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harryspet · 4 years ago

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welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy.

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taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong @nsfwsebbie

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?”

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden.

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”.

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in.

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was.

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work.

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation.

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all.

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen.

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed.

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door.

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house.

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed.

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her.

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide.

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend.

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection.

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly.

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness.

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes.

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife.

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you.

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush.

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway.

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy.

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today.

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting.

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines.

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors.

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations.

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met.

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”.

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty.

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind.

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper.

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her.

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned.

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love.

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled.

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back.

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…”

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak.

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead.

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career.

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve.

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl.

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.”

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him.

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table.

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan.

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier.

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron,

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork.

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face.

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable.

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited.

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide.

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it.

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him.

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip.

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege.

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth.

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together.

“Please!” You moaned.

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

hope you enjoyed!��

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hongjoongtrasher · 3 years ago

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the beauty and the beast (chapter 1)

word count: 2k461

angst

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Synopsis:

When you move to a new city due to your father's job, you don't expect to stay for a long and so decided not to get attached to the world around you.

But still, you are "the new girl", unwillingly attracting people's attention because of your family's background. Your strict father expects a lot from you, not to say perfection. And when you are sit next to a certain Jung Yunho, you didn't expect your life to take a radical turn

You don’t even remember when you stayed more than a year in the same city. It probably started around the age of 3, when your father got his promotion he wanted for so long. That’s how your family used to move every year, or even shorter than this. You don’t remember having a childhood friend, and worst, have you ever had friends ?

The unfamiliar view of the busy city at your window made you remember that once again, you had to unpack the few items you owned. You quickly discovered it was more a burden to drag along unnecessary things that would later be a pain in the ass to unpack and pack forever. Only school books, clothes and some other accessories were keeping you company in this new room. So impersonal, cold. But it would stay this way, since you knew you’d probably move on again in few months. While tidying your room, you heard a knock on your door, making you look at it to see your father.

« Y/N ? Can we talk for a bit ? » he asked, a poker face on.

« Yes father. »

Father. From the moment you could speak, he always told you to call him father. No dad, or affectionate pet names. It was just showing the gap that have been created so far between you both. Your mom ? You don’t even remember her face. You learnt from your grand-mother a long time ago that your parents got divorced when you were just a newborn. The reasons to this separation are staying difficult to know, but your father never talked about her in your presence. You always thought that somehow she didn’t want you, that was probably the best reason you could thought due to the lack of her tries to contact you for 17 years. So instead of a mom, you grew up with a nanny who was still living with you and your father. She was a sweet and caring person, always making sure you weren’t lacking anything. You owed her a lot, knowing she was the one who was basically raising you up, of course with the directions of your father.

You soon arrived in the large living room, as impersonal as the rest of the luxurious apartment your father got from his work. It was neutral as possible, but still anybody could notice the taste for luxury he acquired with the time. Trophies, some modern canvas you couldn’t even interpret, a large TV with home cinema etc. Your father was sitting in his black leather armchair, in his usual white shirt and black suit. And you just sat down on the white sofa, waiting patiently for him to start.

« I got you a place in a school from a friend of mine. » he began, and you felt your body being rigid.

Studies were his obsession when it comes to you. You always had to be first, having the best grades, the best in every field you could reach. That was probably also the main reason of why you never got close friends. Because you were « Miss Perfect Brain » and the only child from a wealthy family, most of people thought you were just like one of those entitled kids who would think they are the one ruling in this world. But you were not. Actually, you never wanted any of those thing. How many times you wanted to go to clubs after class ? Just hanging out with kids from your age, sharing hobbies etc…But you never could because your father would always send you to study classes after your school schedules.

« The school ranking is pretty good, so I think you are able to reach 1st place right ? » he continued, his cold glare piercing your body, making you tighten your fists on your knees.

It would be a disaster for you to be 2nd. Actually not really for you, but for your father. With him, it was first or nothing, and nothing would results as punishment for you. Even since elementary school, he would force you to copy the mistakes you’d done until 2 in the morning, « to make you remember not to do the same mistakes again ». Sometimes depriving you from eating until you would perfectly recite the lesson. As a child, you had spent nights crying in your pillow, hating your father for being so mean to you, and today, you just gave up. As long as you were doing as told, everything would be fine, right ?

You nodded as an answer, finding the courage to finally look at his strict face.

« Y/N, this year is going to be a decisional one for you. After graduation, you’ll go to Korea University and study international business. Don’t deceive me » he announced, making you gulp at the end of his sentence.

Of course it wasn’t what you wanted. But what did you want in the first place ? You didn’t know. You couldn’t find any perspectives for yourself. And of course, you didn’t have a word to say.

« Yes Father… »

And without adding any words, he stood up and left for his office, leaving you alone in the living room. You wanted to cry, to yell how unfair it was for letting someone decide for yourself. You throat was dry and your fists were trembling from madness until you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder. It was Sookja, your nanny and the housekeeper. She probably heard the whole conversation, and was knowing perfectly how you felt at this moment.

« This is so unfair… » you mumbled into your breath, trying to hold back your tears of pure rage.

« I know sweetie… » the old woman sighed. « Maybe he will let you do what you want later » she tried to soften your mood, but it was already ruined.

You sighed and stood up, just shrugging to join your bedroom again, head dipping first into your pillow. You didn’t feel like unpacking, so you just stayed in your bed, until your nanny came to inform you dinner was ready. As usual, you were eating alone. Your father never ate with you, because of his schedules. How funny it was to see that even on your birthday he would be absent, justifying himself to be busy but that he would « make it up for the next year ». Weariness eventually took over sadness. This was your daily life, and you didn’t expect it to change now…Unless.

It was your first day at your new high school. You were so nervous that you had barely eaten on the morning. You were apprehending people. Of course you were used to see new faces all the time, but this time was different. You were arriving in the middle of the first semester in a school where everyone from your prom was knowing each other’s, and to crowned everything, your father was accompanying you this morning to greet his friend, the principal for this year. The more the black Audi was entering the school yard, the more you wanted to become a mouse. You hated so much those looks of curiosity, or full of judgment. Your father intimated you to get off the car, which you did, looking at the floor while the Principal was waiting at the main entrance. You didn’t hear the following conversation, your heart beating too fast and in your ear. Some students stopped to watch the scene, and some of them at the windows were taking pictures. How embarrassing. Little did you know a group of boys were also watching from the first floor.

« Heh, is this the new girl everyone’s talking about ? » hummed a blonde boy, his chin in the palm of his hand while he was leaning on the window sill.

« Seems like it » answered a tall boy, a lollipop in his mouth. « Dude, she looks hot »

« Mingi, you even haven’t seen her face yet » groaned the little blonde again.

Mingi shrugged and said. « Hongjoong, she’s rich, so she’s hot »

« You’re an idiot » sighed the said Hongjoong, rolling his eyes in exasperation. « What d'you think Yunho ? »

Yunho stayed silent during the whole conversation, hands in his pockets as he was watching the scenery before scoffing. « She’s just a little rich bitch » he mumbled before turning from this, going to his classroom.

You had to stay at the professor’s room, so that the Principal could introduce you to your homeroom teacher. Strangely enough, all the teachers seemed too nice. Of course they were. The shadow of your father must be planning around. « Let’s go introducing you to your new comrade » said your teacher enthusiastically which made you forced a smile. You silently followed him to the door where he made a sign for you to wait. Your heart was about to explode, as you could hear the sounds for chairs and people chatting in the classroom. You didn’t know how much you waited in this hallway, but your teacher appeared again, calling your name. You jumped a little, not expecting this time to come…so quickly. Gulping again, you slowly passed the door to present you in front of everyone, your eyes scanning the room. « Can you please introduce you ? » Asked your teacher, everyone’s waiting to hear the sound of your voice for the first time. You really wanted to run away and never come back, but you couldn’t. Your father would definitely kill you.

« H-hi, my name is Y/N, nice to meet you » you said, quite unsure of yourself.

Some kids applauded, which made you blush from embarrassment.

« Alright, Y/N you can go sit next to Yunho there » said your teacher, pointing at the front row at the very left of the room, not to say the corner.

Your eyes landed for the first time on the boy called Yunho. His black wavy hair were hiding his forehead and also his eyes, but you could definitely feel he was glaring at you. Not staring, but glaring as if you did something wrong. But what could you have done wrong ? Was sitting next to him a crime ? You awkwardly sat down next to him, feeling the cold tension radiating from the silent boy next to you. At some point, you really felt uncomfortable, to the point you didn’t dare looking at him a single time. You tried your best to focus on the class, nervously holding your pen. Surprisingly, the first two hours of class went by fast, but you still haven’t talked with Yunho, and he seemed not trying to neither. When the bell ranged, announcing the first break of the day, you gathered your things before you heard his deep voice for the first time.

« Move. » he ordered in an annoyed tone, his tall figure dominating your frail one.

Your heart stopped beating for a second, suddenly scared. He seemed mad at you for God knew which reason, but you quickly moved to let him pass, looking at your feet while you could hear a « Tsch… » from him.

What the hell was happening ? Why this boy was hating you from the start ? You took your phone and went to the girls toilet, to regain composure, but still, you felt a dark aura from him. While you were thinking about this, you heard girls gossiping outside the cabinet you were occupying.

« Did you see that ? She is next to Yunho ! »

« The poor girl, I bet she won’t stay next to him for a long time » said another girl, in a mocking way.

« She doesn’t know he’s a total douchebag tho. »

« Hey ! He’s still hot. But yeah, a douchebag »

And they laughed before exiting the place. What does this mean ? You began to get really worried about this Yunho. He seemed to be a bad guy, but was he really ? You inhaled deeply again before going back to your classroom, expecting to see Yunho again, but he wasn’t here anymore.

Class started again, and you couldn’t help but wonder where Yunho went and why he left. Your new Korean literature teacher didn’t seem surprised when doing roll call. « Ditching classes again huh ? » he mumbled before going on.

At lunch time, you searched for a place to eat alone. You didn’t feel like going to the cafeteria or stayed in class to eat, so you went to the rooftop, surprisingly empty. You expected to see at least one or two people…But anyway, it was better for you. Leaning against the wall of the staircase, you took out the lunch box Sookja made for you with your favorite food inside as a good luck charm for your first day. It slightly made you smile and brought you some comfort. You didn’t want to think to anything, just having some peace until you heard loud laughs from the stairs, making you panicking and quickly packed your lunch to see a group of boys who seemed as surprised as you to find you here.

« Oh, isn’t the « New girl » ? » smirked the small blonde guy.

You quickly looked away, mumbling a « sorry » before trying to pass over them, but an arm blocked your route.

« Hey, you could at least say hi when someone’s talking to you » groaned the tallest from the pack.

You felt intimidated. You just wanted to leave, without creating any problems. You looked up at the tall guy, scared about what he was about to do next until you noticed wavy black hair. Yunho was here also, and he didn’t seem to pay attention.

« I-I’m sorry, I just want to go p-please » you said weakly, the panic gaining your body each second passing by.

« Tss, is that how rich bitch like you are behaving huh ? »

This was escalating quickly. You were too scared to do anything, when you saw the tall guy’s hand reaching out for you too rapidly, making you flinch.

« Mingi. Stop. »

It was Yunho’s voice. As you shut your eyes tight, you slowly opened them to see an annoyed Mingi, rubbing his nape in frustration while the blonde guy was shocked. Yunho looked at his friends.

« Hongjoong, let’s go somewhere else » he added to the blonde guy.

Hongjoong nodded and slighlty pushed Mingi away to the stairs, only Yunho staying still, his dark orbs fixed on you in silence.

« Hey, I really hate people like you, but I didn’t want Mingi to do something bad, so you better go now. » he warned, giving you a cold shiver in your back.

Why was this always like this ? No matter where you go, people always hate you, or fake to be friendly to you because of your status. You felt tears filling your eyes, but you with the few pride left in you, you left Yunho alone on this rooftop, running away from him until next class. You were certain of a thing, Yunho hated you and you're far to know he'd soon take advantage of you.

chapter 2 coming soon ! please let me know what you think about this first chapter <3

taglist: @palegardenrebel @mirror-juliet @twancingyunhoe @yeosangmystar @dreamer95 @tinyteenieateez @yunsangoveryonder @tenebrisirae

Couldn’t tag : @nz-pichbg (comment to be added in the taglist)

#ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic #yunho angst #yunho series #ateez series #yunho fluff

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katsucutie · 4 years ago

Text

i hate your guts (m)

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader genre: smut, humor warnings: smut, swearing (you know the good stuff) overview: class 1-a has this belief that you and katsuki hate each other, though one incident has their minds changed word count: 4.2k author’s note: this was written to fight my writer’s block and i happened to find a psycho-analysis of katsuki which helped somewhat and its quite interesting. anyways...the song choice while writing this was house of cards, also this was written in three days and i tried using any relevant medical terms i’ve learned so far in uni. hope you enjoy!! masterlist | ko-fi

Walking through the azure-rimmed gate you knew the day would be the same. Homeroom for ten minutes then classes back to back with a minor minute break in between, next an oh-so-needed fifty-minute lunch, and finally two classes to end the day. Not that you could complain, heroes in training must earn some type of education.

Though school wasn’t the worst thing invented, you can definitely say occasions in English class were not lackluster with Present Mic as the teacher. Or in math, when Midoriya yells out an inaccurate answer only to be corrected by Yaoyorozu. It's the little moments that bring laughter, or maybe it’s watching someone embarrass themselves in front of a class that's joyful.

And you could never forget the times where Jirou teased Kaminari for short-circuiting.

While all those moments are fun and dandy, 1-A can also be quite the chatterboxes and gossipy, especially when it comes to your feelings towards Bakugou. Believing that your relationship consists of mutual hatred, class 1-A constantly manages to tease both you and the blonde-headed male. Even All-Might manages to separate the two of you during training.

Although you never said anything against the rumors, it's quite humorous to see a school be so wrong in their thoughts. Is it not obvious that the glares the two of you send are not out of anger but endearment? Clearly not to Todoroki who claimed that Midoriya was All-Might’s secret love child, but that's beside the point. Additionally, you’ve yet to hear an accurate hypothesis as to why you and Bakugou would hate each other. Many of the theories revolve around Bakugou’s ‘anger problems’ but honestly, who doesn’t get mad?

Nonetheless, the rumors surrounding your alleged detestation toward the blonde sparked a little prank between you two. Pretending to hate each other until people catch on that you’re dating.

And the joke has been going on for quite a while, four months to be exact. Four months of pretending to hate in front of crowds, yet loving behind closed doors. Four months of experiencing the rush of adrenaline when you sneak around to his dorm room in the late hours of the night. Four months of leaving your friend groups to hang out during lunch.

Four months of waking up early to walk to class with Bakugou. And don’t forget about four months of the blonde-headed male constantly breaking you away from your thoughts.

“Oi Y/n, break out of that daze and let’s go, we have thirty-minutes before class and I’d like to spend that time not pretending to hate you” Bakugou calls while molding his fingers into yours.

“Oh please, I’m not pretending you know I hate your guts” You smile, leaning into the broad male walking towards homeroom. “Do you think today will be the same?”

“Yes, those idiots could watch us kiss and still think we hate each other, though I can’t complain, their oblivion is better than if they were to pester us about our relationship” he snarks.

Mindlessly nodding in agreement, you and Bakugou wander through the purple-stained floors of U.A., passing by random classrooms, and peering out the glass windows that overlook the campus.

After twenty-five minutes of strolling through the halls, Bakugou and you turn down the corridor leading to class 1-A, while unlocking hands and prepping for your fake and falsely-interpreted loathing glares.

“Today marks day ninety-six of the class believing we hate each other” you whisper.

“They’re hopeless….”

“But if at any point, you want to stop pretending let me know… I wouldn’t mind, jokes are funny but you’re my top priority”

“Is Bakugou Katsuki getting soft on me?”

“No.. shut up-”

“And they're back at it again Ladies and Gentlemen… the feud between Y/n and Bakugou seems everlasting” Kaminari calls sliding open the tall door leading to class 1-A. Way to ruin a cute moment.

“Honestly the two would probably be best friends if they didn’t hate each other, they both like the same things” Oh they wouldn’t believe the interests you two share.

“Yeah, but their personalities are so different, they’re just not meant to be and that’s fine” What a shock your relationship would be then.

“I’m so glad that you’re interested in my ‘relationship’ with Lord Explosion Murder… but I have more important matters to attend to such as earning my education so that I can be a top pro-hero” you remark sliding into your chair. Your comments are never intended to insult your boyfriend, but teasing his choice of a hero name couldn’t hurt anyone.

Waiting for the remaining two minutes for class to start, you check your phone and see a message notification from a familiar contact.

Babe 💗: storage room during lunch?

Quicker than your mind made a decision, your fingers don’t hesitate to press the send button.

You: i’ll bring the key

----------

Bakugou was a master of three things. Okay maybe more than three, but three traits excel. His talent, his mind, and his ability to use his fingers.

Bakugou’s talent is tremendous and has been able to advance his goals of becoming a pro-hero. He acknowledges that he was born with such an extraordinary quirk, and has a flair for using it. Notwithstanding the male’s breakdown and internal belief that he is inferior to his pre-quirkless childhood friend, Bakugou unceasingly exerts himself to be more than a student with talent.

His mind is magnificent and allowed Bakugou to comprehend multiple topics of interest. Placing third in the class’ midterm exam, it’s evident that he shines in academic settings. And though few peers in 1-A state that Bakugou fails in the social aspect, you claim the opposite. In their eyes Bakugou is brash, however, after spending time with the boy, you have viewed him as self-reflecting, with social skills that others cannot see.

While brains and talent may all be magnificent qualities of the blonde, nothing beats Bakugou’s ability to use his fingers. Combined with both his talent and his mind, Bakugou has the ability to make both inanimate and living things explode. And that isn’t related to his quirk.

“You’re imagining events that haven’t occurred yet. Am I truly that talented?”

Flushed and blinking in a shocked manner towards the male in front of you, you ask him if his quirk was mind-reading.

“Hmmm… No, but after seeing you so embarrassed I’d love to have such a quirk so that I’d be able to view the thoughts inside that mind of yours, but I was gifted with explosions... You, on the other hand, were blessed with the ability to swap items on your command. A quirk so useful, especially in times like these when I don’t have a key to the storage room”

“Oh please, just admit that you use me to gain entrance into forbidden rooms” You tease, giving Bakugou the janitor’s key to unlock the storage room.

The male chuckles unlocking the door to the storage closet, “Maybe a bit, though you reap the benefits of getting it” Change of thought, maybe he is brash.

Shutting the door behind you two, you finally express your raw emotions towards your boyfriend, engulfing him in a hug.

“I missed you”

“You came over my dorm last night” What an ass, couldn’t he just accept your affection?

“Yeah, but you go to sleep at like eight-thirty, which means I have to leave you dorm before then, and then I’m stuck in my dorm with nobody to talk to until I go to sleep at midnight, that’s about three and a half hours being alone”

“You’re so clingy… it's cute”

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel less lonely since I go to sleep at like eight-thirty and leave you alone’”

Bashfully looking down at the floor rather than your boyfriend, you mumble your request.

Releasing the hug, Bakugou smirks, poking fun at your diffidence, “With that ask, I don't think you can be shy… Are you sure that's what you truly want?”

Nodding your head you look up to the red-eyed male, taking in his dilated pupils. It's always been him that you’ve desired.

Accepting your form of consent, Bakugou kisses you, enveloping your figure while you sneak your hands around his neck to deepen the embrace. And although the two of you are in a storage closet skipping out on lunch, the feeling of epinephrine dispersing within your bloodstream, inducing fast heart rates, is blissful. A salacious rendezvous with the man you’ve come to love could never hurt anyone… as long as they didn't find out.

And if one were to catch you two, would they truly stop two aroused students halfway from committing adultery? Would a teacher not be embarrassed if he/she watched as Bakugou hurriedly zips down your green skirt in order to slide his fingers inside of your warmth? Or would someone scamper along hearing the lewd mewls arising from your throat?

“You’re so loud Princess, we have to keep it down or else someone will hear us, okay?”

Yet the person to blame for such noises was Bakugou himself. One could imagine the boy having rough, unmoisturized hands from his explosive quirk, but his inheritance of glycerin allows him to easily travel in and out of you.

“You’re close aren’t you? I can tell. Your walls are contracting at a faster rate and tightening each time I pump my fingers into you. It's really hot too, especially knowing that the world believes you hate my guts when behind the scenes, I rearrange yours”.

Words cannot describe the pleasure Bakugou exposes you to. A thumb pressed against your clitoris, his middle and ring finger dug past your labia, and you’re unraveling beneath him. He has you under his full control. And how Bakugou feels will determine your release. An untroubled Bakugou can earn you multiple chances of release, whereas the current Bakugou you’re experiencing will rip your attempt at euphoria, despite you being almost there.

“Katsuki please, I was right there… I’m so close you even said it yourself” You plead, wanting to reach a climax.

“I don’t know… strenuous activities make me tired and I wouldn’t want to upset you with the hour I may fall asleep” Bakugou smirks while tasting his digits, “You taste like caramelized sugar, I wonder where that came about?”

“Suki please, don’t leave me like this”

“It’ll only be for a little while babe, but lunch is almost over, we have to go back to class. I’ll help you out at my dorm alright?”

What more could you do but nod, put back on your skirt, and pretend to hate Bakugou once more in public?

----------

The walk back to class was internally embarrassing. Arousal saturated your underwear, heat filling up between your legs and left you with a foggy mind. You couldn’t imagine pretending to hate Bakugou now when all you could think about was Bakugou hovering above you in his dorm room, aggressively ramming into your hole as you pleaded for mercy. But you’re in school containing students who are not Bakugou to distract you from your misery.

“Y/n pay attention to me, and why do you smell like caramel?” Well shit, is the cat out of the bag?

Looking up at the voice calling, you smile faintly in means of apologizing and mutter an incoherent response to Mina’s question.

“Sorry, and thanks I guess... It might be from the sweets I had during lunch”

“I see, well since you like sugary foods we should go to the bakery today after school, I’m sure the others would like to come too” The pinky bounces brightly.

“I can’t today, sorry! I’m super behind on work and barely understand what's going on in class, let’s go this weekend when I’m free?” What a Lie.

Fortunately, the promise of a raincheck is enough for Mina to back off from the situation and accept your rejection. Today would have been a perfect day to go out with friends, yet the blonde-headed boyfriend of yours decided to be unfair, leaving you to crave his affection. Though, the school day would be over soon enough with only two periods following lunch. And only then would you be able to gain some type of relief.

As if that ideology would be so simple.

Bakugou Katsuki is a man full of pride --rightfully achieved, of course, meaning he knew how and when to push your buttons. Right now being one of those times.

Despite wanting to pay attention in your world language class, Bakugou made it very difficult to do so. Especially knowing that he is the cause of your phone silently vibrating every three minutes in your pocket. He doesn't want you to forget he is the cause of your erotic thoughts. Rather, he’ll keep reminding you that he is controlling your excitement.

However, from the glance across the room, Bakugou didn’t look like the lead in this relationship. His eyes were majorly dilated, with his red iris visually smaller in circumference. Additionally, a prominent cherry hue spread across his cheeks, that one may call flustered from afar. Although, only the two of you understood each other’s physical response towards seduction.

Babe 💗: you look dazed

Babe 💗 : I don’t think that’s the best for someone who wants to become a hero, don't you think?

Babe 💗: this class is so important

Babe 💗: …

Babe 💗 : don’t look at me

Babe 💗: i'm not the teacher

Babe 💗: your so cute trying to ignore these texts

Oh how badly you wanted school to be over

-------------

As the clock hit 2:45 PM, you watch everyone around you hurrying to leave the school and have freedom. And once five minutes go past, 1-A is a semi-empty classroom with two students remaining. Two hormonal, amorous, epinephrine-surged students patiently waiting for their peers to leave the school grounds, so that they can walk to the dorms together in peace.

Whilst hand-holding may be a shock to onlookers, if they had the capability to read your mind, myocardial infarction would sure to follow. Outstandingly too, if they did not foreshadow the events of you walking within the fourth floor of heights alliance and entering the second room from your left.

“Your room is so homey” You comment. Despite visiting the blonde’s dorm room on multiple occasions, the comforting aura never ceases to relax you.

“I would hope so, I don’t want to be reminded that we’ve been moved from our homes to our school campus in fear of malicious attacks against students”

“Thanks for that… truly an amazing choice of words” You sarcastically remark. Not everyone needs a reminder of the traumatic incidents students of U.A. have been through, especially when it's clear that students of 1-A (and others) have not received enough therapeutic aid to cope with the events suffered.

One would think that Bakugou of all students would be most affected by trauma, starting from falling victim to the Sludge Villain incident, to being kidnapped by the infamous League of Villains, though he shows the opposite effects. While you cannot see inside the mind of Bakugou and tell if he is extremely traumatized by the incidents and is repressing his memories as a form of coping, you can see what he is physically doing. And at this current moment, you cannot see someone disturbed by his past, but impassioned with the ideas of what is to come.

Tossing your backpack to a discarded corner of Bakugou’s dorm, you throw yourself onto his bed, relishing in the comfort of his bedsheets. You’ve always loved his bed, your favorite moments with him have occurred there. Random naps while cuddling on Saturday afternoon, binge-watching cult-classics after a big exam, or simply having Bakugou’s powerfully built arms wrapped around you like they are now is unforgettable.

“I don’t understand how you’re so built? We go to the same school, attend the same classes and both do athletic training. I mean I’m not complaining because you definitely look good, but it's interesting how my figure compares to yours”

“That's like me asking why you’re so attractive, it's just luck within life, plus I like your figure, it blends perfectly with mine”. A man with such words can only follow with actions that prove it, and the blonde was sure to do so.

Except for when his phone goes off multiple times.

“I think you should check your texts, it may be important”

Halfway sliding off of your body, Bakugou pulls his phone out of his pockets to read his text messages. “It's nothing important, Kirishima just wanted me to join him and the others to go to some bakery since you didn't want to go”

“Oh okay-” Again you were cut off by the sound of his phone going off, however this time, the alert was a long-lasting ring, signaling that Bakugou was receiving a call.

“He’s so persistent, why would I want to go to a bakery when the best dessert is in front of me”

Lightly throwing his phone on the floor of his dorm, Bakugou discards any form of human interaction outside of the bed, focusing his attention on the one he loves.

“You know I really fucking love and care for you?” You do. You fully understand his love for you, from the way his iris shrinks to the rosy pigments formulating on his cheeks when looking at you. And you’ve never once questioned his devoutness towards expressing his adoration for you.

In moments like these, where Bakugou gently strips clothing from your body admiring every crevice, you know the two of you are in love. The boy may come off as an entitled brat, but when push comes to shove, he will bend over backwards trying to make you feel happy.

“You’re so mushy when you're in the feels”

“Oh forgive me for wanting to praise my girlfriend”

“I’m joking, but it is nice to know the feeling is reciprocated”

His silence you took as acknowledgment. ‘I love you too’ was a phrase you didn’t say often, it sounds too forced. Being obligated to say a phrase in return is meaningless when both parties understand each other’s feelings. And it's even more worthless when the actions committed speak louder than words. Bakugou does not need to hear you say ‘I love you’ constantly when he knows you dragging the zipper down of his pants and springing free his cock from the restraints of his underwear means the same thing.

And when you free yourself from the fondling of your boyfriend to meet your lips with the tip of his enraged dick, Bakugou has fallen prey to submission. Having yet to insert the body part into your mouth, you take notice of the male in front of you. Cheeks flushes, head lolled back, visible veins peeking from his sand-colored skin, and light pants as a result of excitement. Hot.

One kiss to his head and you feel a little twitch. He wouldn’t last long. Understanding that thought you decide to mess with the male, putting half of his length within your mouth and pumping the other half. It was a shame he toyed with you earlier, now he’d face the repercussions. Light squelches filled the quiet air, and Bakugou’s groans got increasingly vocal overtime. The combination forming a sexual melody awaiting to be abruptly paused.

Releasing your lips from the now wet surface of the blonde’s dick, you hear the annoyed groan of the male. “Why’d you stop?”

“I’m sorry were you close?”

“Obviously, but that doesn’t answer my question”

“It’s just that strenuous activities make me tired Suki, and I wouldn’t to make you upset if I accidentally fell asleep”

Tch. The little sound of irritation fell from Bakugou’s mouth, only signaled one thing, rough sex.

“How I’ve come to date such a slutty brat is beyond me. Getting back at me isn’t going to help you in this situation. All you’ll receive is a punishment, though knowing you, you’ll probably enjoy it”

Although enticed by the proposition, you failed to speak out after being muffled by your boyfriend. Your own skirt which the male had managed to take off earlier now laid scrunched up in your mouth. In addition to that, your arms were now constricted by a gold-rimmed belt.

And while whining in complaint about the new restrictions placed on you, Bakugou alters your kneeling position into one laying beneath him. The primal glare he sends you would signal fear to others, however, you know that the fun is only about to begin.

Widening your legs apart Bakugou spares no time plunging two fingers into you, stretching the pair apart. Despite being unable to speak, your moans are heard loud enough by your boyfriend to increase his speed. Every sound encouraging the male to continue to berate your walls.

Thinking that the punishment you’ll receive is overstimulation by being one step away from ecstasy, you’re disturbed by the sudden absence of feeling in your core.

“I didn’t say you could come”

Twice today he’d done that. One denial was not enough for him, and that’s when you identified your mistake. Bakugou had the power to reject your advances to climax however many times he’d like. Maybe being a brat today wasn’t the best idea.

Granted that Bakugou could undeniably be the most ruthless person when it comes to sex, today marked the first time he’d ever advanced into you without warning. The thrusts he implemented assaulting your hole. Even so, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“My god Y/n, you’re so tight, so perfectly made to take my dick”

“You make it so easy for me to unravel within the warmth of your pussy”

“Fuck I’m so close baby, I’m sure you are too”

He wasn’t wrong. The magnitude of the thrusts presented plus the physical restraints and multiple orgasm denials has sped up your ability to reach a climax. You were a mess underneath the man, hoping that soon he would grant you the gift of release. And by the looks of it, Bakugou would provide you with it soon. His cock inconsistently twitching in your warmth, notifying both you and him that he would come soon.

So when the removal of your gag began, you were not surprised. He was close and needed the extra aid of your uncovered moans to aid him to let go. Bare lewd noises ricocheted from the walls of Bakugou’s dorm, and you became thankful that Kirishima went to a bakery rather than located next door. Though had he been, he would have been overhearing an occasion so pornographic, one would think you’re in the business.

They wouldn’t be fully wrong either. Whilst uploading an adult video while training to be pro-heroes sounds absurd, Bakugou has no problem taping to two of you in the act. It may be the idea of possibly getting the video leaked or a similar exhibitionist-like kink, but the blonde constantly acts to videotape during sex.

“This would be perfect on video. The noises you make before you come are so fucking hot I’d replay them until the end of time”

Yet Bakugou is gravely mistaken. Yes, the noises you exhale are angelic, but compared to the rugged groan he calls while releasing his load in you is divine, and never fails in making you follow suit. So when you recognize that tone in addition to the feeling of warmth coating the inside of your walls, you have no choice but to mirror his actions.

“You’re so perfect” He states, slipping himself from your cunt and delivering pecks to your lips while he unbuckles his belt from your wrists. Post-sex always has Bakugou sappy, but how could you complain.

Wrapping your freed arms around his neck, you pull the male closer to your embrace while nuzzling your nose into his neck. You felt the rapid pace of his heartbeat begin to slow down.

“Are you guys done, because I still haven’t received a response from Bakugou about if he wanted to go to the bakery or not?” What the fuck.

“Did you not press decline when answering Kirishima’s phone?”

“I thought I did…”

“Is that a no or?”

“Of course it's a fucking no, and don’t tell anyone else what you heard. Why were you even listen-” He hung up.

“You think we can go another day pretending to hate each other?”

“Nope… he definitely told the entire class”

“That's a shame, it was fun having them think I hate your guts”

“Awe how tragic… now get up so we can clean you off, heroes in training don't get UTIs”

How sweet.

----------

The trek to school the next day seemed no different than the past. You woke up early to walk to class with Bakugou and strolled the corridors. Only this time while sauntering into homeroom, nobody greeted the couple at the door, rather class 1-A smiled awkwardly as you held hands walking to your seats. Although you wouldn’t have known the reason for the tension in the classroom had Kaminari not jokingly mumble to Sero that he would’ve never expected the blonde to be an exhibitionist.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, I said not to tell anyone”

“I’m sorry my phone was on speaker when I called you” Great.

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Fame With No Shame | Part Three

A/N; I think at most there will be one more part to this series, and that will be the reveal of Luke and the readers relationship to the public. Thankyou for all of the requests for this series, please enjoy xx

Summary; in the midst of an interview, there is talk of (Y/N) dating a member. The interviewer is keen to find who is the lucky gentleman within their ranks, but can Luke remain steady though the enquiries about his girl?

Brushing his hands down his black clothed legs, Luke sat upon the seat, eyes interpreting his composure. His face was slightly flushed, aware that his hair was a bouquet of messy curls, the state of his redress had not gone unnoticed by the hostess nor his curious band members. All were wondering of whom he had hassled sexually with before this set, but nothing was mentioned, at least not yet.

A small part of him wanted to let the world know of his relationship status, and more importantly, whom he was entangled with. But it would all be released in due time, he would just have to remain both vigilant of letting anything slip and patient. The rumours could manage to infuriate and humour him all at once, so many fans had claimed to know the identity of the woman in his life.

There were many suspicions, although they were only proven by the hope and dedication of all kinds of people on sites such as tumblr and wattpad, that his lover that was concealed to their eyes was not a lady at all. It was perceived that it was a bandmate; a dear friend of his, that he was sleeping and taking midnight strolls with.

That of course was not the truth, the shipping had been dragging on for years, he sometimes wished that the guesses could be correct all by their own. (Y/N) however was amused by how much it infuriated him, and all of his frustrations would dissipate at the sound of her glorious laugh, and in the end, all that was left was for him to join in and relax.

Things between them were certainly going good, to say the least. He had never felt so elated to see someone pour themselves a mug of coffee, or tie their shoelaces. It wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been difficult for him to admit the facts – he was in love. If there was any evidence that they existed, he was sure that he had found his soulmate.

She understood not only his emotions, but his springs of motivation, the ideas that would creep in the middle of the night or whilst he was in the bathroom for songs. His process was normal to her, because she experienced the same waves of inspiration, the urge to write what flowed to mind and execute lyrics until they were sure enough ready and sounded right to be released to the rest of the world.

And together, that was like the universe had combined the two creators for a reason, to make a beautiful sound, an eternal symphony that would play on forever and a day. If people knew about them, it could disturb the state of their peace, the security that they found within their relationship. And that would be the most tragic and morbid interference that either of them could ever experience.

Hate online was strong, and (Y/N) suspected that neither of them were prepared to take the mixed responses to their newfound and blooming romance. Each of them individually received the expressions of resenting opinions, through messages, through posts, through the loop of the internet. It was never ending, the trolls were headstrong and stubborn, they didn’t want to be stopped, and any reply that they got in turn only made their day, encouraging them to cackle away at the fact that they drew a celebrity’s attention and time away from more important matters.

“And we’re live.” The hostess of the radio show confirmed, settling more comfortably into her plush, swivel seat, as she set her digging eyes into the men that were seated around the platform of a small, recorded station. “My name is Heidi, and we are here on HotRadio, with the one, the only, Five Seconds of Summer.”

Luke adjusted his headset, leaning closer to the microphone so that he was close enough to allow his reviews and answers be heard better than when he was reclined back, awaiting the start of the recording. “So now tell me boys, how was it working with (Y/N) (L/N) for your new single, Flashes.” He gulped at the mention of her name, this wasn’t the best situation, considering that he could accidentally allow some classified information slip, and spiral through the channels of the web.

“She was amazing!” Michael blazed in with his initial impression of her, a jolly grin spread across his lips and chin. “We’ve been fans of her work for so long, it was a dream to finally work with her.” His hands waved as he spoke, confirming his excitement, although working with (Y/N) had already been and gone.

“Yeah.” Ashton bobbed his head, agreeing with his friend. “She is such a talented woman, we don’t do many collaborations singing with other people, but all four of us can definitely admit that she was such a great sport. She put so much work into the song, from lyrics and notes, there is a bright future ahead of her.”

The boys speaking of her made Luke want to purposely trip in his secrecy, they had no expense from gushing over her in such an idealistic way. However if he were to join in, he’d risk the exposure of the relationship. (Y/N) would be mad at him if he were to do that, so he rubbed his chin, feeling the growing prickles of stubble against his guitar picked hands.

Heidi smiled, they were eager to tell her their what appeared to be honest opinion. Yet there were still more details that she and the fans sought; answers. There were so many questions that were lingering, waiting to be spoken aloud in the recorded air.

“Was there any romance sparked between one of you and (Y/N)? How about you Calum?” It was typical, the enquiries about the song itself, that was supposed to be the main attention of this interview , it wasn’t about love, or feelings or whatever.

The thought that Calum, out of all of them, was the one considered to have gained her affections made Luke bite the inside of his cheek. Sure, Calum was single, but so was he, or at least was in the media’s eyes, and before he met (Y/N).

Luke’s frown was subtle, but it was still there! And everyone was oblivious to his disconcerting expression, all because the spotlight shined on the bassist, and the idea that he, out of all them, was privileged enough to have possibly shared a bed or the exchange of numbers in the static noise of the track.

Cal cleared his throat, ruffling the collar of his shirt, as though there were a reason for him to be fanning himself. “I mean, I’m not one to disclose that personal information.” That son of a bitch, Luke thought. From his response, something had obviously occurred, it was too bland for an answer.

That was until said boy began to laugh, spewing a humoured chuckle from his mouth whilst looking Luke dead in the eyes. The opposing man could only frown, his face hardened by the strong crease that went down the centre of it.

“Too bad she already has a boyfriend.” Michael chipped in, the guitarist’s attitude and statement not only making Luke paranoid, but also worried. What if he were not the only one that had grabbed the affections of (Y/N)?

To begin with, it was clear that she was a bit of a player, and he had no problem with it, there was nothing wrong at all with a woman embracing her sexuality, it was even kind of sexy. But now they were partners in a relationship, and he could only trust her to be faithful.

Mikey’s words had not only drawn the intrigue of the lead singer, but also Heidi, who was leant forward in her seat, the dimples in her face prominent as she was presenting glee from hearing first time news, that was broadcasting on her radio channel.

“Are we permitted to be told who the lucky gentleman is?” How she hoped that the revelation would be unconcealed during this very interview, personally the woman was curious herself, but also the thought of the views skyrocketing encouraged her desperation for an answer.

Ash smirked, his eyes fluttering through his trio of bandmates, this was certainly entertaining for the rest of them also. Except one from the looks of it, Luke was gnawing on the outer portion of his lip. This was getting to him, just as they wanted. They knew, all along, what was occurring between Luke and the talented lady.

She had been a crush of his for a long time, and it seemed that she shared that affliction of interests, by being attracted to the natural blonde himself. It was noticeable to the boys from the first time that (Y/N) had entered the studio, their eyes navigated to the sight of the other, and their attention had to be drawn for the pair to look away from one another.

“One of us.” The eldest member replied, and Luke realised that in that moment, he had not been as discreet with the entire dating ordeal as he thought he had. They’d quickly realised that there were strings attached when Luke began to miss their nights out clubbing, and said he’d prefer to stay in and watch a movie – alone.

However, it was not a solitary activity, and binging television was not all that the promiscuous man was partaking in. The symptoms that brought light and revelation to Luke and (Y/N)’s involvement was matching marks of red suction bites around the circumferences of their throats, that eventually healed and could be concealed, however the boys could see right through their efforts.

And then there was the undebatable evidence of smeared lipstick scorned across their lips, a shade which consisted perfectly against one another, from nudes to striking reds, the pigment that streaked against Luke’s vigorously hungry lips consisted to be suspiciously similar to the original prominence that was lined and filled on (Y/N)’s own petalled mouth.

“Oh.” It appeared that the prying interviewer had not even put any efforts into hiding her pleasantly condemned grin, every detail that was slipping through the teeth of the men gave her some kind of joy.

She had somehow hit a gold mine with the answers that her pay check curiosity had earned her. There was so much going on behind the scenes that had never been revealed, and it seemed that all would be exposed, on HotRadio! “Are we granted to know which one of you is the lucky man?”

Luke shifted in his chair, gripping onto the arms with his painted nails. He was prepared to hit rock bottom in this deep deep ocean that he had swam himself into, yet a snicker left Cal, bringing all afraid and all too alert attention to him.

“I think not, we can keep a secret for a little longer.” His eyes paced slyly over to Luke, sending him an all knowing wink.

He sighed, he lived to fight another day.

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

the worst case scenario part 4

Finally! Sorry it took so so long I’ve just been mad busy! I’m really not sure how much I like this, but deff this is the second last part (if people still want another) so not much more to endure and suffer through if your stuck in it ahah x

tomhollandxreader

Warnings [please check before reading!!] : mentions of death / hospitals and ICUs / bit of lack of childhood love (have no idea how to phrase that rn wow)

Tom had silently cried again when saying goodnight to Y/n for the evening. Harrison hadn’t a clue what to do, except stand back helplessly and watch, giving his friend a bit of space - but at the same time not letting him go it alone. It took a painfully long time for Tom to collect himself before he could straighten up and turn toward Haz.

“You sure you don’t mind staying with her?” Harrison nodded pitifully at Tom’s glassy eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed downwards.

“I’ll stay till 10, I got her”

“I owe you bro” Mumbling, Tom launched himself to wrap his arms round his taller mate - squeezing extra hard because that was a way of distracting him from the emotions still threatening to overtake him.

“Nah I’m not doing this for you div…. I love her too ya know?” That made Tom scoff laugh a little, nodding his head as he leant away.

“Yeh she…she has that effect. Just-“ Tom momentarily looked back at the bed, watching the ventilator pump air to mechanically inflate your lungs. “Just call me if anything happens, please promise me.”

“You already know I will…. but- and I know this is hard for you- but you have to promise me you’ll give the baby a chance?” Tom gulped at the mention, looking away at the blue curtains for a minute, his jaw clenching. “Come on Tom just give her a feed or something… you know it’s what Y/n would want.“

“Can we not speak about this in front of her please?” Tom's voice was short and teeth were gritted as he gestured at his unconscious fiancé, giving the clear impression to H that it wasn’t really a question. The nurse pretended to busy herself monitoring all Y/n’s readings, feeling incredibly awkward. She was the one who had mentioned to Tom that Y/n might be able to hear, at the time meaning to be a comforting and possibly hopeful gesture, now she was deeply regretting it. This wasn’t the first uncomfortable situation she’d been in, working 1 on 1 with patients in ICU meant you were automatically privy to some of the deepest conversations between patients and relatives - though this was the first time it was a celeb too, especially one who valued his privacy so much. It was more than obvious Tom wasn’t uncomfortable just because his fiancé might be conscious enough to hear.

“No Tom I…” Harrison lost control. He snapped “No not at all! Because I know she’d want me to give you a good bloody shake! I get you haven’t landed on a name yet but at least see your daughter! I bloody hope Y/n hears this… if that’s what it takes for you to realise that, to be honest she’d be heartbroken and betrayed that you haven’t been loving your baby!”

Silence, except for the beeping and whirring of the various machines.

And the silence stayed for a painfully long time - Tom and Harrison holding each other in intense eye contact, whilst the nurse bit her lip in the corner. Harrisons breathing was slightly ragged from the whisper-shouted words that he’d let slip out. The atmosphere was tense, the nurse was inwardly preparing calling for help if and when Tom ultimately started throwing fists at his friend.

It took literal minutes for Harrison to concede, his friend's dark eyes painfully boring into his skull. Again he hadn’t meant to go off like that, he really didn't want to hurt his friend who was literally going through hell and back. Now wasn’t the time for tough love really , and Harrison instantly felt an insurmountable level of guilt.

“I-I didn-“

“-her names Aurora.”

“No Tom I’m sorry I really didn-“

“Her name is Aurora. Aurora Christina Mary Holland.” Tom wasn’t joking. He was so deadly and sincerely serious. Harrison had no trouble believing this, believing that Tom had been ruminating all day on this - just by the look of his brown eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” The blonde almost was gasping, inwardly repeating the name as a chant inside his head, correlating it to the memories of earlier that day when he was cradling the girl. There was no doubt about it- Aurora was an Aurora, it suited her perfectly. Yes, it wasn’t typical but it was beautiful. “What’s it mean?” He only asked because nobody picked a name without looking into it and Harrison knew that the couple had yet to name the little girl when she was first born as they were still torn between a few carefully considered options.

“Dawn like sunrise I think and-and, you know… the auroras that me and Y/n saw in Iceland the night I…. The night I proposed.”

The word held an awful lot of emotion for Tom. Y/n had always been one of those people - the ‘look up’ type or the ‘smell the roses’. Underneath her sarcasm and wit, she was one of the purest people, in the way that all she needed was the little things in life. It was a ball ache to Tom sometimes but Y/n always would drag him out of bed at stupid o’clock in the morning on a beautiful day to see the sunrise. He’d moan and groan all the way, only to grow silent when he gazed deeply at the sunrise sparkling her eye as she peered out at the horizon.

Of course, the aurora borealis was important too. You can probably already guessed; Y/n loved the night sky and stars too. She also loved the snow, the winter, the cosy log fires, the walks spent launching the freezing powder at Tom’s face - only to get it returned twice as bad. So when Tom was ready and oh so certain he would spend the rest of his life with her, a trip to Iceland seemed a pretty good opportunity to do it. No expense was spared on their little cabin in the woods, wrapped in cosy blankets staring up at the sky through the transparent roof that was the reason this cabin was so incredibly expensive. They’d spent the evening after they’d got back from exploring the frozen forest wrapped in the thick white duvet, chatting pure rubbish while cradling a luxurious hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream. Then these almost otherworldly green and blue ribbons grabbed their attention, dancing and waving across the deep midnight sky. Whilst she was transfixed, hair billowing round her on the pillow while staring upwards - that was when Tom leaned over, pulling the little black box out of the bedside table.

And then there was the new connotation to the word. The new situation that had him so incredibly hesitant to label her just yet. If Aurora meant a new dawn and meant life without Y/n he didn’t want it. More than that, he refused. No matter how impossible it was, Tom refused to think about life without her. It just wasn’t an option. It couldn’t happen.

Yet without much control over his own mouth, when Harrison had asked, it had just slipped out. He knew it had to be her name. But the fact he’d spoken it… that was terrifying.

“Well go see Aurora Tom… please.” This time they’d swapped, Tom was stoney faced and Harrison knew he was about to cry, which really Tom didn’t need to witness. What he needed to do was get him with his daughter. So again, for now, Harrison's emotions would wait.

And with only a small nod of parting, off Tom walked. The man left in the bay released a breath he didn’t know he was holding before turning and all but collapsing into the armchair next to Y/n. Unsurprisingly, this still was too much to process and shut his eyes, squeezing the bridge between the nose as he tried to slow down all the blurring thoughts in his mind - simultaneously trying to bring each one into focus and shock … that wasn’t very easy.

It was in fact at least two and a half hours he sat there, the white noise of the ward whirring dully in Harrison's head while he spent the time just… thinking. He looked asleep, eyes closed and slumped in the chair but he was painfully awake. All the remaining energy that dwindled in him from before this whole nightmare had started was spent trying to organise his thoughts; process all the medical explanations and jargon he’d heard; everything he’d seen, all the wires and tube; the advice on how to feed a baby with a bottle.

That was until a voice got progressively louder from the background crackle, slowly forming into intelligible words.

“Sir… Sir?” Blinking forcefully Harrison's eyes lazily focused on the nurse that had been stationed next to Y/n for certainly as long as he had been here, her black hair pulled tightly into a low bun and kind eyes smiling at him. “Sorry for waking you.”

“No no I was just ehrmm… just thinking.” She nodded with a gentle smile that kind of suggested she didn’t believe him but relented all the same.

“It’s just getting late and I thought you’d like an update before I clock off for the evening?” Nodding frantically, Harrison’s eye quickly shot over to Y/n - just to check she was still there.

“Okay well it all seems really positive actually. The doctors were in just before…” Alright, so maybe H had fallen a little bit asleep because he definitely didn’t know that the doctor had been in. “… they’ve withdrawn the sedation and her GCS has started to improve slightly, which basically is a measure of how unconscious a person is.”

“She’s waking up?” Haz was now bolt upright in the chair, looking between the nurse and the still apparently unconscious women lying in the bed.

“Very slowly… but it is looking good, maybe, the doctors are keen to see her condition tomorrow. I thought you might like to help me do her last GCS check of the evening?”

Just maybe the nurse had already taken these set of observations before she’d stirred Harrison but it was a nice way to demonstrate improvements that couldn’t really be seen to a patient's relative - who couldn’t interpret results like qualified health care professionals could. Hopefully, Y/n’s response would be the same as before and then maybe Harrison could report back to the heartbroken fiancé that maybe things weren’t so bad. Standing in front of Harrison, the state of him was more than evident and she had a sneaking suspicion Tom would be worse. Instantaneously then, Harrison nodded vigorously; jumping out his chair with sprite that even he didn’t know he had.

“Okay so in GCS we test eye responses, verbal responses and the motor - so movement…” The lady talked through it all to Haz who listened intently, nodding his head every so often. She then went through the process of first asking Y/n to open her eyes - nothing. Then applying light pressure to her forehead, still Y/n lay still. She then moved on to trying to rouse her with words, getting Harrison to join in but still receiving nothing back. It was starting to feel a bit hopeless to Harrison, yet he still entertained the lady, going through all her steps.

“Okay so now we test movement so first hold her hand and ask her to squeeze it.” Following her directions precisely Harrison tried, still receiving absolutely no response. “Okay so now we add stimuli, trying squeezing between her shoulder and neck, like your pinching her just not too hard.”

Hesitantly Harrison reached up to her shoulder adding a small pressure between his thumb and first and second finger. Again nothing happened but the nurse encouraged him to go a bit harder - he was being light as he just didn't want to hurt her. With a nod and a small mumble of “cmon Y/n/n” he added strength. It took a moment or two but then sure as Harrison standing there himself, Y/n’s opposite right arm limply twitched upwards - making a small almost pathetic, yet still very clear attempt to remove the pressure on her shoulder.

Looking up at the nurse pleadingly Harrison received a confirmatory nod back at him - communicating the fact that this was indeed progress. In fact, just seeing Y/n not completely limp and almost vegetative - made his adrenalin soar.

“It’s baby steps but in the right direction okay?”

Letting out a breathy and relieved laugh Harrison nodded jerkily, wiping his cheek on his shoulder just because there might’ve just been a tear or two there.

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

For Tom forcing himself to leave the ICU was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Why he had ever agreed with his mother was so ridiculously beyond on him, yet he felt he had somewhat lost his choice thanks to his well meaning best mate forcing him down the children’s floor. It wasn’t that he hated Aurora, physically that was an impossibility. And yet he hated what she’d done to Y/n, he hated that he was alone in this, he hated the whole situation. Which ultimately was his fault 9 months ago- which just made him hate himself even more.

Also in some weird and convoluted way, he felt as though he was betraying Y/n by seeing their baby. And that was exactly why… it was their baby. She’d been so excited, so so over the moon when those two lines appeared on the stick - it was cruelly unfair that he was physically capable to see her and Y/n was paralysed in an unconscious state.

Again his body seemed to be on autopilot, Tom was confused as to how he knew where he needed to go - having skilfully avoided the children’s ward for as long as possible. It was like a homing instinct, as much as he consciously was almost terrified to see her - he still appeared to need her near him. Seeing his parents in the hallway, Nikki cradling the little bundle wrapped in blankets, both of them making small talk to the nurse opposite. It was his dad who noticed him first, looking over the cautious look in his eyes and the way his fingers clutched nervously at the bottom of his hoodie.

“How is she?”

“The same I guess… she okay?” He nodded toward the little baby, Nikki looking up excitedly.

“She’s beautiful… a little bit stressed out but…” Nikki referred to her slight fussing, which was clearly far from full blown scream, more like tired and muted groans.She didn't really realise her poor choice of words till her son mumbled under his breath.

“Not the only one.”

Before she could apologise and backtrack, the same nurse who had been so kind to Harrison approached them all.

“Ah… Mr Holland right?” He nodded passively, receiving yet another sympathetic smile back. So many of them had been chucked about today, each one becoming less and less helpful and more and more infuriating. Though Tom was not about to fly off the handle since in all honesty, he was too drained for that. “ I just need to get you to sign some paperwork in private with me before we can formally discharge baby Holland. Would you mind bringing her in here?”

Almost even before finishing the statement she had already disappeared through a door into another hospital room, as if demanding him to follow immediately in order to comply with her busy schedule. Still stood a little dazzled, Tom watched the door swing shut while his brows furrowed, until eventually turning back to his mum. Aurora’s groans and general discontent had somewhat escalated during the small interaction with the nurse lady, her immature lungs producing an impressive level of volume. Nikki was doing the best she could, bouncing the little bundle up and down though it had little effect.

So wordlessly and as if in slow motion, Tom took the two steps necessary to be inches away from his mum - now able to completely see Aurora’s distressed face scrunching up with each sharp inhalation. He didn’t want to but Harrison had betrayed him by telling Y/n; the nurse wanted her in the side room; and he did…. He did want to. Wanted to have her pure and soft skin nested into his chest not Nikki’s; wanted to be her safety and her comfort; wanted to do Y/n proud.

In silence, Tom scooped the girl out his mum's grip, both Dom and Nikki watching his with cautious and shocked eyes - as Tom kept his gaze completely on the little thing. Then, he whisked the two of them into the room, away from the prying eyes (even if they were his own parents and Aurora’s grandparents).

As soon as he walked in the nurse pressed her mouth shut, sensing the need to be an invisible entity for a short while. Dom and Nikki had expressed their concerns about Tom’s feeling toward the baby girl before he’d arrived on the ward. She was acutely aware this was the first time he’d held his child in the last 18 hours.

Tom sat down, the girl silent now as she blinked open heavy eyes in confusion, probably because she recognised these arms but couldn’t place where. That was the first time Tom had seen his daughters eyes and all he saw was Y/n. Her Y/e/c eyes with the little darker flick in the bottom half of each iris. Aurora was his little piece of Y/n, which in that moment Tom realised was perhaps what he needed all day. Tears were tracking steadily down his cheeks while Tom used the back of his first finger to gently stroke up and down Aurora’s little chin- enjoying the way she leant into the action, uncoordinated movements of her head wiggling herself within the crook of his elbow.

The two of them and then the nurse opposite just sat quietly for five or so minutes, till eventually - lulled by her Dad’s regular stroking action, deep breaths and scent- Aurora let her eyes close again.

“She looks very happy with you Dad.” The nurse thought now was the safest time to speak, voice low, then taking the time to wait for Tom to respond. When eventually he did, it didn’t really fit the conversation but it was all Tom wanted to - and could- say in that moment.

“She’s just like her mum.”

The two then went through all the various forms Tom had to sign, all of which he did carefully so as not to disturb the little girl in his arms. It didn't take long before the nurse woman was ushering him out back into the hallway, where his parents were waiting anxiously for him. Dom saw the tear tracks Tom hadn’t bothered to wipe away, putting two and two together to realise maybe he’d come to his senses. So with the question of are you ready to go, Dom was more than delighted by the response he received. It wasn’t actually directed at him, more a breathy rhetorical question the sleeping child securely nestled into her dad’s toned arms.

“Let’s get you home Aurora.”

Because like it or not; no matter what the outcome was with Y/n there was doubt that this was a new start. A new dawn. It was terrifying, stressful and hard but in the same way you can’t fight the coming sunrise; Tom knew he couldn’t fight this event. It was happening, dawn was breaking and it was Aurora, him and Y/n. In whatever way fate chose it to be. A new ‘dawn’.

Aurora.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland angst #Tom Holland angst

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melancholia-cressa · 4 years ago

Text

Weakness

So, one random morning, I was listening to a certain song for the first time. Once the lyrics sunk in, I just had this idea for a Dio and female reader-insert fic. Hope you enjoy it, even if I do hate the guy lmao.

warning: angst, implied child abandonment, mentions of blood and death, swearing, and minor spoilers for those who have not finished Part 1

Addendum: I actually forgot to mention that I based my interpretation of Dio's personality and thought process mostly from the Over Heaven light novel. It's a good read and it helps you understand his character better, so I say give it a shot

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

"How many times has it been this week?"

Dio grunted, turning his cheek away from the girl in front of him. Your arms were crossed over your chest with a brow quirked in a silent question. He felt the bruise on his cheek sting and smart by the slightest brush of the wind. If anything, the painful sensation was intensified by your glare. His tongue flicked over the cut on his lip in a fruitless attempt to wipe off the blood. Your exasperated sigh reached his ears; nothing more than a whisper in the breeze.

"Come here, you stubborn mule." Before Dio knew it, you had grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the bustling streets of urban London. Passersby didn't spare a glance for the two teenagers dressed in soiled commoner clothes.

Dio, hoping to spare himself from the embarrassment of allowing a girl to drag him around, watched the crowd go about their mundane activities. Women gossiped with each other, hands covering their mouths to stifle scandalized gasps, while men languidly talked about adult matters—business and what other dull subjects they had in mind. His gaze drifted to the hollowed junction between a clothing shop frequented by aristocrats and an apothecary that had seen better days. The blond already sensed the death and neglect in the air before the sight made his skin crawl. He caught a glimpse of a man in tattered rags whose back hunched over, shoulders sagging from the weight of his head tucked towards his chest. His hand loosely held the neck of a bottle of booze, empty and hidden in the shadows. The hairs on the nape of Dio's neck stood on end, but a harsh tug from you brought him back to reality.

"We're almost there," you told him. You looked at him from the corner of your eye before focusing on the road ahead. Your hand, small and thin with a bony wrist, squeezed his arm before abruptly jostling through the crowd. The throng of people parted, cleaving a path towards the outskirts of the city. Dio scowled, directing his attention to the cobblestone path and ignoring the pain blossoming in the palm of his clenched fist. Murmurs from the socialites rang as clear as the church bells, but you paid no mind to it. Something about your indifference made his indignation and annoyance worsen; his blood dangerously close to boiling over what little patience he had. Another squeeze of his arm and a quick glance from you told him this was a losing battle, one he had never won before. With a scoff, Dio grudgingly remained silent and continued to let you drag him.

From how long Dio knew you and vice versa, he wouldn't be surprised if you somehow noticed his apprehension and discomfort. He never understood why you went out of your way to help him. The first time he met you, Dio had slapped your hand away when you tried to help him off the ground. He expected you to either cry or throw a tantrum, like all the other girls he observed from his time in the slums, but you didn't. Instead, you looked him in the eye with a glimmer of emotion Dio couldn't describe.

"Sod off. I'm helping you, and that's that." The look in your eyes remained even when you roughly pulled him up and dragged him back to your home to tend to his bruises and cuts. Now, here he was again, being dragged by you and your insufferable pity suffocating him. Its spindly fingers ghosted over his neck, which uncomfortably tickled his skin; sharp nails poking the soft flesh that one squeeze could puncture it. Every time your eyes met his, Dio could see the swirl of indiscernible feelings in your gaze, forlorn and soft, just like his deceased mother's. The one who died thinking about others on her deathbed and wishing his son to do the same. The woman who lost her life in return for compassion and kindness. You resembled his mother—the gentle grasp on his arm, the feather-light brush of fingers tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, the small smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes, the warmth in them—to the point where he found it disgusting and wretched.

He hated it, everything about you, but why did he still keep you around?

The cold, trickling sensation that dripped down his cheek made him jump in his seat. A cough echoed in his ears, followed by a faint snort that told him someone refrained from laughing at him. The corners of your eyes wrinkled in mirth while you held a cold, wet rag to his bruised cheek. He must have looked comically bewildered because you stuffed a fist over your mouth to keep in your giggles. A frown tugged the corners of Dio’s lips as his brows furrowed.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you hummed. Your free hand grabbed his to replace the other one holding the cold rag, “Hold still while I get some more ice from the ice box.”

With that, you left with your skirt swishing from the rush towards the kitchen. A grunt rang in the living space, courtesy of the blond begrudgingly holding the cool cloth to his bruise. Upon looking around, he noted that nothing much had changed from the last time he was here (which was around a week). Moth-eaten curtains hid the windows, most likely coated in dust and grime, and the floorboards creaked at every step you took. The wooden chair he sat on felt cold and sturdy, indicating how you rarely sat on it due to your apprenticeship in the city, while the table across him bore scratches hidden under a doily you embroidered. A basket with a few apples and grapes tempted him, but he didn’t act on it. The house, smaller than his own, is located on the outskirts of the city, and he still couldn’t understand how you lived here by yourself like this. Knowing that women can’t own property of their own, Dio had asked you a question: how did you keep the house to yourself?

“I lie about father sending me on errands,” was your simple reply despite the fact that your parents were long gone. One morning, Dio had found you dragging your feet in the streets and, when you had suddenly leaned into him, the quiet sniffles told him everything. He had taken you home that night—damn his father, he never even cared where he went as long as he brought back a bottle of alcohol—and stayed upon your request. The moment he led you to your room, glimpses from an open door showed him emptied drawers and a barren wardrobe. A drawer box was left hanging from its cabinet, as if it was pulled out in haste. The candle was barely touched. Its wick remained spotless and barely any wax dripped down the candle holder atop the cabinet. He didn’t need to see the rest of the room to know what happened.

His ten-year-old mind didn’t know why he stayed, much less took you back to a cold, lifeless house. Yet, he did all that and more—he kept you by his side without a single, logical reason. You didn’t follow him around like a lost puppy would. If anything, he seemed to be the one drifting anywhere near you. He would wander the slums and traipse through the bars for scraps, mostly booze for his deadbeat father, then his gaze would land on you. You were there every single time, whether it was for apprentice work in that dress shop or buying bread in the bakery, and it drove him mad. Dio, the one who survived alone in this shitty reality of his, subconsciously seeking your company like a besotted fool. The very thought makes him scoff and laugh. Every time he asked himself about these coincidences, he came up blank. His mind conjured nothing but the image of your tear-stained face and the devastation that set itself in place of your usual smile.

Dio didn’t know why, but he’d rather not see you in that condition again. Never.

The creaking floorboards announced your arrival. With a sweeping flourish, you switched the warming rag with a new one wrapped around ice and firmly pressed it to his cheek. Dio hissed, throwing you a venomous glare at the amused smirk on your face. You shrugged, the damning smirk remained, and only laughed when he ripped your hand off the rag to grasp it on his own.

“Stop acting like a child,” you tutted, mocking him as if he was the child in the situation. Heat crept up his neck and ears, skin flushing a slight red. Whether it was from embarrassment or indignation, he didn’t know. All he knew was the annoyance fluttering in his stomach and the twitch of his fingers, ready to smack your hand away should it be necessary. Another laugh came from you, and the fluttering feeling increased tenfold.

“We are children. Speak for yourself,” Dio snarled, but this only earned him another smile from you. The soft, small one that always resembled his mother’s.

He hated it, how you sorely reminded him of his mother, but why won’t he leave?

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“Oh, aren’t you…”

Your wide eyes shifted into crescents, a smile gracing your lips, as you told Jonathan your name. The blue-haired aristocrat gently took your hand and kissed its knuckles, which caught you by surprise. The slight flush of your cheeks said it all. Dio could feel his eye twitch at the predicament unfolding in front of him.

Is this what it felt like when God has forsaken you? Not that Dio believed in the supernatural, but it best captured his feelings at the moment.

He coughed into his fist, diverting your attention away from his stepbrother, and asked as nonchalantly as he could, “I thought you’d be working in the dress shop today? You told me you couldn’t come to the rugby game.”

“Oh, w-well…” You trailed off, fiddling with your thumbs and looking away from the blond. You gnawed your bottom lip, a tic Dio associated with nerves, as your eyes flitted between him and Jonathan. Somehow, this irked him more than it should. Jonathan watched the scene in curiosity, only recognizing you from the time he had seen twelve-year-old Dio walk after you in the city once. The oblivious boy asked about you, and Dio immediately glared at him until he was cowed into silence. Dio was about to demand an answer—childish, really, but his patience was being tested—until you finally answered him.

“Mrs. Smith allowed me to leave early—” once she knew you were playing, was what you thought but chose not to divulge that information—“so here I am.”

Dio let out an amused huff, the swell of relief almost choking him, “Well, what did you think of the game then?”

You hummed, placing a hand on your cheek with a mock thoughtful expression. Dio subconsciously tapped his shoe on the grass as he awaited your response. The raucous beating of his heart dulled his senses the longer you mused, which wasn’t that long in all honesty. It only took a mere three seconds before you spoke.

“I think you and Jonathan were amazing. I would have never expected him to pass the ball to you, then you taking the winning score.”

Dio would have basked in your compliment, which was a rare occurrence unfortunately, if it weren’t for the fact that Jonathan was included in it. Regardless, he sported a triumphant grin and clapped you on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. Your eyes widened in surprise, but this had gone unnoticed by Jonathan, who knew nothing of your relationship with Dio, and the man himself. The confusion swarming your mind remained even when Jonathan bashfully grinned and expressed his gratitude.

“Oh! Well, thank you, but this victory is all because of Dio,” he told you. You sighed, knowing that would stroke Dio’s ego, but the latter felt his heart stutter at the sight of your smile. If he didn’t despise Jonathan and plotted to take the Joestar fortune for himself, then he would have been grateful to Jonathan at the moment. That was not the case, but he took the compliment in stride with a boastful grin.

Unfortunately, his heart dropped when you dismissed it with a wave. “Nonsense! You deserve the recognition as much as he does!”

It felt wrong seeing you smile at Jonathan; the one that always reminded him of his mother. His blood simmered under his skin as his jaw clenched, teeth painfully grinding together. His heart hammered in his chest; mind screaming and urging him to lead you away from the spoiled, ignorant Joestar. He didn’t like this: how you and Jonathan are in the same space and breathing the same air. He felt those ghostly fingers grip his throat and prick his skin, the phantom sensation of nails scratching the sensitive area. Yet, he kept the polite smile and the pretense that he’s friends with his stepbrother. Dio Brando will get everything he wants soon. He can’t afford to ruin his carefully sculpted plan all because of a girl.

You are not worth the repercussions.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“How many times has it been this week?” You smiled, but the disgust and spite associated with the expression disappeared in a sharp inhale from Dio.

Blood stained your dress, splattered over your skirt and apron, as your fingers clutched at the arm embedded in your torso. Drops of blood found their way to your boots, the worn leather speckled with scarlet dots. A cough sent a spurt of blood to dribble down the corner of your lips as a terrified cry of your name echoed in the hall. Jonathan—it was Jonathan’s voice, followed by the voices of his companions Dio didn’t even bother to acknowledge. The muted horror of what he had done registered in his mind, and the blond vampire immediately ripped his arm away from you. The force propelled your body forward, falling towards the stone floor of the castle, but an arm hooked itself around your waist.

“You bloody idiot,” Dio hissed, dropping to his knees from the momentum of capturing you. One of his hands cradled your head, fingers buried into your hair, while the other held your body flush against his chest. “You bloody fucking idiot.”

“How many times have you taken lives this week?” Your voice warbled, hints of melancholy in your teasing tone. Dio briefly barked orders for the zombies to attack Jonathan and his comrades before he returned his attention to you. His heart clenched, cracks starting to form at the unsightly hole in your stomach, but his rage at what you have done made his mouth run.

“Why?” One of his arms supported your back, gripping you closer in a futile attempt at clinging to your life. He had no warmth—no comfort to spare for your dying body. It was the first and only time Dio cursed the consequences of his immortality, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. Not when you, the girl he had known since childhood and the one he shared a strange bond with, were waning between the realm of life and death. You looked at him, and Dio’s rage grew at the soft smile still on your face. It spoke of promises and hope, the things Dio had forsaken ever since his mother died and his father began to further drive a stake into his future.

They were empty and meaningless, but not with you.

“Why?!” He demanded, visibly trembling at your silence. Dio didn’t need to elaborate. You knew what he wanted to know. He wanted to know why you jumped in front of Jonathan to take the hit. The light in your eyes began to dim, but you shakily placed a hand on his cheek. The same bruised cheek you had tended to before his father died and he had been adopted by the Joestars. The memory made Dio shudder and he moved to evade your touch, but you stubbornly clasped his cheek with the remaining strength your fragile, bleeding body had.

“Should there be a reason?” You rasped, chuckling a little. The gesture resulted in another harsh cough and more blood to spill from your mouth. The red coated your lips akin to the lipstick of those aristocrat beauties Dio observed during the parties George Joestar hosted. The color mocked him, taunting him for his dependence on the wretched substance. The vampire’s eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. The rage festering inside him threatened to break through his cool façade. He was about to snap at you for your foolish remark when your thumb ghosted over the skin under his eye.

"This is a first," you whispered, chest heaving and eyes flickering between dark and light. "I thought I'd never see the day you'd cry."

"Save your breath," Dio fumed, cursing once more for the obvious tremor in his voice. "Just save your strength. I can save you—just—"

"Silly boy," your smile grew as you looked into Dio's eyes, finding semblances of the bruised boy you had bumped into when you first met. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that, or I might regret my decision."

Before Dio could say anything, scream at you for your audacity in your last moments, your lips brushed against his cheek. His breath hitched and his hold on you slackened the tiniest bit. He felt your lashes flutter over his pale skin, the receding warmth of your body, and the dainty caress of your hands on his cheeks. Faintly, in the back of his mind, he yearned for more. Dio yearned for more time with you—to relive the days when you two were nothing but gullible children in a world dominated by greed and power-hungry beasts lurking beneath beautiful masks.

The moment shattered when your body sagged against him; your head lolled to the side and unceremoniously bumped against his shoulder. The blood from your lips marred his skin, but he paid no mind to it. His hands scrambled to hold you—keep you close to him—as his breath came in short, panicked bursts. Dio didn't care if he looked like an idiot in front of his army. He didn't care if Jonathan and his parade of fools saw him in his moment of weakness.

He only cared about you.

He lifted a hand, shoulders shaking a bit, to take a look at your face. The soft smile you always adorned, one that lit your expression, now painted itself on your pallid complexion. Your eyes remained close, and you looked nothing but peaceful the moment you died in his arms. The blood on your clothes and the hole he created didn't deter nor ruin your blissful image. He hated it. He always hated that smile.

It was the same smile his mother gave him before she died.

The ghostly, spindly appendages found their way around his neck. They ruptured his skin and crushed his throat as the back of his eyes stung. A lone tear dripped down his cheek and landed on your own, devoid of the flush it once had when you were still alive. A silent, choked sob slipped past his lips and he brought you closer; his nails digging into your arm from how tight he gripped your corpse. He brought your face into the crook of his neck. Dio couldn't bring himself to look at you, knowing what you meant by your last words.

You wanted to die as a human. This thought made him curl his body over yours, shielding the ghastly sight of your corpse from the others, if only to provide him some sense of comfort that you didn't shun him. You never did, not when you saw him discard his humanity and not even when you decided to join Jonathan to search for him. Dio never understood why you'd follow him to the ends of the earth. He never understood why you didn't leave him when he chose to become immortal. He never found the answers to these questions. Although, he understood why he never left you—he saw himself in you, a girl abandoned by her family and scorned by society. Dio couldn't find it in himself to leave you; his pride prevented him from stooping to their level. There was another reason, but the crushing weight of this revelation only served to choke him in his guilt-ridden wrath.

He loves you.

#jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure phantom blood #jjba #jjba part 1 #phantom blood #dio brando #dio #reader insert #dio x reader #angst all the way #enjoy your angst #there is no happy ending for this man #im sorry not sorry

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himooonlight · 4 years ago

Text

who are you? pt. 1 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader word count: 3k warnings: sad stuff i guess? this is mostly fluff though plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, so please, be nice ok? hope you like this. oh, and i'm thinking maybe 5 parts? who knows

- I know this is going to sound weird, but do you know any Reginald who likes country music?

The girl in front of me looks at me as if I have just said the biggest nonsense she has ever heard. Her smile fades and she checks around us as if looking for someone who had also heard my question.

Julie is an intriguing girl. She seems very understandable and kind, but I feel like my sanity is in her hands, which makes her figure weigh too much on me. I can't look away from her worried features, feeling bad for making her feel like this. I know she had a terrible year having to deal with her mother's death and all the block to play and sing, but I can't help it.

Not knowing the truth is going to consume me.

- What did you say? - She asks.

Julie and I have never spoken before. I am a year older than her and our school schedules have never crossed, even though I’ve seen her in the halls before. Everyone knows the incredible voice she has, the artistic talent that seems to run through her fingers - it would be impossible not to know about her reputation. What made me talk to her, though, was Reginald.

Reggie.

A boy I thought didn't really exist until three days ago.

- I asked if you know any Reginald who likes country music. - I repeat in a lower tone. - Do you think we can talk?

She doesn't hesitate to agree and soon steps forward to go to the music room. I only know about the existence of that classroom because some of my friends like to go there during lunch hours to sleep a little before afternoon classes. She opens the door, lets me go through, and closes it behind me, making sure we're alone.

We sit in the back of the room, near the windows. The horizontal blinds are open and the weather looks happy. The sun shines brightly and there are no clouds to tell the story of the crazy girl who has been dreaming of someone unreal for months and had fallen in love with a non-existent being.

It's funny how the figurative tranquility makes me uneasy. The day seems peaceful, serene while chaos is established inside of me. The blue, maroon and white paintings on the wall seem to make fun of my nervousness; the delicate yet majestic instruments seem to want me to leave considering that my madness is too much for anyone to bear.

Julie looks at me not knowing that she is my hope and that also makes me anxious. Possibly even more apprehensive than comparing my problems with the calmness of the place around me.

- I'm not sure where to start or if you're going to believe me, but I need you to listen carefully. If it doesn't make sense to you, if you don't know what I'm talking about, please just ignore it, ok?

Julie nods and moves her chair closer to mine. Her eyes look worried and I can see that she is an ordinary person. As much as many people have put her on a pedestal, she looks normal and comprehensive at close range. She doesn't look like someone who would be evil and bitter of her own accord and it's comforting to know that even if she can't help me, maybe she can understand my torments in some way.

I let the air enter my lungs, my shoulders going up and down slightly. She doesn't pressure me to speak even though I can interpret by her fingers tapping on her leg that she wants me to say something soon.

Without thinking too much about word choices, I open my heart to her because some things need to be shared.

Even when it's not easy to start.

- A few months ago I started having dreams with Reggie. He looks just like the guy you sing in that band with, the bass player. A friend of mine showed me a video of you a few days ago and I know it's him, it can only be him. - Without thinking too much, my hands reach for hers, as if begging her to believe me. Julie doesn't back down or make a move to start laughing and that encourages me to continue, with as many details as possible. - Do you know who he is? My friend said they are holograms, but probably it's inspired by some real person, right?

My speech starts to get tangled up and Julie continues with the same expression as when we arrived, just listening to what I have to say. I feel pathetic because I seem to be performing a show for something that in the eyes of others may be irrelevant. I wish I could explain to her that I am usually a very rational person. I like reasonable explanations, the feeling of being in control of where I am going, of having a detailed plan on how to achieve my goals. In general I know that unforeseen events can happen, but the relief that organization and rationality bring me is too comforting and important for me to be able to accept Reggie in my life under normal circumstances.

However, he quickly became someone important to me and it's scary how just the thought of him can make me feel nice and peaceful.

Reggie brought me peace of the kind that you often seek while sleeping or resting. Peace of the kind that we look for when looking at the sky, at flowers, at children playing in a park happily. He, someone I didn't know, offered me happiness by just appearing in my dreams, smiling at my sleeping version. It was something about his adorable smile, his small teeth, his upturned nose and expressive eyebrows. It was something about the way he made me laugh, how he had genuine intentions about everything, how his beautiful eyes lit up when he talked about something he liked.

- I don't know anything about creating holograms, sorry. - Julie answers, smiling weakly and clearing her throat. She looks uncomfortable, so I let go of her hand. - But if I find anything about it, I'll let you know.

- Julie, you really don't know anything about him? He loves pizza, has a very peculiar sense of humor and likes children and animals. He likes it very much. He is not very close to his family, but he regards his two best friends as if they were brothers. He is kind, understanding and real. I guess truthful is a better choice of words, cause I don't know if he really exists.

I know she can see my distress from the way I'm letting the words flow, but I can't help it. Reggie not only brings me peace but also a feeling of belonging that seems to go beyond the moment.

It's not like I'm getting to know him, it's like I'm recognizing him.

- Look, are you sure you are not confusing him with someone else?

Julie herself doesn't seem to believe or agree with her question. I'm being too specific and I know it. I know this because Reggie asked for my help on Thursday night's dream, saying that he didn't know if he could make it. I know this because he told me the name of his band. I know this because he said he didn't recognize me, but that he felt the same way about me, about us.

- Julie, I know about Sunset Curve. I looked them up and I know they died 25 years ago. - I answer, looking at my own feet. I don't want her to think I'm a threat and that I'm going to expose her secret. I just want answers, I just want a chance to understand my connection with Reggie. - I just want to know if you know Reggie. If there is anyone I can ask why he appears in my dreams, why I…

I can't complete it out loud, but mentally I say "fell in love with him".

I know why I fell in love with him, to be honest.

Reggie is physically familiar. More than that, it's like meeting someone special who means a lot to me. He's someone whose beauty comes from his smile. The kind of person who is always trying to see the positive in things. Who never believes that he has actually lost anything or that he is in the wrong place. He's the type to believe that every thing he dropped on the floor and didn't see, every umbrella forgotten somewhere, every delay unintentionally; everything means something. An arrangement so that he could be in the place he is in right now and that this place could not be a mistake. He's the type who doesn't bother with something that broke, with something unexpected, with something he isn't planning because he is convinced that maybe he broke a plate today so he could go to the market and find money on the floor or just feel how pleasant the day is. That maybe he was late because the bus he was going to take was going to break down halfway. He is the type who thinks that regardless of the situation, he is in the right place, where he should be.

Reggie has an engaging aura, as much as I couldn't even explain what exactly it means. He is affectionate, funny and I don't think I could ever create him.

- Why you…? - She insists.

- Why I feel this way about him.

Julie seems to think about what I said and I choose not to press her. I pay attention to the room, on how the sun comes through the window and makes me think of the day I met Reggie.

My first dream with him was at a book club. It was a friendly place that I had never visited before; a two-story white house with a big backyard. The meeting took place outside and the residence looked like it was turned into a cultural center. About five people had books in their hands and were talking excitedly about the story, going on about the metaphors the author had used to explain the parents' suffering when they lost their child. Near the boundaries of the place, three boys who seemed out of place were talking quietly. At their feet, boxes of instruments looked like misunderstood foreigners while snacks and sweets on the table near them were very much welcomed. The blond boy next to Reggie was talking to another boy about something I couldn't hear and Reggie seemed to shine.

It was late afternoon and the sun was passing through the trees in the yard. The white fence he leaned against contrasted with the black clothes he wore, while the darkness of the fabric contradicted with the gentleness of his face. He had caught my attention the minute my eyes met his.

Without saying anything, Reggie came towards me, making me nervous. In the dream, however, I was a man. As much as I was living and seeing everything from my point of view, my body was masculine and taller. My hands were calloused for some reason that I did not know and my clothes were extremely large, almost sloppy.

- Hi. - Reggie said, smiling as if he knew me. His eyes were shining and I was sure mine were too. - Do you have a name or can I call you mine?

We were not too far away from his friends for them not to hear us. Soon they started laughing out loud, embarrassed by the pick up line. I couldn't help but laugh, even though in some part of my brain I knew that maybe if the situation was rationalized, I would find it weird. However, I felt the same way about him. The desire to meet him, to know his preferences, to feel what his hand would be like in mine.

- Maybe I went too far with that one. - He said, giving me no chance to answer. - I think I have the right to remain silent.

- Reggie, you have the right to remain silent. What you lack is capacity. - The blonde said, making the other friend laugh even louder. Some man behind us asked us to speak quietly and right then the sun stopped touching the man in front of me. It seemed that we finally understood that moment; seemed that the universe made sense.

Reginald was speechless, just like me. We looked at each other for a while, admiring each other's details. Because of that exact moment I would know how to point the timid freckles on your nose even with my eyes shut or on the way his eyes seemed to have at least four different shades of blue and green. At that moment I fell in love with his skin, his dimples, how well his hair was combed and how he smelled of jasmine.

- Hey. - I replied to him, holding out my hand. He looked into my eyes, then my lips and then took my hand in his. Time seemed to stop around us. - I guess you do have a name, Reggie, but can I call you mine?

Julie touches my arm, pulling me out of my memories.

- I don't know if I would have answers for you. - She says. - I'm sorry.

Julie gets up and goes to the door. I can't ignore the fact that my throat is dry and my hands are shaking slightly in anticipation of any more response that she wants to give me. Anything, any explanation that might justify how I feel about Reggie.

She suddenly stops and turns to me with wide eyes.

- You can't see, right? - She asks.

I don't know what she's talking about, so I just shake my head.

- Where's Reggie? - She talks again.

When I open my mouth to say that I don't know, he appears near the piano. His eyes are more intense than in my dreams and he does not smell of jasmine, but it's still him.

My Reggie.

I get up quickly and almost trip over the chair, making Julie look at me with even wider eyes. I look from her to him, repeating the process a few times.

He wasn't there a few seconds ago.

He appeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He exists.

- What's going on here? - He asks Julie, but his body is turned towards me. I look him straight in the eye and walk slowly because I'm afraid this is a dream and I want to spend more time looking at him like that. - Julie, why does it look like she sees me?

- I see you, Reggie. - I speak softly, not diverting my attention from him. - You exist.

He opens his mouth a few times, not understanding what is happening and I feel the same thing that I felt in that book club.

Feels like I'm coming home, that I love him, that everything makes sense. I feel that there is too much of him in my heart.

- Can you see me? - He asks, walking slowly towards me. It seems the same distance from my first dream; the same strong feeling of belonging, of finding something that I had already given up looking for. - Do you really see me?

- I see you, I can really see you.

My vision starts to blur and I hear Julie talking in the background, but I can only look at him and ask myself if he knows who I am, if he feels the same. When a tear falls from my eyes, Reggie walks faster, ending our distance and extending his hand to touch my face. When I feel a shy and almost unnoticed contact, I close my eyes and throw myself into his arms, but I can't find his body.

Confused, I open my eyes again.

He's not there.

He disappeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He does not exist.

- It's just a dream, isn't it? Is this my farewell to him? Will I never see him again in my dreams? - I ask Julie. I touch the piano that seemed so close to Reggie before and let my fingers roam the black top of the instrument. I just wish I could feel him the same way. - I could have swore that this is real, but I think I love Reggie so much that he made me like being asleep more than being awake. It is terrible to love him in my dreams and not have him when I wake up in the morning.

- You love me?

I hear his voice behind me and when I turn, he's there.

- Who are you? - I ask, like an idiot. I know who he is, but I need to understand a few things before I completely freak out.

Julie walks over to me and touches my wrist. She seems to be asking me not to scream or pass out. Something in Reggie's eyes is apologizing silently and I'm afraid of his answer.

- I'm Reggie. - He smiles weakly and it hurts me because it's a sad smile. - And I think you're my unfinished business.

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #jatp fanfic #reggie x reader #juke fanfic #julie and luke #julie molina #luke patterson #alex and willie #reggie fanfic #reggie #jatp #reggie x y/n #reader

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

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step out! do what you want (chapter three)

pairing: reader/bang chan side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader (and it’s causing problems), reader/bang chan/jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: oh boy here we go. angst like mad, lots of drama, more profanity, chan is possessive and jealous, arguments, smut, threesome (because I am trash), smoking (again), mention of firearms, unprotected sex, mentions of drug use, profanity, alcohol consumption, minor praise kink, lots of biting. word count: about 15,000 (!!) also posted to my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter three: one more step, i will never stop

recommended tracks: you calling my name by got7, I am you by stray kids, follow by monsta x, jungle by punchnello, absinthe by punchnello, louder than bombs by bts, veni vidi vici by zico, baby don’t like it 나쁜 짓 by nct 127, on track by stray kids, honsool by agust d, congratulations by eric nam, singularity by bts, people by agust d, 時間がない by kirinji, and 주소서 (pray) by b.a.p (I cannot get enough of this song right now). playlist can be found here!

note: jisung is so soft in this chapter. he’s one of my favourites (stan 3RACHA), so writing this chapter broke and warmed my heart a million times over. apologies for the length of this one!

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

You had shown a photo of your ex, Jisung, to Christopher and Changbin, who confirmed that it was the Jisung they knew. When Christopher saw his face on your phone, his mouth turned down into a scowl, causing him to become tense and reserved. “Whatever,” he grumbled as he spun on his heel, turning to the fridge, “I’m gonna make some jigae with the stuff in the fridge. We’ll deal with this later.”

Changbin pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. He opens his mouth to speak to Christopher, but decides against it, turning to you instead. “Look, we’ll make this work. Han won’t be here for that long, just a follow-up on his task. Then he’ll be gone and we can pretend this never happened. Okay?”

You nod your head, hoping that it was going to go that smoothly. Christopher takes out some ingredients from the fridge and then pulls out some cookware with a clatter, the noises causing Minho to finally wake up.

“Aaaaahhhhhh, Binnie,” he groans loudly while stretching, catching the attention of Changbin.

“What, Min?” Changbin says with little concern in his voice, getting up and walking over towards him. He leans over the back of the couch, reaching a hand down to Minho’s hair to ruffle it around.

“Binnie, you crushed me, cuddling me too hard in your sleep last night and now I hurt,” Minho whines, grabbing Changbin’s arm and pulling the brunette down on top of him.

“What the fuck?” Changbin squeaks out, in a cute voice you weren’t aware he could make, before he topples over the back of the couch.

“Cuddle me and make it better,” Minho cries out dramatically, wrapping his arms and legs around the smaller man. Changbin tries to say something, but his voice is muffled while he’s kicking his legs up and down in the air.

Watching the two of them made you smile, happily reaching down to your cup of lukewarm coffee to take a sip. You turned your attention towards Christopher, watching him chop up some vegetables and other ingredients, prepping them and putting them all into a large pot.

“Can I help you with anything?” You ask him.

“Nah,” he shrugs your suggestion off, turning over his shoulder to smile at you, “I don’t know how to work with someone else in the kitchen, but maybe we can try something out later?”

“Yeah,” you smile back at him, “I’d like that.”

The assembly of kimchijigae doesn’t take that long. Once all of the ingredients are in the pot, Christopher calls for Changbin to help him set up the gas burner on the coffee table, while you help by getting the rice started in the rice cooker.

Within a half hour, you’re all sitting down around the table, happily eating the jigae. Changbin and Minho are talking about some story about the time they went to Daegu and the Colourful Daegu Festival was happening. They had dropped some acid and lost their minds during the parade, where there was a lot of music, dancing, and other performative arts on display.

As fun as their story sounded, Christopher looked like he wasn’t completely paying attention, his mind distant and thinking about something else. “Christopher?” You call out to him, poking him in the arm with the back end of your chopsticks.

“What?” He snaps back to reality and shakes his head. “Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, “I was just lost in thought over something. How’s the jigae?”

You smile and nod, “I’m impressed, Mr. Bang, I had no idea you could cook.” The compliment makes him smile, and he reaches out to rub his hand on your thigh in appreciation. “You’ve been telling me for two days now that you’d make me something and you finally did it. It was worth the wait.”

You’re about to bring another bite of rice to your mouth when a knocking at the door startles you. Changbin and Christopher stand up at the same time, but Changbin calmly coaxes the blond to sit back down. “It’s probably Jisung, but if it’s not,” he grabs his bag from under the table and pulls out a pistol, sheathed in a protective case, tucking it in his waistband, “I’ll handle it.” Minho stands up, a focused look on his face as he quietly walks over to sit next to you, likely to help calm you down and to protect you if need be.

Christopher reaches under the coffee table, staring at Changbin as he walks to the front door. His hand fumbles a bit until a sliding door is heard. Out of the secret compartment, he pulls a pistol that’s identical to Changbin’s and a magazine, snapping the machinery together. He puts a hand on your leg, gripping it tightly as you start to tremble in panic. “It’s alright,” he whispers to you. Changbin turns to Christopher, and they both nod.

A knock is heard at the door again, a bit more urgent this time. “Who is it?” Changbin questions coolly, putting a hand on the door and his other hand on the handle of his pistol.

“Bang-hyung?” It’s faint, but you can hear a voice come from the door. “No, wait, Seo-hyung? It’s me.” Changbin turns around, dramatically rolling his eyes in the direction of all of you, a dumbfounded look on his face. He opens the door and yells at the silver-haired man that walks in.

“Aish!” Changbin exclaims, slapping the back of the man’s head, eliciting a squeal from him. “You dumbass! I told you that you needed to text us when you show up. We thought you were a potential threat.”

Christopher exhales an irritated sigh of relief, taking his hand away from your leg before disassembling the magazine from his pistol. “Fucking moron,” he grumbles under his breath, putting the pistol and magazine back in the compartment under the table. He turns to look at you right as you spin your head around and look at the man that walks in. Your jaw drops in shock as you realize it really is Jisung.

“Sungie?” The word squeaks out from you in shock. Jisung snaps in your direction when he hears your voice, looking as if he was hallucinating the sound of you.

“Bunny?” He says your old nickname with a whine. He looks directly at you for a second before nearly running over to you, almost tripping over himself as he kneels in front of you, reaching his hands up to your face. “Oh my god, why are you here? How are you here?”

Christopher scoffs, rolling his eyes as he kicks back into his chair, arms folded, biting his lip back in anger. An air of jealousy fills the room as he watches Jisung pull you into a hug with him. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he whispers, rubbing the back of your head. “I knew there was a civilian woman here, but I had no idea it was you, baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice is so calm, so soothing, but you feel how broken his heart must be, seeing you in such a helpless situation.

It’s almost like the past year never happened, the comfort between you is so warm and familiar. It felt so good to be comforted by Jisung, but you could feel Christopher staring at both of you with fire in his eyes, like he would kill Jisung just by staring at him if he could.

“Han,” the man assertively barks, causing you both to jump. “Beijing. What happened?” His tone is curt and cold, something you hadn’t heard in him before. You had a sinking feeling in your gut that this wasn’t going to go smoothly, after all.

Jisung snaps up, bowing deeply in apology. “B-Bang-hyung,” he stutters out, “yes, my apologies. I just,” he turns to you nervously, then back to Christopher. “I’m sorry, we used to be close and to know she’s here, in danger, well-“

“I’ve got her.” Christopher cuts Jisung off, sitting forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, “She’s not your concern right now. She’s mine.”

The way he claims you so nonchalantly makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It was a strangely attractive thing for him to say to your ex-boyfriend, but it was also really embarrassing. Jisung had no idea that the two of you were something, so he just kind of brushes it off not really grasping the seriousness of Christopher’s words.

“Yes, hyung, I understand,” he nods, “but, if I may, since she knows me, I’d like to-“

“Shut up, Han.” Christopher spits out, balling his fists up, slamming one of them into the arm of the chair as he cuts Jisung off again. “I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of your mouth unless it has to do with Beijing.”

Changbin pipes up from behind the couch, “Chan,” he says with a commanding tone, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Back off. That’s an order. Jisung isn’t your enemy here, he’s your brother. Do I need to remind you of the code?” Christopher shoots a nasty glare at him, snarling his lip up in anger.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung interrupts in confusion, “Am I missing something?”

You sigh, dropping your head down to your hands to comb your fingers through your hair. “Sungie,” you say softly, looking back up at Jisung, “Chris- uh, Chan, I mean, and I are, well,” you voice trails off, not really sure what to call this thing that’s going on between the two of you.

“We’re seeing each other,” Christopher finishes your sentence for you, eyeing you before he looks back up to Jisung. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Jisung looks at both of you a couple of times, disbelief painted on his face, before he finally settles his eyes on you. “Bunny, is this true?”

“Kind of?” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “We met each other at a party the other night and I’ve been here ever since because shit hit the fan.” Jisung’s face falls as he looks at you, realizing the implication of what you’ve done with his superior.

“Baby,” he whispers, the look of disappointment on his face causing your heart to sink down into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, since it’s been a year and you separated amicably, but you always felt protective of Jisung while you were together, a feeling that clearly hasn’t disappeared from you.

“The fuck does it matter to you?” Christopher grumbles under his breath as he stands up, walking angrily over to a drawer in the kitchen. He rifles through it for a second, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Whatever. I’m going out on the balcony; I need a cigarette. Enjoy your fucking reunion. After I come back, I want that goddamn report on Beijing and then I want you to get the fuck out of my apartment, Han.”

Christopher pulls open the blinds in the far corner of the living room, unlocking the balcony door and flinging it open. He steps outside and rips the door closed behind him, closing it with a loud slam. You’re not sure, but you think you hear him yell “fuck” after he slams the door.

“The hell is his problem?” Minho chirps up for the first time in a while, looking up at Changbin, then back down to you. “Are you alright?” He places his hand on top of your knee, rubbing it softly with his thumb. You timidly nod your head, still in shock.

“I swear to God, that man and his issues,” Changbin grits his teeth and sighs, walking up to Jisung to squeeze his shoulder in support. “I’ll go talk to him. I’m sorry he’s taking this out on you, Jisung. You know how he gets when he’s stressed. He probably doesn’t mean any of it.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, just nodding in response as he looks down at his feet.

“Minho,” Changbin says, making his way to the balcony door, “keep an eye on things in here. Yell if you need me.”

“I’ve got it, Binnie, don’t worry,” he says with a nod. Changbin slips through the door and you can see Christopher throw his hands up in the air as he starts to yell. His muffled voice somewhat comes through the door, but there’s no way you can possibly make out anything he’s saying.

Jisung flops down in Christopher’s seat, letting his head fall into his hands. “Bunny,” he says, not bothering to look up at you, “I can’t believe that you and Chan-hyung are…”

Minho chimes in, “Hey, maybe you two should go into the studio and talk this out? I’ll stay out here and keep an eye on things.”

It was a good idea, you had to admit. This entire situation was complicated and personal, not really something you wanted everyone to hear. It would probably make you both more comfortable if you talked about it in private, anyways. You stood up and grabbed Jisung’s hand, guiding him to the studio with you. Once inside, you closed the door softly and fumbled your fingers around on the wall for a light switch, flicking up the first one you felt.

The room illuminated, and the first thing you saw as you turned around was Jisung’s pained face. He stutters, trying to come up with something to say to you, but he just stands there, dumbfounded. You weren’t exactly sure where to begin. It was over a year since you saw him last, and all of the memories you had together were floating around in your head, not helping make the situation any easier.

“Jisung,” you open your mouth to speak, but before you can say anything else, the lean man walks up to you, pushing his body against yours so you’re forced to step back up against the wall. As soon as your back hits the wall, he reaches his hand up to just under your chin, bringing it up to his face.

“Don’t say anything, baby,” he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes, before his lips softly collide with yours. His lips have a faint taste of bubblegum, probably from his favourite chapstick, and his tongue is warm and soft against yours. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers softly in between kisses, “I never wanted to leave you. I loved you so much, and I absolutely still do.” His voice starts to crack, and you feel tears come down his cheeks as he rubs his face against yours with his sloppy, needy kisses. “I just… I couldn’t do it to you, bunny. They had connections in the industry and I needed the money. I was only going to stick around until I had enough and then stop with the criminal shit, but now I just can’t leave. They’re my family now, my brothers. They mean so much to me.”

He breaks down, his head falling on to your shoulder. Racking sobs run through him as he pulls you into a tight embrace. You try your best to soothe him, an arm wrapped around his back and one hand stroking his hair. “Sungie, baby,” you whisper into his ear, hushing him, “it’s okay, I forgive you. I promise, it’s okay.”

You both stand there for a while, letting Jisung calm down a bit thanks to your words and your soothing demeanour. After what seems like an eternity, he finally stops crying. When you’re about to pull away from each other and go back into the living room, you hear footsteps and chattering come from outside the studio.

“Where is she?” Christopher’s voice booms from the other room, loud and terse, “Where is he?”

“Goddammit, Chan,” Changbin growls after him, sighing. “We just talked about this.”

“I told them they should talk it out in private, in the studio,” Minho answers him, his voice quiet and timid. “Was that a bad idea?”

Footsteps draw closer and Christopher bursts through the door. He looks at Jisung, nuzzled up to your shoulder, eyes wide and still damp from crying. “Chan-hyung, please,” he whimpers out, cowering back into your shoulder before the blonde starts to make an advance towards him with his fist drawn back.

“Christopher!” You shout, throwing an arm up in the air and turning Jisung away from the blond, gripping him closer to your chest to shield him. “That’s enough!” Your outburst causes him to stop dead in his tracks, dropping his arm. “I will not tolerate you treating Jisung like this. Yeah, I get it, you feel threatened because we have a history, but if you so much as touch him, I will leave here and never come back. I don’t care what anyone out there does to me. I won’t stand for this.”

The two of you stare at each other for a pause pregnant with tension, Jisung gripping your shirt tightly. “Fuck,” Christopher finally sighs out, rolling his eyes as he walks over to the couch behind you. He grips his hair, looking up at the two of you. “Han,” he starts, letting himself breathe for a moment. “Jisung, I’m sorry. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you since you showed up. Actually, since before you showed up.”

Jisung rubs his face on your shirt. He stands upright and turns to look at Christopher, still holding on to you with one hand. “Chan-hyung,” he says, looking at you, then looking back to him. “I know you’ve both been doing things, but,” he sighs, eyes drifting down to his feet, “I still love her. I wouldn’t have left her if it wasn’t for the family. Seeing her here makes me terrified for what could happen. She still means so much to me, even after all of this time.” His hand drops down from your waist, grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours.

Christopher grimaces at the sight, but chooses to let it go. “I get that,” he groans, “but you left her. It’s up to her to decide if she wants you back. Even if,” his voice trails off and he sits fully back into the couch, “even if it doesn’t involve me.”

“Haven’t you only known each other for two days?” Jisung innocently questions, hoping that the question won’t provoke a fight. “Seems a bit early to care that much?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says as he avoids eye contact with either of you, “but there’s something about her. Maybe it’s this whole situation, maybe I’m just delusional. But there’s something that makes me want to risk it for her.”

Jisung smiles, looking at you as Christopher starts talking about you. He squeezes your hand and nods his head. “I know, she’s incredible.” The way that he looks at you reminds you of the night he first told you that he loved you, with that same boyish grin on his face and excitement in his eyes.

Christopher looks up to you both, an uncomfortable, awkward look on his face. Even Jisung simply making lovey eye contact with you just hurts him. You weren’t in love with him, not even close, but you did have some feelings towards him that were starting to be impossible to ignore. Choosing between them would be hard, and you simply didn’t want to do it.

“Wait,” your eyes light up with an idea. You pull Jisung to the couch, telling him to sit at the opposite end of Christopher. You go to close the door, seeing Minho and Changbin making a pointed effort to hide their eavesdropping before the door slides closed with a click. “What if,” you say, walking back to the couch, sitting in between the two men, “I don’t have to choose between you two, at least not yet?”

Christopher squints his eyes in confusion and Jisung cocks his head to the side, not quite understanding what you mean. “You know,” you say as you grab a hand from each of them, “you just share me, until I make up my mind?”

“Share you?” Christopher is the first one to respond, sounding confused.

“Oh,” Jisung breathes out, then the realization hits him, “oh. You mean…” He looks at Christopher, then back to you. “You want me to share you with Chan-hyung? But he’s my superior, he makes all of the decisions. If he says no, then,” his voice goes from excited to a bit dejected.

“Jisung, look at me.” Christopher addresses him with a stern voice. “If it’s what she wants, it’s fine with me. I don’t know how we’ll make it work, and it already sounds weird, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Jisung’s eyes light up as he looks at Christopher and then looks to you, “You mean it, hyung?”

Christopher nods his head, then turns his attention to you. “I’m willing to do anything if you’ll give me a chance. You are stuck here with me for a while, yeah?”

You smile and look down at the hands you’re holding. It was a strange concept that you weren’t sure would even work, but it was something to hopefully keep the three of you somewhat happy and entertained while you were stuck here.

“Okay,” Christopher says, standing up, “I’m glad we could work this out, but we really need to talk about the Beijing deal, Jisung.�� You both look up at him, noticing an awkward smile on his face. “Come on, let’s go back out there, take care of work, then we can address all of this,” he waves his hands in a broad circle around all of you, “when we’re done. Alright?”

Jisung nods his hand, squeezing your hand before he stands up. “Whatever you say, Chan-hyung.”

“Can you, like,” Christopher rubs the back of his head in embarrassment, sighing, “not call me hyung when it’s just the three of us? It’s a little weird, considering the circumstances.”

“Oh!” Jisung exclaims, “Yeah, sure thing, Chan-hy… Channie.” He corrects himself, then giggles. “That doesn’t seem right, either, does it?”

“Ugh,” Christopher groans, walking to the door, “don’t get used to it, Sungie.” He mockingly uses your nickname for Jisung and it causes the silver-haired man to visibly cringe.

“Point taken,” he says, following Christopher to the door. “C’mon, baby, let’s go.”

Jisung does an extensive job explaining just how the Beijing job went. The guys had been working on building up their relationship with the Triad since the Shanghai incident a couple years ago, and, based on what Jisung reported, it sounded like it was finally getting better. He had secured a deal for a small shipment of firearms and some party drugs like ecstasy and cocaine. The cocaine was more expensive than Changbin wanted, since it was coming from a different source this time, but he figured he could turn it at the clubs for a higher profit pretty easily.

“I’m impressed,” Changbin says, sitting forward from his spot on the couch, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually secure the whole deal, much less any part of it. For a last minute switch up, I’m glad I sent you, Jisung.”

Jisung flashes a cocky smile at Changbin, darting his eyes to you for a quick second, looking like he hoped that you were impressed, too. “Thanks. Beats getting protection money for once, but I really need to brush up on my Mandarin. I got lost in conversation a couple of times and had to try explaining stuff in Korean and English.”

“Chan can help you with that,” Changbin says, looking to the blond man with a serious look on his face, “if he’s done being an asshole to you, that is.”

“Oh, shove it,” Christopher scoffs. “Yeah, Jisung, I’ll help you before your next trip out there; it’ll probably be a while, though, since you’re gonna be out here a lot more now. I need you to cover my usual spots since I’m stuck here.”

Changbin and Minho exchange a surprised glance with each other and then look at Christopher. “What the hell happened in there?” Minho pries, “You’re calling him Jisung now? You’re not trying to tear his throat out? Are you actually being nice for once?”

Christopher glares at Minho, causing the black-haired man to gasp, then he turns to motion at you. “It’s thanks to her. She brought me to my senses, made me realize how irrational I was being. Now I’ll only get mad at the kid if he deserves it.”

“Chan-hyung,” Jisung says, the corner of his lip pulling up a bit, “thanks for offering to help me. I’ll need it.”

Christopher waves his hand dismissively in the air. “Don’t get too excited. You’re still covering my normal shit and I’m gonna work you twice as hard to pick up the slack.” Jisung lets out a whine as he’s told about his workload.

Minho snickers at the way Christopher phrases his demands, making a comment under his breath. “Yeah, I bet you’ll work him hard.”

His quip earns him a light shove from Changbin. “Alright,” the brunette says, standing up. “Since you two seem to be getting on just fine for now, Minho and I are going to go back to our place for the night. I’ve got to meet with Hyunjin tomorrow to fill him in on some things and so I can take care of the goods we’ve got coming in thanks to Jisung.”

Changbin turns to Jisung, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m leaving you to watch this place tonight. A couple of the newer guys in our security group, Lee and Yang, are in 3201 if shit goes down and you need backup. Chan has an arsenal hidden in the studio, so you don’t need to worry about arming yourself.” He turns to look at you, then Christopher. “We’ll be in one of our properties in Apgujeong-dong tonight, so if you need anything, call me and I’ll be here pretty quickly.”

Changbin turns back to the couch, offering a hand to Minho to help him upright, which the black-haired man happily accepts. “Don’t worry,” Minho says, looking down at you, “We’ll be back tomorrow night or Thursday morning. You haven’t seen the last of me yet. I know Binnie doesn’t like to leave Channie alone for too long.”

“Aish,” Changbin says as he elbows Minho in the side, “you make it sound like I’m obsessed with him.”

“I mean,” Minho says with a smirk as he rubs his side, “with the way that last night went and how you reacted when we listened to that recording-“

“I’m going to throw you in the river on the way out.” Changbin cuts Minho off, grumbling as he walks towards the door. “C’mon, you troublemaker. I’ll give you something to obsess over when we get home.” Minho grins, then leans down to you to give you a hug.

“I put my number in your phone last night, so if you need to bitch to anyone, I’ve got your back. I’ve also got a lot of knowledge on Chan if you need it. Put a better passcode on your phone, by the way; birthdays are too obvious,” he whispers in your ear before standing back up. “Channie, Sungie, I’ll see you soon.” His voice is light and cheerful as he says his goodbyes.

“Min,” Changbin says pointedly, adjusting some items around in his bag before motioning for him to follow, “Come on, let’s go. Seungmin isn’t gonna wait forever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho says, waving at everyone as he heads towards the entrance and puts his shoes on. “Try not to kill each other while we’re away, okay?”

Christopher scoffs and waves at the guys as they walk through the door. “See ya.”

An awkward silence falls over the three of you. The couch now feels a lot more spacious now that Minho and Changbin are no longer sitting next to you. Christopher and Jisung are sitting in the chairs across from you, and all of you are trying to avoid looking at each other.

“Well,” Christopher chimes in after a minute, slapping his legs as he stands up. “I’m gonna pour myself a drink. Do you guys want something?” You look over at Jisung, who is nibbling on his bottom lip and looking at you, then look up at Christopher.

“Sure, I guess,” you say noncommittally. “I don’t want any soju or beer, though, not after last night.” The memory of you and Christopher in the studio rudely comes up and interrupts your train of thought, and a blush creeps up on your face.

“What happened last night?” Jisung innocently enquires, looking at you with a puzzled expression. “Minho-hyung brought it up too.”

Christopher clears his throat, walking over to the kitchen, reaching up to a tall shelf above the refrigerator. “I’m gonna break into the whisky,” he says, ignoring Jisung’s question. “I’ve got some…” his voice trails off as you hear some bottles rattling around, “oh, I’ve got some sake, vodka, gin - why the fuck do I have gin? Damn you, Minho - oh, and some weird baijiu that Hyunjin brought me from Taiwan.”

Jisung pouts, visibly upset that neither of you answered his question. “Don’t you have any flavoured soju? I don’t like any of that stuff.”

“I think we drank most of it, but,” Christopher opens the fridge, humming to himself as he looks around, “Oh, yeah, we’ve got two bottles of peach and two bottles of strawberry leftover from yesterday. Which do you want? Do you want a glass?”

“Strawberry sounds good! No glass, though.” Jisung says in a happy voice, his face lighting up a bit. Christopher brings Jisung the bottle he requested, eliciting a soft, “thank you, hyung,” from the silver-haired man as he accepts it with both hands. Christopher turns back towards the kitchen, stopping in front of you.

“What do you want, baby?” Christopher asks, earning a glare from Jisung as he calls you baby, “I think you’d like the sake that I have. Want that?”

You nod your head a bit begrudgingly. “I suppose it’s different enough from soju, but I guess I’ll take the sake. Is it a nigori?”

Christopher twists his face in confusion at your question. “I don’t know,” he says with an upward inflection, walking back into the kitchen and fumbling with the bottles. “My Japanese is really bad. Is that the clear kind?”

“No,” you laugh, getting up to go assist him. “It’s cloudy. Nigori literally means murky, just so you know.”

“Oh,” he laughs, tilting the bottle to you, “I think you’ll like this one, then. I had it once in Osaka and brought a couple bottles back with me the last time I was there. It’s really good.”

“Thanks,” you say, holding the bottle. “I’m gonna need to chill it, though. You’re supposed to keep this stuff cold.”

Christopher opens up his bottle of whisky, the seal snapping loudly, grabbing a nice glass from the cupboard, He opens his freezer to put a couple of ice cubes in the glass. “Clearly, I don’t know these things,” he laughs, smiling at you for a moment longer than he should have. He sucks in air through his teeth, turning to grab a paper towel and wetting it in the sink. “Anyway, wrap it in this and stick it in the freezer for about 20 minutes. It’ll get nice and cold by then.”

You take the towel from him, wrapping it around the bottle in your hands. “That’s an odd tip,” you say, sticking the bottle in the freezer.

“Yeah, well,” Christopher grabs the bottle of whisky, and carefully pours it into his glass. “You learn a lot of weird drinking things when you’re friends with people that have the balls to buy warm beer that you wanted to drink sooner rather than later.”

Jisung lets out a giggle from the living room. “Bunny, you can share my soju with me while you wait for your sake to get cold!” You turn to him, about to tell him that you really don’t want more soju, but the way he smiles at you convinces you that one glass wouldn’t kill you.

“Fine,” you grumble, grabbing a sake cup from the cupboard, dramatically groaning as you walk back to the living room, shuffling your feet the entire way. “I really don’t want more of this flavoured stuff for a while, but I’ll drink a cup just for you, Sungie.”

He excitedly claps his hands once, shaking the bottle a couple of times before opening it. “Bunny, baby, here,” he motions for you to bring your cup to the table, “I’ll pour it for you, okay?” That’s exactly what he does, getting down on to the floor and getting really close to the cup. He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his face, squinting with determination as he fills your cup. “There! Now you’ve got a drink.”

The way he smiles at you warms your heart as he takes a quick drink from the bottle, then screws the lid back on his soju. You instinctively reach out to rub his face, letting your thumb slowly stroke his cheek. “Thank you, Sungie.”

Jisung is about to say something, but Christopher unceremoniously flops down on the floor to your right, sitting very closely to you. “Well,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, “aren’t you two cute? I can’t say I expected this from you, Sung. You never gave off those vibes.” You turn your head to look at him, expecting him to be angry, but he surprisingly doesn’t seem like it.

Christopher leans into your space, reaching a hand up to your face, and pulling it close to his. The sharp, sweet aroma of his whisky faintly floats up to you as he looks at your lips, then looks up at you with a look that screams desire. He gets closer, then softly kisses your lips. It’s not quite as passionate as the kisses he’s given you over the past couple of days, but it’s still loving and sweet.

He pulls away, looking at you, then looking at Jisung. “I can be cute, too.”

You feel your face warm, and you turn to Jisung to see if he’s angry. He has a determined look on his face as he stares at Christopher. His hand sneaks up to your neck, pulling you close to him, and he grips your face with his other hand, giving you a needy look. “I’m not always that cute,” he says with a low voice, flicking his eyes at Christopher before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. As his tongue demands entrance into your mouth, the artificial flavour of strawberry is strong and briefly overwhelms your senses. His fingers dig into your skin gently, and you feel your heart skip a beat as he pulls away from you, breaking the kiss.

Jisung looks at you, proudly smiling and licking his lips. His eyes slowly roll over towards Christopher and he gives the blond a taunting smirk. Your mind is starting to spin, all of the attention from both men causing you to feel a bit overwhelmed in the best possible way.

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” Christopher says coolly before crawling over your lap, straddling you and grabbing the back of your neck, “I’m going to win this game.” He eases you down on to the floor, the cool panelling giving you a slight chill. He presses his lips to your neck, kissing you all over, occasionally giving you quick nibbles to make you squeal.

You down look at him exploring your neck and kissing you, then you look at Jisung. The expression on his face registers as jealous, but also intrigued and aroused. His bottom lip is sucked in under his teeth, and his eyes are half-open, staring down at you. “Chan,” he breathes out, crawling closer to both of you.

Christopher breaks away from you with a groan of irritation, turning to look at Jisung. “What? Why are you interrupting this?”

“She likes her collarbone marked up,” is what unexpectedly comes from Jisung. You were expecting him to be angry, but he looked like he was enjoying this. “She loves to be bruised, but only where I - er, we, can see it.”

The two men exchange glances, almost as if they were coming to a mutual conclusion, then turn to look at you with a devious intent in their eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you say, sitting up on to your elbows. “As much as I love this, I don’t wanna do this on the floor; it’s cold and uncomfortable. Can we save whatever this competition is between you for the bedroom?”

“Oh,” Christopher snaps out of it and sits back on his heels, moving his hand down to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think that this spot would be uncomfortable for you.”

Jisung puts a hand on your other thigh, smiling at you. “Yeah, sorry, we got a little excited, didn’t we, Chan?”

“I’m never going to get used to you not calling me hyung,” Christopher groans, moving back to his previous spot, taking a short sip from his drink and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “I think we should eat something beforehand, too. It’s been a long time since lunch, yeah?”

It didn’t register to you until now, but you were starting to feel hungry. Jisung’s arrival did interrupt your meal earlier, after all. “Yeah, I could use something right now,” you say, subconsciously running your fingers over your stomach. “What are we going to eat, though? It’s not like we can go anywhere.”

“We can’t, sure,” Christopher says, scrolling through his phone. “But we can order something to be delivered to the lobby and have little Sungie be a good boy and fetch it for us.”

The way that Christopher talks about Jisung makes him blush awkwardly. He fidgets with the hand on your thigh, and you can’t help but giggle uncontrollably. “Bunny!” He whines softly, shaking your thigh with his hand.

“What?” Christopher looks up at you both with confusion. “Was it something I said?”

“Sungie,” you say between giggles, “he likes to be called a good boy by me. I wasn’t expecting a reaction out of him from you saying that, though.”

“Oh my god!” He shouts and playfully shoves you, a bright pink tinting his face in embarrassment. “I can’t believe you’d tell Chan-hyung something like that.” His arms fold in front of his chest and he frowns.

“I,” Christopher shakes his head in confusion, “What? What’s so weird about being called a good boy?”

“Aah!” Jisung groans, bringing his hands to his face and falling to the floor dramatically. “Hyung, please stop, it’s killing me.”

You can’t contain the full-blown laughter coming from you. There was always something you enjoyed about making Jisung squirm. He was always so cute and adorable when it was just the two of you. To see him react like this made you more confident that he was becoming more vulnerable with Christopher.

It takes you a minute to stop laughing so hard, but you do recover, sitting back up to wipe the corners of your eyes. Jisung is still curled up on the floor in embarrassment, and poor Christopher looks like he finally understands, just suffering from secondhand embarrassment for the man on the floor.

“Duly noted,” Christopher says, looking back down to his phone with a slight blush on his face, “a-anyway, what should we have for dinner? There’s a decent sushi nearby place that delivers.”

As you’re about to mention that it sounded good, a thought crosses your mind. “Wait,” you say, looking at Christopher with concern. “What if they can trace your location? You know, giving your name and phone number to this place.”

Jisung sits up with a groan. “It’s fine,” he grumbles, “we never use our real names or phone numbers for any of these things. We use burner numbers, and we almost always pay in cash, but we do have credit cards and IDs in fake names, just in case.”

Christopher hums in agreement. “Jisung, you’ve learned quickly. He’s right, though. We’re very cautious about our existence around people we don’t know.”

Jisung cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head, “Yeah, unless it’s an attractive girl at a house party.” This quip earns Jisung a middle finger from Christopher.

“If Changbin was here, I’d make you go out and pick this up instead,” he grumbles, looking back down to his phone, “I’m gonna order from this place. What do you want?”

Eventually, you sort out an order you all can agree on. Christopher places the order, and you grab your sake from the freezer. His trick was miraculous - it was cold, but not frozen. The paper towel came right off without ruining the label, too, which was an added bonus. You gently shake the bottle as you walk back to the table, pouring some of the sake into the cup you used earlier for Jisung’s soju.

“How did you two meet, anyways?” Christopher asks Jisung as you sit down. The question freezes you in place for a second, a bit embarrassed at the memory. Jisung and Christopher look at you as you shake yourself out of your stupor. “What?”

Jisung smiles, despite your discomfort, “I think she has a type. We met at a club, she was drunk and we were both lonely. I told her I made music, and she practically begged me to take her back to my place so she could listen to some of the stuff I made.”

You groan, and drink the entire cup of sake you poured in one sitting, even though you had intended to slowly sip on it. As you slam the cup back on the table, you notice Christopher is staring at you with a very amused smile on his face. “So, musicians, eh?” He quips, and it causes you to grumble. Your head falls to the table in frustration.

“Needless to say,” Jisung continues, “we didn’t even get close to hearing some of my music. She was on top of me, literally, as soon as we got back to my tiny apartment and the rest was history. We were both pretty hungover the next day, so we stayed in bed, messed around a bit, and ate really bad takeout while watching some bad dramas. If she didn’t stick around for that, we probably never would have ended up together.”

Christopher snickers, rubbing his hand on your back. “Seems reasonable. I can see how that would happen.”

You sit back up and pout at both of the men. “You two are just as bad, taking home a girl you barely know at a party or a club.” The three of you share a nice laugh as Christopher’s phone pings.

“Ah, wow, that was fast,” he looks up to Jisung, then back down to his phone, “that’s your cue. The concierge downstairs just texted me, and delivery guy is asking for, ah, what was the name I gave,” he scrolls on his phone for a second, “looks like you’re Kim Jihoon today.”

Jisung stands up and stretches, and Christopher gets up, walking to the kitchen to rifle through a drawer. “Jihoon doesn’t really suit me, does it?” He looks down at you and smiles, bending down to give the top of your head a quick peck.

“Here,” Christopher says from the kitchen, not looking up. He puts some bills on the countertop and shuffles some things around in the drawer before closing it. “Should be plenty to cover the bill. Tell the concierge that you’re in room 3201. He’s one of us, but it’s enough to throw off the deliverer, just in case.”

“Alright,” Jisung says as he walks to the entryway, grabbing the money on the counter on the way. “Kim Jihoon, at your service.” He sarcastically salutes before taking a mask out from his pocket, pulling it over his ears as he slips his feet into his shoes. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says before exiting the apartment.

Christopher sits down right next to you, placing a hand on the back of your neck. “I’m going to be honest,” he says as you look at him, “this is still a little weird, but I can see that Jisung really does care about you.”

You try look down at your feet, but Christopher puts a finger under your chin, tilting it up so you look at him again. “I didn’t say it was bad, so please don’t look away from me. I told you, I’m willing to give this a shot for you. We just might have some awkward bumps along the way.” You nod, giving him a soft smile. “The way he kisses you, though. Wow, that was both fun and frustrating to watch. It made me want you more, which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“Really?” A giggle escapes from you. “You two looked like you were enjoying fighting over me.”

“Yeah,” Christopher laughs nervously, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see what he’s like with you in bed.”

The thought of both men in bed with you caused your heart to flutter with excitement. The duality of them was enough to give you whiplash: Christopher was on the more aggressive side, from what you could tell, and Jisung was generally the complete opposite. He usually preferred it when you took control, being warm and comforting, but he had moments where he was the exact opposite, enjoying making you beg for any sort of sexual gratification.

“What’s up?” Christopher says, rubbing his thumb on your chin.

“Oh,” you say, snapping out of your thoughts. “I was just thinking it’s going to be interesting having you both at the same time. You’re both really different, that’s all.”

A curious look comes up on Christopher’s face with your response. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but his phone beeps with a notification tone. “Ah,” he grumbles, reaching for his phone on the table, “that’s probably Jisung.” He scans his text message and stands up. “Yeah, it is. The fuck? What’s with all of the star emojis?”

“It’s something he does, especially when he’s been drinking,” you say with a laugh, “you’ll get used to it.”

Christopher shoots you a look of doubt before walking to the entrance. He opens the door, and Jisung walks in with a couple of paper bags. Christopher grabs the bags from Jisung, allowing him to come in and take his shoes off. “Thanks, Chan-hyung,” Jisung says, pulling his mask off and shoving it back into his pocket.

As Jisung is slipping his shoes off, Christopher walks back towards the living room, setting the bags down on the table. “Watch this,” he quietly mouths to you, before turning back to face Jisung. The silver-haired man stands up and starts walking over to you. You can see a wide grin from the side of Christopher’s face as he opens his mouth to speak. “Wasn’t little Sungie such a good boy, grabbing all of that for us?”

You stifle a laugh, eyes growing wide as you clasp your hands to cover your mouth. Jisung stops dead in his tracks and instantly turns bright red with embarrassment. He locks eyes with Christopher, a look of shock and disbelief on his face as his eyes widen. Christopher can’t take it, doubling over and cackling with enjoyment.

“I’m so sorry, Sungie,” you say between laughs, “I had no idea he was going to pull that on you.” Jisung looks at you and pouts, shuffling his feet towards the living room.

“Baby,” he whines as he flops down on the floor dramatically. “You know what that does to me.” His voice is in that whiny, needy tone that you loved to hear from him when you were together before. It’s the voice that told you that you could get away with nearly anything.

“Oh my god,” Christopher says, catching his breath and taking a seat on the floor. “I’m sorry, it was just so fun the first time. I had to try it out again just to see what you would do.”

Jisung sits upright, his face serious. “It’s weird when you do it!” He cries out, his brows furrowed. “It’s fine when she does it because I love it when she does that, it makes me all excited. When you do it, it’s just weird!”

Christopher looks at you, cocks an eyebrow, then looks back at Jisung. “Why’s it weird when I do it to you?”

If it were possible for Jisung’s face to turn a deeper shade of red, it was happening. His eyes nervously dart around, settling on the floor as he shrinks into himself a bit. “I like it,” he mumbles, barely audible enough for you to catch it.

“What was that?” Christopher prods, unsure if he heard the younger man correctly.

“I like when you do it, too!” He shouts in frustration. “It’s weird, because you’re my hyung and I don’t see you like that. But this whole situation is weird and I don’t know what to do about it.” Jisung did seem honestly flustered, but not quite upset.

“Sungie,” you say, softly, before you scoot close to him. He looks up at you and pouts, but you just grab his face and pull him into a gentle kiss. “It’s okay, baby, we’ll make sense of it as we go, okay?”

Jisung perks back up at your words, giving you a soft smile. “Okay, bunny, that’s fine with me.”

Christopher clears his throat and opens the bags up. “I think it’s time for food, yeah? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Jisung nods and grabs some things from the bags, helping set everything out on the table.

All three of you get through the dishes you ordered, it seeming to be just the right amount of food. After a couple of drinks, the three of you are laughing around the table and are enjoying the company of one another.

“Well,” Christopher says, “before I drink anymore, I’m gonna step outside for a second.”

“I thought you only did that when you were bored at a party?” You ask, looking over at him in confusion.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m just feeling like it tonight, you know? It’s been a weird day. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head, “I just don’t want you to smoke too much, that’s all.”

Christopher leans over and kisses your forehead. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says in a soothing tone, “I won’t.” He pulls away from you, walking over to the balcony door, grabbing the pack and lighter from earlier off of the end table by the window. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” he says with a wink before he slips outside and closes the door.

As soon as Christopher closes the door, Jisung reaches his hand out and grabs yours. “Baby,” he says, looking at you with concern. “About Chan…”

“What’s up, Sungie?” You ask, interlacing your fingers with his, giving the top of his hand a soft kiss.

“It’s about earlier.” He looks down to the floor, then back up to you, his face turning pink again. “When he, uh, called me a ‘good boy’.”

“What about it?” You ask, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “Did it really bother you? I can tell him to stop.”

“No!” Jisung shakes his head. “No, it didn’t bother me. But, um,” his voice trails off as he looks over his shoulder, over to the balcony door, then back down to his lap. “I really did like it. More than I should. I don’t know if it’s because he’s my hyung or my superior or if it’s because you like him, but,” he sucks in air through his teeth, colliding his head down to your shoulder “he said it and it instantly got me hard.”

Your eyes widen with shock. “Oh,” is all you can manage to squeak out, not really sure what to do with that information.

“Please don’t tell him,” Jisung says, still resting on your shoulder, “I don’t wanna make things any weirder than they are. He didn’t really like me much to begin with and I know he probably doesn’t even want me to be a part of this, so I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

You run a hand through his hair and rub his back with your other hand. “Don’t worry, Sungie, this is new to all of us.” You try your best to reassure him, but also reassuring yourself. This situation was indeed crazy, and unpredictable. This could either go very well, or very poorly, and you just had to go with it for now.

The balcony door opens, breaking the silence in the room. Christopher steps inside, setting his lighter down on the end table. He turns around, walking back to where you were sitting, looking confused. “Sung, are you alright?”

Jisung sits up with a snap and shakes his head. “I’m fine, Chan-hyung, I was just, uh-”

Christopher cuts him off as he sits down. “I told you, stop calling me hyung when it’s just the three of us. It’s weird. Are you sure you’re fine?” He reaches down to his glass, bringing it to his lips as he takes a sip of his whisky.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, a bit more calmly this time. “I just wanted to rest my head and cuddle. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, clearly not convinced. “Anyway, now what do we do? It’s a bit after 11, so we could go to bed, but that seems a bit early.”

You take a drink of sake, darting your eyes back and forth between Christopher and Jisung, not really sure what to suggest. You really couldn’t handle drinking games two nights in a row.

Then, Jisung grabs his drink, sucking it all down at once. “Finish your drinks, or don’t,” he suggests, leaning on to the table. A somewhat shy smirk comes up on his face. “I think it’s time we finish what we started earlier.”

Your face flushes as you take a drink directly from the bottle of sake, finishing off the last of what was was left in it. Christopher smiles widely, finishing off his whisky. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says as he slams his glass on the table, turning to you. “Alright. Stand up, both of you” he commands you with an ominous tone to his voice.

You don’t see any reason not to, so you stand up at his request. “Jisung,” he says, “go in the bedroom and wait on the bed for us.”

Jisung looks like he’s thinking about protesting, but he decides against it. “Okay,” he says, flashing you a smile before he walks off towards the bedroom.

Christopher walks up to you, lifting your chin up so you look at him. “Do you trust me?” His voice is soft and calm, a stark difference to what he sounded like just a moment ago. He cared about what you were thinking, and it was starting to show.

“Yeah, I do. Why?” You ask, but Christopher doesn’t give you a complete answer. He bends down and picks you up, lifting you under your back and your knees.

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling deviously as he carries you to the bedroom.

Jisung is sitting at the foot of the bed when you both enter, not really sure what to do with himself. Christopher sets you down on the bed next to him, and leans up on the dresser in front of the bed.

“Jisung,” he says with a commanding tone, “I want you to undress her, but she has to enjoy it. This goes for both of you, but if you want to stop at any point, I need you to tell me. Green is fine, yellow to slow down, red for stop. Understood?” You nod your head in affirmation and look at Jisung.

“Okay,” Jisung says, turning to you, a nervous smile on his face. He crawls on top of you, straddling you. His lips crash against yours, a bit timid at first, but his kiss rapidly becomes more and more desperate and needy. It seems subconscious, but he starts to grind his pelvis into yours, his erection very obvious against you. You grab his hips, helping to steady him as he grabs both sides of your neck, fervently lapping his tongue against yours. With each kiss, he lets out the softest, small moans against your lips.

“Oi,” Christopher stresses, his voice startling both of you. You both turn to look at him, and he hasn’t moved. His arms are folded over his chest, and he has a devious look on his face, drinking in the sight of both of you all over each other. “Jisung, I told you to get her undressed, that’s it. She’s enjoying it, so hurry it up.”

Jisung swallows hard and nods his head, turning back to you. He gives you a couple of soft kisses before bringing his hands down to the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. He looks down at your torso, shirt still in his hands, as he can’t bring himself to stop staring at your breasts.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, dropping the shirt to the bed and moving his hands up to just under your bra. “I forgot how incredible you look, baby.” He takes you in, then looks up to meet your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I loved this so much. I love you so much.”

The words cause your stomach to do a backflip, but you have a wave of nervousness as you dart your eyes over to Christopher. You expected him to snap up, call the whole thing off, and tell Jisung to stop. It was weird - he just didn’t. He looked completely calm, nodding at you to continue.

Jisung reaches behind your back to the clasp of your bra. He always had trouble with it before, so it doesn’t surprise you when it takes him a couple tries before it finally unhooks. Once it’s unhooked, he gently pulls the bra to him, gently guiding your arms through the straps. He doesn’t even bother looking away as your breasts are unveiled. The needy, wanting look on his face makes you shift your legs a bit in discomfort. You wanted attention and you wanted it now.

Christopher moves, and you spot him sneaking behind you from the corner of your eyes. “Keep going, Jisung,” he whispers as he places his hands on your hips and comes down to your neck. It’s obvious he’s taken Jisung’s words to heart as he kisses you a bit before sinking his teeth into the apex of your shoulder, right below your neck.

The initial sensation is shocking. It feels like a bolt of electricity goes up to your head and down to the bottom of your toes; the moan leaving your mouth is completely involuntary, only intensified by the fact that Christopher sucks the skin between his teeth hard. It felt like it was going to leave a bruise and you loved that feeling.

Jisung is a bit shocked, staring down at both of you. When Christopher comes up off of your shoulder, he looks up at the dumbfounded man. “She’s not naked yet. Finish your job.”

Christopher’s commanding tone snaps Jisung out of his trance yet again. He sputters a bit, stepping down to the floor. “Hyung,” he timidly whispers, clearly not wanting to interrupt either of you.

“Chan,” Christopher corrects him. “What do you want?”

“I can’t remove her jeans if you’re, um,” Jisung nervously stutters, looking nervously at the two of you.

“Spit it out.” Christopher commands, sounding a bit annoyed.

“I can’t remove her jeans if you’re keeping her down.”

It takes Christopher a minute to snap out of it. “Oh,” he says, pulling back from you and putting his hands in the air. “Alright, continue.”

“Hold on,” you say, looking up at Jisung, “are you sure you’re okay? Is Christopher bothering you?”

Jisung shakes his head, “No, no,” he says, kneeling down in front of you, “quite the opposite, actually. I kind of like being told what to do, even if it’s by Chan. I’m just a little nervous, since this is new.”

He reassures you for now. The last thing you’d want would be for something in this to go wrong, because it was starting to feel incredible, having both of these men devote all of their attention to you. You put your weight on your hands as Jisung undoes the button and zipper on your jeans. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and panties, pulling them all the way down and off of your ankles.

Jisung starts to adjust as if he was going to get up, but he’s at eye level with your crotch, which causes him to blush. Before he gets to enjoy it too much, however, Christopher orders him to stand up, and come back to the bed. “Yes, Chan,” he says with a pout on his face, moving to the foot of the bed.

Christopher moves away from you, grabbing Jisung’s hand and pulling him down. “Come here,” he says a bit softer than before. You turn around to look at them. Christopher moves to lean up against the bedframe, pulling Jisung between his legs. “Turn around and sit here.” He pats his legs and Jisung does as asked, his face a light shade of pink.

Christopher takes Jisung’s wrists, pulling them behind his back and firmly holding them in place. Jisung yelps in shock, nervously sputtering incoherently. Christopher leans down to Jisung’s ear and whispers, “Be a good boy while we take care of you and you’ll be rewarded, okay?”

Jisung stops chattering, his eyes widening with excitement as he looks at you. “Alright,” Christopher looks at you, “why don’t you help Sungie get out of his clothes now?” You nervously swallow and nod, shifting your position to in between Jisung’s legs. As you grab Jisung’s shirt, starting to pull it over him, the look on his face distracts you for a brief moment.

He’s leaning back into Christopher’s arms, eyes flooded with lust. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he’s biting his bottom lip in anticipation and excitement. Christopher looks at you with a smile on his face. The sight takes your breath away. “Go on, baby,” Christopher nudges you along, “I want to see you play with Sungie.”

You nod your head, and Christopher lets go of Jisung’s arms so you’re able to pull his shirt off. Jisung reflexively goes to reach up to your face, but Christopher snaps to his wrists, pulling them back down behind him. “No, no, Sung, not yet.” He brings his chin to Jisung’s neck, a breath hitched in his throat, pausing briefly in thought before he nods at you.

Jisung whines, adjusting his hips right back up into Christopher. A gasp leaves his throat and he turns his face to look at the blonde man. “Chan,” he breathes, a surprised look on his face. Christopher darts his eyes away and blushes.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever it is that’s happening between them. “Come on, baby,” he says as he looks at you, trying to change the subject, “let’s get him completely undressed.”

You reach up to the button of Jisung’s jeans, trying to undo them, but fumbling a bit due to your nerves. Finally, you release the button from the hole and unzip his pants. Jisung flinches a bit and gasps in relief as his cock is no longer restrained by the taut fabric of his jeans. “Ah, baby,” he whines, squirming up against Christopher, as you slip his jeans and briefs off of him. “I want you so badly.”

Christopher looks at you with a smirk before he presses his lips against Jisung’s ear. “Patience is a virtue, Sungie,” he whispers softly, gently biting the man’s earlobe. Jisung’s face contorts into an expression between shock, pain, and pleasure and his cock twitches in response.

“Chan,” he desperately breathes out, turning his head to face the man behind him. They exchange a quick glance, before Christopher shifts himself, timidly bringing his lips to Jisung’s, clearly unsure if he wants to actually kiss him or not. Jisung, however, decides for both of them, aggressively closing the distance between their lips. The brash action appears to change something in Christopher. He releases one of his hands from Jisung’s wrists, grabbing the side of Jisung’s neck, pulling him in and shoving his tongue into the man’s mouth, adventuring around assertively.

You don’t really know what to do, sitting there, your gaze transfixed on them. The sight makes you forget how to breathe, completely entranced by the way they melt into each other. Without even thinking about it, you make your way down to take Jisung's cock into your mouth, gently kissing the tip of his head, and giving it small, gentle licks.

Jisung breaks away from the kiss with a cry, curling his legs upward a bit in response to your actions. You look up at him, your tongue swirling around his head, watching his reactions as you take him fully into your mouth, and down your throat. He lets out a deep moan, throwing his neck back onto Christopher’s shoulder, panting hard.

“That’s it,” Christopher coos, bringing his free hand up to stroke Jisung’s face. “You’re doing so well, Sungie." He plants a kiss on Jisung's temple, then looks down to you. “Keep going, baby. Get him close.”

You continue, licking your way up his shaft slowly, teasing him a bit, before taking him all the way in again, sucking your cheeks in and creating a vacuum effect in your mouth. You go up and down like this a few times, until Jisung’s become moans breathy and shaky. He starts to twitch, and Christopher says your name, getting your attention.

“Stop,” he commands, “he doesn’t get to come yet.” You follow his order, pulling yourself off of Jisung. His eyes snap open, frantically looking at both of you.

“What?!” His voice is panicked, thrusting his hips into the air once, scrambling from the loss of contact. “Why did you make her stop?”

“Because,” Christopher says, pushing Jisung to sit upright, “I want you to be a good boy and wait.” Jisung groans in frustration, quite loudly, in fact, as Christopher moves himself out from underneath the silver-haired man in his lap to sit next to him. He slips his shirt off, tossing it across the room, then undoes his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants.

“Jisung,” Christopher says, turning to look down at him, “give me your hands.” He holds his belt in one hand, other hand held out, waiting. Jisung furrows his brows in confusion, but presents his hands to the blond. “Good boy,” Christopher says, taking him by the wrists, lifting them above his head to the bedframe behind them. He pins Jisung’s arms up, carefully wrapping his belt around his wrists and the frame, finishing by fastening the belt together.

“What?” Jisung turns his head up to look, then looks back down to both of you. “What are you doing, Chan?”

Christopher doesn’t technically answer him. “What’s your colour?” He asks in response.

“Uh,” Jisung pauses, still distracted by his arms being restrained above him. “Green?”

“So, you’re okay with this? And you’re relatively comfortable?” Christopher presses.

“Yes?” Jisung says with an upward inflection, nodding. “I just don’t understand why?”

Christopher smiles, then turns toward you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. “Because I don’t want you to touch yourself while we have fun. Patience is a virtue,” he repeats.

Jisung dramatically groans, rolling his head back into the headboard. “You’re so mean, Chan,” he whines, “this is so unfair.”

Christopher was leaning in to kiss you, but turns to Jisung with a glare. “One more complaint, and I’ll make sure you don’t come at all tonight. Understood?” His assertiveness causes Jisung to snap up with a squeal, biting his lip as he nods feverishly.

“Good,” Christopher says, bringing his attention back to you. “What do you say we make Sungie squirm some more, baby?” He grabs your head, finally pulling you in to kiss you, deeply and passionately. You bring your hands down to his waistline, trying to undo his pants as you kiss each other.

Christopher breaks away from the kiss, pulling your hands off of his pants. “How about a repeat of your first night here? I can wait.” He grabs your hands, guiding you with him as he lays down next to Jisung, who’s staring at both of you, wide-eyed with intrigue. You walk up to Christopher’s face on your knees. He lets go of your hands, lining you up to his mouth.

“Watch and learn, Sungie,” Christopher says, almost mockingly, as he starts to lap you up. The first lick causes your body to shiver from head to toe, but you manage to keep your balance. You dart your eyes over to Jisung. His eyes are attentive and curious, taking in the sight of you on top of Christopher.

You open you mouth, about to make a comment, but Christopher’s tongue presses up against your clit in a way that makes you forget how to speak. He moves his tongue back and forth, then in circles. “Playing with Jisung made you so wet, baby,” Christopher says, breaking away from you for a moment, turning to Jisung to speak. “Look at what you’ve done to her, she must really want you, hmm?”

Jisung bites his lip and whines, uncomfortably shifting around, “She likes it when you bite her inner thighs. Always makes her scream.”

Christopher lifts his eyebrows, smiling at Jisung. “That’s helpful. Let’s test it out,” he says, bringing his attention back to you. You feel your legs tense as he brings his teeth to the top of your thigh, digging them in and dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin. The sharpness of his teeth on your skin causes your nerves to light up and tremble within you. You drag your hands into Christopher’s hair and shout out his name.

You feel Christopher smile against your skin, pausing for a moment to look at you before he brings his attention back to your clit, lightly sucking on it, flicking the tip of his tongue against you. Everything inside of you is burning, aching, pining for more, crescendoing in tandem within you as Christopher brings you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He breaks away from you again, but not before sticking two of his fingers inside of you, causing you to gasp. “What do you think? Should we let her come?” You want to kill him for stopping, right when you were right there, but the way he asked Jisung just drove you mad. You looked down to Jisung with pleading eyes, mouth half-open and you likely looked totally wrecked.

Jisung locked eyes with you, smiling as he studied your face. “Do it, Chan. Make her come for us.” As soon as he says that, Christopher curls his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out at a rapid pace. Your knees start to buckle and you curl over him, lucky that you miss hitting your head on the wall, and you drop your arms to either side of his head. He steadies you with his free hand, bringing you back up to his mouth, his tongue doing circles against your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Jisung says in a soothing voice, helping coax you to your orgasm, “come for us. Come on Chan’s tongue. I wanna hear you scream our names.” The combination of Jisung’s words and Christopher’s actions proved too much to handle. You started breathing uncontrollably, laboured panting taking over as every muscle in your body started to involuntarily twitch and shake.

“Christopher, Jisung, I’m gonna-” you say, but you’re unable to finish your sentence. Your orgasm comes coursing through your body, making you stiffen up and tremble, contractions pulsing within you from head to toe.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath and lift yourself off of Christopher’s face.

“You did so well, baby,” Christopher whispers, removing his fingers from inside of you, reaching his arm up to the man next to you both. “Hey, Jisung,” he says, tilting his head to look at him, “open your mouth for me.”

Jisung furrows his brows, but does as he’s requested. Christopher takes the fingers that were inside of you, and brings them right to the entrance of his mouth. “Clean them.”

Jisung sticks his tongue out, inching closer to Christopher’s fingers. He slowly licks the essence of you off of him, rolling his tongue around and in between both fingers, then takes them all the way into his mouth. Christopher moans, his eyes fluttering in response to Jisung’s actions. “Fuck, you’re good.”

Christopher pulls his fingers out of Jisung’s mouth, rubbing his cheek softly before turning his attention back to you. “Why don’t you reward Sungie for being so good, baby? Crawl on top of him. Ride him until he comes, okay?”

You weakly nod your head, swinging your leg around Christopher. “But what about you?”

He waves his hand in the air before reaching down into his pants. “I’ll be fine. I did say that I was curious about how you two would be together, didn’t I?”

“Alright,” you say, positioning yourself over Jisung. He looks up at you with eager eyes. “Are you ready?”

Jisung nods his head quickly. “Oh, please, baby,” he whines, “I’ve been waiting for this all night.” You smile, lining him up underneath you. Your attention is momentarily distracted as Christopher closes the space between him and Jisung. He brings his face up to Jisung’s ear, giving him light nibbles as he strokes himself.

“Be a good boy for us, okay?” You hear Christopher whisper to Jisung, causing the man below you to shudder. He nods, and you slowly lower yourself on him.

You watch Jisung, taking in every reaction he makes as you take him in. He involuntarily rolls his head back, still trying to watch you. His eyes flutter as you meet his hips with yours, eliciting a deep, guttural moan from him. Christopher looks up at you, smirking, before he drops his head down to Jisung’s neck, giving him small nibbles and kisses. He whispers praises in between each kiss and bite, but you tune it out as you start grinding your hips into Jisung’s.

The way that Jisung felt inside of you was enough to make your eyes roll back as you ride him up and down. It probably wasn’t enough to make you come again, but it still felt incredible.

“How does she feel, Sungie?” Christopher says, loud enough for you to hear.

Jisung responds with a nod and some incoherent ramblings. “Don’t stop,” he manages to squeak out. “Both of you. Please, don’t.” He rolls his head back into the headboard. “Chan,” he pleads, “keep going.”

“Jisung likes to be bitten hard,” you breathe out, smiling up at Christopher, “so you should finish what you started.”

Christopher responds with a scoff. “Fine,” he says as he adjusts his position. “Only because you’ve been so good.” He leans up on one of his elbows to get closer to Jisung’s neck, fully devoting himself to worship Jisung’s neck with his teeth.

The sight of them both causes your stomach to burn in the best possible way. You shift down, steadying yourself on one arm as you take your right hand and start pumping Christopher’s cock. He groans against Jisung’s neck, but doesn’t stop.

Jisung starts to pant out mewls, his eyes shutting tightly as he starts to twitch. “Baby,” he pleadingly whines, “baby, I’m gonna come. Can I? I want to come. Please, please.”

“It’s okay, Sungie, baby,” you pant out as you ride him a bit faster. “You can come for me. I want you to come for me, okay?”

He nods once, about to bite his lip, but he chokes out a moan, calling out your name at the top of his lungs. Christopher removes himself from Jisung’s neck as he starts to twitch and thrust up into you. He watches you ride Jisung, milking out every drop of cum from him with each slow thrust of your hips.

Jisung’s pants slow down, and he starts coming back to reality. He looks down at you, eyes half-open, and goes to move his arm, surprised to find that they’re restrained, just for a moment. “Ah, shit, I forgot,” he groans, “I wanted to kiss you, baby. That was amazing.”

You smile, letting go of Christopher for a second and leaning down to give him a quick, but loving, kiss. “I’ll give you a better kiss when I’m done with Christopher, okay?” Jisung pouts, but nods his head. Slowly, you lift yourself completely off of Jisung, getting one last shiver out of the man beneath you. You reach up and undo the belt, unravelling it and tossing it to the side. “You did so well today,” you coo to Jisung as you kiss his wrists, gently bringing his arms back down to him.

“Okay,” you say, adjusting yourself on the bed so you’re hovering over Christopher. “You’re next, baby.” You lean down to kiss him. “Do you wanna be inside me?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” he groans, grabbing your hips and aligning the two of you together. “I’m already really close, but I want to feel you around me.”

You lower yourself on to him, expecting your motions to be slow and calm like it was with Jisung, but Christopher tightens his grip on your hips. He takes control, thrusting himself up into you with no mercy. His sudden movement causes you to cross your eyes in surprise and collapse down into him.

It really doesn’t take him long, with him in control. He’s in and out of you, hard and fast, and it feels good. You turn your head to face Jisung and he’s watching you intently, a smile on his face. “Do you like making Chan feel good, baby?”

You can’t really make the words go from your brain to your mouth, so you make some sort of groan of affirmation in between your pants.

“Oh, fuck,” Christopher moans underneath you, reaching his hands up to your back and digging his fingernails into your skin. He moans out your name as he thrusts up into you one more time, throwing his head back into the pillow behind him. His body shudders beneath you, and you lift your head up, propping yourself up on one of your arms.

You look down at Christopher, completely blissed out, his face starting to relax and come back to normal. Slowly, you bring your face down to meet his lips, giving him soft, tender kisses as you help bring his attention back to focus. “That felt really good, baby,” you whisper, smiling against his lips.

Christopher scoffs, a goofy smile coming up on his face. He opens his eyes, looking at you, reaching his hand up to your face. “That was incredible. All of that was incredible.” His head turns, looking over to Jisung, reaching out to his chest with his free hand. “I seriously can’t believe we did that.”

Jisung takes Christopher’s hand into his own, sliding himself up closer to both of you. “I can’t believe we did that, either. I didn’t think I would ever be able to share my bunny with anyone, but you treat her so well.”

You slide yourself off of Christopher, and he lets out a soft moan in response. “I’m going to duck off to the washroom for a minute. You two made a mess of me.” Both of the men laugh in response as you wobble your way off of the bed and into the washroom.

It doesn’t take you long to clean up and wash your face. Within a couple of minutes, you find yourself walking (a bit more coordinated, now) back towards the bed. The bedroom is an absolute mess of all of your clothes. ‘Whatever’, you think to yourself, ‘we’ll just deal with it tomorrow.’

You maneuver your way through the clothes strewn about, getting up to the edge of the bed before you stop. Christopher and Jisung have passed out, with Christopher on his back and Jisung curled up next to him. You had wanted to sleep between them, but you’d settle for the space right behind Jisung.

As you crawl up on to the bed, you turn off the lamp next to you, deciding to leave the rest of the lights in the apartment on for now. You curl up next to Jisung, wrapping your arm around him. It only takes a couple of minutes before you find yourself nodding off, completely at peace. Honestly, this felt so nice. If you could end every night like this, you would happily take it.

“Fuck,” you hear a voice as the bed shifts, and Jisung rolls over, wrapping his arm around you. It feels like the voice in the distance is part of your dream, along with the chirping of a bird. “Shit,” you hear the voice again, a bit clearer now. The chirping of the bird turns into a ringtone. Christopher’s ringtone, actually, the one that you heard when Changbin called him. “Goddammit,” the voice perks up again as the trilling stops. It’s Christopher’s voice.

Your eyes flutter open, the room still relatively dark, the only light was from the kitchen, spilling into the bedroom. It’s faint, but you make out Christopher’s shadow, walking into the kitchen as he answers his phone as quietly as possible.

“Changbin, it’s four in the morning. What the fuck?” His voice is groggy and low. You don’t really have the energy to stay up to hear some sort of report, so you let your eyes close again, drifting back off into sleep.

“Fuck,” Christopher says, the sound of his footsteps getting closer and closer to the bed. “You both need to get up. Now. Jisung, we need to move.”

Jisung shakes his head, sitting upright. “What happened?”

“We need to go. Now. Changbin’s orders. Go pack up the shit in the studio; most of it should be in the black bag.” Christopher says with urgency, turning on the lamp next to you. He turns to you to wake you up, but is surprised to see you wide awake and staring at him. “Get dressed. I don’t have time to explain.” Jisung groggily gets off of the bed, stumbling to get his pants on. He tosses your shirt and bra over to you, slipping his other leg through his jeans.

Christopher grabs some clothes from the drawer, still holding his phone up to his ear. “Lee and Yang? 3201?” He questions, “Right now? Alright.” He turns his head back around to you, his voice starting to sound panicked. “Seriously, get dressed. Two of our guys are on their way over.”

You don’t really have the time to register what exactly he’s talking about, you just move to grab your underwear and pants from the floor, and slip all of your clothes on. Christopher pulls his phone away from his face, tapping the screen, and you can hear Changbin’s voice on the other line. Jisung walks behind Christopher, slipping his shirt over his head. He moves with purpose out into the kitchen, and you hear him rustling around in the studio next door.

“Hyunjin’s been shot,” Changbin’s voice comes through the tinny speaker of Christopher’s phone. Both of you freeze, unable to move for a second. “I don’t know where they are, but I know they’re coming for you.”

“Fuck,” Christopher says, snapping out of it, throwing on his shirt and slipping his pants on in a rush. “What’s his status?”

“Don’t panic, he’ll make it. If I heard correctly, it was just a through and through in his leg. Seungmin’s with him at the hospital, so don’t worry.”

You take a hasty breath of relief, putting your shirt on with shaky hands.

Christopher grabs his phone, stopping to look at you. “I need you to hurry up, please.” He turns off the speakerphone, bringing his phone back to his face. He starts to move for the kitchen as the front door opens. He stops for a moment, trying to decipher if it was a threat. You can’t see who comes in, but Christopher relaxes when he sees them.

“Are you ready?” One of the unfamiliar voices says, and Christopher shakes his head.

“Almost. Yang, she’s in here, keep an eye on her and get her out here. Lee, watch the door. Han and I are grabbing the essentials from the studio and we’ll be ready in a minute.” His voice trails off, and you assume he’s headed off into the studio with Jisung.

A young man with black hair walks into the room, your shoes in his hand. He sees you and offers a shallow bow, handing you your shoes. “I’m Yang Jeongin. I’m with Bang-hyung and Seo-hyung.” You don’t really know what to say, so you just offer a small bow with your head, shakily introducing yourself. “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe, alright? I need you to get up and come with me, though, okay?”

You hastily slip on your shoes and shakily make your way to your feet, all semblance of balance leaving you. As you’re about to fall forward, Jeongin comes up to catch you. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “We need to go. Seo-hyung will be here in just a few minutes. Okay?”

You weakly nod your head, regaining your balance. With Jeongin’s help, you make your way to the kitchen just as Christopher and Jisung are coming out of the studio, both visibly armed with pistols. “Lee,” Christopher says, putting a large black duffel bag on the counter. The young, bleach-blond man standing at the entrance nods, walking over to the counter to grab the bag. “Everything’s in here. Don’t let this bag out of your sight, no matter what.”

“Understood, Bang-hyung,” he says with a bow, meeting your eyes as he grabs the bag. He looks at you with a serious look, as if he were hiding his nervousness under a tough skin. “Lee Felix, nice to meet you.” He offers you a bow, pulling the bag off of the counter and taking it to the entrance before you can introduce yourself.

“Yang,” Christopher says, grabbing the pistol from under the table, “Han and I have got her, don’t worry.” He takes the pistol and the magazine and passes it to the black-haired man. “I want you to lead with Lee as we leave, understood?”

“Yes, hyung,” he says with a bow, assembling the pistol and putting it in an open side holster.

“Alright,” Christopher says, coming up to your side. “Han, are you ready?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jisung says, coolly and calmly, walking up to your other side. You turn to look at him, and he looks stoic and composed. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ve got you.”

“Changbin’s out front,” Christopher says, grabbing your hand haphazardly. “We need to go.”

With his words, the five of you move quickly, yet cautiously, stepping out of the apartment and into the elevator. You, Christopher, and Jisung stand in the back, as Felix and Jeongin stand up front. All of them have holstered their pistols, but their hands are on their hips above them.

It seems like an eternity since you’ve seen this elevator. The last time you saw it, you remembered being excited and nervous, curious about who the mysterious Christopher Bang was. Now, you were nervous and terrified. You looked up to him, and found yourself wondering that familiar question:

Who is this man?

a/n: if you made it this far, thank you so much. <3 i really hope you enjoyed this chapter.

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this-idiots-left-eye · 4 years ago

Text

In Plain Sight

Cover art by Stlyrica on instagram!! I’ll put a link to it in a reblog!!

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Summary: When Break hides Gilbert's favorite Christmas ornament somewhere in the Rainsworth manor, the Golden Trio must spend the afternoon looking for it. But why is it so special to Gil?

Notes: I originally wrote this for the prompt "Ornaments" in an alphabetical Christmas prompt list my friends and I did in 2017--(it was going to be part of a group of Christmas fics we all wrote for different fandoms. Some of the people in that group hadn't read PH, so that's why this fic has some explanations for who the characters are). Then I posted it for Pandora Hearts Month 2018 for the Golden Trio Prompt: Friendship. I hope you like it! I would really appreciate it if you could reblog and/or leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed it!

“You’re the tallest, Gil, you should put the star on top!”

“Ooh! It looks yummy! Like a big cookie!”

“It’s not a cookie, Stupid Rabbit!”

It was a few days before Christmas, and the trio was at the Rainsworth manor. Finally, everything was ready for the holiday; a fire was dancing in its place, the stockings were all lined up on the mantle, and they had just put the finishing touches on the tree. The only one who hadn’t been informed about the festive season, was the sky outside; it had been raining for the past few weeks. There was a chill in the air, it was frosty, but snow hadn’t quite come yet. Still, they made the most of their time indoors.

“Perfect!” Oz exclaimed.

Oz Vessalius was the fifteen-year-old heir to the Vessalius dukedom, but after his escape from the Abyss that year, when he wasn’t off on adventures, and missions, he spent most of his time at the Rainsworth’s.

“It’s so pretty, Onii-chan!”

On account of the ten-year gap, Oz’s sister, Ada, was older than Oz now, but, no matter what, she would never stop seeing him as her older brother. She was on Christmas break from Lutwidge Academy, and more than happy to spend it at the Rainsworths, with her brother. She had, of course, brought her two cats—Snowdrop and Kitty—with her, (which Gilbert maintained a healthy distance from, due to his phobia of cats).

“The Rainsworths will have the best-decorated tree in town!”

Oscar, their uncle, was spending the afternoon with his niece and nephew too. He was a bearded, bespectacled man, with the same blonde hair and green eyes as the rest of his family. At the moment, he was sitting on one of the couches, with a cup what he called ‘tea’, but which the rest of them guessed probably had something stronger in it.

“I can’t take all the credit, Gil and Alice helped a little,” Oz joked.

“‘A little!’”

Gilbert was Oz’s servant; a dark-haired man, who often appeared cold and reserved, but who was rather sensitive, and a worrywart. He still sometimes acted as though they were only a year apart in age too, despite the fact that he was now ten years older than his master.

“Yeah, manservant!” Alice challenged, “More like we did all the work!”

“I was just teasing!”

“Well,” Sharon had a way of returning things to order with her calm and proper words, “you all did a wonderful job.”

Sharon was the heiress to the Rainsworth dukedom, and looked like a thirteen-year-old girl, though was really in her twenties or thirties—(they knew better than to ask her exact age). Her chestnut hair was usually tied back into a kind of half-ponytail, and, as always, she outmatched them all on style points; today it was with a dress of a wintery blue that looked as if she was trying to encourage the snow to fall. As per usual, she held a cup of tea in one hand—peppermint, she had informed them, for the Christmas season—and a pastry in the other. She was sitting at a small round table on the other side of the room, with Reim—duke Barma’s bespectacled, hard working, servant, who spent more time at the Rainsworth’s than anywhere else, with his two best friends—Sharon and Break.

“Well, I’m beat,” Alice stretched and yawned, “Seaweed-head, when are you going to make me some meat?”

Most Chains (creatures from the Abyss) didn’t look like Alice did; like a fourteen-year-old girl, with floor length brown hair, and an almost cat-like physique—(though it was a giant rabbit she often turned into). Also unlike other illegally contracted Chains, she did not have a thirst for human blood, although she did have a particular love for meat, as well as almost anything edible.

“I suppose I can make you something, now that we’ve finished,” Gil sighed.

“Oh? Have you now?” they turned to see Sharon’s servant, Xerxes Break, grinning as he poured himself another cup of tea. “Are you sure nothing’s…” he leaned back against the table, “missing?”

Break was a red-eyed, white-haired man, also much older than he looked. Even those close to him would say he was a bit of an acquired taste; his love for teasing, the creepy doll on his shoulder, and his general lack of regard for other people and their feelings, made it difficult for those subject to his mischiefs—such as Gilbert—to acquire any kind of affection for him.

Gilbert froze, turning his head slowly to the tree. His eyes immediately found the empty space where a certain ornament had been.

“Break!” he shouted, spinning back to him, “Must you do this every year?!”

“Let an old man have his fun.” Break grinned.

“I believe he must, Gilbert-sama,” Sharon answered Gilbert’s question, nonchalantly taking a sip of tea before continuing, “It has become something of a tradition.”

“I should have spent Christmas with he Nightrays this year,” Gilbert grumbled, reluctance in his motions as he began to pick up books, and other objects around the room, as if searching.

“You’re so mean,” Break chided playfully, then spoke a little more seriously, knowing Gilbert had no intentions of spending much time with his adoptive family, and real brother, “You’d rather spend Christmas with the sewer rat, than us?”

Gil gave him a death glare.

“Sorry…but what’s a tradition?” Oz asked, turning to Sharon and Break.

He wouldn’t admit it, but sometimes, especially with things like this, the ten-year gap could make Oz feel like an outsider.

“Every year Break takes Gilbert-sama’s favorite ornament,” Sharon explained, “And hides it somewhere in the manor.”

“Ooh! That sounds like fun!”

“It’s not fun, Oz!” Gilbert hollered at his master, “It’s a waste of a perfectly good afternoon! Not to mention annoying, and rude!”

Break laughed. Gil had yet to learn his outrageous reactions were what made this sort of thing so fun for the prankster.

“Don’t worry, Gil!” Ada bounded up to him, “I’ll help you look!”

Gilbert flushed, “T-Thank you.”

“What does it look like, Gil?”

He looked at Oz, then turned back to Ada, and explained it quietly enough that only she could hear.

She nodded, beaming, and began to look in a different part of the room.

“What’s the matter, Gil?”—Gil gasped as his master appeared suddenly at his other side—“You don’t want me to know what it is?” Oz’s laugh faded into a more puzzled expression when Gil averted his eyes, turning redder.

“It’s a secret, Onii-chan!” Ada answered for him, “You’ll see when we find it!”

He didn’t get the chance to ask anything more, because Alice broke in, having been observing all their interactions,

“Does…Does this mean I won’t get my meat?”

“Uh huh,” Gilbert sighed, “That’s exactly what it means.”

“No! I will not allow it!” Alice shook her head, and whirled around on Break, pointing at him in an accusatory manner, “Clown! Return Seaweed-head’s stupid ornament his instant!”

“It’s not stupid, Stupid Rabbit!”

“Aren’t you a spoilsport?” The Mad Hatter teased, then the doll on his shoulder, Emily, finished,

“Why should I listen to some dumb bunny?”

Alice growled, her hands clenching into fists. She spun to Gilbert, declaring as she ran up to him,“Then I won’t rest until I find that ornament! With the great Alice-sama on your side, you cannot fail!”

“Sure you won’t just get in the way?”

She kicked him in the shin, crossing her arms, “You’d be lost without me, Seaweed-head.”

“Don’t kick me, Stupid rabbit!” he rubbed his leg, “Now go look for it over there!” he stamped his injured foot back down and pointed to the opposite corner of the room, (to which she quickly ran, proceeding to tear her designated space apart in a matter of seconds.)

“Is this ornament really all that important, Gil? I mean, we have lots of—”

“Yes!” he answered before his master could finish, “it is!”

Oz sighed, knowing how attached his servant could get to things, “Alright. So…is us helping against the rules?” he asked, watching Alice destroy the room in search of it, Ada calmly remove things, and put them back where they were meant to go, and Gil as a mix of the two.

“Don’t you think we would have stopped them if it was, Oz-kun?”

Sharon shook her head, “It doesn’t matter who finds it, watching him search is the fun part.” Her mischievous side was showing; most of the time she was this prim and proper lady, but being close to Break had its effects.

“That’s right; the more people searching, the funnier it is when they can’t find it,” Break sang. “Though, tell me, Ojousama,” he turned to his mistress “are you merely saying that because you wagered he’d find it early—before 18:00?” he asked knowingly, sitting up on the table—(Reim gave him a look that could only be interpreted as: can-you act-any-less-like-a-servant?)

They turned to the clock—it was 15:00.

“Why do you want to know, Break?” his mistress asked with a tone of false interest, “Are you afraid your skills as a prankster have gone down with age?” she patted her mouth innocently with a napkin.

“What do you take me for, Ojousama?” he smirked, crossing his legs, narrowing his eyes at Gilbert, “He’ll need all the help he can get.”

Gilbert returned to him an even more murderous look.

“You… betted on this?”

“All part of the tradition, Oz-kun,” Break mentioned, stealing a mini pastry from Reim’s plate—(the incense was more than evident on Reim’s face, and probably why Break did it).

“It’s not money we wagered, though; If I win, Break has to swear off sweets over Christmas—as well as make me a lavish dessert full of those sweet things he can’t have. And if Break wins, I have to buy him an equally lavish amount of extra Christmas candy and sweets.”

“Nice! Break, I didn’t know you could bake!”

“He really can’t,” Sharon chuckled, “But it’s fun to see what he comes up with.”

Break glared at her.

“So… is this how you bet every year?”

“Sometimes it’s different. But it’s usually something to the effect of giving Break a taste of his own medicine…Though I seem to recall one year, I wanted Break to do this dance I had heard of in a book, if he lost. I believe it was called ‘Futterwacken.’”

“That’s a weird name for a dance!” Oz laughed, “So? How did that go?

“I suppose it is,” she smiled, “That was one of the tamer punishments, but, when he did lose, he refused—rather blatantly.”

“Really?!” he turned to Break.

“How many times must I tell you? I have no talent for dancing.”

“Truly, as a servant of the Rainsworth Dukedom, it would be better fitting that you learned,” she shook her head, then turned back to Oz, “Anyway, after that, we thought the chance to take away his candy was rather enjoyable.”

“Aw, I want to join the bet!”

Gilbert looked affronted, but before he could speak, Oz continued, boyish excitement simmering in his tone,

“Say, what if, if Break loses, I get to eat his candy instead?!”

Sharon and Break glanced at each other.

“Let me ask you something, Oz-kun;” Break set down his tea, “Are you willing to risk the consequences of such a wager?”

“Ehh…consequences?”

“Why of course. I couldn’t give little Oz-kun the chance of stealing my candy without the proper torment in store if he lost.”

“Eh…” Oz knew just how mean Break could get, and that this could very well turn into a prank war that ended in actual blood, “I think I’ll pass.”

“I always said you were smarter than you looked,” the Mad Hatter picked up his tea again.

“Maybe you could join in by helping me look, instead of encouraging them, Oz!” Gilbert whirled on him.

“Aww, do I have to?” the fifteen-year-old groaned.

“Oz!”

Oz turned to the masterminds, as if silently asking for them to give him an excuse not to.

“Hey, Oz-kun is sharp,” Break began, then Emily added,

“Probably smarter than these three put together!”

—two of the aforementioned three gave him what can only be described as ‘fight-me’ faces, and Ada looked disheartened—Break took no notice, and finished,

“So that depends; whose side are you on?”

“Well,” Oz thought for a moment, then mused, grinning, “it would be fun to see Break trying to swear of candy!”

“Is that so?” Break’s eye narrowed.

“In any case, why isn’t Reim-san helping?” he shifted the focus. “You’re not the kind of person to sit back while others are in trouble”

Reim sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “While that may be true, these two are often harsher with me, than others. If I help you, I have a feeling I shall pay for it in some way later,” he shot them an icy look, “dearly.”

“Whatever do you mean, Reim-san?” Sharon asked innocently. “We thought you enjoyed our company.”

“Yeah, it’s only because you’re our favorite, Reim-san,” Break gave a fake sappy voice.

“Then pick a new favorite!”

“That’s not how it works! You have a lifetime guarantee!”

“Sharon,” it was Ada who spoke. She had been focused on searching on the mantelpiece, and inside the stockings, “Why are there nine stockings?”

“What do you mean, Ada?” Oz asked, stepping over to her.

“Well, I was just thinking; there’s me, Onii-chan, Uncle, and Alice,”—Alice looked annoyed at Ada mentioning her name—“since we’re staying here for Christmas,” she pointed at each of the stockings in turn, “and these belong to Sharon-sama, Break, Duchess Rainsworth-sama, and Reim-san, right? But who does this last one belong to?” she held the bottom of the last one, careful not to pull it off the mantle.

They turned to Break and Sharon, who glanced at each other, their mischievous grins fading into more somber, reminiscent expressions.

“It was Break’s idea,” Sharon answered.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit—“

“It’s for my mother…That has become something of a tradition as well. We just thought it would be nice, to have something to remember her by during the Christmas season.”

The tone in the room quieted; the rest of them knew that Shelly was Sharon’s mother, who had died sometime after Oz’s coming of age ceremony.

“That’s…actually really sweet,” Oz noted, “Break, I’m surprised you thought of it!”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you? And you say that like I’m cruel.”

“Well…” Oz rubbed the back of his neck, smiling nervously, trying to formulate a non- insulting answer in his mind.

“I think what Oz is trying to say,” Reim started out gently, then finished harshly, “Is that it’s high time you realized you can be a jerk, Xerxes!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say jerk’…” Oz began.

“I would,” Gil mumbled.

“My…I cant believe that you all….” Break began softly, then Emily jeered,

“Just figured that out now!”

The anger was evident on all of their faces.

“Really, why are you all ganging up on me,” Break grinned, without a hint of hurt in his voice, “when you should be focusing on the task at hand?”

“Because it’s your fault we’re in this mess!” Gilbert shouted, then ran his hand frustratedly through his hair, observing the mess they had made of the room, before demanding, “Is it in this room?!”

“Given up already, have you?” Emily teased.

Gilbert clenched his hands into fists, biting back a retort.

“Did anyone see him leave the room?!”

Everyone looked at Gilbert blankly, or up at the ceiling, trying to think if they had, realizing they had no idea, and knew full well Sharon could have used Eques to transport him when their backs were turned anyways. Gilbert put his hands on his hips, sighing at their silence “Alright. We have a whole manor to look through, it’s best we move on from this room,” he paused, turning again to Break, with malice in his eyes, “Right?”

“Sure, kiddo!” Emily replied, and he gave the fakest grin yet.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, then shook his head, directing them,

“Let’s split up; Ada, you go down the left hall, Stupid Rabbit, you take the right. I’ll go downstairs.”

“I won’t let you down, Seaweed-Head!” Alice sped down the hall, not even searching, as if she had forgotten the task she’d been given.

Ada nodded, “Come on, Snowdrop, Kitty!” she called to her cats.

Oz sighed, “Alright, fine. I’ll help too.”

Gilbert smiled, about to thank him, when Oz added,

“But I expect to be rewarded for my troubles!”

His servant rolled his eyes.

“I kinda need to know what it looks like, though, don’t I, Gil? You seemed to want to keep it a secret earlier.”

“You’ll…um….You’ll know it when you see it,” Gilbert looked anywhere but at his master.

Oz sighed, putting his hands on his hips, “Really? That kinda makes things harder, you know.”

“Oh, not up to the challenge, are you Oz-kun?” Break goaded.

“No, no, I can do it! I just feel like we’re not addressing a key part of the puzzle here!”

With that Gilbert pulled him out of the room and into the search.

Gilbert was right; it did seem like a bit of a waste of an afternoon; exhausting wasn’t the only word that came to mind after rifling through each room one by one, with no clue as to where it might be. Especially because the feeling began growing in them that Gilbert was way too attached to things, as well as that Break was, indeed, a jerk. They didn’t know how much time had passed before they met up again in the hall, everyone hanging their heads in shame and disappointment.

“What should we do?” Ada asked quietly.

“We can’t let the clowny bastard win!” Alice slammed a fist into her other palm to emphasize her point.

“That’s right!” Gilbert agreed, “For years I had to put up with his constant teasing, it’s high time we got him back!”

“I don’t think losing the bet is really going to make him stop. I mean, he’s lost before, right?”

“You don’t have to be so blunt about it!” Gilbert complained.

“Sorry,” Oz shrugged.

In the moment of silence that followed, Ada’s cat started rubbing against Oz’s leg, as if trying to comfort him.

“What do you think, Snowdrop?” Oz asked jokingly, picking up his sister’s cat, (Gilbert eyed it, a whine developing in his throat, scooching away), “Do you have any idea where it is?”

Oz gasped.

“What is it, Onii-chan?”

Tied into the cat’s collar was a ribbon, attached to a little ornament. He pulled it free and placed the cat on the floor (it meowed and padded away).

The other three gasped in turn, leaning in to get a better look at it.

“That bastard!” Gilbert slammed his fist into the wall behind him. “He knew I wouldn’t go near your cats!”

“Yeah,” Oz laughed, “leave it to Break to take the cheap shot.”

“What are we waiting for?!” Alice demanded, “Didn’t I just say we can’t let the clowny bastard win!”

“You’re right!” the others said together, and bolted down the hall.

“We found it!” Oz held the ornament high, like a trophy, as they burst through the door.

At the same moment that he held up the evidence, the hour chimed.

They each glanced at each other, then at the clock, which read exactly 18:00.

“My, my, isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” Break remarked, stretching, “It looks like it’s a tie, Ojousama.”

“It would appear,” Sharon smiled “In that case, would you please excuse me for a moment?” she gathered her dress and hurried out of the room.

“So, which one of you found it?” Break asked, walking over to them.

“I did.”

The prankster smirked, “What did I tell you?” he ruffled Oz’s hair, “Oz-kun’s sharp.”

“So… what does that mean about your wagers?” Oz tried to put his hair right. “Since you tied?”

“Just a moment Oz-kun,” he put his hand on Oz’s head, his sleeve falling over his eyes, and looked over their heads

Sharon quickly did return, a little out of breath, holding a small package wrapped in a ribbon.

“Here you are, Break!” she held it out for him.

He took it from her and unwrapped it, opening the little red box to reveal that it was filled with the the candy she had promised.

“Just the thing I needed” he patted her head, unwrapping a piece and tossing it into his mouth. “Better luck next time, Ojousama,”

Oz and Alice stared at him, open-mouthed, dumbstruck that he had beat them.

“Now I suppose I should get started on that dessert of yours,” he waited until the proper moment to add.

“Please do.”

“Huh?” Oz and Alice asked simultaneously.

“Since we tied,” Sharon spoke, as they both turned to them, “we both win.”

“So…does that mean the clown still has to swear off candy?” Alice asked hopefully.

“No—Unfortunately,” Sharon added, glancing at her servant, who rolled his eyes, eating another piece, “We both get the rewards of the wager, but no one gets the punishment.”

“More in the Christmas spirit, wouldn’t you agree, Ojousama?” he said between candy crunches.

“Since when do you care about ‘Christmas spirit’?!” Gilbert demanded.

“Better luck next year, I guess,” Oz tried to put a positive spin on it.

“Next year?!” Alice fumed, “I want to settle this now!” (Gilbert held Alice by the neck of her jacket.)

“Believe me,” Reim grunted, eyeing Break, “it’ll only end worse for you,”

“Who knows?” Break shrugged, “There may not be a next year, Oz-kun.”

Alice continued to seethe while the others glanced at each other, unsure of how to respond to such a statement.

“There you go again,” Reim scolded. “You can’t just mention something like that!”

Break dismissed him with a wave of his hand, chuckling to himself, and muttering something about his uptightness, as he made his way down the hall to the kitchens.

After Break left, Oz looked down at his hand, opening his fingers to reveal the little clay, painted oddity he was still holding. Alice came behind him and looked over his shoulder at it.

“What…is it?”

“You didn’t know what you were looking for?!” Gilbert questioned.

“Because you never told me, Seaweed-head!”

Gilbert looked away, clearly wanting to bite back, but without argument with which to do so.

Oz shook his head, staring at it. It was rather crudely made, ineptly painted. But he couldn’t mistake it for anything else—and Gil had been right, he did know it when he saw it.

Because he was the one who made it.

“I can’t believe you kept this, Gil.”

Gilbert looked away, nodding and turning red.

Now he understood why Gilbert was so intent on getting it back. This ornament had probably become a symbol to Gilbert—much like Shelly’s stocking on the mantelpiece was for Break and Sharon—for Oz himself. This ornament, through the years, had probably become tied to his faithful valet’s unending hope that his master would come back. Each year Break took it, as if teasing that perhaps he wouldn’t (and, maybe this was his roundabout way of him trying to prepare him for that), but Gilbert always got it back, as if displaying that he would never lose that hope.

“Oy! What is it?!” Alice demanded again, upset her ‘manservant’ wasn’t focusing all his attention on her.

“It’s a bird, Alice,” Oz answered simply.

“Really, how do you figure?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t look very good does it?” Oz laughed.

“Seaweed-head, why would a crappy ornament like this be your favorite?”

“Oy! You don’t see me criticizing your bad taste!”

“Bad taste?! I have impeccable taste! I eat meat every day!”

“That’s not what—”

“Its because I made it for him,” Oz answered her question quietly.

“You?” Alice laughed, slapping him on the back, “You have pretty poor skills, Oz.”

“Give me a break! I was a kid!”

Oscar laughed, walking up to them, “You’re still a kid, Oz. Yes…I can’t remember how old he was, but he made me, Ada, and Gilbert ornaments,” he laughed a little, putting his arm around Gilbert, “I remember how offended Gil was at his master making him a gift.”

“Yeah,” Oz laughed, they all looked up at Gil, who got steadily redder the more they spoke, “We had to force him to accept it.”

“Why are you surprised he kept his, Onii-chan?” Ada asked, “Uncle and I kept ours. They’re back at the Vessalius manor. But! we could bring them over here if you want!”

“That’s okay, I believe you! Still… Like Alice said, they don’t look very good.”

“But, like you said, you were the one who made them for us,” Oscar ruffled his nephew’s hair.

“What were the ornaments you made for them, Oz?” Alice asked.

“Well, I made Ada a little cat, and uncle Oscar a camera. I didn’t really know what Gil liked, so I just made him a bird. Funny, how your chain is Raven now.”

“How come you haven’t made me one, Manservant?!” Alice hit Oz on the head.

“Hey! I’ve been busy!” he rubbed the spot where she hit him.

“In any case,” Alice turned to Gilbert, jumping quickly to the next subject, “now you can make my meat, Seaweed-head!”

“Break’s using the kitchen, Stupid Rabbit!”

“Then let’s go to the market! I’m starving!”

Gilbert sighed into his hand, “Fine. Let me get my hat and coat.”

“Can I come with you guys?” Ada asked—Alice looked peeved, but Gil and Oz had already welcomed her.

“I’ll go check if Break needs anything!” Oz ran off towards the kitchen.

As Oz arrived, he saw that Break had changed out of his white coat and purple shirt into more casual closing—likely so he wouldn’t ruin his normal outfit. He had rolled up the sleeves, and was wearing a pink apron Gil sometimes wore when he cooked for them here, but which probably belonged to Sharon’s grandmother, or mother. He had already begun to make a mess of things; flour was all over the counter, chocolate was on the walls, somehow there were even ingredients in in his hair.

“You need some help?” Oz asked, half-jokingly.

Break looked up.

“Oz-kun,” he noted, then grinned, “You? Help me? Gotten bored of Gilbert-kun, and Alice-kun already?”

“Nah. I just wanted to know if you needed anything. We’re going to the store.”

Oz knew that Break could have asked for help from the staff, or Gilbert, but Sharon called him ‘Mr. One-Man-Show’ for a reason; sure, it might not taste or look all that good, but at least he would have made it himself.

“You really think I wouldn’t have come prepared?”

“But, if you won, you wouldn’t have to make—”

Oz gasped. Realizing something:

They both had bought the supplies ahead of time. Oz thought one of them would have to go to the store, depending on who won the bet, (perhaps dragging the other begrudgingly along), but they both had already bought the necessary ingredients. Which meant, either the food one of them bought would go to waste, or be used in some other way, or, regardless of who won or lost, they still intended to give each other the gifts.

“You already had the ingredients,” Oz thought out loud. “and Sharon-chan already had your candy...”

“So?”

“I would have thought one of you would have to go to the store, depending on who won.”

“What’s your point, Oz-kun?” Break pushed his hair back.

Oz shook his head, grinning like he now had some secret information. “Break, you really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”

Break put his hand on the table, turning to him, “Wipe that cheeky grin off your face before I do it for you.”

Oz put his hands behind his back, sauntering closer.

“Oh, nothing,” he whistled, “Just that, well, you do this every year, don’t you? Sharon likes to give you a taste of your own medicine if you lose, but you both use this an excuse to give each other extra gifts, don’t you? I bet it was your idea in the first place.”

“How do you know we weren’t planning to use the supplies in some other way?”

“Because you’re not considerate enough to let others use your stuff,” he grinned, “Didn’t you just say there would be punishment in store if I got your candy?”

“Well,” he smirked at Oz’s discovery, twirling the spoon in his hand, “‘nice’ would be stretching it. But maybe occasionally I’m not a complete ‘jerk.’”

Oz grinned. That was all the confirmation he needed.

As if he were brandishing a sword, Break flicked chocolate on Oz’s face with the spoon, “Now get out of here.”

Oz rolled his eyes.

“Good luck, Break!”

With that he exited the room, and ran to the front door to catch up with Gil, Ada, and Alice, who were gathered there, waiting for him.

“Break doesn’t need anything!” he called to them, “Let’s go!”

At first it may have seemed like a waste of time, but, in the end, Oz realized; an afternoon playing a game, learning that after ten years Gil had still cherished the small gift he had once been reluctant to accept, seeing how Sharon and Break found ways to bring each other joy, spending time with his friends, spending time with his real family, would never be a waste of an afternoon for him.

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