He suddenly moves, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the middle of the bed, wrapping his arms around you and causing all traces of sleepiness to leave you immediately. You shift once, slightly pushing against his arm. He only pulls you closer to him. You shift again, pushing harder this time. He only tightens his grip. He was getting way too comfortable.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your heart rate beginning to quicken.

“Holding you.” Illumi stated simply. 

It was clear by your body language that you were uncomfortable, body tense and stiff as you tried not to rub against him even more than you already had. He didn’t mind, though.

You internally curse him for spooning you as you now find yourself unable to sleep. You lay wide awake in his arms, too nervous to move due to how close and personal he was, but too uncomfortable to stay still either. You couldn’t help but shift a bit more, eventually finding a position comfortable enough to grant you the escape of a deep sleep. Illumi, however, remains wide awake, a slight smile on his face as he absorbs your warmth once again.

Tomorrow will be one hell of a day.

[patscorner]

ARE YOU OKAY?

Summary: Y/n has too much drink at a party

Tw: drinking, vomit, swearing, partying, suggestive jokes, kissing

______________________________

It started with one shot, which turned into two, which turned into three, and then you starting losing count.

You were at your coworkers' birthday party, and after this past week, you thought you deserved a break.

Monday was the start to all of your problems. Your dog threw up blood, and you rushed him to the vet. After waiting in the lobby for 4 hours, hoping that he's okay, the vets told you they couldn't find anything wrong.

So they gave him medicine and sent him back home. By then, you were late to work and was dealt a huge amount of overtime.

The rest of the week wasn't any better. You had got into an agruement with both Matt and your father, and then had to take your dog back to the vet when the medicine didn't work.

So, to say you were stressed would be an understatement.

That's why you went to the party in the first place. You ignored Matt, who told you that you shouldn't drink in your state of mind, and you knew he was right. You just didn't care. You didn't want to feel the stress anymore, and what better way to do that than to get blackout drunk.

So there you were, on your 7th shot of tequila, dancing as you let the alcohol take over. Your hips moved to the music and you danced on the floor shoulder to shoulder to strangers you've never seen before.

"Y/n!" You turned to see your coworker waving you over, and you drunkenly stumbled towards him, pushing past the other bodies on the floor.

"Hey, what's up?" You slurred over the music.

He rolled his eyes. "I called your boyfriend. He's on his way to get you." He yelled over the loud chatter.

You smiled drunkenly. "Yayyyy! Wheeere's he at?" You said, clearly incoherent.

Your coworker sighed. "Jesus, Y/n, how much have you drank?" All you did was shake your head.

"I dunno." You said, stumbling backward a little.

"Woah, woah, okay, how about we sit you down?" Your coworker speaks, dragging you outside and sitting you down on the curb.

"We'll wait here for Matt." He said as he sat next to you. Your eyes were closed, and your body swayed as the refreshing wind blew through your hair.

"Matt's coming?" You asked, not moving an inch. Your coworker chuckled. "Yeah, that's him right there." He pointed out.

Your eyes opened wide, and tears filling them as you saw the van pull up and Matt hop out, keys in hand.

Matt runs over to you and immediately holds your hands. "Love, are you okay? Why are you crying?" He said, voice laced with concern.

All you do is hum as you bring him into a warm embrace. The alcohol stings his nose as he looks at your coworker for help. Her coworker looks at him amusedly.

"She's so drunk, I'm surprised she's able to talk."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Thanks for calling me. How much has she had to drink?" He asked, still clinging onto you.

You pull away before your coworker can say anything. "I- I am not drunk. I've only have had 4 shots. That'sss what the bartender said when I asked." You slurred, blinking slowly.

Matt looked at your coworker. "That was 2 hours ago. She's had double that." He shrugged.

"Jesus fuc- Why didn't you stop her?" Matt said wide-eyed as he put his hand in the small of your back to keep you up, as you swayyed in his arms.

Your coworker shrugged again. "She's grown, I thought she could handle herself." Matt sighed. "She is, and she should." He glanced at you, who was staring at the fire hydrant next to you, entranced.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to let her get plastered." Your coworker apologizes, feeling guilty for not preventing you from getting here.

Matt sighed again. "It's okay, it's not your fault. I should get her back, though. Thanks again for calling me." He said, standing up.

Your coworker nods. "No problem, drive safe." He said before walking inside.

"Come on, my love, let's go." He said, picking you up, holding you steady as you stand.

"Wheeere are we goin'?" You slurred, stumbling on your feet.

"Home."

"But, whyyyyyy?" You whined, reluctantly letting Matt drag you to the car. "We just got here."

He shook his head as he helped you into the car. "It's 4am, sweetheart. You did not just get here." He laughs before closing the door and walking to the other side.

You look at him as he climbs in, buckles up, and backs out. "You okay, baby? Do you need anything?" Matt speaks, glancing at you as he drives, his hand resting on your thigh.

You hum, unable to speak anymore. The alcohol somehow diminished your love for speaking, and even though you were plastered, you couldn't bring yourself to talk.

"Are you with me, baby?" Matt speaks again, rubbing your leg gently.

You look at him, pupils dilated. "'M gonna throw up..." You say softly.

Matt's eyes shoot to yours, watching your face pale. "Wha- okay, okay. Let me pull over, hold on."

Matt swiftly and kind of illegally pulls over onto the shoulder, but it's okay. There was nobody on the road. It's 4am, who would be out?

You fight with the door but eventually stumble onto the grass, falling to your knees as vomit spews out of your mouth.

You feel a hand on your back, and your hair gets pulled out of your face. Matt whispers quiet, comforting words as sobs fall out of your mouth. Not because you're sad or in pain, you're just drunk and overworked.

"Shhh, I know, I know. It's okay." Matt spoke softly as you breathed heavily. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before collapsing unexpectedly into Matt's arms.

"Fuck, baby, are you okay?" Matt said, his voice laced with concern. You nod against his body, ignoring the wet grass on your legs.

Matt rubbed circles onto your back. "Let's go home, love." He whispered. You hum, but don't move.

Matt sighed before lifting you up and carrying you back to the car. You're not sleeping, but you're not awake either. You're just drunk.

Matt puts you back in the car, buckling up as your eyes struggle to stay open. You whine as Matt places a kiss on your cheek, wanting more.

Matt chuckles. "Sorry, love. I want to get us home." He said, closing your door and walking to get in the driver seat.

The rest of the car ride went by smoothly and uninterrupted. You didn't throw up again, and you didn't really speak either.

Matt kept glancing at you nervously the whole time, silently wishing you'd speak. That way, he knew you were okay. For his own sake, he kept his hand on your thigh the whole time.

You open your eyes when you feel the car be put in park. You look around, but your so drunk, you have no idea where you are.

You whine in your seat, wiggling uncomfortably. "Matttttt... Wanna lay down." You slurred out.

Matt sighed as he got you both out of car, holding your waist as he guided you to the door. You stumble over your feet, but Matt's determined to get you inside as quick as possible.

You feel butterflies in your stomach as you become aware of Matt's hand on your waist. You look down at his hand, then at him, then his hand, then back to him again.

"Youuuu want to fuck me, don you?" You say, voice shaking. Matt freezes as you reach the front door.

His eyes widened as he looked at you. "Wha-, no, honey. I don't. I just want to get you to bed." He said, shaking his head aa he unlocked the front door.

"You don't love me?!" You say, louder than you mean too, but right now, you're very emotional. Tears fall down your face as Matt shushes you.

"Shhh! Honey, of course I love you. I just don't think now is the right time for... that. You gotta be quiet. We don't want to wake Nick and Chris." He said, quickly helping you up the stairs.

Speeding up was a mistake as you stumbled up the stairs and leaned on Matt and grip the banister for dear life.

"Oh dear god." Matt muttered as he lifted you up. You were getting frustrated as well, angry that you couldn't even walk by yourself. "Fuck." You whisper as tears fall.

After the fight to get to Matt's room, you finally make it.

Matt sits you on the bed, sighing deeply as your eyes stay closed. "You wanna take off your clothes, baby, or do you not care?" His back is to you, setting his keys on his desk. He doesn't even notice your tears.

You sniffle, wiping your face quickly. "I-i don't care." You say your voice comes out smaller than you intend, making Matt turn around urgently.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Why are you crying?" He says, crouching down, cupping your face as he wipes your tears.

"I'm just so stressed. My dog is sick, and you're mad at me and my dad hates me, and, and people at work keep getting on my nerves, and I'm so done and and I'm so fucking drunk and I don't even want to be." You ramble out in one breath.

"Hey, hey, breathe. It's okay. I'm not upset with you. I was earlier, but I'm not anymore." Matt says, looking in your eyes. "And your dad doesn't hate you. He was just upset, and I'm certain he's not anymore. As for your dog and work, I can only help by being there for you. You don't have to be drunk to cope, honey." He said, sealing his words with a kiss.

"Thank you, Matt." You say as he pulls you into another kiss.

You kiss him back, but he reluctantly stops it before it goes farther. "You're drunk. Let's get you to sleep, yeah?" He said, patting your thighs.

You nod as you crawl into the bed, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. "I love you, Matt."

"I love you, too." Matt says as he crawled next you, pulling you onto his now shirtless chest.

You knew the hangover was gonna be a bitch in the morning.

______________________________

[keisobe]

little bit of self-indulgence but may i request college au! miguel (you can make him a professor, fellow student up to you) tutoring reader with a bit of suggestive content ;)

☆ﾟ°˖ 𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive (borderline smut). professor + student relationship. not completely proofread. ⎯ miguel cannot keep his hands off his favorite student

professor miguel had a major soft spot for you. yes, a very unethical practice as he was your superior, but he couldn’t help himself. your sickly soothing voice calling him ‘sir’ or even ‘mr. o’hara’ would play in the back of his mind while he prepped for his next lab. the permanent eye contact he would hold with you during his long lectures left him flustered throughout the whole day. he would even give small compliments here and there about your work— a rare thing anybody could ever receive.

he even personally recommended you to the most prestigious internship in alchemax (as a previous senior engineer that worked for the company itself, call it nepotism). boasting about your skills and intellect with lustrous eyes until he catches himself mid sentence. putting aside his thought process, miguel chugged down his hot coffee and held it in— even if it did burn the entirety of his mouth cavity. he spat it out in the nearest bathroom afterwards.

he cannot feel like this, especially for his student.

but when you graced your presence in his empty office, asking sweetly for tutoring lessons over the summer— he immediately gave in.

now he found himself looming over your smaller frame, gazing down at your hands, fiddling with the steel pen he personally gifted to you when you were accepted into the internship (though he never told you how you even got in). the air felt off without other students bustling in and out of his lab, occupying the other seats as they asked their professor’s personal insight. it was just you and him, alone.

“something wrong?” miguel, usually stern with his voice, softly asks you when he notices the furrow in your brows.

upon his concern, the conflicted look on your face melted into a cheeky smile. miguel couldn’t help but feel relieved that he didn’t upset you when he was carefully dissecting the notes and research you asked help on. but what surprised him was your next statement.

“we’re finally alone, it’s weird to think that, right?”

if he was drinking coffee right now, he would’ve spat it out from utter shock. there were thoughts, very inappropriate thoughts that crossed his mind when he thought about this predicament. yes you’re right, nobody else was here, not even his coworkers that would rudely interrupt him when he graded assignments (ahem peter) can catch the both of you.

“yeah… you’re right.”

he left it at that, but his eyes fell down to your mouth— the pretty gloss adorning your lips left miguel thinking about your body being propped between his legs, the fly of his slacks down as the softness of your hands tracing around his exposed skin.

“mr. o’hara, are you okay?” you leaned closer to miguel with fluttering lashes, tilting your head to the side with a small smile.

your feigned innocence drove him crazy, to the point he was clawing at the arms of his chair. he was completely restrained, bound by his title, bound by his position— it was slipping away from his grasp and into your pretty hands. shit, all this self-discipline and you weren’t even touching him.

at the end, miguel really couldn’t help himself.

“fuck– i can’t— please come here.” miguel initially planned for a more intimate tone, but he was completely desperate.

immediately, you stood from your seat and walked over to his side of the desk that created a barrier between the two of you for the last three hours. before you had the chance to situate yourself between his legs, his rough hands met you halfway as he held your waist— pressing you down abruptly onto the cold surface that elicited a sharp screech from one of the legs of his desk. with your face and chest pinned down, miguel had a perfect display of your frame.

you felt a warm press against your ass, his death grip guiding your hips onto his erection while he let out a strangled groan from the contact. you began to take control of your own hips, grinding down onto his hardness as miguel slowly came more and more undone. beads of sweat dripped onto the notes splayed across the desk, accompanied with his deep-throated groans that he failed to suppress in his throat.

suddenly, his weight came crashing down onto you, but his hips still sputtered against you. miguel was burning; his skin heated with lust and his sweaty palms continued to grope and pinch and squeeze and take and take all of you in his touch.

“please sir…” you whimpered out, looking into his intense gaze with anticipation.

miguel’s breath fanned your cheeks as he threaded a comforting hand through your hair, then immediately, he gripped your scalp tightly that left your vision blurry with tears. his other hand sneakily reaches between the plushness of your thighs, dragging sharp nails along your untainted skin.

“miguel…” he mumbled with a heavy pant, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor as his ironed pressed slacks pooled around his ankles. “call me miguel for tonight.”

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[detroit-become-hurt]

Sweet Thing

So to kickstart this block again I'm regressing into old hyperfixations. So here's a fanfic I'm working on for The Lost Boys! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Moving to Santa Carla was a sudden decision, but something about it just felt right. There was something about that place, calling you to it, you just didn't know what.

Or: you're drawn to Santa Carla cause you're the final mate of The Lost Boy's pack

I sighed heavily as I sat on a bench at the boardwalk. Santa Carla was fun for the first week upon moving here, but after that it sort of just lost its charm. It was the same routine of showing up to work at the little oddities shop between the chinese take out place and some other little resturant that served the greasiest burgers. It wasn’t a bad job, but it wasn’t always the busiest as there were other attractions to see that were much more interesting. The shop consisted of bad taxidermy, crystals, fake skulls (which a lot of people thought were real), and tarot cards/readings. It wasn’t a bad gig, just again, not the busiest. 

Tonight was my night off, and I really had no idea what to do. I decided sitting here was better than sitting at home, with even less to do. Deciding it was best to grab some food I stood up, making my way over towards the shop and the chinese place. Chinese sounded good for dinner. As I neared the resturant, I couldn’t help but notice a group of bikers loitering outside the shop. There was two blondes, rough housing with each other. A tall dark haired main leaned on the wall of the front of the shop, watching the two blondes wrestle. And finally, leaned against one of four bikes was a third blond, a cigarette balanced between his lips. His eyes flitted through the crowd, taking in faces, a dark look lurking behind them.

It wasn’t really of any concern to me seeing these four, Santa Carla was full of different types of people, and I’ve seen them around before at different places on the boardwalk. We never interacted before, but a cloud of trouble oozed off of them. I tried to keep to myself. 

Ordering my food I waited to the side for them to finish preparing it, tapping my foot lightly as I listened to the sounds around me. Rollercoasters whizzed by with screams that lasted mere seconds, loud carnival music and people chattering away. It was almost overwhelming, the sounds. But you grow used to it pretty fast. Finally my order was called, and I picked up the bag containing the food. Upon closer inspection I realized that they had gotten my order wrong…but it wasn’t worth arguing. They ended up giving me more than what I ordered, I wasn’t going to complain.

“Perhaps Sandra would want some of this…” I wondered out loud, thinking of my coworker who was currently working tonight. Deciding I would share my feast, I walked over to the shop, towards the group of four bikers. As I approached, I caught the attention of the blonde leaning against the bike. His eyes trailed up and down me slowly, sizing me up. “Um…excuse me. Could you move your bikes, so I can like…get inside the store.” I asked, trying to maintain eye contact.

“You want us…to move our bikes…so you can go inside?” He repeats back to me, and I instantly knew what he was doing.

“Yes. You, move bikes. I go, inside?” I throw back, raising an eyebrow. The banter between the two of us caught the attention of the other three. The second blonde with curled ringlets going down his back couldn’t help but snicker, flashing me a dangerous smile and a wink when I looked his way. “Really it would just be easier if you moved, so I don’t have to weave in and out of your guys bikes and risk knocking one over. So what’s it gonna be pretty boy?” I asked shifting weight on my feet.

The third blond, who’s hair was teased to high hell and back laughed loudly. “Aw come on sugar, if anyone’s pretty here it’s you.” He says wrapping an arm his friend with the ringlets. “Do we at least get to know your name?” 

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you guys around before.” I say chewing my lip. I really did not expect to get into such a conversation, but it seemed like there was no backing out now. “If I tell you my name, will you please move your bikes?” I throw in, hoping they would indeed do as I asked.

His grin widens, and he sauntered down the steps, wrapping his arm around me. The smell of aqua net hair spray and weed overtook my senes. “I’m Paul. That’s Marko, Dwayne, and David.” He says pointing each of them out. “And I…have definetly not seen you around here. Are you new?” he questions.

Slipping out of his arm I nod, “I’m y/n. And yes, I am new. I just moved here about a week and a half ago.” I say. “Now really, this is quite the lovely chat but I think I’m just gonna weave around the bikes. Sorry to bother you.”

David holds his hand up, stopping my movements. “Hang on there sweet thing, you didn’t give me a chance to answer. Since I am a man of my word, we will move our bikes.” It’s funny he says that, cause he never mentioned giving me his word. But oh well. “Come on boys, let’s get out of here. We’ll see you around y/n.” he gives me a smirk, again something hiding behind his expression as the other three revved their bikes to life. With hoots and hollers they revved the engines a few more times before taking off, nearly hitting me in the process.

“Fuckin assholes,” I mutter as my heart pounds in my chest. Finally walking up the steps I walk inside, “Sandra! It’s me! I brought some food, the chinese place messed up the order.” Walking to the counter I set the food down, taking it out and arranging it so we could easily grab what we wanted. 

Sandra comes out from the back, a yawn errupting from her lips. “Oh thank god, I was going to fall asleep back there. Hey, did you hear like, motocrycle sounds?” She asks as she grabs some food.

Between swallows I nod, “Yeah. Some bikers out front. I asked them to move, and it took a minute but they did. Who knew all I had to do was give them my name.” I say. “I got their names in return. David, Marko, Paul, Dwayne. Interesting group of guys. I’ve seen them around the boardwalk before.” 

Sandra freezes, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Y/n…please tell me you’re joking. Like say sike right now.” She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxiousness radiating into my bubble.

“What’s the big deal? They’re not trouble are they?” 

“Oh yes they’re trouble! They’re dangerous y/n. They’re always in trouble with security on the boardwalk, bothering people.” Sandra’s looking me dead in the eyes now, a look I can’t place. 

Finishing up my food I wipe my mouth, “Okay. I’ll keep my distance. Can’t blame me too much you know, I just moved here.” A part of me was annoyed. I appreciated her concern, but again I just moved here. And the boys seemed nice enough…although that doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t know them.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just really like you and I don’t want you to end up on a missing person’s poster. It would suck to not have you in my life anymore.” That was one thing I was definetly grateful for, was my quick friendship with Sandra. She took me around, showed me the ropes, and was always there should I have needed anything in my short time in Santa Carla.

“Thank you, Sandra. Really.” Glancing at the clock on the wall I sighed, “I should probably get going, it’s getting late and I have to work a twelve hour tomorrow.” 

Sandra gives me a sympathetic look. “Well if you need anything, give me a holler okay? Seeya later!” Her voice disappears as the bell to the door chimes and I’m once again outside. Traffic has quieted quite a bit, not so loud. Turning I begin to make my way home, unaware of the set of eyes watching me from the dark.

I want her.

Me too.

She needs to be with us, one of us.

Soon, she will be. Give it time.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In contrast to my Dark!Rhys in Obsidian Salt, pls enjoy some fluffy werewolf!bat boy head canons that have been floating around in my head all day:

•Werewolf!Azriel who scents you before the others and (not so)secretly plants a little wolfsbane in the garden beneath your window to ensure no other wolves come sniffing around before he can claim you

•Werewolf!Cassian with extra long scruffy hair and a matching beard (I’m drooling) who loves it when you play with his hair or when you squeal when his scruff scratches your cheek when he goes in for a kiss.

•Werewolf!Rhys who INSISTS you cannot leave the house until he has rubbed his scent over every bit of you. He twines himself around you like a giant cat, making sure he pays extra attention to the scent glands on your throat and wrists. Anyone who gets close will have to get through the layer of him on you before they can even catch a whiff of your own scent. (He definitely rolls around in your laundry when you’re not home so his scent is on your clothes too but he always folds them neatly and puts them back before you get home)

•Speaking of laundry, good luck heading into work in any other top but a turtleneck or sweatshirt. Not because they’re so possessive that they care what you wear out, but those bastards are competitive and if one of them leaves a hickey they ALL have to leave a hickey. It soon spirals into who can mark you up the most and it gets to a point that your coworkers are concerned for your wellbeing. You have to, on more than one occasion, explain that everything is fine back home, great actually, but your werewolf boyfriends are very, very competitive (and definitely a tad possessive)

•The boys have lived a long time together, just the three of them, their scents over every bit of the house until the day you finally move in and start lighting candles and bringing home flowers to sit in the windowsills to brighten the place up; the first time the boys come home Cass makes a comment about it smelling weird in the house now and you dejectedly throw it all out thinking he hates it and you’ve now invaded their space. This sends Cass into an absolute SPIRAL because he didn’t mean it like that he just has been so used to the others’ scents. He starts bringing you home any flower and candle he can get his hands on to the point that the hall closet is precariously full of candles that have never and probably will never be lit.

•There is ALWAYS someone to cuddle with. On the couch reading? Cass is sprawled out with his head on your stomach, large arms wrapped around your middle, keeping you warm with his natural body heat. Sitting in the library working on reports? Rhys will lift you out of the chair and sit himself down so you can relax in his lap, head leaning between the juncture of his shoulder and throat, one of the few times the wolf will be utterly vulnerable to you. Lounging in bed, curtains shut for the night? Azriel will keep you tucked tight against his chest, one leg tossed over yours practically keeping you pinned to the mattress. Mother forbid you even try to leave. He is a vice. You are in bed for the night. Maybe the week, depends on his mood. And Cauldron Boil you if you’ve had a bad day, all three of them are piled onto one piece of furniture to hold you and stroke your hair.

•Their first full moon with you in the house is a mess. You come home from the store to find them dragging the thickest chains you’ve ever seen down into the basement.

“It’s for your safety.” Azriel says.

You bite down on the laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat. They’re really adorable, all concerned for your safety and convinced they’re a danger to you.

“You guys know this isn’t the first full moon I’ve spent with you, right?” You ask and the confusion on their faces is enough to remind you that they often black out completely on nights like this. “You all came sniffing around my apartment. I sprayed Az in the face with a water bottle infused with wolfsbane. Cass let me scratch him behind the ears like a puppy.”

Cassian is blushing so hard you think the pink tinting his cheeks might be permanent.

Azriel scratches the top of his head, trying to recall.

“And you,” you say poking Rhys in the chest. “Broke my fucking window, not to do any of the beastly things you think you do on a full moon, but to eat my chocolate cake off the counter! I had a full panic attack I thought you were going to die on my floor!”

“I don’t remember so it doesn’t count,” he says but there is the faintest hint of pink on his own cheeks, violet eyes glinting in amusement.

“So you can put the chains away, I’ll be fine.” And you’re correct. Cassian does tear the basement door completely off it’s hinges and the local population of sheep decline drastically, but at the end of the night, three large furballs climb into your bed with the first rays of dawn to cuddle with you, snouts nuzzling into your neck to breathe in your scent. The real inconvenience is that everything smells like wet dog in the morning and you have to wash the sheets twice to get the smell out.

Ugh I’m gonna have to write some fics about this soon!

[court-jobi]

When Asking Feels Right

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/art))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is an active pro-hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, love confessions, mentions of intimacy, talk of marriage, BIG FEELINGS, light injury aftercare, language, because Katsuki Bakugou knows no other way

Summary:

You know Izuku loves you, and proudly tells anyone within earshot just how much he adores his darling pro-hero. But it's not until a close call that 'Kacchan' convinces you just how much the nerd means it. Making you pull yourself together for the sake of his best friend solidifies the fact that you are the love of Izuku Midoriya's life, and he's damn well sure gonna keep you alive to do something with that information. Bakugou might be barking at you gruff as always as he's trying to keep you conscious, but when he says it like he means it, you pay attention.

A/N: Ok yall's love for Let's Heal Each Other has really surprised me, thank you so much! Here's more of our favorite boy, feat Bakugou in full guard dog mode

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“OI, WATCH YOUR TEN!”

Forced to the ground hard, you’re dazed– but not totally crushed. 

There’s a host of noise around you that grates on your senses: groans of steel supports, concrete and drywall crumbling in batches around you; it's now just a slow burn of collapsing chaos. But considering this portion of the building just fell apart not three feet from where you were once standing, you consider this a blessing. You’d deal with a sore hip than be dead. 

One thing you didn’t know was who did the saving of your ass, until you try to turn around and another support starts falling off in chunks–

“STAY DOWN, ALREADY–” a firm, hot hand cushions the back of your head from smacking the ground needlessly, but he’s not exactly gentle about it.

Dynamight?.. Bakugou– or ‘Kacchan’ as you hear him called at home– he’s– the one pulling a full body shield on you?

You cough from the debris and your ‘guardian angel’ makes sure to not press down on your back too much so you don’t feel smothered. With a gruff hand, he bats the air around your faces to will the dust away so you both can catch a breath. He hacks right along with you, he’s still human after all– but at least he does so from over your shoulder, a courtesy.

Soon enough, the shifting of earth and rock and damage settles, and Bakugou detaches himself from the kneel over you and lifts you up from under your arms to get you to a sitting position at the only remaining wall he deemed supportive enough.

You are equal parts amazed and confused watching the agency hothead acting like the most dashing hero you’ve ever seen, and you're lowkey shook that this attention is being put on you  when he presses you back and crouches back to your level with a guarded eye. 

"You ok?"

"Nngyeah?"

"You hurtin’?"

"Ouch. Nah, just my head a little-- OOF–”

Bakugou’s looking you over with a hard hand on your jaw, peeling aside your hair not too gracefully with tough, padded gloves, fussing over you with a concerned scowl.

 “-BAKugOU!"

The pieces click together a moment too late: you'd blurted at him right as you realize why he’s looking at you like this, so intently– you're bleeding from the head.

"A fucking head wound isn't a LITTLE PROBLEM, DUMBASS- /Oi, I need a med evac at the old Sorgan hospital! Look for the smoke on the southside, that’s where we fuckin’ are–/ FUCK, he's gonna KILL ME for this!!"

You bawk at the way he looks– nervous.

Your teammate's concerned as most coworkers at your agency would be, but for the chilliest of your pals, he’s looking uncharacteristically wild about it… like he seems inclined to punch you for it if you were only in better shape. Instead, Bakugou just picks you up and sets you on some slanted rubble to get you sitting higher. While your head bobs at a lag, you watch as he’s rummaging in his waistline's pockets for that dry cloth he's supposed to keep better accessible for first aid.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT,” Bakugou gripes not too angrily, “You’re NO BETTER than he is, jumpin’ into shit--HOLD THIS–"

You're starting to worry why he's so mad. It’s not like your quirk can directly correlate to the building falling via explosives; that’s his department. You followed your path to an opening of the building altogether as directed. In the mess of it all, you had to get creative with your exit strategy which did put you at a disadvantage, but it all had worked out even after facing off with the last batch of villains before the entire wing came tumbling down.

You honestly thought he was just being heroic and appreciated him literally keeping you from being crushed- only now as you want to thank him, you're sure it would fall on deaf ears. He must be angry that you were there in the first place for him to have to tend to now.

 "I-- that could have been really bad, I guess-"

"You 'GUESS'?" Bakugou's tone demands that you look him in the eye while he talks to you, right as he's staring you down incredulously, "Yeah, I saved your damn ass from getting CRUSHED, - and it's on MY HEAD if something happens to you while you're on my watch!!"

You feel sarcastic, "Well, thanks a lot, m’sorry for the inconvenience. Wassn’t my fault for the building though…”

He swishes a bit of remaining water on the cloth and jerks your head to the other way, ensuring the other scratches aren’t actively sporting fresh blood. “Tch, well running towards the sound was a pretty DUMBASS move!! Don’t know where you got that from!!”

“I can’think a few heroes who migh’...”

“Yeah, DEAD heroes!!”

Sheesh, nothing will please him when he gets like this. You tried for a last stretch of sympathy behind a pounding headache, “Well, m’sure Deku will appreciate you keepin’ me alive, so m’tryna say thanks."

"Yeah he damn well better, if he doesn’t wreck m- HEH??! SIT. THE HELL. DOWN!!"

At your try to stand up and join him in getting out of the alcove, you squatted back,

"What?!"

Bakugou pushes up his facemask more like a headband so you have no choice but to see him clearly. He smooshes your face in his palms- risky, given he's fully sweaty and the smell would be enough to turn you away-- but the way his hands are shaking forces you to stay still and pay attention.

"YOU are the love of his life, dumbass,” Bakugou threatens seriously. “You're the sparkle in his eye and you are damn good for him, so I'm sure as hell gonna make sure nothing happens to you if I can help it-- and you runnin' around with a concussion ain't making my job easier. So SIT. down."

You don’t blink or breathe.

"-I’m sat."

He fixes you a challenging look, then lets go of you to get a better view of the street to check on the ambulance.

He's protective. Because he's loyal to Izuku, he's loyal to you.

But you’re still stunned on what he said- like it was God’s honest truth and an immovable fact.

Pressing down on the tight space at the base of your sternum, you feel for something past your suit’s seam. "Did he say that?"

"Say what?" Bakugou shouts back tirelessly from the hole he’d opened for ventilation; you imagine he may not be hearing so well after this fight. Despite how cheesy it sounds coming out of you, you clarify with a hand to the gauze up against your head,

"-me being that? For him?"

Bakugou scoffs with a smirk, "Only reminds me every damn day I see him."

You can see it, after all. It happens with enough frequency that you know the two talk even before starting patrol with you. The routine of Midoriya meeting up with Bakugou like how you imagine they did in their school days: your adoring boyfriend sharing news of his curriculum workload in earnest, and retorting to his best friend’s loudmouth brand of bragging about his villain count for the week, followed by turning the tables back to Izuku and asking for the nerd’s professional opinion about his performance- and what he thinks he should be strengthening. 

It makes perfect sense that you should come up in conversations, but to know now that Izuku speaks of you in this way? Past the usual lovey-dovey pleasantries Bakugou usually gags at? It should have made you happy, but given the pulse in your throat and the general ache radiating from your -everywhere-, you sniffle– Your concern weighs you to your seat now that you probably have Izuku worried sick. If he’s glued to the news for televised coverage on missions that he knows you’re working on, he would have seen this whole ordeal in real time. 

And in the entire time you’ve dated Izuku, the whole relationship where you’ve stayed in sync with each other despite working in entirely different fields (namely you remaining in the clearly more dangerous one), Izuku never once discouraged you. 

-Never asked you to scale back or retire for the sake of his fears over you. 

-Never asked you to do anything other than ‘be as safe as you can, and do your best to come back to me’. 

He believes you were a hero- just as you believed he was, too. But God, if it didn’t kill you inside to think of breaking his heart over and over as he sat on his break room couch watching close calls. 

You know had he been here on duty instead of Dynamight, your sweet Deku would have been the one here trying to lift you up and perhaps put your worries at ease getting the chance to help you and see you through to safety. But Katsuki Bakugou is hardly that touchy-feely, so having to come up with a pep talk to yourself is hard.

"Oi-"

You toughen up to look back at him, but get a softer response than before.

"You're gonna be ok. I got your back, didn't I?"

You nod.

"I will, y'know. Have your back. Just don't make it difficult."

You nod again, about to cry.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking it off and catching sight of the blue and red lights before he fully hears them. "You, with the waterworks too? Match made in heaven, I swear to GOD."

That night, you are hardly in any shape to drive yourself home and a bit too unsteady to even wrangle with public transit, so naturally you ask Izuku to come get you. With a faithful grin, he looks incredibly happy to see you in the agency lobby- if distracted momentarily by your expertly wrapped head and script bag in hand.

When you meet downstairs, you reign in your immediate reaction to seeing him like you normally would. It's busy tonight- teeming with interns, a changing out of a few vending machines, and a friendly spat between two other sidekicks is happening not far from the evelator you just stepped from. 

The building’s deceptively cheery security officer sees you coming, and shares to your boyfriend that he is going to put on a podcast, taking a moment to fiddle with putting his earbuds in and ‘conveniently’ switch over to his shades against the setting sun, which allowed you the sneaky propriety to fully hug Izuku, as quick and tight as you could before getting in the car. 

Talk in the car consisted of the usual after missions, which felt familiar and good. Obviously your darling didn’t hide his concern, but between your assurances were legitimate questions about how the villains were apprehended, what he’d watched, and the interest he gave in what the news didn’t cover- like asking more about your civilian recovery efforts and compliments about how many were saved today. This kind of cool down genuinely helped you leave work at work, and you appreciated that so much. It was a short drive, which you spent mostly holding Izuku’s hand in both of yours and receiving little kisses on that hand at stoplights. 

You walked arm in arm with him up to the second landing of your apartment, with him finally running through the more caring questions of ‘does it hurt to climb?’ ‘Throbbing or dull pain?’ ‘Are you hungry, or are the meds making you feel sick?’ 

You knew he’d be clingy and honestly needed that constancy after such an explosive afternoon. He was insistent on taking off your coat and getting your laces off with minimal effort from you, which you adored on any old regular day– but the waterworks came flooding back so hard while watching Izuku on his heels taking care of you that you stopped him altogether.

"-I remember the concussions Denki would have after going too hard with his quirk, too- ‘Chargebolt’, I think you’ve met. ‘Course, I think it affected his nervous system more than anything else-- w' h-honey? Are you crying?"

"Please just get up here~"

You hugged him tight the second he rose to full height,

"Oh sweetheart," Izuku petted your hair as you muted your cries, "Sweetheart it's ok, you're ok."

"I love y’so much..." you eeked out from a tight throat.

The eyes unseen over your shoulder stung at your words, but squeezed in just as tight there in the foyer.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Izuku kept you close and just rocked you in place to ground you, "Were you scared today?"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it was scary. Would have scared me too, being caught in the middle of all that," Izuku cooed over your shoulder. "Y'know it's okay to let it rattle you sometimes. That's why we're all here to support you. Help you bounce back."

//I have your back// Bakugou’s words hit you again in a wave. 

"It.. would have landed on me. I was right in the impact zone, when the southwest end came down," you sunk into Izuku’s neck at the memory, "...Bakugou got to me first. I wouldn'tve gotten out without him."

Izuku breathed out, touched beyond measure. “...he did?...”

"H'yelled at me for being stupid," you chuckled mirthlessly, "but he said some things. Really big things. And I'm just so sorry it happened at all! I don't wanna worry you when I’m out there!"

As you rushed through the emotions; not just of this fight, but filled to the brim and spilling over with other close calls like it. Izuku had a hard time understanding what was said that upset you, and just held you through it.

"C’mon, let's sit you down," Izuku picked you up like the koala you were and took you over to your couch, sitting with you perched in his arms. 

No longer surprised at the incredible strength he still carried -being able to pick you up like your dead weight was nothing- you sunk into his safety, solace found in his pressed shirt collar.

Your apologies turned into cries within a few minutes of settling in. 

The poor man's heart broke all over again, holding you tightly through your sobs, and hushing you through them. The crying was only going to make your headache worse. He knows this from experience, unfortunately… so even though he usually encouraged you to ‘feel your feelings to the fullest’, he did make an attempt to still you this time. Izuku pressed kisses to your warm forehead.

"Honey, easy, honey... what big things did Kacchan say?" 

//you're his spark//

//you're just like the damn nerd//

//match made in heaven//

//you're damn good for him//

"Tha-That I was... the love of- your life?"

Unseen, Izuku's sights widened. But had you been watching him and not hiding in his complete, cozying embrace, you would have seen the proudest look of love lifting those cheeks of his. How he smiled despite the concern he held for you in this moment, and took a grand look around the room - at the life you were tending to and nurturing together with fondness.

"You are the love of my life," Izuku assured you gently with the sweet coupling of your name, "Have I never told you that?"

Shown, certainly, but never told so beautifully. And to have come from Bakugou’s harsh lips of all people, the revelation was jarring in more ways than one.

You whispered 'no', but didn't let go for the life of you. Wouldn't ever let go of this darling man if he’d allow you to stay.

"-M'ere, look at me. Just for a minute, look here~"

You pressed back from his hold with unwilling muscles, only to be cradled in his hands. Green eyes full of tears looked back at you but with a full, strong smile forcing bravery forward.

"You -my sweetest girl- are the love of my life. I love who you are now, and who you're going to be forty, fifty, sixty years from now,” he pet your hair back and away with a little shaky nod, “and yeah- I might lose my lunch every now and then watching you out there…”

You sniffled again, baffled at how telling you all this could possibly be making him chuckle through his words–

“--but I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched the same tv screen and been so insanely proud of you! To watch you go out there and win, and shine, and– I can stomach all that fear. I can do that. Because I know you and I believe in you! And I am so thankful that I happen to know the heroes you do this hard work with can help take care of you and have your back. That’s what it’s all about- doing it together.”

You hang on Izuku’s every word of affirmation. It’s the language he’s best in, no matter the subject. Thankfully, right now, he's set on putting you back on solid heartground- assuring you of everything you doubt about yourself. Your power, your inspiration, all of it.

“You’re saving people- helping those who can't do it themselves, and you do it so well, love. These scary things happen… but honestly? It only makes me love you more for facing it like you do. And getting up the next day, and watching you come at it again.”

You keen under his full attention. The praise and love he’s washing you with is so earnest and filled with pride, it kills you to ever have obligations elsewhere in the world outside of his company.

Surely you can just stay supple in his arms for eternity and no one would miss you. 

“So you don’t need to be out there worried about what I’m thinking of you,” Izuku worked on wiping your blurry tears, “because I’m going to double down on replacing those worries in your head. I’m going to remind you every day of it. You’re never going to not have me in your corner, because you are the love of my life.”

Soothed and emotional in an entirely different vein, you nod you head back with a firm, brave smile of you own, before gingerly pulling him close for a little forehead touch, a well-earned kiss, and another hug latched around his shoulders. 

Izuku tended to you after your hero work in a number of ways, depending on what you've weathered that day: from taking off your shoes, cooking you a meal, holding you soft and sweet against his body on the sofa like this, or even helping you burn off any excess steam on the particular amorous nights where you just feel too alive to not show him exactly what your primary reason for fighting is. 

To protect him. To protect everyone you love and care for. Making your family proud both here and heavenward, and proving to yourself that you can do the hard things. Having a partner to support you in this work is an invaluable bolster in your life, and you feel it in every swipe of his hands up and down your back in this exact moment. 

His touch assures you just as much as it comforts him. Tells you how much you're appreciated and welcomed when you reach the end of the day like it soothes him to have you safely off the streets. You also know that any tear-filled nights on his end come from a place of complete affection and commitment and you don't really care how much Bakugou or any of your other workmates might tease you for being soft right along with ‘the damn nerd’. 

He's your damn nerd. The one you come home to and plan to spend the rest of the evening tending to your headache and scratchy throat and whatever other hurts have trickled out from your tough shell. 

From about your fifth date on, you'd felt in your gut that ‘Midoriya’ was likely going to be the name you'd be filling out as your emergency contact for life, so you started doing so on your contract renewals. That probably proved he was the love of your life, too, even if you didn't say so outright. 

Content to hold you forever, Izuku still asked of you gently, 

“Poor thing, you gotta be exhausted. I know you showered, but would you like a bath to let the steam help?” He kissed your nearby shoulder within reach, “It'll help the drainage go away.”

That sounded amazing and all but guaranteed he'd like to stay as close to you as possible. You hummed in the affirmative, close to bursting. 

“Good. We’ll get that started, whenever you're ready. Anything my brave girl wants.”

There's truly only one thought on your mind- the insistent proof of it lies hidden beneath your sweater neckline, slid onto a long silver necklace:

A ring sized for Izuku is something you've worn every patrol for a couple months now, and is practically burning as you adjust your seat on his lap to find his face. 

You're fishing past your collar uncomfortably, looking for the damn thing tangled with your agency lanyard, but dead set that you can't go on without him wearing it.

“Hm? I'm here, hon’, what do you need?-- what's-… Baby. Oh baby, what's that...?”

You hold the ring still looped on the chain, lifted for him to see between fingers that don't shake anymore. Firm and steady. Because he's loved you so well and so thoroughly tonight and every night, it's the easiest thing to ask the stunned, gorgeous man beneath you,

“Marry me.”

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 04. the world of the elite

THERE WERE ABOUT THREE THINGS GOING ON IN JAY PARK'S HEAD WHEN KIM SUNOO CAME TO PICK HIM UP.

The first was the chilling realization that he was actually going to a Yale party. He hadn't been to a party in over a year (save for Jungwon's birthday party where they had to call the fire department when Jake almost burned the kitchen down), so Jay wasn't expecting to end up at this scene again in his new, fake school. (Could he even call this fake if he was actually earning a degree while his tuition was paid for? He could hardly tell what was real and what was fabricated anymore.)

Secondly, was it really wise for him to get close to his target like this? He hadn't dealt with assignments where he had to follow people around, so this was all rather new to him. He realized, however, that he managed to befriend you, his mission could get a lot more complicated.

Third—he had no idea how to talk to rich people.

There were times when Jay had to entertain particularly wealthy guests when his parents brought coworkers home. But it was so excruciating even then because wow, how shallow could someone get? The depths of his conversations with all the rich people he had met were not promising at all, so he didn't have much hope for his social battery tonight.

But Jay was probably on par with some of them now, so he had to adjust to this new lifestyle. There was no way he could lie about his upbringing, though, so he framed a story of him having a rich aunt that was over-the-moon when he got into Yale.

Moreover, he was so confused as to why Shin Yuna approached him. It wasn't like he looked well-off with his clothes that he thrifted years ago. Jay couldn't tell if Yuna was just being nice, or if she had other intentions that he was supposed to be concerned about.

"Whoa, nice jacket," Sunoo complimented once he let his eyes sweep Jay's outfit. "You'll be lucky if Yuna lets you out of her sight."

His eyes grew wide. "Is she expecting me to be by her side the whole time?"

"Probably. You still have time to back out, if you want."

He was conflicted. This was the perfect opportunity for him to get close to the people around you and get some information out of whoever was the most drunk there; at the same time, if Yuna was going to keep her perfectly-manicured claws on his shoulders the whole time, this whole night would be counterproductive.

In the end, Jay decided to go. He figured that if worst came to worst, he would just find the right time to ask Yuna some questions about you.

"Is Heeseung's place close?" Jay asked. The truth was that he already looked up all possible routes to the location when Sunoo sent him the address earlier; he just needed to ask as a formality.

"Down the block here," Sunoo replied. "His dad bought him an entire penthouse. Isn't that sick?"

He fought down a bitter remark and said, "Man, that must be nice. What do his parents do? You said Sunghoon's dad owns Park Pharmaceuticals, right?"

"Yeah, and his older brother, Sungjin, is taking over the company. And Heeseung's dad is a hedge fund owner," Sunoo answered. "They only made it big recently, like four or five years ago. I remember Heeseung used to be way different back in freshman year. Now he's more... subdued. I guess he didn't know how to handle being rich back then."

Jay could see the flashing of blue and purple lights from the windows of the penthouse down the street. He carefully watched the two figures on the terrace talking by the railing. At first, it seemed as if they were just talking normally. As he got closer, though, Jay realized from the faint sounds he picked up that they were, in fact, arguing.

It was you.

Jay had been looking at pictures of you all week, but seeing you up on the terrace was different. It seemed to just sink in that what he was doing was real, and seeing you in the flesh was all he needed for cold reality to seep into his veins like poison.

The man next to you must have been Park Sunghoon. Even from how high up the two were, Jay could tell that the man next to you exuded an overwhelming presence.

But he wondered what they were arguing over.

"C'mon," Sunoo said grimly, clearly having taken notice of the commotion above, "it's just up these stairs."

Jay felt his stomach sink deeper and deeper with each step he took. When they reached Heeseung's door, there was a bouncer guarding the entrance—probably some freshman Heeseung paid to keep watch. Jay stopped in his tracks, wondering if he was even allowed in since he had never met Heeseung, but his friend simply opened the door and walked right in, as if his arrival was expected, and the bouncer paid no mind. (Perhaps it was expected? Jay was starting to believe all these people had history that he didn't even understand the extent of.)

"Jay!" came a shrill cry from across the room. Jay turned to see Shin Yuna all but tackle him, draping her arms across his shoulders. He could smell the alcohol on her breath already. "I'm glad you made it."

"Thanks for the invite," Jay replied, gently prying Yuna's hands off of him, which she allowed him to do but grabbed his hand again right after.

Jay sent Sunoo a help me sort of look, but his friend seemed to greatly misunderstand the message he was sending across. Sunoo gave him a sideways grin and a thumbs-up before signaling that he was going to catch up with some friends in the kitchen.

Great.

"Come on," Yuna slurred, dragging Jay over to a sectional couch in the corner. "I'll introduce you to my friends."

He recognized some of the faces while he was looking into you—Karina Yoo, whose mother owned a private jet company; Choi Yeonjun, who landed a few minor movie roles with the help of his Golden Globe award-winning mother; Giselle Uchinaga, whose father was an investment banker and mother owned a nightclub; Kim Chaewon, whose mother revolutionized stem cell research; and then there was Lee Heeseung in the corner, who had his arms folded across his chest as he sized Jay up.

From what he gathered, this was most (or all) of the people in your inner circle. Heeseung and Sunghoon appeared to be more than that to you, though; childhood friends had a bond more special than the rest, he supposed.

Jay then wondered how Heeseung felt about his two childhood friends dating and now arguing on the balcony.

"Guys," Yuna started with a grin, motioning to Jay with a dramatic flair of her hands, "this is Jay, the new transfer student."

"Hey." Jay waved to the group, his mouth suddenly feeling extremely dry.

His greeting was returned by a few tight smiles from the rest and a chorus of unenthusiastic words of acknowledgment that he didn't feel too great about. Maybe he had to give up on his chance of entering your circle.

"Don't mind them," Yuna whispered to him as she pulled him over to sit on the couch with her. They were seated exactly across from Heeseung, whose stare made Jay feel even more uncomfortable. "They're all in a bad mood 'cause Y/N and Sunghoon got in a fight before you came. God, why do they always kill the vibe?" She was talking awfully loud, causing Karina and Giselle to shoot her warning glares. Jay had a sinking feeling that she was making the situation worse if she kept opening her mouth. "Seriously, I mean, we're here to party!"

Not that Jay was particularly avoidant with physical touch, but being touched and fawned about in front of everyone was slightly unnerving, especially when he didn't know Yuna all that well. Nearly half her body weight was on top of him, and Jay was pretty sure she would end up sitting fully on his lap if she took another shot.

"Are you... drunk?" he asked her warily.

She gave him a strange look before giggling. "Uh, yeah? Did you want a drink, too?"

"No, just—"

"Hey, so you've really never seen me online before?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that Jay had to admit would've been rather cute if he wasn't so overwhelmed and put-off by everything else. "I'm, like, TikTok famous."

"Oh, that's nice," he replied, sort of distracted as he tried to catch a glimpse of you out on the terrace. He saw a flash of your glittering silver romper, but then your boyfriend stepped in front of you again.

"Transfer student," Heeseung called out. He had his elbows on his knees, but once Jay looked at him, he started to stand up. "Let's get you a drink since the rest of them are being miserable."

Jay assumed it was a joke, but only he (and probably Heeseung) seemed to think so. Karina let out a sound that sounded partly like a laugh and partly like a scoff.

"Way to make it awkward, Heeseung," she sneered.

"He's the one who probably feels so awkward with you all being so quiet," Heeseung said, patting Jay firmly on the shoulder to get him to stand up. Jay had to gently peel Yuna off of him before he got up to follow Heeseung. "We'll be back."

While Heeseung and him were making their way past groups of students packed together, Jay couldn't figure out what the hell to say to him. When he first walked in, the look in Heeseung's eyes made him think he was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe, but now he was just lost.

"I haven't heard of you before," Heeseung said once they reached a long table with bottles of alcohol strewn about.

"I didn't expect you to. Today's my first day, anyway."

There was a bartender on the other side of the room, but Jay figured that Heeseung brought him here for a private conversation. Without even asking Jay about his preference, he let his hand glide over the handles before he picked out a bottle of tequila. Jay wasn't much of a drinker but he let Heeseung pour him a shot.

"What do your parents do?"

Jay couldn't stop himself from barking out a laugh, shaking his head fervently. "Oh, no, they're"—he shook his head again—"they're no one."

"They can't be 'no one' if they managed to get their son into Yale."

"They didn't get me into Yale."

"They still raised you, didn't they?" Heeseung raised a brow. "My mom's a preschool teacher, and my dad was unemployed up until my sophomore year of high school. Not the professions you expected, huh?"

Jay's brows raised in pleasant surprise. Here he thought that Heeseung was judging him, but maybe it was the exact opposite. He really didn't expect a sincere response from someone like him, but perhaps he just misjudged the junior.

"My mom's an office worker, and my dad used to be a firefighter before he got into an accident," Jay answered. "Now he has a corporate job."

"And you're..."

"I'm what?"

"What're you trying to be in the world?"

Jay took the plastic shot glass that Heeseung handed out to him. Before downing it in one go, he answered, "Someone."

Heeseung laughed. "At least you have more of a story than most of the people in this room." He shot one of the cluster of students a sideways glance and said, "Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if most of the people here bought their way into Yale."

Jay swallowed hard. He couldn't say anything when he was technically one of those people, too. All his life, he slogged harder than anyone else for a place in the world. He worked at restaurants illegally since he was thirteen, studied tirelessly to get free rides to universities, and gave up a social life just to balance multiple jobs to get bills paid. It felt strange to be one of the people who didn't have to lift a finger for extraordinary opportunities.

For a moment, he wondered if he would get in if he tried applying on his own. There was no use in pondering, though; this was all simply for the assignment—nothing more, nothing less.

"You made it here on your own, didn't you?" Jay asked with a flickering, newfound respect for Lee Heeseung.

"I didn't even think I'd be able to pay for college when I was in high school," he answered. "Of course I needed to work hard. Getting a full ride into an Ivy League isn't something you get by fucking around. Even though Hoon and Y/N were set their whole lives... I couldn't just be the only one who didn't make it in."

Jay wondered why Heeseung was telling him, a total stranger, all of this. He didn't bring it up, though, in case the question sobered him up to the point of not revealing any further information.

But he had to ask, "So why'd you drag me out here for a drink?"

It was a fair question. There were bottles of alcohol on the table next to the sectional couch. If Heeseung really wanted to just pour him a drink, he could've done so then and there.

"Thought I'd save you from Yuna," he said. "She gets a little messy when she's drunk."

"Oh." Jay almost shuddered at the thought of what could've happened if he was still sitting on the couch.

"Sorry. Are you interested in her?"

Jay's eyes grew as wide as saucers as he shook his head firmly. "N-not at all. I just met her today."

The alcohol started coursing through his blood, making his limbs feel less like muscle and more like jelly. Yet, he strangely felt more comfortable in his body.

"Good." Heeseung leaned against the table and crossed his arms again. "I would've felt bad for you if you were actually into her. She definitely thinks this'll make me jealous somehow." He suddenly stiffened up. "Don't mention this to the others, though. I don't think Y/N would be happy if she found out."

He arched a brow at Heeseung. So you didn't know about your own friend's feelings toward your childhood friend? Even though you were in a relationship yourself? Interesting.

But even more interesting because Jay swore he saw pictures of Heeseung and Chaewon together on his Instagram. Pictures that seemed to imply that they were a couple. Their little inner circle seemed to be more convoluted than Jay initially thought.

"Haven't even met her," he told Heeseung. "I'm not the kind of person to spread people's secrets like that."

Unless I'm paid to do so, he thought bitterly.

Heeseung smiled slyly, and Jay wasn't sure if it was one of friendship or as if he had just heard an enticing business proposal. "I hope my feeling about you is right." After grabbing the handle of Clase Azul on the table, he added, "Let's go back before they accuse me of scaring you off."

Jay followed after him, wondering if he had just accidentally gotten himself in Heeseung's good graces, or if he just made a grave mistake.

Jay decided to ask, "Hey, by the way, do you know about the Order of Kryptos?"

Heeseung stopped in his tracks immediately, spinning around so fast that Jay nearly stumbled over his feet.

"What about it?"

"Well, I just—I don't know—I was thinking of, uh, joining."

"You can't just join. You have to be invited." Despite the shame that burned under Jay's skin for sounding like an idiot in front of the junior, Heeseung's eyes twinkled. "But... I know someone you could talk to if you wanna get your foot in the door."

"You do?"

"This isn't like a frat where you have to rush. See, all these people here just target members of the current class and suck up to them until they get tapped. For example, Hoon's practically guaranteed a tap since his brother's in the Order right now."

"Then do you think I even have a chance?"

Heeseung shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. There's only fifteen seats, so it all depends on how much you impress them." He grabbed Jay by the shoulder and pointed out one of the seniors laughing with a couple other boys in the kitchen. "That's Jeong Jaehyun. He's probably the chillest in the Order—doesn't really give a fuck about prestige and background, or whatever. I'd talk to him when you get the chance."

Jay, wildly amazed with how big of a help Heeseung was being, returned the gesture by patting him on the back firmly. "Thanks, man."

"No worries. You should work fast, though. They start giving up their seats next semester."

Next semester. Jay was certain he could get on someone's good side by then.

This whole thing was rather frustrating for him, though. All Jay wanted to do was lay low and carry out his assignment properly, but to do so he needed to get close to you and your friends somehow. Impressing you meant impressing a senior to get into the Order. There seemed to be far too many hurdles he needed to cross just to uncover some dirt on you.

When he and Heeseung returned to the sectional couch, everyone seemed a smidge more lively. Yeonjun waved Jay over to introduce himself properly, claiming that he couldn't say anything earlier because Yuna was hogging all the attention. Yuna, on the other hand, seemed to have already blacked out on the couch, but none of her friends were exactly paying much attention to her. Jay wondered if this was a frequent occurence with her.

While Jay was in the middle of telling Yeonjun and Giselle about the school he transferred from, you came out from the terrace with Sunghoon, but there was an icy distance between you two.

Jay had spent the past week looking at pictures of you every single night. Almost every picture you had on your Instagram was burned into his brain.

But seeing you up close in the flesh was almost earth-shattering. All the details your camera couldn't capture were like the missing pieces that made you glow even brighter. Jay was almost amazed that Park Sunghoon could even fight with you when you looked like this.

"Y/N?" Karina called, but you were crossing the room in the direction of the bathroom. She threw a nasty glare at Sunghoon, who sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Giselle raised a brow. "You're gonna let your girlfriend walk away?"

"She needs space," Sunghoon answered curtly.

"Oh, I bet she gets plenty of that from you."

"Watch your mouth, Giselle."

Jay wasn't sure if Heeseung was making the right decision when he stood up and offered, "Hoon, chill. I'll go check on her."

Chaewon was quick to grab her boyfriend's hand, frowning as she said, "I think one of the girls should."

Heeseung pulled his hand away, and Jay noticed the crumbling look in Chaewon's eyes before he pretended to be more interested in a loose thread in the couch. He felt bad for her; she was practically being humiliated in front of everyone else.

"I'm the host," Heeseung replied. "I should check on her."

Karina shot Yeonjun and Giselle a withering look. "Our Uber's almost here. I don't think she wants to go home with"—she motioned to Sunghoon with a jut of her chin—"you know."

"I'll ask Ryujin to take her home, but we should probably tell her before we leave," Yeonjun said. He lowered his voice to add, "Yuna's wasted. You know Heeseung's gonna get pissed if she crashes here."

Giselle snorted. "That's probably what she wants."

Jay looked down at his lap. So everyone was aware of Yuna's semi-hidden feelings toward Heeseung except you? Why was it a secret from you, anyway? This friend group—if Jay could even call them that—was messier than he had anticipated.

Jay, who was seated in the middle of the trio, started to feel rather awkward. Surely, they must have known he could hear everything they were saying.

"Uh," he started because he was starting to feel like he was obligated to chime in, "I can call an Uber for your friend, if she needs one."

"Aw, Jay, you're too sweet," Giselle cooed, but then her face of adoration turned completely serious. "But you're a man. We don't trust you."

"That... that's fair."

"Oh, but he's Sunoo's friend," Yeonjun added. "Sunoo would get her home safely."

"Just ask Sunoo or Ryujin—whoever's still here," Giselle said.

Karina, who was on her phone for a majority of the conversation, spoke up to confirm, "Yeah, their locations are still here. I'll text them to make sure Y/N's taken care of." She stood up. "Let's just get going and check up on her later in the group chat."

"God, how are we gonna drag Yuna out of here?" Giselle whined. She gently maneuvered the unconscious girl to make it easier for them to lift her up. "Yeonjun, you get her other arm."

After much effort, they were finally able to get Yuna barely stumbling forward as her arms were around their shoudlers. They said their goodbyes to Jay and Chaewon, but Sunghoon only got one from Yeonjun.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to Jay. Chaewon was completely sidelined at this point as she picked at her nails and waited for Heeseung to come back.

"Sorry for that mess," Sunghoon said. "I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Park Sunghoon."

"Jay," he greeted. "Nice to meet you. Heeseung told me a bit about you."

"Oh, really?" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't too awkward."

Jay grinned. "All good things. Don't worry."

"Great, uh..." He fumbled for a moment, reaching into his pockets and then handing Jay a pink iPhone. "Do you think you could hand this to my girlfriend? She should be somewhere in the house."

Although Jay took the phone from him, he grimaced. He didn't even know you, and he felt bad already. Your own boyfriend was sending a stranger to give you something when he could very well do it by himself?

And why did he have your phone in the first place? Jay wondered if Sunghoon had taken it from you during the argument, and the very idea made him feel cold.

"I really think you should give it to her."

His small smile stretched into an awkward grin. "I don't think she wants to see my face right now."

"Oh... sure—will do."

This time when Jay crossed the room and pushed through the packs of students, it felt slightly more intimidating. He felt like a lone fish amongst schools of them, and the few shots he took had definitely worn off by now. Not to mention the recent turn of events were incredibly sobering.

Heeseung's penthouse was nice. Nothing he could ever dream of affording before his anonymous client sent him more money than he would've ever made in his life.

When Jay stepped into the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom, he could hear Heeseung's gentle voice echoing.

"—talk to me, please," he pleaded. "I don't know what Sunghoon said to you, but—"

"Heeseung, just leave me alone." Your own faltering voice was treading on desperation. "You don't have to be here to comfort me. You're not my boyfriend."

And then it grew quiet. Jay was afraid that he was about to walk in on an uncomfortable situation.

Seconds later, the door opened and Heeseung was stony-faced, walking past Jay without even noticing he was there. You didn't even close the door after he left, so Jay inched closer to make sure nothing bad happened to you.

There you were, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and crying into your hands. There was an odd, disconnected feeling in Jay's chest. He had seen so many pictures and posts of you looking like you were having the time of your life, but the sight before him caused all of that to come crashing down, catching on fire.

Back outside, looking up at the terrace, you were so high above him, as if he would never reach you. Now, you were shattering to pieces before him, leaving broken shards scattered around you that Jay was hesitant to tread on.

Once you took notice of his presence, your head lifted up slowly, and Jay really felt bad for you now. Streaks of mascara were under your eyes and your red lipstick was smudged.

"Can I help you?" you asked flatly, sniffling every now and then even as you tried to act like you hadn't been caught crying.

Jay simply held your phone out, and you grabbed it from him once you recognized it was yours.

"How'd you—"

"Your boyfriend told me to bring it to you," he answered, and your eyes welled up with tears again. Jay sighed as you started breaking down in front of him, but he really wasn't all that annoyed as he sounded. He grabbed a tissue from the box on top of the toilet and ran it under water for a brief second. "Here."

Jay leaned down in front of you and blotted the tissue gently under your eyes, wiping off the residue of your mascara that stained your skin. You tried to resist his gesture at first, but when you realized what he was doing, you relaxed. If his eyes weren't tricking him, maybe you were even slightly embarrassed?

Then, he moved to your lips, using the other side of the tissue to carefully dab at where your lipstick was smudged. Jay tried especially hard not to stare at the curve of your lips, wondering what dark secret you could possibly be hiding behind the corners of your mouth. After he was done, he tossed the tissue aside and stood up.

"Thanks," you murmured.

"No problem," he said, backing up to the doorway. "You should probably keep the door closed if you need some alone time, by the way."

But one look at your expression, and he could tell that you were hoping that someone else would come looking for you.

"Y-yeah," you stammered out, standing up to close it yourself.

"Also," he continued, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Just walk away, Jay. This is none of your business. Just turn around and keep walking. "Your friends are worried about you, so..."

There's people out there who wouldn't make you cry like this.

He couldn't get the rest of the words out. Who was he to speak on a relationship he had only seen for a brief moment, anyway?

Before Jay could turn on his heel, you called out, "Wait! What was your name again?"

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Jay Park. I just transferred here."

"Jay... oh, the transfer student." You said his name so gently that it was almost like you were handling glass. Then, he saw the first smile on your face tonight, and oh, he had never seen someone smile so bright. "I'm Y/N. See you around."

After you closed the door and Jay had headed back to where everyone else was, the loud, booming music grounding him back into reality, his heart sank with the realization that he had already been thrown into a world that he wasn't sure he liked very much.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon

[just-some-little-lads]

My Love, Like Winter, is Eternal

Summary: You find you can't sleep, and your partner resting right next to you listens to your late-night thoughts.

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: SFW, Fluff, Second Person POV, gn! reader.

It’s easy to forget what lies beneath a frost. When the world is coated in so much snow, one might lose memory of the blooms in spring. Most people think of winter as this harsh and cruel season. It often comes hand-in-hand with negative metaphors like death or apathy or the end of any good thing. There was a time when you thought much the same. Now…you can’t help but almost feel bad for winter- for snow. There’s so much warmth there that goes unnoticed.

Poetic thoughts like these came easy to you in the early hours of the morning. Especially during nights where you couldn’t sleep. Maybe that’s why you found yourself finding feeling sad for an environmental passage of time of all things. Well…you had to give yourself some slack. There was a reason why snow had such a loving space in your heart; why you found yourself telling your coworkers who dared complain about the cold all the wonderful things you could do in the snow. Even after all the odd glances you got most times. A noble task, you would tell yourself. One might call you a…polar protector? A Snow Spokesperson! A Blizzard Bodyguard! A—

A large hand covered your face, cutting you free from your thoughts. After successfully catching your attention, the hand moved back to the body it belonged to. “You’re thinking too loudly…” Voice low, tone slightly slurred with half-consciousness, Zayne brought a thumb and forefinger up to rub at bleary eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You felt a bit guilty for waking him up, knowing he’d be heading back to the hospital in a few hours. “You can read my thoughts?”

A huff of a single chuckle escaped him as he turned on his side towards you. As he spoke, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you toward him. “I think I have a few years to go before I can read your thoughts, but I can read your body language. Tossing and turning, fidgeting hands, rapid breaths. Symptoms of someone far too awake. What’s keeping you up?” A note of concern seeped into his tone. He kept you close while fixing and straightening some wild strands of your bed-hair. Based off his smile, you could tell you looked a bit more on the disheveled side. Something he was all too happy to fix. Meanwhile, he still looked as refined as ever. Gorgeous, like a statue chiseled from ice plucked from heavenly mountain-tops. Or perhaps that was just the rose-colored glasses talking. You found yourself still falling head-over-heels for him, and crushing like you hadn’t been together for a while. “Hey…” Zayne’s smile faded, his hand moving from your hip to your cheek. Apparently, he’d taken you staring at him in silence as some sort of hesitation. “Talk to me. Is something wrong?”

Well, now you felt a bit sheepish. Zayne was probably thinking you were plagued by some kind of stress. “Just thinking…about snow.”

“Snow?” he asked, incredulous that something so simple was keeping you awake, almost looking more worried. “Don’t tell me you’re making winter plans already?”

“Not really…”

The mattress shifted as he propped his head up on his elbow and sighed. His forefinger began to trace the outline of your face. “Penny for your thoughts? I won’t be able to sleep if you continue being so cryptic.”

You groaned a bit, not able to handle the thought of him getting no rest just because of your silly mind. “I’m just thinking about how sad it is that the cold gets such a bad rap.” As you explained that, you noticed how his face contorted into a mixed expression of confusion and amusement. You gave him time to speak, ready to hear him laugh or tell you to put you and your crazy mind to bed. Nothing was said by him, seemingly waiting to hear your intense thoughts at three in the morning. “It’s always talked about like some heartless, lifeless thing, but it’s not! Ice cream is cold and it’s one of my favorite things! In winter, you can wear cute coats and scarves, warm up with hot chocolate, and snuggle up by the fire. Plus, snow is so pretty. When it falls…it’s so comforting. I just… I wish people saw all the good in it that I do.” You glanced up at him, still waiting for him to roll his eyes.

Instead, he only looked at you softly- lovingly. With a little tug, he pulled you closer, lying back down while tucking your head under his chin. “I see. So, you think winter is sad that so many people dislike it?” He adjusted the blanket around you both, making sure your heads were comfortably on the pillows.

For some reason, you felt like crying. Maybe it was just because you were sleep deprived. Or perhaps it was because you tended to forget how safe of a space Zayne was. He’d joke with you, follow along with the bits you came up with, even listen to whatever you had to say running on four hours of sleep like he’d also gotten a degree in therapy. “I bet it gets lonelier than the other seasons…”

“Hm.” He closed his eyes, and for a moment you thought he’d fallen back asleep. When he spoke again, his voice lowered, his face nuzzling your head ever so slightly. “I think…that the snow is content enough being loved by you.” Zayne’s body was warm. Perfectly so. His hand ran up and down your back in slow hypnotizing rubs.

“I’m just one person in a world with millions of people… It deserves more than just me.” You were starting to feel drowsy now, eyelids going heavy at a rapid pace. A little moan rumbled in your throat as you shifted about to get comfortable, turning on your other side so Zayne was curled against your back. His presence was like a soothing blanket, your body enveloped and protected from things that might do you harm. Ever your valiant healer even outside of battle.

A kiss pressed into the back of your shoulder as you slotted yourself against him, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece. “I don’t think it’s greedy,” he whispered softly. “It sees the way you rush outside to greet it when it’s snowing, even if you’re not wearing something warm. It’s happy to take on the role of being cold so your hot chocolate tastes that much better, feeling the heat run down your throat…into your stomach…sinking down into your toes.” The way he was speaking was slow and purposefully melodic, like the narration of those resting meditation videos. He was trying to put you to sleep. Zayne took a deep breath, like he was minutes away from falling asleep himself, forcing himself to stay awake until he knew you were at peace. “It’s glad to make the world quieter so you can find yourself drifting off much easier.” He kissed the back of your head, resting his face against your body with a large exhale.

For a moment, you listened to the soft sounds of his breathing, staring at the subtle rays of moonlight seeping through past the curtains. All the strange anxiety that had kept you up melted away. You had to admit to yourself that you weren’t quite worried about the winter at all. But you weren’t sure where the doubt came from. Here he was, making you feel loved like you never had before. “You think so?”

“I know so. The winter will…always be there for you. Forever.” A small waver of emotion filled his voice.

“And my love, like winter, will be eternal for you…”

With one last squeeze, he laughs. “Oh? And here I was thinking we were talking about snow, but I’m flattered.” Words laced with mirth, he tried to pass off that he wasn’t aware of the true meaning behind your worries the whole time. You jabbed him a bit in the ribs with your elbow. In return, he used his Evol to press an icy cold hand against your back.

In the end, you both ended up not getting much sleep at all anyway, but neither of you cared in the slightest.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Soon You'll Get Better

Evan "Buck" Buckley x fem!reader

summary: you and Buck decide to keep your pregnancy a secret until the time is right, but an accident makes it all come out and everyone comes together to comfort the two of you

word count: 4k

cw: graphic description of a car accident and injuries, hurt/comfort, Buck has panic attack

part one part two part three part five part six

Things with you and Buck had been perfect since you had made amends in your apartment. Your pregnancy was a little secret between the two-well, the two of you and Athena and Scarlett-and you had planned on keeping it that way until you were far along enough to where a miscarriage wouldn’t be an issue. You felt horrible for keeping such big news from your uncle, but you were just trying to take the proper precautions. 

You had been staying at Buck’s more often than Scarlett’s so the two could be in your own little world with your baby. You’d make meals together as you danced around the kitchen to whatever playlist Buck had on and he’d spin you around, pulling you into kiss after kiss, telling you how grateful he had been for you and for the baby. It seemed like he talked to your stomach more than he would to you and that was more than okay with you.

He’d insist on laying on your stomach while the two of you watched tv after a long day of work for the both of you and he’d tell the baby about his day and you’d scratch his head as he did so, always feeling like you were going to cry as you watched him. If he was like that with your unborn child, you knew that he was going to be the best dad once the baby finally came.

Athena had told you that you had to be the one to tell Bobby about your pregnancy, so he was very much still in the dark as far as the topic was concerned. You weren’t showing yet, but every time you were around him, you were paranoid that he somehow knew your secret. So, you resorted to wearing big cardigans or holding a pillow in front of your stomach when you sat down on their couch or one of the chairs. 

After you got settled in, Bobby and Athena insisted on having weekly dinners with you and it was becoming even harder to hide your growing stomach. But you tried your best, knowing that you just had to hold on a bit longer before you could find out the sex of the baby and then you and Buck were going to make an announcement to the rest of the 118. 

It was the night of the week when you went over to Bobby’s for dinner and he had you pick up a dessert on your way there, but you had decided to show up early so you could talk to Athena before Bobby got home for work. 

As soon as you got in the car, you noticed that Buck was calling you that, signaling that he had just gotten to work. It seemed like he was always calling you when they were just sitting at the firehouse and you hardly minded. His coworkers did, though. Always rolling their eyes at him and even going as far as making bets to see how many times he’d call you during one shift. So far, the record was twenty-seven. 

“Hey,” you picked up and Buck let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why he was always so worried that something was going to happen to you or the baby. Maybe that was why he always called so much. To give himself a peace of mind. 

“Hi,” Buck replied, a bright smile appearing on his face. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, but you’ll be at Bobby and Athena’s for dinner, right?” Just as you pulled out of the parking garage, you noticed that it was raining hard which was something that you hated to drive in. It was always unpredictable and accidents seemed inevitable so you tried to avoid driving in it as much as possible. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, then let out a sigh, moving over to the kitchen so everyone couldn’t hear him. “When are we going to tell them? Bobby keeps looking at me like he knows something and I’m honestly becoming afraid of him.” He eyed the man who was sipping on his coffee while talking to the other members of the 118 as they all sat at the table. Bobby was getting suspicious and Buck could see it.

“Bobby wouldn’t hurt a fly, you know that,” you told him as you turned into traffic, finding yourself at a red light. The rain was coming down harder and it was getting more difficult to see which was worrying you. “And we will tell them when we find out the sex.”

“Sleeping with you was one thing, but if he knows that I got you pregnant, he’ll have my head.” Buck wasn’t scared that Bobby would hurt him, but more to give him a lengthy lecture and Buck would rather clean the bathrooms of the fire house every single day of his life than get yet another lecture from Bobby. Especially when that lecture centered around his sex life.

“Baby, I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” you let out a chuckle as the light turned green and you pressed on the gas, maybe going a little too fast as you tried to get to Athena’s as quickly as possible to get out of the rain. 

“You realize he’s going to want to talk to the both of us, right? That’s why he invited me over for dinner too.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so scared, Evan. It’s just Bobby. And Athena will be there to back us up. You know that. Just take some deep breaths, okay?” You asked as you got to another light, but quickly passed it as it turned red, not wanting to sit in traffic any longer, especially since LA traffic was a nightmare and rain made it even worse. 

You were going a little faster than you should have and soon enough, you were starting to hydroplane, your car spinning out of control as you tried to take your control back. But the car had a mind of its own as it spun around to face traffic for a split second until it turned off the road and slid down the grass that was to the left of it. 

You were screaming into the phone, telling Buck what was happening, but everything you were saying was unintelligible on the other line. Buck wasn’t sure what was going on, but it definitely wasn’t good and he was becoming scared for you. The last thing he heard was you screaming his name before he heard a loud crash. 

Your car slammed into a tree, crunching the front bumper. The force in which your car hit the tree knocked you unconscious as your head hit the steering wheel hard before the airbags deployed. You laid there as Buck yelled into the phone, trying to get your attention, but it was no use. You were out cold. 

Hearing Buck’s urgency, the other members of the 118 turned to him, wondering what was going on. He hung up the phone and pocketed it before rushing over to Bobby to tell him that he needed to go find you. 

“What’s going on, Buck,” Hen asked  as Buck approached the table. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. 

“It’s y/n,” Buck replied. “I was just on the phone with her and all I heard was screaming and then a loud crash. And she wouldn’t respond when I called her name. I have to see her, Cap.” 

“I’m sure she’s fine, Buck,” Chimney gave Buck’s shoulder a pat. 

“Yeah, you probably just thought you heard something,” Hen agreed. Why was everyone brushing him off? He knew what he heard and clearly it was an emergency. If he didn’t get to you quick, you could have been dead. And Buck would have been damned if he let that happen to you.

“Bobby, you don’t understand. You have to bench me today.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to do his job if he was worrying about you the whole day and being a firefighter, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay and then he’d come back in time to respond to the next call. 

“No can do today, Buck,” Bobby shook his head as he stood up from the table to take his empty coffee mug to the sink. “I let you leave here a couple of weeks ago because of her and I can’t let you again today. You’ll see her at dinner.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the siren went off and he begrudgingly followed Bobby to the engine, worrying about nothing but you the entire way there. What he had heard wasn’t good and your screams along the loud crash replayed in his head on a torturous loop the entire ride to the scene.

It looked like a pretty bad car accident from what he could see. Rain was still pouring down on the city and Buck assumed that was the cause of the accident. There was a huge pile up and police had blocked off the intersection where the big part must have happened. The crew went up and down the line to check on every vehicle that was affected in the accident and thankfully, none of them had been life threatening. 

As Buck helped Eddie remove a man from his car that had been completely crushed in the pile up, he couldn’t help but worry that you were in the accident, but Eddie assured him that you weren’t. That he was just paranoid and he wasn’t making him think rationally. They got the man on a board and carried him to an available gurney where he was rolled to the ambulance. 

While that was happening, Hen and Chimney got to the intersection and noticed that the guard rail had been driven through and looked down in the grass to see a vehicle had hit the tree that was down the hill. They made a beeline for it and Hen was the first to notice you in the driver’s seat. You were still unconscious with your head against the steering wheel and blood was pouring from the large gash on your forehead that was caused by a piece of glass that had swiped across it. 

Hen let out a gasp as she realized who you were and really hoped that Buck wasn’t around to see you. She ripped open the door that was a little bent from the accident and reached up to check your pulse, letting out a sigh of relief when she could feel your heartbeat. 

“I got a pulse!” She told Chimney then turned back to you, shaking your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” she called out to you “Y/n, can you hear me?” When there was no answer, she radioed that they needed a board and a collar and immediately. One of the firefighters from the other department rushed down with one and together, they got you onto the board and the two of them carried the board up the hill  where two paramedics were waiting with a gurney. 

They got you on it just in time for Buck to see you and he raced towards you, falling over his feet as he did so. Eddie was quick to help him up and he blocked Buck from getting to you, knowing that it would have been for his own good. He knew he wasn’t crazy. He knew it. And if he had left when he had wanted to, he would have been able to get to you in time before you had been knocked out. Okay, maybe that wasn’t true, but he was going to tell himself that it was. 

“Eddie, move, I have to get to her,” Buck yelled, trying to push Eddie out of the way as he watched Hen and Chimney push the gurney towards the ambulance. He pushed Eddie out of the way and moved to walk beside you, watching you lay there unconscious. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and Eddie held him back so they could put you in the back of the ambulance. 

“Eddie, let me go,” he tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “I have to go with her.” He could feel sobs trying to escape his throat and was making an attempt to choke them down. He’d wait to do that at the hospital, not wanting to let his emotions fully take over when he was on the job.

“You’re too hysterical right now, Buck,” Hen told him. “Take some deep breaths and you can go with Bobby to the hospital.” Both her and Chimney got into the ambulance and the door closed behind them. It took off down the road and Buck broke down right there, collapsing onto his hands and knees and Eddie was quick to comfort him, resting his hand on his back as Bobby approached the two of them once he was sure that everyone was accounted for. 

All he could see was Buck on his knees and in all of the chaos, it seemed that everyone neglected to tell him what exactly had happened to his niece. All he knew was that something was wrong. Very wrong. He raced over to the pair and placed a hand on Eddie’s back. The man turned to face him and his face went white as he realized that it was his captain. 

“What’s going on here? Is Buck okay?” Buck had been affected by losing people before, hell, they all had, but something was off. He had never cried like that over a stranger, even when he felt like it was his fault. 

“Cap…it’s y/n…her car hit a tree. She’s stable but unconscious. They’re taking her to Presbyterian.” Without a single word, Bobby pulled Buck to his feet and both he and Eddie took him to the engine where they all piled in, heading straight for the hospital.

 Eddie sat next to Buck, comforting him as well as he could, but all he could think about was what happened to Shannon. He was in Buck’s exact position, just responding to a call when he saw her in the middle of the road. But it wasn’t about him this time. It was about Buck and Bobby and he needed to be there for them in their time of need. He continued to rub Buck’s back and as he let him cry, knowing that anything he said wouldn’t get into his friend’s head, so he kept quiet. 

All Buck felt on the way to the hospital was guilt. If he hadn’t called you then you wouldn’t have gotten into the accident. All of your focus would have been on the road and then you wouldn’t have swerved or whatever happened. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t his fault, he was going to tell himself that it was. He was going to beat himself up about it for the rest of his life. 

As soon as the engine pulled up to the hospital, the three rushed inside just as your gurney was rolled inside. Both Bobby and Buck made a beeline for you, tears welling up in their eyes as they watched your lifeless looking, blood-stained face. They both went to follow you, but a nurse blocked their path, telling them that they weren’t allowed to see you just yet as you needed surgery to have the glass removed from the slice on your forehead. 

So, hours passed as the three men sat in the waiting room, wordlessly waiting to be able to see you and or hear about your condition. It didn’t seem like you had been hurt that badly so what was the hold up? Every second that passed, Buck had been thinking the worst. Were you okay? Was the baby? Oh god, nobody knew about the baby and you weren’t far enough along yet to be showing very much so it wouldn’t have been obvious. 

“Mr. Buckley?” A voice asked and all three men whipped around, quick to stand to their feet as the nurse approached them. 

“It looks like has a slightly sprained neck and received some stitches for the deep cut on her forehead. There is a small break in her left leg from where it slipped from the gas pedal, but it should heal in a few weeks. Y/n and the baby are going to be just fine, Mr. Buckley. You should be able to go and see her in just a few minutes.”

You were okay. You were okay. And so was the baby. Sure, you had some injuries, but they were going to heal and you’d be good as new in no time. At that point, Buck was never going to let you out of his sight again just so nothing like that ever happened again. He didn’t know what he would have done if he lost you. If Bobby lost you. 

“Thanks,” Buck replied as tried to process all of the information and the nurse turned to leave the waiting room as Bobby and Eddie turned to stand in front of him. Oh, he was definitely in for an earful. 

“Baby?” They asked in unison. Of course, they knew that you and Buck had slept together, but your pregnancy was definitely not something that had been mentioned to either of them.

“Yes,” Buck replied, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. He had been carrying that secret for far too long for his liking and now that it was finally out in the open, he felt like he could finally breathe.

“So my niece is having a baby and neither of you thought I should know?” Bobby didn’t look angry, but disappointed and Buck actually thought that was worse. He did feel bad for keeping something like that for him, but ultimately wanted to leave that up to you since you were the one carrying the baby.

“I’m sorry. I just-we didn’t want to tell anyone too soon. We were going to wait until we found out the sex next week.” He was getting choked up. Even though everything was going to be okay, he still couldn’t help but be worried. That just seemed to be what he was feeling no matter what was going on. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Bobby gave Buck’s shoulder a squeeze before pulling him into a hug. Buck held onto him tight and let out the sobs that he had been holding while Bobby felt his own eyes getting misty. 

Eddie just stood there, watching two people that he really cared about share a moment and feeling relief that you were okay even though he didn’t know you very well. He really didn’t know how he would’ve been if something worse had happened to you. To see both Bobby and Buck in shambles would have absolutely broken him and he wasn’t sure he could’ve seen them like that. Just watching Buck break down as the ambulance drove off was enough to break Eddie’s own heart. 

Just as the men pulled away from each other, Hen and Chimney entered the waiting room with Maddie in tow. Buck made a beeline for her and was quick to pull her into a hug, so grateful that his sister could be there for him during this hard time. She said nothing but encouraging words to him as she squeezed him, assuring him that he was going to be okay. 

“How is she?” She asked once she pulled away, grabbing hold of Buck’s hands. 

“She’s stable. Her neck is sprained and she has a broken leg, but other than that she's going to be fine.” He began to pick at the skin around his nails as the anxiety ate at him, all of the horrible possibilities playing in his mind still. He could feel his chest getting tight like he was on the verge of a panic attack, but he couldn’t have everyone worrying about him too. You were the priority at the moment. He sat down in the nearest chair in a way that wouldn’t cause suspicion and Maddie sat next to him.

“Oh, thank god,” Maddie let out a sigh of relief. She knew just how much you had begun to mean to Buck in the short time that you had known each other and knowing that you were going to be okay made her feel so much relief. 

“And the baby’s okay too,” Buck added, watching his sister’s eyebrows shoot up, her hands flying to her mouth. She had her assumptions with the way you had been behaving, but hearing that she was actually right was shocking. 

“A baby!” She exclaimed. “Buck, that’s amazing!” She pulled him into another hug, knowing that he was going to be the best dad. Seeing the way he had been with both Christopher and Jee-Yun, she was sure of it. Once she pulled away, she could see that he was still uneasy and reached over to give his back a rub. 

Not long after, the nurse told Buck that he could go back and see you and despite wanting Bobby to come with him, he knew he had to do it alone. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. You were asleep so it wasn’t like he was going to have to say anything to you. That was the part he was most anxious about. When you woke up, what was he going to say to you? For the most part, the man never knew when to shut up, but now he was rendered absolutely speechless. 

Buck stood in front of the door and let his hand hover, watching it shake as he lowered it to the handle. He slowly pushed the door open and hesitantly entered the room, sticking his shaking hands into his pocket as you came into view. He took everything in a little bit at a time. First, he looked at you, taking in your injuries: the giant scar along your forehead and your bruised cheek, the brace around your neck, and the cast that was on your left leg. Even though you were all banged up, Buck still thought you were the most beautiful he had ever seen. 

His eyes moved to your stomach and it somehow seemed bigger than when he had seen you that morning. You were starting to show a little, but not enough that it was obvious that you were carrying a baby. He was still in shock that you were both okay considering how bad the crash seemed to be, especially the baby. He had taken care of multiple women who hadn’t been as lucky, but you were. So much so that he felt lucky too. 

Buck sat in the chair that was next to your bed and scooted it so that it was almost right up against the bed. He then took your hand that was nearest to him in both of his and pressed a kiss to his before bringing it back down to rest on the bed. He gave it a squeeze then let his gaze fall back on your face. He could feel tears well up in his eyes and he wasn’t going to hold them back. He was allowed to cry and had to remind himself of that. 

“Hey, baby,” he said, reaching up and letting his hands graze over the bandage on your forehead. “It’s me,” he sniffed. “I’m here. I’m always here. And I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be right here until you wake up and I’m going to be right here when it’s time for us to go home. You’re so strong and you’re going to get through this. You’re going to be just fine.” One of his tears trickled down onto your gown and he decided that it was time for him to sit back so he just settled for holding your hand, perfectly content with just sitting there and watching you sleep.

He could feel himself drifting from all of the emotions and a long shift and eventually he closed his eyes right in the chair, your steady beat of heart on the monitor being the thing that lulled him to sleep. For once, he was able to sleep soundly and wasn’t having any nightmares about you or the baby. It all just a lot of nothing going on in his head and that was exactly the way he liked it.

Just when Buck was deep in sleep, he was awoken to a loud, consistent beeping from your heart monitor. He sat up and could see that you were flatlining and just when he was about to get someone, nurses and doctors rushed inside and ushered him out of the room. The door was slammed closed in his face before he could process what was happening and he quickly moved to the little window to see them starting compressions, but you still laid there, lifeless. They tried and tried again before pulling out the defibrillator. 

It was as if everything was moving in slow motion as the machine shocked you, but you still weren’t waking up. They all turned in Buck’s direction as they shook their heads and he just backed up from the window, falling to the floor as he lost his footing. A sob raked through his body as he sat there, crying that he had lost the one woman he thought he could keep along with the baby he loved more than anything in the world. You both were gone and this time, there was nothing he could do to save you.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.7k so far

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i'm aqua and this is my first ever fic so please be nice!! i will be crossposting this work and all future works on my ao3 of the same name. i'm figuring out how this works as i go, so please be patient with me. tags are subject to change with every update. i won't have a posting schedule for this one, but i have the first few chapters pre-written, so expect an update sometime next week!

Chapter 1: Lay Your Cards Down, Down, Down, Down

Although this is the furthest thing from your scene, you can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling, boring country anthems you’d been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You were always the type of person who puffed up her chest when you told people ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a Western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a precious Friday night willingly. Another hazard of the job.

After months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Even more so where the music industry is concerned.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. All things considered, you had been a good sport at the three previous stops. You just draw the line at square dancing with the people you work with. College may have beaten your fear of impromptu phone calls and talking to strangers out of you, but your social battery can only take so much. 

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the low battery warning on your screen. Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer (because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for) and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re in the middle of turning off your phone with full intent to work out the kinks of your exit strategy when you realize, with irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans ( in a Western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt, and just when you’re sensing a theme with this guy, your eyes reach a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’ and stops in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you repeat, despite your better judgment to take him up on his offer and let him be on his way. But your phone is dead and you’re a little bit drunk, bored, and even for an unwanted partner in social evasion, this guy is nicer to look at than the frat guys playing beer pong you’ve been observing for the better part of an hour.

Corner-thief grins a stupidly charming gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he says, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off of the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

“Not your thing?” you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in what you can only guess is a laugh.

“No, I wouldn’t say so.” 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. “So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for.”

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companiable silence next to each other while they wait for their friends–or coworkers, in your case–to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… You consider your options, your phone taking its dying breath in your pocket, and you sigh, turning to him.

“Y/N,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

He takes it with his free hand, giving you an amused look. “Yoongi.”

“What’s that look for?”

He laughs again, a little bit more this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake,” he says, causing you to flush and pull your hand away as if it’d been burned, your shoulders tensing as you take a sip of your beer. 

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

“I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode,” you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear,” he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. “Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this.”

You feel your shoulder muscles relax just the slightest bit. “I thought about sending you away, but I couldn’t help it. My heart aches when I see an introvert in need of a hiding spot,” you attempt to joke. 

“At least I’m out with friends,” he says sympathetically. “I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag.”

“It’s weird ,” you correct. “I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?”

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“I work for Look Here Magazine,” you reply, straightening up a bit in pride when Yoongi’s eyes flash with recognition, his body turning so his shoulder is against the wall now. You turn as well, facing him. “I write for the music section.”

“No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then,” Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. The way that he seems to carry himself in particular, you think, might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower that still exuded such confidence. He wears it insanely well.

“Look Here covers a lot of big artists,” you hear him continue. “I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties.”

“Ah, I only started a few months ago,” you admit, looking down into your cup. “Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big yet.”

“But you want to,” Yoongi guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you , and that… does something to you. Huh. “Shit, that’s… That’s really cool.”

“Thanks,” you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Ah,” Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. “I’m a music producer, actually.”

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

“Anything I’ve heard?” you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. “Probably.” 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

“You’ve gotta give me more than that,” you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

“I don’t,” Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. “I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this.”

“Like I said, I was forced.”

“Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time.”

Why is he so interested? You scrunch your nose, trying to figure out what he could be fishing for here. You don’t make it a habit to divulge the details of your sad excuse for a personal life to strangers, but the alcohol has loosened your lips. Maybe you need to talk about it. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

“My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out.” You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. “Other than her, it’s just me, really. The dating thing… Nobody really seems to get how demanding my job can be, and it always ends in hurt feelings.”

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

“I get that,” he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is intercepted quickly by his phone buzzing in his pocket and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

“Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull,” he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. “I’ve gotta deal with that.”

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. “Good luck.”

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

“Thanks for sharing your wall,” he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You’re dragged out to one more bar before you finally make it home, your interaction with Yoongi having knocked you off-kilter enough to agree to a few more drinks.

It does wonders for your social status at work, you’re sure, but by the time you’re dropped off you’re dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright in the elevator of your apartment building.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down.

“What the fuck,” you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you.

“I was going to ask if you needed help,” he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do.”

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. Faster than you can react, he’s right in front of you, gently taking your key from your hands and turning it in the lock, like it’s easy.

“Gonna make it in okay?” he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Are you stalking me?”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I think we’re neighbors.”

“Oh.” Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

“Give me your number,” he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

“In case you ever can’t use your keys again,” he clarifies. “I told you, those music industry parties are killer.”

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

“Goodnight, neighbor,” he says, unlocking his door with ease. “Sleep on your side.”

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

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[scromchz]

v for vendetta | elw (m.)

— your boss has seemingly had it out for you since day one.

contents. mean boss!ellie williams/intern!reader | smut, fluff | 3.1k

warnings. kinda loser!ellie, jelly ellie, cursing, mdni - smut, fingering, mild spit kink.

note. a reupload from prev blog with same name, with some edits. its a wee bit cringe to me so be prepared. but people seemed to like it so enjoy and happy pride month <3

© scromchz 2023 — all rights reserved.

Getting your foot into the corporate world was never going to be easy. You knew this before you even applied for the summer internship at the DarkHorse Tech conglomerate, well aware that you'd have to claw your way up from rock bottom without so much as chipping a manicured nail. But you were optimistic; freshly graduated from college, and ready to take the challenge head-on.

That was before you met Ellie Williams.

Boss to the company, and your personal tormenter. She made hell seem like a cozy vacation spot.

What you did to get under her skin was a mystery. Hell, you didn't even report to her directly. There were at least three meat shields between you and her within the hierarchy. But somewhere, somehow, you blipped onto her radar, and you have stayed there like a bad stain ever since.

She made your work life an agonizing affair, and nothing you ever did seem to please her. If anything it had the opposite effect. Paperwork you'd spent hours agonizing over was always a 'complete mess', and she'd keep you after hours in her office to belittle you without ever correcting any so-called mistakes.

She shoulder-checked you in the hallway and picked apart your appearance when nobody was around. It didn't matter if you were wearing a grandma sweater and a floor-length, shapeless skirt. She threatened to write you up for a dress code violation like you showed up in your birthday suit for casual Fridays.

You were sent on wild goose chases disguised as coffee runs to places that didn't even exist, then berated for arriving late and empty-handed. Or god forbid, with Starbucks. You were supposed to be doing data entry, for fucks sake. And if you were to so much as smile at one of your coworkers she would pop out of nowhere to tell you off for slacking, like a damn high-school hall monitor.

Anytime you tried to voice your grievances to your manager, they'd give you a sympathetic smile. What she says goes, they'd awkwardly relay, she's the boss. 

There was nothing you could do. She wielded all the power and flaunted it outright. During the mandatory bullying and harassment presentation she even singled you out, asking by name if you had any questions or if there was anything you 'didn't understand'. Message received. 

Today was no different.

She'd sent a pristine pile of cardstock flying out of your hands and onto the floor, tsking at you for being clumsy when she'd purposefully swiped at them. You had to get on your knees and meticulously pick up each one, all the while she loomed over you, a smug smile on her annoyingly perfect face.

Of course, you had to sacrifice your break to grab Ellie her own lunch from across town. While your coworkers got to enjoy their downtime in the breakroom you'd seen the inside of twice. You were exhausted, dropping her food off at her desk while she pretended you weren't there, but you couldn't even be bothered to care. That's not to say you didn't feel her eyes burning into your backside when you left.

What you didn't see was the furrow in her brows, concern lacing her heated gaze when she saw you were empty-handed. She knew for a fact she told you to get something for yourself when she handed over her card. Strike number one of the day. Not taking care of yourself was unacceptable. 

She kept a close eye on you through her one-way office window, which was easy considering she had your desk moved directly into her line of sight. You were hunched over your desk, periodically wiping at your tired eyes to keep focused.

Then your shit-stick fellow interns had the gall to shirk their duties onto you. Like rolling around in daddy's money made them incapable of using a fax machine. And you, sweet, sweet you, had the nerve to weakly smile and say no problem. Ellie's eyes narrowed, aggressively chewing on her straw like an angry gremlin. Oh, there's a fucking problem all right. Strike number two.

As the clock neared five-thirty, you were nearly home free. If only office fuckboy extraordinaire hadn't waltzed over to you. What happened next made Ellie see red.

He made you blush. Oh, hell no.

Faster than you could kindly reject Brad's offer to take you out, the door to Ellie's office swung open. The force smacked it harshly into the adjoining wall.

She dismissed everyone for the day, and in the same breath barked out your name. "In my office," her tone left no room for disagreements. "Now."

Brad sucked in his teeth, offering a 'good luck' before high tailing it out of there along with the rest of the office. You could already hear whispers of your name, musings of what you did this time to warrant such an explosive reaction. Nobody envied you.

With shaky limbs, you stood, cowering under the weight of her glare. She held open the door, forcing you to brush against her suit-clad chest. The click of the lock sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded. But clicked her tongue when you slid into your usual seat in front of her desk. "No, not there."

You looked around in confusion, thinking you'd misheard her over your thunderous heartbeat. She looked expectant. Not to mention pissed.

But a cursory scan of the room confirms your thoughts. There were no chairs besides Ellie's, and the one you occupied.

You were used to her outlandish demands, but this was a whole new level. She was being difficult just to be difficult. Did she expect you to sit criss-cross apple sauce at her feet?

You pause, reigning in your irritation. "I don't understand. Ms. Williams, is—“

Angling your neck in her direction, your speech falters. She's much closer than you anticipated. Leaning down, her face was mere inches from your own. Your cheeks heat, and you're momentarily struck by her looks from up close.

It pains you to admit it, after everything she's put you through. The very person who makes you dread waking up in the morning can make your tummy flutter at the same beat. She was good-looking, objectively speaking. With the whole freckle-faced, green-eyed thing going on. 

Plus she smelled good. Ugh.

Ellie's jaw clenches. "No. I don't think you do."

Before you can respond, probably with an unprofessional what the fuck, she's yanking you up out of your seat. You sputter, skin burning from the contact of her hand wrapped around your elbow. She uses it to maneuver you like a rag doll.

She purposefully steps forward as you stumble off-balanced and careen into her. Just when you think things couldn't get any stranger, Ellie abandons her hold on your arm, hooking around your waist instead, pressing your entire front into hers.

Her arms cage into you on either side of the desk, and it digs into your backside. "Your behavior today has been unacceptable. I should write you up—" 

Something in you snaps.

"Then do it!" You cut in. You'd heard this exact spiel a hundred times over. And despite her numerous threats, your record remained spotless. "I am so sick of this. What'd I even do to make you hate me so much?!"

Momentarily, you seem to stun her. Weakly she mutters, "I don't hate you."

"Yeah right," you scoff, throwing propriety out the window.

Both of you were crossing lines, and you had to accept that you'd likely be out of a job come morning. She was the boss, after all. Blinking away an onslaught of tears, you focus over her shoulder at the beige walls.

She doesn't let you avoid her gaze for long. To your dismay, both her hands grip your face, forcing you to meet her frantic eyes.

"I- fuck, I don't. Seriously. I just," her voice actually cracked. Panic gripped her clear as day, a stark contrast to her typical nonchalant persona. It kept you from stomping on her foot and high tailing it out of there, if only just to see this through and get some long-awaited answers. "I never meant to— oh, fuck it."

Her chapped lips crashed into yours and time stopped. She was actually kissing you.  

Frozen and wide-eyed, you see firsthand the way she melts. Her eyes flutter shut, pressing into you as close as possible so that you're forced backward — a few pens clattering off the desk

Never in your wildest dreams did you foresee this outcome. But for some inexplicable reason, you kiss her back.

Despite your shock, or the questions on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes shut, and your lips finally move against hers. A deep moan is pulled from the depths of her chest and into the slick heat of your mouth.

Grabbing at the lapels on Ellie's suit, you're pleased by how she bends to your whims, arching into you. Her hands wander, a timid quality you would've never attributed to her. She gives your lips chase when you pull away with a wet pwap.

"Why does this feel so, fuck-" you dazedly pant into her spit-slicked mouth. "So good."

"I can make you feel even better," she rushes out, thumbs massaging mindless circles into your hips. She looks drunk, glassy-eyed and flushed pink. "If you let me. Please."

Please. What a trip. You had half a mind to search the room for hidden prank-show cameras.

This new power you seem to hold over her thrums in your veins. It overshadows any lingering doubts, muting the little voice in your head that says this is a bad idea. Instead, you give into the giddy feeling, letting it rush to your head like fizzy soda bubbles. 

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, you nod. "Then touch me."

Her eyes light up like a kid on christmas, and her lips stretch into a toothy smile. It's crooked—but hell, is it cute.

Ellie hitches your legs around her hips and pulls your weight into her arms, all the while lavishing your neck with deep sucks. Mindlessly she says things like sweet girl, and even a succession of garbled thank you's. It throws you for a loop; but you can’t deny the way it makes you ache.

Kicking the rolling chair out of the way, she takes you both down to the carpeted floor, laying you gently beneath her. After getting the green light, her hesitation melts away.

Slipping under your shirt, she hungrily palms your tits beneath your bra. The tips of her fingers are calloused, but that fact only seems to heighten your pleasure when they pinch your nipple. With the hand other cradling your skull, she licks into your mouth.

Distracted by her sweet taste, you're caught off guard when Ellie jams a knee between your thighs, forcing out a squeaky, embarrassing moan.

"Fuck," she detaches with a pop, sounding awestruck. Resting her forehead against yours, she peers down. If only she could burn the image of you grinding against her, she would; driven further mad by the feeling of your hot cunt, searing even through the layers separating you.

Suddenly she sits up, shedding her suit jacket and rolling her sleeves to the elbow. She's the picture of sin. Somehow you never realized she was so toned— and, is that a tattoo?

You follow her lead, wriggling out of your blouse and tossing it aside. She helps you with the rest of your clothes, eagerly dragging down your skirt and leaving you in just a pair of cotton panties and a bra. You shy under her unwavering stare, not used to feeling so seen.

"You're unreal," she breathes, resting her hand on your tummy. Her stare lingers on your clothed pussy, the wetness seeping through making it mold to your puffy lips. A proud smirk appears on her face. "You're soaking, fuck. Do ya' always get this wet?"

You squirm, grabbing hold of her wrist. Not to stop her, just with the intention to anchor yourself. "Ms. Will-"

"Ellie," she corrects. She splays her long fingers and slides downwards, stopping to fully cup your heat. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whine, feverish with need. Ellie glides your underwear down your legs, knocking your knees together and pushing them toward your chest for easier access. Once off, she stuffs them into her pocket with zero shame.

Hunkering down, she grips your inner thighs, thumbs maddeningly close to where you're throbbing for her. Splaying them wide for her viewing pleasure, she sucks in a breath and the first sight of your glistening cunt.

"Knew your pussy would be cute," her husky voice drawls. She spreads your sticky folds with her index and middle finger, a string of slick keeping them connected. Exposing your flushed clit and twitching hole, she puckers her lips and with a puh, spits directly inside. Fucking hell— your hips buck, brain short-circuiting.

She doesn't let you get far. Ellie just chuckles, pinning your lower belly with her forearm. Now that she had you like this, there was no running away. Not when you'd only gotten a taste of the pleasure she intended to bestow.

She massages your opening with her thumb, just dipping the tip inside to ease you into it, feeling like sweet torture. Your core gets all cramped up from clenching around nothing, winding yourself up up up. Finally, she slips two of those long fingers inside, knuckle deep.

Scrambling for purchase, your grip finds her wrist like a bracelet. It seems to be your go-to, and you carve out a permanent place there with your nails. So slowly it aches, she bottoms out before tentatively thrusting.

"Oh m'god," you babble, eyes rolling. "oh m'god, you're inside me. I can feel you inside—!"

Ellie shudders, both at your words and the feel of your hot, wet cunt wrapped around her. Taking a deep breath is a mistake; she just gets a lungful of your heady scent. Combined with the feeling of you soaking her hand, her eyes full on roll to the back of her head

"Jesus." Her palm slips up your stomach, taking in every tense of muscle as an orgasm winds up in your core.

Tucking her fingers up in search of your special little spot, Ellie prods a bit before bingo — you clench up tight. You can't think, let alone speak. You can't recall a time you'd ever come so fast, but every curl of her fingers has you climbing up higher and higher to that peak.

Needing to be closer, Ellie plants her free forearm next to your head, upping the pace with her other hand. It grants her a front-row seat to every micro-expression you make, and she tailors her movements to what has you reacting best.

"Look at me," she murmurs, nose grazing your cheek. It takes a moment to comply, her voice sounding far away like you're underwater. "Good girl."

"El," you gasp, legs beginning to shake. Your eyes locked, begging for something.

"I know," she hushes, pecking your lips. She watches with bated breath the way your face crumples when her palm fits against your aching clit. It's just what you need, and your thighs keep her trapped there, grinding back and forth.

In a matter of seconds that feel like a lifetime, you reach your breaking point, cumming around her fingers. Every spasm pushes out a wave of stringy-slick, dribbling down her curled wrist and onto the floor. You don't envy the poor soul who will have to clean it up.

Ellie gently eases you back down to earth, shushing you softly. You can't recall when she slipped out, but from the corner of your eye, you see her stuff them into her mouth.

"Shit," you mutter. As the haze of lust starts to clear up, regret takes its place. You just let your boss, who gets their rocks off making you miserable, finger you on the floor of her office. God dammit--

"Hey," she says gently. It's the opposite reaction you're expecting. Instead of kicking you out, she sits you up, slipping her big jacket around you. When you're decent, she grabs and cradles your hand in two of hers. "I meant what I said. I don't hate you. The opposite, actually."

"Wha-" at first you tilt your head in confusion. Then you really take her in. The shifty eyes, the way she’s pulling at her fingers, those red capped ears of hers. Everything clicks. Oh. "Oh."

It never escaped you how she never paid anyone else the same level of attention. That even at its worst, she never truly hurt you. Just menaced you enough to become a fixture in your life.

"Yeah," she trails off.

"If you're serious, I need you to promise me something."

Ellie's gaze snaps to yours, completely moon-eyed. Reinvigorated, she laces your fingers together, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Anything."

"One, no more bullshit."

She winces but readily agrees. "Of course."

"And two," you continue before she can jump the gun. "You take me out on a real date."

This gets you a real kiss. "I'll fly you to fucking Paris, whatever you want. Money is no obstacle."

You laugh against her lips. Jesus, this girl. "How about dinner and a movie to start."

"Fuck yeah. Sounds perfect."

For a few minutes, you bask in the moment, exchanging kisses before beginning to redress. Balancing with a hand on the desk to get your shoes on, you pause, suddenly remembering something.

“Can we circle back to the seat thing?” You ask, referencing her ridiculous demand from earlier. “Where were you even going with that?”

It takes a few seconds for your question to register, her mind and body still fuzzy. Then she flushes red, from her neck to the tips of her ears. Was she blushing? Now you were beyond intrigued.

“The desk,” she stutters. Your big scary boss actually stutters. “I was gonna, you know,” she clears her throat as if to dislodge the words. 

Your grin is cheshire. “No, I don’t.”

“Like in the movies n’ stuff,” it’s as if it pains her to admit this. You eat it up. “I was gonna clear off the desk and make you sit there. It was supposed to be... sexy.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. “By 'clear' do you mean toss onto the floor?" You ask, eyeing the very breakable cutter on her desk. The image makes you laugh even harder, bellyaching. "You know that would’ve scared the shit out of me, right?”

Her pout deepens. Ellie buries her face into your neck, muffling her voice. “Shut up.”