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ahundredtimesover · 8 months

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I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist ��: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues.

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.

“You may leave,” he instructs.

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.

You’d never cared before, why the change now?

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs.

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement.

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling.

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.

“Uh, yes,” you say.

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks.

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.

“Like them.”

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.

“Your girl?” He scoffs.

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave.

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #boss jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut

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sacredsorceress · 29 days

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Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine headcanons #logan howlett headcanons #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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aestherin · 2 months

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KEEP MY HEART

goal 32: you but in meow

NOTE: i finally finished despite procrastinating hehe this was sitting in my drafts for more than a week help me 😭

You probably should have told Scaramouche that you have already arrived at the home address he sent.

If you did so, maybe you wouldn’t be outright welcomed by his mother instantly opening the door after a few knocks.

You’ve already seen her before during some of their games, albeit from a far distance. She looked pretty from afar, yes. But she was heavenly up close. With her long deep violet locks weaved into a simple braid, her perfect skin that gives no evidence of her being a mother of a boy already in college, and her electrifying eyes… you’re starting to realize where Scaramouche got the godly genes from.

“Good afternoon, uh— madam?” You greeted awkwardly. “I’m here to visit Scara, no, Kunikuzushi. He’s a… friend!”

At your introduction, the older woman let you inside their home and motioned you to sit on the sofa. She swiftly made her way back and forth the kitchen and provided you with a tray containing some drinks and some snacks.

You told her that she didn’t have to, but she only smiled in response. As she sat down in front of you, you started to drink from the glass, only so that you can find something to distract yourself from the awkwardness.

“So that’s why your built looked familiar. You’re probably the same woman I saw in the pictures with my son. You’re his girlfriend, right?”

You coughed.

Before you can even reply, Scaramouche’s mother motioned upstairs. “Nevermind that, I don’t want to keep you for long. My son’s room is upstairs, first door from the left.”

“Also,” she lightly muttered as you were getting ready to go upstairs. “Please do treat my son well. I’ve put him through a lot, you see.”

An apologetic smile was plastered on his mother’s face. Was this what Scaramouche meant when he was messaging you? Was his mother somehow enlightened and came to a realization about their issues? You wanted to know, but you didn’t want to pry.

Besides, the main reason why you came here was so that you could uplift Scaramouche’s mood.

“I will.”

Meanwhile, Scaramouche was cooped up in his room, restless. He’d admit it to no one, but anxiety was slowly creeping in his heart at your lack of replies to his message. Why did you suddenly stop replying? Were you getting to him safely? Did you somehow get lost and went to some place with no reception?

‘Damn it, I should’ve just picked her up,’ he thought.

‘Should I call her?’

‘But what if —‘

Three knocks brought his thoughts to a halt. “Kuni? It’s me, [Name].”

Of course it’s you. You're the only one allowed to call him that anyway.

Heavy and hurried footsteps stemmed from the other side of the door once you made your presence known.

“[Name],” he breathed immediately upon swinging his door.

You were welcomed by his disheveled yet still attractive appearance as well as the sight of his room — simple yet stylish with tints of mainly white, black, and blue. The room looked so cold, yet the comforts of his white bed helped it seem warmer. Apart from that however, a warm and furry feeling on your legs also welcomed you.

“Meow.”

You broke eye contact with Scaramouche and instead took a peek at what the little ball of black fur was doing below. His cat (as you assumed) was now cuddling you, purring restlessly against your feet.

“That’s weird.”

“Huh?”

“He usually doesn’t like strangers,” Scaramouche said.

He then eyed you as you crouched down to pick up his cat. “Well you see Kuni, they said cats tend to mirror the personalities of their owner.”

“Who the fuck even said that?” He raised his brow. “And even if that’s true, so what?”

“Well you like me, so of course Scarameow likes me.”

Scaramouche huffed. “Scarameow?”

“You didn’t give him a name, right? I feel bad not calling him anything, so I just thought of that on the spot.” You grinned. “Besides, it seems like he likes it.”

You cut yourself off by lightly poking the black cat’s nose. “Don’t you, Scarameow?”

The man just sighed at the approving purr of his own pet. He was left speechless by how easily his cat warmed up to you. It really weirded him out, considering that it was the very same cat that always just hisses at other people aside from his owner.

“But why that… horrendous name?”

You looked back at him only to flash a disapproving frown. “Horrendous? Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

“What?” You gasped. “Can’t you see he’s literally a cat version of you?”

“It’s like he’s you… but in meow…”

He speedily brought his palm up to his lips in an attempt to conceal something. It was a poor attempt, however, as the muffled noises he tried so hard to stop forced their way out.

And for the first time in so long, he finally laughed.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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NOTE: my reference for thinking of scara's bedroom haha >> [click here]

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

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katnisspeetaprim · 7 months

Text

How Did You end Up Here?

Platonic!Alastor/Reader

Summary: Alastor couldn't quite understand how someone like you ended up in Hell,so naturally he wanted find out. (I tried my best with this one. Sorry if it's bad!) Requests open!

Warnings: implied fem reader, platonic relationship, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1450 Hazbin M.list

You hadn’t been in Hell long, but you were already getting used to your new home. Safe to say you were doing better than when you first arrived anyway.

Charlie had found you on your first day, cowering in an alley way. You’d be forever grateful to her for helping you that day, and introducing you to her hotel reform programme.

That’s how you met the radio demon, Alastor.

He was intrigued by you the second Charlie marched you through the front door. He stood back and observed as the hyperactive princess excitedly introduced you to everyone.

Alastor didn’t miss the way you curled in on yourself with a blush when everyone gathered round to greet you. You clearly didn’t like being centre of attention. He decided to step out of the shadows to introduce himself.

‘Oh Y/N this is Alastor! The hotel wouldn’t be possible without him!’

‘Oh you give me too much credit! But Y/N dear, charmed to meet you!’ You were taken aback by the strange man in front of you. His voice was off and the way he was grinning down at you was... unnerving.

‘Ummm nice to meet you.’ You looked away and played with your fingers nervously. ‘I’m new to Hell.’

‘Well I can see that my dear.’ He shrugged nonchalantly, before leaning down closer to you with a glint in his eye. ‘You seem very timid for a sinner I must say.’

You didn’t know if he was trying to taunt you or if he was just stating a fact, because he was right after all.

‘Uh yeah, I guess...’ You trailed off with a nervous chuckle, not really wanting to get into your situation right now.

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Charlie quickly pushed her way between the two of you, stating that her and Vaggie were going to show you round. You sighed in relief, happy to follow the two women if it meant you were out of the spot light.

All the other residents went back to what they were doing before your arrival, all except Alastor that is.

He stared after you with slightly narrowed eyes. This could be interesting.

Over the next few weeks, you’d gotten used to the eccentric bunch of misfits that inhabited the hotel, even becoming friends with them, Alastor included.

The radio demon really wasn’t as scary as you first thought, he was arguably the person you had gotten closest to in the short time. You’d always been fascinated by old media when you were alive, so when you found out he was a radio hot back in the day, you couldn’t help but be curious.

Alastor was thrilled to have someone take an interest in his work and wasted no time taking you on a tour of his studio, something that the other residents couldn’t quite believe happened.

‘My dear you seem to be adjusting to Hell splendidly!’ Alastor approached you as you sat in the lounge, nursing a cup of tea.

‘Oh hi Alastor! Yeah, definitely not as scary as my first day.’ You smiled at him as you placed the cup down on the saucer.

‘Yes, much less like a shaking leaf now I must say.’ You laughed lightly and pushed some stray hair behind your ear.

‘Yeah well, all of you here helped with that.’ You smiled fondly, so grateful to your new friends.

Alastor knew your guard was down. Now would be a great opportunity to learn more about your story.

‘I couldn’t help but notice you’ve yet to leave the hotel alone, could that be something to do with how you ended up in Hell? If I may be so bold to ask.’ Alastor just asked you point blank, the signature grin never leaving his face.

Your own smile fell slightly at his question and you looked round uncomfortably, trying desperately to avoid eye contact, and making sure nobody was around to over hear.

Alastor was still grinning down at you, patiently waiting for your response.

‘Umm... Can we go somewhere private to talk?’ You wanted to finally open up to someone about your death, but that didn’t mean you wanted everyone to know all at once. Hopefully it would do you some good to get everything off your chest.

‘Why certainly! Follow me dear.’

Alastor locked the door behind him and gestured for you to sit down on his furniture. As you looked round his room, you couldn’t help but notice that it was oddly normal. For someone as vivid as Alastor, you’d expected more personality to be in this room. Though, he does spend most of his time in his radio tower.

Aslastor sat opposite you and crossed his legs, placing the cane he was never seen without by his side.

‘I’m all ears my little doe.’ Alastor prodded for you to start talking.

‘well uh-‘ You picked at some loose thread at the hem of your skirt, still somewhat unsure of yourself. ‘I killed my boyfriend.’ You burst out suddenly, just wanting to get it out.

Alastor was a little taken back by your sudden confession, having been prepared to do some prodding before you finally said it but he quickly composed himself.

‘My that is surprising. I never would have pegged you as a killer.’ He shrugged his shoulders, before his eyes darkened and his smirk got somehow wider. ‘I should know.’

You shrunk back a little in your seat, unnerved by his sudden dark turn. You weren’t sure why you were so surprised honestly, he had to be in Hell for a reason. You made a mental note to bring it up to him at a later date.

‘It’s not what you think!’ You quickly jumped back in. ‘He was an abusive asshole .. And I just couldn’t take it anymore...’ You looked down with sad eyes. There was a beat of silence before Alastor spoke up.

'Murder will get you a one way ticket to Hell, even if the scum did deserve it.’ He stated as a matter of fact. Alastor was a bad person, that wasn’t up for debate, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t call someone out for being evil.

You smiled a little at his words. It felt good to be validated.

‘But if that sad excuse of a man is dead, then how did you die?’ Alastor wondered out loud, knowing he hadn’t gotten the full story just yet. You scoffed before answering.

‘One of his guys just so happened to come by after I did it. I don’t remember how he did it, but yeah.’

‘Hmm.’ Alastor was digesting all the information you’d just dropped on him. It all made sense now, how someone like you ended up in Hell. Before Alastor could respond, you spoke up again.

‘I guess my ex will be here somewhere too... That’s why I haven’t been out alone since I got here.’ It took a long time for you to leave the hotel for the first time with Charlie, terrified that you would run into him. Charlie never pushed you for an answer as to why you were so scared, but she made sure you knew you would always be safe around her.

‘What an interesting development.’ Alastor smirked to himself, deep in thought again. You stared at him again, still confused.

‘Alastor?’ Your voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts.

‘Oh don’t mind me dear, just thinking things over.’ He spoke with a surprisingly cheery tone to his voice as he waved you off. You nodded with a sigh, knowing you wouldn’t get any information out of him.

‘Thank you for listening to me Alastor, it really means a lot.’ You gave him a real smile. Probably the first time you’d really smiled since your arrival. It really did feel good to finally get everything off your chest.

‘Don’t mention it! But I would like to know everything about this coward.’

That request definitely caught you off guard. Your brows furrowed as you thought it over.

‘Why?’ You cringed at how meek your voice sounded once again.

‘Nothing to worry about dear, just information for future reference!’

It only took a matter of hours for Alastor to track down the bastard. You’d given him quite detailed information about him and what his personality was like.

Plus Alastor had many connections all over Pentagram City, so finding the man was child’s play honestly.

Alastor had finally cornered the man in a dead end alley way. He was shaking with fear, tears running down his face as he looked up at Alastor looking down on him.

‘Now my pathetic fellow, just how should I deal with you?’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #imagine #one shot #fluff #angst #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #charlie #husk #angel #adam #lute

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lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber · 2 months

Note

hii i am so happy you’re back! can you write something about carmy and reader being in a situationship/relationship but they’re co-workers and they are struggling to keep the tension between them a secret?

i am so so sorry this is so late but here it is!!

Tension

pairing -> carmen berzatto x y/n

trope -> tension. a good lot of tension. maybe some bad writing, i'm so rusty

word count -> 945 (again, im so so sorry for taking a whole week to write this)

summary -> every day it gets harder to hide that you and Carmen were a little more than friends...

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

They say that if you can smell burning fish in the house when you aren’t cooking, there is probably an electrical fire somewhere in your house. Then of course, call emergency electrical services and make sure your house is safe.

There’s no sure fire way of telling if two people are messing around. The staff knows something is up. It’s obvious, but also there’s just a fog around it. Like if they just had one more clue, they could say hands down that you and Carmy were messing around. The way he looks at you. The way you give him small smiles. They could mean everything or they could mean absolutely nothing. You were a usually sweet and nice person, smiling at everyone. Sydney would trade theories with Tina and Marcus over if you and Carmen were together. Because on one hand, Carmen shouldn’t be in a relationship with literally anyone. Sydney couldn’t believe that a person as sane as you would date Carmen Berzatto aka the king of micromanaging. She couldn’t not see it happening but it was a little strange to see Carmen- allegedly- in love. Maybe love would change him. If you two were even together.

It was getting more and more obvious by the day. Carmen always went to the bakery section first. Totally just to check up on if anything had broken and if everything was running smoothly. Sydney would purposely walk by to see if you two had made some kind of slip up. But nada for weeks. That was, until Monday.

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Monday was not a good day for anyone. You were always pissed when Monday finally came, it meant that work started back up again. Swell. The only good part was seeing your Carmy. To be fair, you saw him every day. He looked better with bedhead and a smile, that’s for sure. But all you had to do was take a deep breath and not let anyone know that you spent basically every night in Carmy’s arms. Easy enough. Just continue doing the thing you were doing. Small smile. Take your break at different times. Don’t normally talk. Don’t fuck up.

The day started off fine. Carmy was a little more scatterbrained than usual but that was nothing new. You noticed that you were out of baking soda. Well, all you had to do was just get more. You pulled on your coat, told Marcus where you were going and walked out the front.

“Carmy, I’m going to the store to get more baking soda.” “Uh- Alright, babe.

You whipped around, wide eyed, hopefully no one had heard him. He realized what he had said and ran a hand through his hair. Dear god hoping no one had noticed. But Sydney had. She had started noticing it awhile ago. It was a pattern.

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The small looks. The strange niceness that Carmen sometimes showed you and only you. If you fucked up, there were the rare moments where Carmen wouldn’t immediately get mad. They snowballed. Each moment giving more reason for the others to suspect you. Every day it just got harder and harder. Wanting to be able to be even a little sweet to each other. You two talked about being able to say that you were together- in a way. You always get a little sad every time you can't be there for him. Every day it seemed that you were being more and more obvious, like someone knew. Like you wouldn’t have to hide soon enough.

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Closing time. Some would call it the best part of the day. You would call it the most dangerous. Everyone wanted out and was scrambling to get finished. This was the part of the day that tested both you and Carmen. You both knew that you couldn’t show it here but it was pent up. Hungry. You both wanted each other but you literally just couldn’t show it here. You knew that you would end up in his apartment. You knew it would happen but all you needed to do was pack up, look like you were walking home, then make a b-line for Carmen’s apartment.

You sighed, making sure everything was ready for tomorrow. Once you have made completely sure, you grab your bag and your coat. He was in his office, rifling through papers. Sydney was grabbing her stuff too, so you two couldn’t be as open as you wanted. It hurt. It was like a dull pain. Like all you wanted to do was feel but you couldn't.

“Hey…I’m packing up. I’ll see you later, I guess…” You both knew what that would mean. It would mean sloppy, tired, exhausted kisses and then fall asleep in each other's arms. Making up for lost time. Trying just to find some semblance of peace even if all you’re doing is running from it. A situationship can only be so fulfilling. Just coming to his apartment to eat dinner and roll around in the sheets. You wouldn’t be able to keep your secret forever.

“Yeah- Yeah, alright…See you…”

His voice was soft. It was only soft with you though, he gave you a tired smile. You knew that you would be wrapped in his arms later but as much as you wanted to be sweet and kind and caring but you knew that that would expose the two of you. You gave him a small smile as you walked out the back.

It wouldn’t happen today. It probably wouldn’t happen in a week. But as you left, and then subsequently as Carmen left, Sydney stayed behind.

She had her suspicions. Maybe you two weren’t so good at hiding it.

taglist:

@carmenberzattosgf @answer2jeff @atrwriting @sexyyounglatinoboy @harrysmatcha @persie123 @leminjelly @foreverxrain @princessloveweird @savage-aespa @morgthemagpie @msphoenixfromdaflames @cillianbabe @softmullet @0-n-1-x @automaticllamacycle @02273

#carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine

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themultifanshipper · 3 months

Note

hello it's me again! requesting for the 2nd time for a Sebastian Vettel fic (I'm horrendously down bad for this man🙇‍♀️) could you please do Rb!Seb x Button!reader because I'm a sucker for brother's best friend trope. Jenson invites Seb over after a night out of partying and he stays there for a couple of days. Seb has a couple of small interactions with reader mostly Jenson stepping in which it doesn't lead into something more lol. so here's the juicy part reader accidentally walks in on Seb taking a bath and like she's so embarrassed she decides to( lock herself in her room even Jenson was concerned. Seb decides to talk to reader alone in her room and it leads to them passionately making out so they have their little "we shouldn't be doing this" "your brother doesn't have to know" moment LOL and they uh do it ig.

this is awkward to even ask for I feel like squidward begging for change in that one ep 😭 like I feel so GUILTY LMAO but anyways please don't rush yourself into writing this please do it in your own pace I really don't mind waiting 🫶 I also would like to say how much I adore your writing and the effort you put into your work so I understand if it takes a while to write all of this down. Don't forget to take yourself as well while you're writing 🩷🩷 -🐇

You had seen Seb in a number of embarrassing situations and positions, him being your brother’s best friend ever since he joined F1, but this was definitely the first time you had seen him quite this naked.

Warnings: Uhhhhhh… I don’t know what came over me I’ll be honest, Seb is super dominant in this one guys, like… overstimulation, praise kink, degrading a bit? Slapping? I need to be waterboarded in holy water at this point, I fear… the dialogue is cringe enough to make me question my worth as a person (this was written at 3 am)also I think I overused the word princess but oh well

Jenson and Seb were partying for a few days to wind down during winter break after an intense season, and you partied with them. You were much younger than your brother, he was in his early 30s and you only 21, so you were technically closer to Seb’s age, which led to a friendship blossoming between the two of you. You’d been on numerous trips and holidays with the pair of them, and you’d been to a fair few races to cheer them on.

Of course with the proximity and the similar ages, Jenson was terrified that Seb would try something with you, and he threatened him several times over the course of their friendship. Him being so much older than you meant he was extremely protective, sometimes bordering on overbearing. And you noticed that as you got older, Jenson rarely left you and Seb alone in the same room for more than 5 minutes without checking in on whether you “needed a drink” or “have you seen my charger? I swear I left it near your stuff could you please look for me thanks” …

This particular weekend had been quite intense, the three of you going out several nights in a row, and you finally managed to get some alone time in the peace and quiet of your brother’s house while the boys went to pick up some pizza for dinner before you all went out again afterward.

Which is why you were so shocked when you opened the bathroom door to pee and got an eyeful of Seb in the bath, very naked, and with the way his hand flew out of the water (splashing half the room in the process) you were pretty sure he had just been caught touching himself. You had caught him. Touching himself. In the bath. Naked. In the bath naked, touching himself. In your bathroom. You had caught him touching himself in your bathroom, in the bath. Naked.

It took you a few seconds to absorb the situation before you shouted “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” and covered your eyes (about 30 seconds too late but it’s the thought that counts!) before backing out and shutting the door, ignoring Seb’s yells about it being his fault for not locking the door.

You hightailed it straight to your bedroom and slammed the door, locked it, and slid to the floor, with your head in your hands.

…

Seb’s dick.

…

That’s the only thought your mind could conjure up for the next several minutes. You didn’t even get a great look at it, being more entranced by the blush quickly spreading down Seb’s neck and toned chest at your intrusion, and it was distorted by the rippling water, but it was there. It existed. And now it refused to leave your mind for even a second.

That’s when you heard the tell-tale noise of the front door closing and Jenson coming back from his pizza run. He called out for you, but the lack of an answer made him come looking for you.

He knocked on your door and tried opening it but failed, immediately making him worry.

“You alright in there, love? I’ve got the pizzas” he spoke softly through the door.

You huffed, you really didn’t want to face Seb after that, so you played the illness card.

“I really don’t feel well Jense, I’m going to sit this one out!” you called out.

He frowned, you seemed fine 20 minutes ago when he left. “You sure? I got you your favourite!” “I’m sorry! You can have it, and you two go have fun tonight! I need to sleep last night off, and I’ll go out with you guys tomorrow!”

He wasn’t convinced but there was no point in arguing with you, so he eventually agreed and left you alone. He and Seb went out an hour later and you were left to your own devices, so you got into your pyjamas (which consisted of a large t-shirt and not much else), made yourself some food and slinked back to your room as thoughts of Seb kept plaguing your mind.

It’s not like you’d never realised Seb was attractive, of course you’d noticed, look at the man for god’s sake. But seeing him all flushed and naked and wet had awoken something in you. Something very dangerous, given the nature of your relationship.

Your thoughts soon drifted to rather lewd areas, as you pictured Seb in multiple situations. Running his hands up and down your naked body in the shower. Sinking to his knees at your feet as he devoured you. Fucking you into the mattress with a hand over your mouth to not alert your brother with your moans. Fucking you in his driver’s room next time you went to a race. Making you come over and over while whispering dirty things in your ear.

Your fantasies were interrupted by the sound of the front door again. You glanced at the clock, it read 3:26. It seems time flies when you’re thirsting over your brother’s best friend, but it was still oddly early for them to be coming home.

You heard footsteps shuffling along the corridor and they stopped right in front of your door, the owner of the feet seemingly listening for any noise coming from your room.

“Jense?” you called out.

“No” Seb’s voice answered, “It’s me, can I come in?”

“Yeah” you sighed, you couldn’t avoid him forever.

He poked his head in, smiling softly at you before padding over to the bed as you sat on the edge next to him, consciously crossing your legs to avoid another incident, given your lack of underwear.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not really, although I’ll admit I didn’t see the time pass at all… What about you guys? This is rather early for you two, isn’t it?”

He chuckled and looked deep into your eyes. “I’m here on my own, actually”.

For some reason that made a shiver go down your spine. “Jenson found a companion to go home with, and I didn’t feel like partying alone.”

“Aaah” you sighed comically “slagclaren strikes again”

He laughed softly. “Yeah…”

You looked at each other for a while before the tension became unbearable and you looked away, blushing.

“So about earlier-” he started but you stood up suddenly and interrupted him.

“Please Seb, I really don’t want to talk about it, it was super embarrassing, and I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you, I’m so sorry”

He cocked his head to the side, frowning at you. “Why would I be uncomfortable? It was an accident, and I’m not exactly embarrassed by my body so… no harm done” he smiled sweetly when your gaze snapped to him.

You laughed in disbelief “Well I should hope you’re not embarrassed by your body! It’s so -”

The image of his wet, muscular body flashed through your mind, along with all the other images you’d conjured up since “uhhhmm…” your brain took a second to reboot.

He smirked “Go on, what is it?”

You blushed profusely and stuttered “Uh, well, it’s uhmm… It’s good” and then you went and gave him a fucking thumbs up.

Jesus, you couldn’t be more lame if you tried.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked even wider “It’s good??”

“You know what I mean!” you whined defensively, face becoming redder by the second “You’re a high-performance athlete! You’re all muscly and… and hot, you know? Like my brother!”

What. The. Fuck.

Your eyes widened in shock “I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that! I panicked! I don’t think my brother’s hot! I mean objectively he is, I guess! But I just-”

Seb was laughing, and he stood up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay I was just teasing you.” he whispered into your ear. “The look on your face when you opened the door and saw me in the bath told me everything I needed to know about what you think of my body…”

Your breath hitched. “Wh- what?”

“You couldn’t take your eyes off of me” he leaned back to look at you “And I think you know what I was doing when you came in…”

He spoke so softly you could barely hear him through the pounding of your heart, and he slowly leaned in and whispered, “Do you know what I was thinking about while I touched myself in your bathroom?”

You whimpered and closed your eyes, the smell of his cologne was overwhelming your senses, and you were on the brink of doing something incredibly stupid. You shook your head. “No, I don’t…”

He chuckled “No?” his hands slid down to wrap around your waist “Let me show you then”

The feeling of his lips on yours didn’t exactly come as a shock, but it was electrifying, and you deepened the kiss immediately, despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind. Your hands went up to grip his hair and he groaned, his hips bucking into yours as he slotted a thigh between your legs for you to grind on.

His hands slid further down and gripped your ass and you gasped, throwing your head back, and he took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck.

"We shouldn't be doing this" you panted, but it sounded weak and shaky even to you.

"Your brother doesn't have to know" he responded, lowering himself down to the ground. He patted the bed and winked at you. “Sit on the edge for me, princess”

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked worried. “I don’t want to force you into anything. If you want, we can just forget everything and go back to being friends”

The thought of that made your heart sink into your stomach.

“It’s just… my brother’s going to kill us if he finds out” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he flashed his signature grin, and when yougave him a shy smile in return, he tapped the bed again.

“Now are you going to sit down like a good girl or do I have to make you sit?”

You were almost a blur with how fast you moved.

Once you were settled, Seb spread your legs and glanced down, finally noticing that you were bare before him. He gasped and lightly bit your knee to stop himself from jumping on you immediately.

“Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” he said, nosing up your thigh and you giggled at his reaction, and the feel of his stubble on your sensitive skin.

“Naughty girl, not wearing any panties with your brother’s best friend in your room. One could think you had an ulterior motive…”

He hiked up your legs over his shoulders and pulled your hips almost over the edge, forcing you to lay down and cling to the bed as he licked a stripe up your already wet pussy. He savoured the taste for a second, muttering a curse in German, before diving in completely, lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you crazy.

When his fingers joined the party, it took you no time at all to fall over the precipice, lips chanting his name as your fingers gripped the sheets for dear life.

But he didn’t stop there, he was like a man starved and you writhed in pleasure as he just kept going and you got close to edge again in record time.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me another one?” He mumbled into your pussy as his fingers continued their assault. But you were so close you couldn’t speak, which displeased him greatly, so he pulled away, your orgasm slowly fading as you whined.

“Words, princess, I need words”

But you were incapable of words, so he slapped you. Right on your abused cunt as you cried out. The shock of it turned you on so much you couldn’t think straight.

He waited, but your lack of response warranted another slap, this time slightly higher up on your clit and you squeaked.

“I’ll ask again. Are you going to be a good girl for me and come on my fingers when I say so?”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you wailed “Yes Seb! Anything for you, fuck- please!”

He chuckled “So desperate for it” he slid three fingers in easily and started a brutal pace “Fuck, you’re so much wetter, you like me abusing your pretty pussy, hmm? Making it all puffy and red when you disobey me?”

“Yes Seb, fuck I’m so close!”

“Good girl, go on then, come for me princess”

And you did, so hard that you almost blacked out.

You’d barely recovered before you found yourself being dragged up the bed, legs hooked around his waist, his arms wrapped around you tight as he pounded into you desperately, panting and groaning into your neck.

“You feel so good, so tight around me, fuck- I’ve wanted to do this for so long, schatz…”

You gasped and he deepened his thrusts, hitting all the perfect spots inside you.

“I never want to leave this pussy, so fucking good for me, taking me so well, princess” he reached up, grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to raise them up a bit. Then he grabbed your waist for leverage to deepen the angle of his thrusts even more, making you see stars.

“I’m so close, Seb… fuck, can I come please?” you gasped, and his hand moved to rub tight circles around your puffy, sensitive clit.

“Come for me baby, such a good girl, all over my cock, that’s it…” he cooed as your body arched off the bed and your nails dug into his shoulders as you came around him.

Your pussy was like a vice around his cock and his hips stuttered, he was so close.

He came after only a few more thrusts, groaning out broken sentences as his hips slammed into yours, eyes locked on to where his cock disappeared inside you.

“Going to fucking fill you up, princess… Deep inside this cunt… all mine… Squeezing so perfect around me… fucking take it, take it all, … fuck- ”

He collapsed on top of you, breathing hard as he came down from his high, face buried in your neck.

The next few minutes should have been awkward. You had just fucked your brother’s best friend. He had just come inside his best friend’s little sister. But, weirdly, it all felt stupidly natural.

“You want to take a shower with me?” You asked, standing up on shaky legs as you felt his come drip down your inner thighs “Or would you prefer a bath?” You smirked at him and waddled into the bathroom.

“Shower please, I don’t like baths.” he replied.

You hummed as it took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up with that statement.

But then it hit you like a bucket of freezing water.

“ You. What?!!”

#my thots #sebastian thots #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sv5 #f1 #formula 1 #🐇#🐇 anon

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Maybe One Day. (Ghost x Petite!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Size kink, Ghost being a little talkative, petite!reader, unprotected sex, some sad parts, mentions of death, blood, violence, (sorry if I missed any)

(Summary): Reader is in love with Ghost but is okay with the fact that it’ll never lead anywhere.

I got a petite!reader ask, you can find that here.

If she wasn’t on her phone, working, or buried in a book, she was thinking about him. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

Y/N has worked alongside Ghost for quite some time now. A few years. From the very moment she’d laid eyes on him, she fell in love. As time went on, her feelings only seemed to grow for him. Up to this point, the fifth year working alongside him, she’d had very limited conversations with him. Anytime she made an attempt to deepen any kind of conversation, he shrugged her off. At first, she thought maybe if she talked to him enough. Close enough to him, maybe. Just maybe something would happen. But he ignored her, walked away from her, and always kept it short. So she gave up after about a year. From then on, the last four years after that, she kept it professional. Only talked to Ghost on missions when she absolutely had to. Didn’t interact with him on base aside from small waves, and kept to herself for the most part.

She made an attempt to hide the feelings she had for Ghost, but it didn’t always work. Most people caught on. The waves, the way she smiled and acted all giddy when he was around. Everything. She was nice to everyone but it was different when it came to Ghost. Nearly anybody could tell. Soap looked at her from the hallway. Ghost stood next to him. “Are you sure about this Ghost?” Soap asks. Ghost nods his head. You were currently folding up a table cloth. Soap sighs, spinning on his heels and entering the mess hall.

"Hey." He smiles. "Uh.. hi." You smile. "You scared me."

"Oh, my bad." He smiles. "I just heard you come out and thought I'd come talk to you."

“About what?”

"Simon."

"What about him?"

"I.. think you know."

You pause for a moment. Looking down at your feet.

"That obvious ah?" You smile. "Uhh.. maybe just a little bit." Soap laughs. "I just… I wouldn't want you getting hurt Y/N. He's kinda.. guarded. Yknow?"

"Oh I know Soap. There's no chance in hell we'd ever work out. Hell, it'd be a shot in the dark if he was even into me." Soap knows you're keeping it together but he can see the hurt in your eyes.

"What?"

"I'm.. not that interesting." You laugh. Simon waited right on the other side of the wall, listening in.

"I think he's just well guarded Y/N. There's nothing wrong with you."

You let out a small laugh, looking down at the ground. "Yeah. I know that nothing will ever come of it. It's just a dumb crush, nothing more."

Soap was only talking to you because Simon asked him to. He told Soap that there was no chance anything would ever work between the two of you and he needed you to know exactly what to expect. After finishing up the conversation with Soap, it had been made clear. Ghost had put Soap up to it. Which meant Ghost was getting tired of it or you’d been making him uncomfortable. You just wished Ghost had come to you about it personally rather than making it everyone else’s business and embarrassing you like that. After that day, you started ignoring Ghost. No more small waves when passing by. No more making conversation with him up on the roof when you took over watch, no more offering to take over his shifts or helping him with his chores. You drew back completely and passed by him with a cold shoulder. You were short when he needed to talk to you, just like he’d been with you. He noticed it immediately.

After a week or so, everyone noticed you hadn’t been active. Nobody had seen you in passing, nobody had talked to you or seen you during meals, and they noticed your captain was picking up your part of the chores. It was unusual. Eventually after they all pestered their Captain enough, he finally caved. “Alright fine. Meet in my office after Lunch and we’ll talk. But this stays between all of us.” He glares. They all nod their heads. After lunch, everyone met up. Ghost waited until a few minutes after, hiding in the hallway. “Alright. Y/N has been on rest in her room until we can get her home. She got a phone call about a week ago that her younger brother was killed in a car accident. She’s very upset, and you guys need to leave her be unless she comes to you for help. Am I clear?” He says. Everyone nods their heads. As everyone finishes up the conversation, Ghost notices a flash of black pass by the doorway to Captain Price’s office. He follows whatever it is, noticing you in the mess hall picking up the lukewarm pot of coffee. Once their conversation was done, Captain Price came in. When he sees you, he’s curious. “Hey, what’re you doing out of your room?” He asks. You raise the cup of coffee. John nods. You say nothing, making your way back to your room. It was odd for the both of them to see you in night clothes. Just shorts and a t-shirt. John looks at Ghost, getting a shrug back.

The following day, Ghost is eating breakfast with Soap in the mess hall. It’s only them and Captain Price inside so far. To their surprise, you walk inside. Broom in hand. You start sweeping up the mess hall. Something you did on a daily basis. It was a very small part of your chores. Not just that, you have your full uniform on. “Uh.. Y/N.” John looks up from his coffee. You pause, looking at him. Your eyes are bloodshot. You look like you haven’t slept in days. “You don’t have to do that, I got you covered. We’re trying to get you home.” You don’t stop sweeping. “They had his funeral already, I have no reason to go home. I’ll be just fine here, thanks anyways Captain.” You sweep everything into the dustpan, walking off. John sighs.

This goes on for a couple days. You’re on edge. Nobody sees you eat, you don’t sleep very well. You’re struggling and there’s nothing anybody can do. Everyone tells Ghost to check up on you. You like Ghost, maybe you’d open up to him. And he did try. Went out of his comfort zone to ask you how you’re doing. You gave him a short “I’m fine.” And shrugged him off after that.

To you, he didn’t care. Nobody cared. They were coworkers, nothing more. They didn’t care what you were going through, they only cared about what you were useful for.

You sat quietly on the chopper. Everyone else made small talk but you, you just stared ahead. You had a blank expression on your face. Like you were staring right through everything. Expressionless, emotionless. Like you weren’t there. Soap is the first to notice, but knows not to get involved. You’re struggling. The last thing you need is someone pestering you. “Alright. Don’t forget the plan. Y/N and Ghost are frontlines. Entering through vents on the rooftops. Gaz and I will be posting guard with rifles, Soap will be entering through the mines. It’s where the least amount of threats are.” Your Captain explains more details before the chopper lands, and when it lands it’s a go. You and Ghost quickly make your way inside, dropping tear gas through the vents and waiting for it to dissolve completely before jumping in.

Ghost notices immediately you’re more ruthless than before. Wearing no emotion on your face as you ambush people, stabbing them. Blood spatters over your face and you don’t even flinch as it does. It’s shocking to see someone so small being so violent. Successfully at that. When the buildings are clear, you’re leaning up against a pool table in the back room. Ghost is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. “You told Captain they had his Funeral already. They didn’t wait for you?” Ghost asks. “No.” You rolls your eyes. “Why?” He asks. Drawing a chuckle from your lips. You cross your arms, not turning your head to even look at him. “Deadbeat parents, they don’t give a fuck about me or how I feel.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “Luck of the draw, how d’ya think I ended up in this shit show?”

The body in front of Ghost has one of your knives in his chest, you walk over to it. Pressing your foot down onto his shoulder and pulling the knife out of him. You wipe it off on your pants before returning back to where you were leaning at the pool table. Everyone else walks into the room, lowering their weapons when they see you and Ghost waiting patiently. They look like they had a hell of a fight. “We gave you guys the hardest task and you look untouched.” Captain Price laughs. “Just too good.” You shrug, walking passed them. Soap smiles, stepping in. “Successful mission.” He holds up a flash drive. The one you’d been looking for. “Fuck yeah.” You smile. You still had that same pain in your eyes. No matter how happy you seemed, it stayed there. You twirl the knife in your hand the entire way back to the chopper, and just like before. You’re staring off into space. Brain in an entire different dimension as you spin it around in your hand.

Overtime, Ghost notices you more and more. How much different you’ve become, how cold you’ve been acting. You’re still giving him the cold shoulder. Still not making much conversation with him.

He makes his way onto the watch post, seeing you sitting back in a chair with your feet kicked up, looking at the room full of cameras. He makes his way up to you, he’s a few minutes early. You stand up, picking up your items and going to walk away. “Leaving so soon?” He asks. You pause, body going rigid. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?” You still have your back turned to him. “Just thought you’d want to make some small talk. Talk about what’s going on.” He shrugs. You turn around, a smile on your face. “Yeah, let’s be friends, we’ll exchange stories about our shitty lives. It’ll be a sleepover.” You smile. “So that’s a no.” He chuckles. You bite your lip for just a second, taking a step toward him. “What? You want to be friends now? The few times I tried making small talk with you, you had Soap tell me to leave you alone. So no, I don’t really feel like talking.” You roll your eyes, spinning to walk around. “I had him tell you to back off because I could tell you liked me. I knew you wanted to be more than friends.” You laugh, “See that’s where you’re mistaken Ghost, we’re not friends. Hell, we’re not even acquaintances. You and I? We’re just coworkers. Nothing more.” With that, you walk down the stairs. It stings Ghost a little bit that you’re so cold to him, but really he asked for this. “Hey!” He calls to you. “I’m your superior, when Captain Price isn’t around, you answer to me, Sergeant.” You turn around, smirk at your lips. You cross you arms, taking a couple steps up the stairs. “Yeah? What can I do for you, Lieutenant.” The venom in your voice is potent. “Go back inside the watch tower.” You roll your eyes. “Yes sir.” You throw your bag back down once you step inside. Ghost closes the door. “Sit down.” You hate that you have to listen to him. But you do anyways. Crossing your arms and leaning back. “Good. Now talk.” He looks at you. “About what?”

“What’s bothering you?” He asks. You narrow your eyes. “You already know what’s bothering me.”

He shakes his head. “Can we just be done here? Or am I going to have to fight my way out?” Ghost let’s out a deep chuckle. “Sweetheart, you can’t fight me. You won’t win.” A scoff leaves your lips. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” He laughs. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re tiny. I could pick you up with one hand.” He sits back in his chair, the tight shirt he has on tightens perfectly over his arms and shoulders. You swallow hard, but Ghost doesn’t miss it. “You’re hiding something else, something else was bothering you.” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a ‘are you fucking serious.’ Look. “You’re joking right?” You laugh. He looks confused. “You assumed that I like you, and instead of coming to me to tell me to back off, you told someone else to come to me and say it. Not only is that a concern that should have stayed between the both of us, but it’s pretty embarrassing that everyone knows now.” You roll your eyes. “Okay. That was a bad call on my part. I’m sorry.” He places his hands on his thighs. Your eyes glancing at them for a split second. “Are we done now?” You swallow hard. “I suppose.” He mumbles.

—

A few weeks later, Captain Price put you on leave for a week.

When you come back, you seem in worse shape than before. Ghost is the first to notice. You look like you haven’t been eating or sleeping. It’s late and he can hear weights crashing in the gym, pulling himself out his bed to go check on whoever it is, not surprised to see that it’s you. “Bad idea to do that without a spotter.” He mumbles. He rubs his eyes tiredly. His mask isn’t on straight, he just threw it on really quick. You say nothing in return. “Y/N, what’s going on?” You’re breathing hard from lifting the weight up. “Parents lied about my little brother dying, wanted me to send money for his funeral so that they could just have the money.” You breathe. Teeth gritted as you lift the weight. “They’ve brainwashed him, made him hate me. I got nobody left.” You’re panting hard, groaning as you lift the weight. Ghost takes it from your hands, lifting it up with one hand and laying it in the rack. “Talk to me.” He breathes. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by you. What you were just struggling to lift, he lifted with one hand.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts. “I don’t have anybody either. That’s why I joined the military in the first place, but it’s not exactly worked out too well in my favor because 141 is like my family. Something I’ve never had.” He breathes. You laugh. “How sweet.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. We look out for each other. Make sure everyone is okay all the time, why you think I’m here hm? Everyone worries about you.” You laugh. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it. I used to try to talk to you all of the time and you just shrugged me off like nothing. Nothing was different between then and now. You’re free to leave whenever you want, Ghost.” You roll your eyes. He takes a deep breath. He’s clearly getting frustrated with you. “Why do you care about em? Hm? They don’t give a fuck about you, never have. Why lose sleep over it? I don’t.” He shrugs. “Rough concept. Maybe you’re just mentally stronger than me. But that’s not exactly my point.” You roll your eyes. You stand up, walking away to another area to work out. “Look. It’s almost midnight and we have to be up at 6. I’m not too keen on losing this much sleep. Let’s go to bed, we’ll talk more tomorrow.” He mumbles. “Go ahead, I’m not making you stay here.”

“Goddamnit.” He mumbles. He makes his way near you as you reach for a bar, he lifts you up with ease, throwing you over his shoulder. “Simon! Put me down!”

“No. You’re going to bed.”

“I’ll just lay awake.”

“Than you’ll lay awake in my bed.”

Your body goes rigid and Ghost chuckles. He opens his door up and spins around to close and lock it behind him. He throws you down onto his bed and you bounce up, scrambling to prop yourself up onto your elbows. He grasps the hem of his shirt, pulling it off. “Um.. what the fuck is going on?” You ask. He straddles your hips, leaning down into you. You let yourself fall all of the way back, backing away from his face. He laughs. “This is what you wanted, right?” You shake your head. “No-no. I don’t want your weird pity s-“ he covers your throat with his hand, the small size of you has him smiling. He likes the control he has over you. “Mnot trying to fuck you out of pity. I know you like me, I know you want to fuck me. I wanna fuck you too.” He mumbles. This side of Simon is weird. You’re used to the guarded, quiet Simon. This was new. “I like you, have forever. S’just a bad idea to start something with someone when you could die any day. But you don’t mind right?” He smirks. He pulls his mask off, and you swallow hard, seeing him.

All of him.

Everyone on base but you had seen his face.

“You’re so tiny..” he mumbles. “So easy to..” he pins your hips down into his bed. Earning a gasp from your lips. “You want me to fuck you or not?” He bites his lip. You swallow hard, cheeks burning. You nod slowly. He smirks, tugging his sweatpants down his legs. You’re only wearing a tank top and shorts, since you were working out. He tugs them off of you quickly. He is massive, you swallow hard when you see the size of his cock. He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “Don’t worry, M’gonna make you feel real good. Just try to be quiet for me.” He lines himself up with your entrance and you breathe out. All of the pining you’d done. The sleep you lost over him, everything. And now? A deep breath leaves your lips when he prods at your opening. The tip of his fat cock disappearing between your folds. He’s stretching you already and he’s barely started. He groans out, holding onto your hips tightly. Holding you exactly where he wants you. He clamps a hand over your mouth when he thrusts all of the way inside of you, enjoying the way your eyes roll back as he bottoms out. He’s huge. When he starts fucking into you, it’s intense. You’re watching him disappear inside of you. He says something but you aren’t listening. “Don’t tell me you’re cock drunk already?” He chuckles. He pushes you back by your chest, shoving his thumb into your mouth. “Such a good girl.” Your mouth makes his cock twitch slightly. You’re tight around Simon and he moans out. “So. Fucking. Good.” He groans between thrusts. You’re surprised how vocal he is.

You feel a high approaching already and he notices how wet you’re getting on him. He bites his lip. Lowering his gaze so that he can watch his big cock disappear into your little hole. He’s gritting his teeth, keeping a steady pace and you tilt your head back. “Ah! S-Simon-“ you whimper. “S’alright. You can cum baby.” He mumbles, leaning down slightly and attaching his lips to yours for the first time. It sends you right into a su space, the softness of his lips has you disappearing. Your moans get muffled by him as he fucks you through your first high. It won’t be your last of the night. Your thighs shake as he overstimulates you. Not giving you anytime to adjust to him. “Fuck you get so tight on me when you cum.” He groans. He starts to rock his hips into yours a little faster than before. He’s eager, wanting his own high. “Why don’t you ride me, hm?” You nod your head. He slides out of you, moving so that you can sit up. When he lays down you straddle him, lowering yourself onto him. Hissing at the new angle, he’s going too deep. He chuckles. “It’s okay.” You rock your hips up, turning around to see how far you’re taking him down. “Try to take all of me.” He mumbles. “I-I can’t.” He chuckles. “You can. Just relax for me.” You nod your head, if you wanted to stop now, he’d let you obviously. He runs his hands up your thighs, resting on your hips. He licks his lips when he forces your hips down onto him, a gasp leaving your lips as he bottoms out again. Your legs weaken and you rest yourself onto him.

You give yourself a second to adjust and he doesn’t try to make you. Letting you rock your hips into him, getting used to it. Pretty soon, you’re bouncing on his cock, moaning out. He’s smiling a lazy smile at you, loving how dirty it is. You’re addicted to him, chasing your high on his cock. He’s getting close and he can tell you’re close too by the way you’re tightening around him and the intensity of your moans. He’s panting hard, thighs clenching and lower stomach knotting up. That sweet knot was going to unravel and against his better judgement, if you don’t stop. He’s going to fill your little pussy full of his cum. You’re rocking back and fourth in him, feeling so good. He loves seeing it, loves seeing you pleasure yourself on him. It’s just a bonus that he gets to watch it, and cum too. This is so much better than jerking off. It’s all he’s done to cum in the last few years. He wanted to make a move on you sooner but knew it was a bad idea. He grips your thighs, helping guide you onto him. “Got me fucking close baby.” He groans. “M-me too.” You pant. Your eyes are watering from being overwhelmed. He lifts his hips into yours, getting frustrated and holding you up so he can thrust up into you. “Oh fuck-“ his voice cracks and a whimper leaves his lips. “I’m gonna cum.” He pants. “Fuck I’m gonna cum baby-“ he cries. “Me too Simon-“ a gasp leaves your lips when you hit your second high, feeling his warmth spill into your depths. Filling you up. Your lips are parted and you’re resting your hands on his chest. Feeling him leak down out of you.

You climb off him, going to stand up but he stops you, pulling you back into him. “Relax.” He breathes. “Sleep here.” He mumbles. Pulling you into his front. “Simon-“ he stops you. “We can talk more about this tomorrow alright? But you need sleep, and I got you. I always got you. Just sleep for now.” He breathes. Feeling his warmth and the way his arms are wrapping around you is too much. You feel your eyes getting heavy.

@clove-shitposts

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #ghost fanfiction #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley

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welovenightcord · 1 year

Text

Maid cafe reactions!?

A/N: Am I the only person that loves maid cafe fics? I love them bro. They are so funny GHAKAJAJAKAJ

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Rin Itoshi, Kenyu Yukimiya, Hiori Yo

Warning: English isn't my first language. I'm sorry If there's any mistakes.

————————————————————————

You started to work in a maid cafe. You always thought that they look so cute (the things that makes them cute is the maids ofc). You thought it wouldn't be bad If you work in there.

As usual, after school you went to the cafe to work. You wore your maid outfit and started to work. While you received customer's orders the door opened and you saw your classmate.

————————————————————————

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮:

His honest reaction was 😳🤯😩. He looked you up and down. You didn't have any other choice than went to him. You went to him while blushing and greeted him.

“W-welcome...”

“Huh? Just welcome? Don't you think you should be nicer to me~?”

You wanted to punch him. But you tried to calm down.

“Welcome Master.”

Bachira smirked. He was enjoying himself.

“Be a good girl~”

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 + 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬:

Kaiser was surprised to be honest. But he saw this a chance to tease you. Ness was with him ofc. He was always with him like he is Kaiser's tail. Kaiser tapped Ness shoulder and whispered him.

“Ness~ Don't you think Y/N looks cute~?”

“H-Heh!?”

Oh, you want to know Ness's reaction? He was a blushing mess. He thought you looked as cute as hell in that maid outfit. While Ness was lost in his thoughts, Kaiser called you.

“Y/N! Hello~”

You went to them and greeted them.

“Uhh hello.”

Kaiser raised his eyebrow.

“You should say ‘Hello masters’. Greet us again.”

“Hello masters.”

Kaiser chuckled while blushing and Ness... Uhh... Actually Ness was trying to stop his nosebleed.

𝐑𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢:

Please don't even ask why was he there. His eyes widened when he saw you. He tried to ignore you but the blush on his face was obvious. You went to him and greeted him.

“Hello master...”

Rin was blushing more now. He tried to not look at you so much.

“Uh-huh hello...”

What was he thinking about you? Well... I will explain simply.

He was never a fan of maid cafes but he somehow changed his mind and visited the cafe everyday to see you.

𝐘𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮:

THE MOST NORMAL. I mean... Of course when he saw you he blushed slightly.

“Hello master...”

He tried to give you a warm smile.

“Ah- Hello Y/N. I didn't know you're working in a maid cafe... You look pretty.”

He really meant it. He thought you looked so pretty and cute. You couldn't help but blush at his comment.

“T-Thanks..!”

𝐇𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐘𝐨:

It was a VERY GOOD surprise for him. He already liked you and seeing you in a maid dress!? Oh he felt like he is in heaven. He blushed so much and stuttered while trying to talk with you.

“Hello master...”

WAIT- you actually called him master? Oh congratulations you gave him a heart attack.

“U-Uh... I-It's nice to s-see you Y/N!”

He thought you were the most adorable girl with maid outfit in the world!

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baby-yongbok · 1 year

Note

hiii since you were asking for suggestions, may i request bf!chan being pissed by bumping into their s/o chatting with their ex? i’ve been thinking about this scenario for a while since i don’t know if he would play cool and then be mad for a whole week or would alfa the situation

Thank you for the ask, bestie! When I think of Chan seeing you talking to your ex my first thought is Jealous!Chan. I feel like he's a bit of a possessive person even if he doesn't really mean to be but he does it from a place of pure love and a bit of fear. I feel like he wouldn't know what to do with his emotions until some time has passed... You'll see what I mean lol anyway, Hear me out...

Jealousy, Jealousy

Word Count: 1099

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of angst? like just a tiny sprinkle

✨Masterlist✨

Chan wanted to surprise you. You had been having a rough time balancing work and classes lately so he wanted to do something special. He had it all planned out, he was going to get food from your favorite place and your favorite flowers to make you smile. He knew that if he went to a particular strip mall that he could pick everything up in one go and get home before you got back from studying. He crossed the busy street stepping onto the curb when he saw it. Honestly, he wished that he was hallucinating, he wished that maybe it was just a girl that looked a lot like you - too much like you.

Unfortunately, his wish wouldn't come true today. You stood there with your backpack hanging on your shoulder as you casually chatted with your most recent ex. The two of you didn't end on bad terms but that didn't matter to Chan, he didn't like the way your ex looked at you and ghosted a touch to your shoulder every time you would say something the slightest bit amusing. Everyone knew that Chan was a bit possessive but what he felt in this moment was a bit more than that, there was a small pool of anger bubbling inside of him that he couldn’t seem to control.

Before he knew it he was stalking towards you, shoulders back and chest slightly puffed out to assert his dominance. He reached the two of you before you even saw him coming, his hand possessively finding a home on your shoulder and pulling you back into him. He took you by surprise and from the look on your ex’s face he was quite taken aback too.

“Baby, I thought you were coming home after studying.” Chan says not completely looking at you. His gaze was semi fixed on your ex and the way his eyes scanned Chan’s frame, he hated every second that the two of you stood in front of him but what he hated even more is that you welcomed it.

“Oh, yeah I - uh just ran into an old friend. Chan this is -” You’re cut off by Chan’s voice, his tone assertive and uninterested.

“I know who this is.” He looked down at you with burning eyes and you knew exactly what that look meant, he was angry. “We should really get going, come on y/n”

Without another word or glance from Chan he tightened his grip on your shoulder and guided you away from your ex not even giving you the chance to say goodbye. It’s not like you would anyway, you knew better than to get on Chan’s bad side and since you already seemed to be there you didn’t want to push it.

“Chan what was -” He glared at you and you stopped mid sentence deciding not to try to talk to him just yet. This was a conversation to have at home and nothing in the world could explain how much you dreaded what was to come.

“So we just talk to our exes now?” Chan asked as he closed the door behind you both. You hadn’t even gotten to take both of your shoes off yet and the dreaded conversation was already beginning.

“Baby, we just ran into each other as I was leaving the cafe. He was literally telling me all about his new girlfriend and I was telling him about you, my lovely and very jealous boyfriend.” Chan’s face twisted at your statement. His arms crossed and his gaze was fixed on the hardwood floor for a second before he spoke up.

“I am not jealous, y/n” He stalked past you and took a seat on the couch avoiding eye contact with you. “I’m angry, I’m not jealous.”

You followed him, taking a seat in the free space next to him. “What exactly are you angry about?” You ask with furrowed brows. You lay a hand on his shoulder and smooth reassuring circles into it.

“I’m angry that you were speaking to him! I’m angry that he looked at you, that he smiled at you. I’m angry that you were standing there with him instead of being home with me… I’m.. I’m just..” Chan’s voice got smaller and smaller as he processed the words that were coming out of his mouth. A small sympathetic smile ghosted your lips as you allowed him time to process his emotions.

“Fuck.” He whispered sharply before laying his head back against the couch. “ I am jealous… aren’t I?”

“Yeah, baby, I think that you are.” You lay your head on his shoulder and his hand finds its way to your thigh giving it a tight squeeze that you know is meant to be apologetic. You appreciate it as the two of you sit in silence for a minute or two.

“I’m sorry…I’m not usually the jealous type I just… when I saw you talking to him it felt like all of my defenses went up and I just couldn’t stand the thought of him trying to get you back. My imagination went wild and I just didn’t want to lose you.” You shifted a bit, placing yourself in his lap and snaking your arms around his neck as he lifted his head to look at you. His lids were low and you could sense a bit of shame in his voice.

“I understand, Channie. I probably would’ve gotten a bit jealous if you were talking to your ex too, but that’s okay cause you know what that means?” He looked up at you with furrowed brows and shook his head. “That means that you love me and I love you too, more than you will ever know. People get jealous sometimes, it’s natural, we just have to make sure that it doesn’t consume us and we have to trust that our other half won’t hurt us.”

Chan shakes his head, taking in your words and processing them slowly. “ You’re right, y/n… I’m sorry for all of that. I trust you with all of my heart and I promise I’ll get better with that.”

“I forgive you, Channie, everything is fine.” You lean down, resting your head in the crook of his neck as the two of you hug and share some deep breaths.

“But like, next time I’d rather you walk right past him. Kinda like he’s invisible ya know?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Chan. We were getting somewhere.” You smile against his neck and he lets out a faint chuckle.

“Okay okay, I’m just kidding… kinda.”

454 notes · View notes

pocket-watcher · 2 months

Note

thinking about vtubers hypnotized to become their characters. months of conditioning to engrave a new personality onto their minds. brainwashed to forget their old identity, embrace the new one, and obey their corporate masters.

That is honestly delicious, here’s a story for you!

It had been three months since SillyKitty94 had started streaming.

And 60k subs was not bad at all!

She’d spent a whole week agonising over her avatar. Katie was a shy, geeky, plain girl. But SillyKitty? Her avatar was beautiful. Confident. Witty, funny, and yes she was insanely hot.

Everything Katie wanted to be… plus cat ears and a tail.

She had started off awkward and stilted for her first few streams. That was when one of her idols had reached out.

New Message!

Check out this video! It really helped me get more comfortable talking to my audience. (File attached)

In the excitement Katie hadn’t even considered it could be something malicious.

Rookie mistake.

The next time she streamed she found herself slipping into her persona so much more easily.

So, naturally, she asked for more videos.

Katie could never quite remember the exact advice, but it always seemed to help. Not soon after she started watching them daily did the company who made the videos reach out to her.

Dear SillyKitty94,

We’d love to represent you as a rising talent within the streaming community…

Let’s be honest, Katie wasn’t exactly thorough when reading through the terms and conditions. Kittens didn’t read. She was too excited! So, she accepted without hesitation.

Her new partnership meant she got access to as many videos as she liked, as often as she liked, so long as she kept streaming weekly.

She grew her audience, kept watching her videos, and ended up streaming daily.

Soon it was all she wanted to do.

Man I love her streams!

Her little cat collar and ears are so cute!!

Okay, but what’s your actual name?

“My names Kitty! I mean… it’s Kitty! I uh… sorry, let me focus for a sec!” Kitty scrunched up her nose playfully.

Her ears twitched and her tail curled happily.

“Well, thanks for joining everyone! I’m going to go take a cat nap. I’ll see you tomorrow, kittens!”

Kitty ended the stream, staring at the little version of her in the corner.

She preened.

Switching tabs, she went onto a private call with her owners - partners.

A message popped up.

Good evening, Kitty. Time for training.

#hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #watcher answers #hypnotized #mindfuck #watcher writes #watcher’s stories

71 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 5 months

Text

The People We Used To Be

Pairing: Musician! Rafe Cameron x Musician! Reader

Warnings: Rafe being an asshole

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Music brought together Y/N and Rafe, but he pulled them apart. After seven years, a competition to win a recording deal brings them back together and they are forced to confront their past.

A/N: Inspired by @ghostofwriting's Kildare Spilt series which is absolutely amazing and you have to check it out if you haven't already. The songs in the fic are "Traitor" by Olivia Rodrigo (Altered to fit the fic) and "Right My Wrongs" by Bryson Tiller. I didn't write them.

Masterlist

Music has a way of making the world make sense for Y/N and Rafe. The Pogue and the Kook met at a Mommy and Me music class their mothers took them to as toddlers. Their mothers and each other helped foster a love for the art and it became even more of a necessity when they lost their mothers. Rafe was the first one to lose his mother. Margaret Cameron had been battling cancer for two years before her passing and it completely destroyed her eight-year-old son. Every Kook he knew tried to help him with his grief, except the one person who could actually get through to him didn’t live on Figure Eight. Instead of crying in his room in Tannyhill, he found himself riding his bike to a small bungalow on the Cut. It was in that small house where a little girl sat on the front porch with a guitar that was too big for her, trying to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Her mom’s favourite song. The sound of the chain of his bike caused her to freeze and look up from the strings. “You are getting better,” he praised, getting off his bike to walk it up the small driveway. She gave him a smile that showed him she wasn’t afraid to be happy during his time of mourning. She didn’t walk on eggshells around him and he loved it. It made him feel normal, like before his mom got sick. She beckoned him to the porch swing with her hand, “Come sing with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s a girl song,” he argued.

The front door opened and out came Melody Y/L/N. Her smile matched her daughter. “Now, Rafe. Have I not taught you anything about music? There is no such thing as a boy song or a girl song. Or a Pogue song or a Kook song. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. Now, why don’t we all sing together?” Those words touched him and it would continue to do so well into adulthood. And it was that afternoon when Rafe started to heal from the pain of a dead mother. Playing music with the Y/L/N women and being happy made him feel closer to his mom than any condolences from other people.

———

Y/N lost her mother at twelve years old. The real kicker was that the universe decided that the day the girl would turn into a young lady was the day of her mother’s funeral. Her mother was a lively person and requested in her will that people wear their favourite colour to her funeral. So Y/N wore light blue to the burial. When she went to the bathroom after returning home, she was greeted with a massive red stain in her underwear. It felt as though the world had ended. Melody may have talked to her daughter about the logistics of dealing with a period, but Y/N couldn’t remember a word of what her mother had said and she began to panic. She locked herself in the bathroom after her dad gave her a new pair of underwear and some of her mom’s leftover pads. Other than that, he had no idea what else to do to get his daughter out. His wife was gone and his daughter was dealing with a problem he had never experienced before. He felt hopeless until he thought of the one person who could help.

Ward dropped off his son in front of the one-story yellow house, telling his son he could sleep over if Y/N needed someone. Rafe walked into the house as if he lived there and went straight to the bathroom door. “Hey, Rock Star. I heard you were feeling bad. I brought you some KitKats, dulce de leche ice cream and some Tylenol,” he announces, looking through the bag. “My mo- My mom used to say eating sweets made her feel better.” She didn’t respond; instead, she remained seated on the floor against the bathtub. Her head was on her knees to catch the tears coming from her eyes, wishing her mom could be here to help her through it. Rafe sighed, worried his friend would never leave that room again. Since food didn’t work, he only knew one other thing that might be able to get her out. If it didn’t work, then he didn’t know what would. He ran to the living room and flipped through the CD holder, looking for a specific one. He finally found it and took it out. He set it in the CD player and dragged it into the hallway. He plugged it in, skipping to the perfect song. The notes began to play and he shook his hips in synch with it. “I come home, in the morning light,” he started to sing with Cyndi. She could hear his exaggerated shrieks from inside her confides. He was definitely doing it to goad her out. “I think I’m a great singer. What do you think, Rock Star?” he screamed from the other side of the door. She sat there for a little longer, listening to his horrible singing.

Eventually, she had to save her poor ears from the torture. His singing dimmed in volume at the click of the lock. He saw her feet tapping and he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined in with him. Once she started singing with him, he switched to his real singing voice. The slant of her lips was still in a frown, but it was still an improvement from not wanting to see anyone. And once again, music helped the children grieve the loss of an important woman in their lives.

———

Her foot taps against the floor as she bites her nails. The earplugs she is wearing help dampen the sound from the stage. She can’t believe he is here. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. This competition would launch the winner’s career. Y/N hasn’t seen him in seven years and hasn’t played with him for just as long. Kiara comes from behind her and rests a palm on her shoulder. Kie has been touring with Y/N’s band for three years now. As soon as she graduated high school, she hit the road and became the Melodies’ personal assistant. They both turn to look at the lead singer of Just Wanna Have Fun as he sings while strumming his electric guitar. He turns so she can see the back of his guitar and she spots the beam note with their initial in each of the ovals of the notes. R and Y/I/N. She is surprised he hasn’t painted over it already. Each band gets to play three songs and when she hears the next song he decides to play, she can’t stand on the sideline and watch them perform anymore. She turns around and heads into the lounge area for the musicians. How dare he play that song?

He could feel her gaze on her throughout his first set. He should’ve figured she would be here. If he thought she was, he wouldn’t have played the next set. He finishes his part of the duet and he looks to the side of the stage to see her while Frank sings the verse that used to belong to Y/N. Disappointment flashes across his eyes at the empty spot where she was. This is the first time he gets to see her in seven years and of course, he has to screw it up. He gets so caught up in the past that he almost misses his verse.

———

The cool air tickled their skin as her head rested on his stomach. The new electric guitar his dad bought him for his fourteenth birthday lay beside them. “Do you ever worry about us not being friends anymore?” she thought out loud, staring up at a cloud that looked a little like a bunny. He frowns at her and lifts his head up to look at her, “No, why in the world would I think about that?”

“We are total opposites, Rafe. You are a Kook. I’m a Pogue. You are destined for a life of greatness while I’m meant to be stuck on my side of the island.”

He laughs, “That’s absolutely ridiculous because we are both meant to be in a band together and become so famous that the members of Pink Floyd will be jealous.”

He could see the seriousness of her question and sat up, taking her with him. She now sat across from him and he took her hand into his. “But seriously though, all that stuff doesn’t matter. Not when we have music. It’s like your mom used to say. Music isn’t meant for one type of person. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. And that logic is the same for us. We speak to each other, so we are meant for each other,” he promised. He scooted to his backpack and got out a Sharpie. He sat back down beside her, flipping his guitar onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she questioned. She slid in closer to him. He uncapped the marker and began to draw a beam note. He looked up at her with a smile, “Proving to you that we will never stop being friends.” He put his initial in the first note and handed the marker over to her. She got the message, writing her initial in the other note. He took the marker back to cap it. “There. Now, as long as this is here, we will be friends forever.” She giggled at his remark, thinking it would eventually fade; however, what she didn’t know was that he forced his dad to get something to seal the writing that very night.

———

Y/N will never get over the feeling of being on stage. Whether she is playing for a crowd of one or a hundred, all she needs is to share what she loves with people willing to listen. She smiles at the camera Kiara flashes in her face and takes the towel Kie hands to her. The fabric removes the sweat from her forehead, staining with makeup in the process. She makes her way to the lounge to put her stuff away so she can wait out the other bands until they announce who is going to make it to the next round. Her usual routine after a gig is to take a breather outside by herself. She needs the outside air to cool her down and let her think, so her bandmates give her the space she needs as she heads out the backdoor. She breathes in the cool air, slamming against the rough brick wall. So far, she has been able to contain her emotions about seeing him again. Yet, finally being able to focus on her feelings, makes her realize that she is still hurt by what he did all those years ago. She trusted him with all of her heart and he broke that trust. How could someone she loved so much betray her so badly?

“It’s been seven years and you still haven’t changed, Rock Star.” The voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Her head swivels in his direction, rolling her eyes at him. “Neither have you because I’m guessing you are here to smoke. You know those things will kill you, right?” she retorts, looking in the opposite direction. He chuckles, “Yeah, this girl I used to know a while back told me that all the time.” She doesn’t join in his playfulness. “You know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” she decides, pushing off of the wall to head to the door. He reaches for her wrist to stop her. She stops at the contact and he flicks the cigarette bud on the floor. He stomps it out. His gaze finds her again and at the disapproving look on her face, he picks it up and throws it in the garbage. He points toward the door, “I’ll go. I recognize how much you need these moments alone. I’ll see you back inside.” He steps toward the doorway, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “It was nice to see you in person again.” She scoffs, “I wish I could say the same.” This digs another shallow hole in his heart and he lets the door slam shut behind him. Once he is gone, she slides down the wall, resting her head on her knees with her eyes closed. Is a record deal with one of the best recording labels really worth the regauging of old wounds?

Rafe heads to the bathroom, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. The decision to use the individual bathroom is easy; he doesn’t want anyone to walk in on his mental breakdown. His hand twists the cold facet and splashes the water onto his face. The shock of the temperature aids him in rearranging his thoughts. At the sight of her broken heart, it killed him that he wasn’t able to drag her into his hold and whisper how sorry he was for letting them get to this point. After all their time apart, every single detail that he remembers about her is the same. Her lavender perfume remains his favourite smell in the world. The dark fuschia lipstick is the one he picked out for her when she started wearing makeup. And she relies on the tiny taps of her feet in rhythm with the song playing in her head.

———

Rafe watches her from his spot in front of the stage. The area designated for the bands to stand in during the elimination announcement isn’t as crowded as the general admission behind him. Two bands are going to be eliminated. It isn’t a lot, yet it doesn’t guarantee Just Wanna Have Fun is going to continue in the competition. He hopes the Melodies advance, certainly because the longer they both stay, the more chances he has at making things right between them. All he wants is to get back what they had and maybe what they didn’t get the opportunity. That wish is quickly submerged by a wave from a passing jet ski.

The jet ski is probably two inches shorter than Rafe. His light brown curly hair goes passed the bottom of his ear and looks like a flat mane. The green eyes stare at Y/N with adoration that only Rafe should be allowed to direct toward her. What really destroys Rafe is when that five o’clock shadow brushes against Y/N’s skin to give her a kiss on the cheek. Garrett notices Rafe’s gaze and shoves the glarer with his shoulder. “Stop staring. You look creepy,” Garrett orders, turning back to the stage. As Rafe is about to obey the suggestion, he catches the way Y/N leans against the chest of the mystery man, causing a bubble of nausea to form in his stomach. The screech of a microphone calls the attention of everyone in the crowd. A short woman with blue hair and black lips angles the bulb toward her, “Everyone played beautifully tonight, but unfortunately, you all can’t join us next week. Just as a reminder every week, two bands will be eliminated. Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for.” She takes a pause to unfold the paper with the names of the unlucky musicians and her cheerful demeanour shifts to one of sorrow. “I’m sorry to announce that Dex the Sex and Heartaches will not be playing on this stage again next week.” The bands closest to the exiled ones express their condolences, while the ones further away can be seen celebrating the small victory. Rafe turns to hug his bandmates and can’t help but risk a glance at her. Her arms are around her supposed boyfriend’s neck and their chest are pressed against each other.

The green-eyed monster tickles his heart. His legs move in advance of his brain processing his emotions. The tips of his navy blue converses touch her black leather boots. He notices the way the man’s arm around her waist slightly tightens so that the veins in his arms are prominent and the sharp jaw clenches. Rafe eventually has the confidence to look in her eyes and her distaste for him marinates in them. His fingers go to scratch the back of his ear, “Congrats on making it to the next round. You… you played great. Was the last song new?” She leans forward in the man’s hold and some of her hatred cools down. “Thanks, it is. Something I came up with last week. We’ve been working late nights to perfect it for tonight. You sounded great tonight too,” she says barely above a whisper. The man behind her looks between the ex-bandmates and extends his hand out, “I’m Knox, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe.”

Rafe grips Knox’s hand a little too tight with a straight smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he placates, wondering how much trouble he would get into for punching the idiot. It would be unwarranted for sure, yet it doesn’t stop his urge to want to do it. Feeling the start of a cock fight brewing, Y/N steps in. “We didn’t eat dinner before the show, so we are going to go… do that.” She breaks away from her boyfriend’s hold and takes his hand, following her friends toward the exit. Her cold demeanour might have made someone else lose spirit. Someone who didn’t know Y/N. Rafe knows otherwise though. He was able to crack the glaze of her harshness. He isn’t letting that victory go.

———

His feet ache after a late-night practice. They had gotten the last timeslot for practice at the venue today, not that Rafe minds. He works better at night because it is when he needs a distraction the most. She was there earlier, so he didn’t get to see her. The smell of her perfume followed him wherever he went while he was there. They haven’t had any encounters since that night. It doesn’t surprise him; she is obviously avoiding him. It hurts him more than hell and he knows he deserves it because he did something a hundred times worse to her. The echo of his footsteps is the sole sound in his vast apartment. This has been his house for five years, except it doesn’t feel like home. Not when it doesn’t have that touch of her like his room at Tannyhill does.

———

“God, could your room look any more like a stereotypical teenage boy’s jerk off-centre?” she criticized, looking around the room with disgust in her eyes at the cluster of cups on his bedside table. Some of them had ring stains around the glass. He looked at her over his shoulder, “What are you talking about? All the guys I know have a room like this.” She points at the walls littered merely with car posters or bikini models. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. How can you call this place home if there is nothing that shows you are the one living here?” she argued. He gestured to the poster, “What do you think that is?”

“That shows me that any guy in my class lives here.”

“Like a Pogue could afford half of the stuff in this room.”

“Really, Rafe?”

“Right, sorry. Can you just get to the point? What do you think I should add then? What will make this place my home?”

“You need more personality in here. Pictures of people you love. Little trinkets. Plants. Music stuff. Love letters from a sweetheart.”

He chuckled, “Like you display your love letters. And why can’t my personality be cars and bikini posters.” “Because that’s every other straight cis-gendered boy's personality. You know, if you added more things, it would make a girl feel more comfortable in your room,” she attempted a different tactic. His brow arched, “Hmm, never thought about it that way. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my room though. Why bring it up now?” “I’m tired of looking at this nasty-ass messy room. That’s why,” she admitted. He nodded, taking into consideration her opinion. He grabbed a piece of tape from his desk drawer and took out his wallet. She observes as he slides out a picture from the window slot. He tacked on the photo right above his desk. She couldn’t see what it was in, so she stepped forward. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight. It was a picture of them. The memory of when the photo was taken comes to the forefront of her mind. They were twelve years old and he had just learnt a new chord on the guitar, so of course, he had to teach her it as well. His hands were placed over hers on the neck of the guitar, while he guided her fingers. “What’s this?” she stupidly questioned.

He grinned at her, “You told me to put up a picture of someone I loved and I did.” “And you just had that picture in your wallet this whole time?” she clarified. He shrugged, “Yep since I got it.” “That is very unexpected, Rafe,” she thought out loud. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “What do you expect, Rock Star? You’re my best friend. Of course, I love you.” The words stung her. It shouldn’t surprise her that was who he saw her as. She was a Pogue; she could never be more to him.

———

He should’ve brought that picture to New York with him. He did bring one thing over that reminded him of home. The music room in his apartment has everything he needs to write a song. It is the one place in his apartment that he doesn’t mind spending time in. There are so many ways for him to clear his mind here and it is where his bandmates like to hang out too. No matter how many times Frank (keyboardist), Garrett (bassist), Topper (drummer), and Barry (band manager) enter this room and know every inch of the room, they will never find his most precious possession. He kneels beside the drawer tower filled with various accessories for the instruments and pulls the bottom one open. He pushes down on the false bottom to reveal a stack of lined papers. They are rumpled from how many times he has read them over; he just couldn’t bring himself to send them or get rid of them. At first, he wrote them to apologize to her, but then he started to use it as a cathartic method. He allowed himself to express everything he had ever wanted to say to her in the letters and every time he needed a reminder of who they used to each other, he read them. His hope was that one day they would be the personalization their house needed to feel like home. It’s been a while since he wrote a new one; however, with her reappearance in his life, it feels time to write another.

Dear Rock Star,

Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to have a hold on my heart. Maybe, it’s because I never sent the first letter, so we never got the closure we needed. But seeing you again made my heart feel like it was beating to the tune of its old song. Everything I felt for you came back like a tidal wave and all I wanted to do was hug the ever-loving shit out of you. And then he went to you. That wave I thought I could overcome became my undoing. It made me regret never reaching out to say I was sorry. I realized that your rejection of my apology would be a lot less painful than your moving on from me. It was bound to happen. How could it not when you are the most amazing person to have ever existed? I just dreamt that I could’ve found my way back into your life before it happened. But I didn’t and now, I have to stew in my consequences.

I sometimes wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I get that it is different for you. You were the one who got hurt instead of the one doing the hurting. I think you do. You may not admit it, but you responded to me. Maybe you wanted to seem professional and I can see that being your reason. Yet, your eyes told me something else. I’m not talking about when we talked. I’m talking about when I was on stage. You saw the beam note and I could see the yarning behind the hatred. You want to go back to that time just as much as I want to. I’m going to get us back to that place, I promise. We might not be able to be exactly the people we used to be; nevertheless, we can try. Because you still speak to me, Rock Star, and that means we are meant to be.

Loving you always,

Rafe

He sighs at the final stroke of the pen and caps it. He reads it over and over until it is all he can think about. The words have never felt more true to him and he makes a vow to himself to make it come true. If he can’t have back what they once had, then he will make damn sure he’ll earn the next best thing. He hears the jiggle of the front door handle and rapidly shoves everything back into the drawer. “Dude, why is it always so damn dark in here? Don’t you know how to turn on lights?” Topper teases from downstairs. “Where are you? Come out of the studio for once, will ya? We brought you food from that Turkish place.”

———

“I think maybe we should try you coming in later with the backup vocals, Debs. Why don’t we try again?” Y/N advises. At the nod from the other girls, Y/N faces the stage outward and grips the microphone with both hands. Viola counts them down, beginning the rhythm for everyone to join in. Y/N waits for her cue to sing; she has been the lead singer for the Melodies for seven years and she has yet to figure out what to do with her hands. When they started the band, they figured having two guitarists didn’t mesh well with their sound. So, she offered to drop the instrument for the band because Laila hates singing. She didn’t mind not being able to play on stage, except there were sometimes when she missed it. She’d even dare to say she missed playing with Just Wanna Hav Fun because she wanted the ability to shred some strings in a room bigger than her shoebox of an apartment. The note that signifies she comes in plays and she opens her mouth to sing. Her mind turns off, focusing entirely on hitting every note perfectly. Every time she gets to be on stage, she finds herself falling in love with music again. Especially since it helps her feel closer to her mother.

The girls get lost in the music and forget the time. The clearing of a throat causes Y/N to whip in the direction of it. Topper gives her a small smile and a wave, “I hate to stop the creative flow, but it’s eleven.” Y/N’s head bobs and helps the others get all of their stuff together. She can feel the eyes of the people she used to call friends on her. She tries not to succumb to the pressure of their gaze. As they leave the stage, both groups awkwardly look at each other. She hasn’t kept secrets from her girls, so they know everything that went down between her and the boys.

Laila, Viola, and Debra can see the emotionless expression on her face at the encounter with her past and decide not to bring it up. “Are you working a shift today?” Laila inquires whilst placing her guitar in its case. Y/N slings her bag across her chest, “Yeah, I’m doing a closing shift. If you guys want to come over to rehearse some more, come over after ten. I need a break between now and work.” “Got it, I’ll bring the pizza,” Laila informs before leaving with Debra and Viola. Kiara returns from the bathroom and approaches Y/N, looking nervously between the stage and her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kie,” she laments. Kiara notices the way the singer avoids eye contact. The PA shakes her head, “You’ve been burying this within you for almost a decade. That isn’t healthy.” “I have no idea what you are talking about. It is perfectly fine to not talk about it. And for your information, I interacted with him on the first competition night. I would say that counts as acknowledging it,” she contends. Kiara’s head tilts to give Y/N a pointed look.

“I overheard that conversation. You were just being nice because the audience could see you.”

“You can’t deny that I was being nice. So I say it counts.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean, Y/N/N. You aren’t only hurting him by leaving things unsolved, but yourself. The more you avoid getting closure, the more you come up with your own explanation for his actions. Those are always going to be worse than the truth. Think about it, not for him. For you.”

Kie doesn’t wait for an answer and it leaves Y/N to think about the impact of her friend's words. She chances a glance to where the music is coming from before heading home. The world is drowned out by the music playing in her headphones, filling in the space where her thoughts should populate. Everyone believes she has to speak to him; they lecture her on the importance of learning the full story. It is rich of them to say all those things when they aren’t the ones who Rafe pained. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry after she confronted him. All he had to present to her were countless excuses. So they don’t get to have an input on how she deals with her shit because she is dealing with it. Through her writing. Out of Rafe and Y/N, she has always been the one more attuned to writing. Rafe can write good songs, he just isn’t as in love with the process as she is. Once her headphones come off at home, she rushes to her bedside drawer, pulling out a beaten-up notebook. She flips through countless songs about him. Every single one was written when she couldn’t contain how she felt. She finally gets to the picture of them she uses as a bookmark. It is the same one he taped onto his wall when they were fifteen. She couldn’t bring herself to take anything else of him during her move. As soon as the pen hits the paper, everything she has been bundling up inside falls onto the page.

———

He had asked her out. Rafe asked her out and she said yes. It had been a game of cat and mouse, them going back and forth on whether or not they should risk their friendship for something more. Spoiler alter, it wasn’t going to be. She didn’t know that though. At the moment, she was focused on getting to band practice. The cold evening breeze caused her to wrap her zip-up hoodie around her body by holding it against her waist. She drops her phone right as she gets to the opening of Topper’s garage. Something she overhears while picking up her phone makes her delay her entry to the room. “I heard you are going on a date with Y/N.” It was a high-pitched voice that could only belong to Samantha. Y/N wasn’t the biggest fan of Samantha. The Kook had a permanent judgmental face in her presence and she could hear the repugnance lacing the question.

Y/N expected her best friend to hear the same tone and defend her. It never happened. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it. I got tired of her doing that pathetic mopey-eyed shit. She was begging for me to ask her out, so I did to stop her pestering. Trust me, I could never willingly date a Pogue.” Suddenly, her heart popped under the weight of the tire and he continued to smear her most vital organ across the road with every laugh he let out. What added to her decimation was that her other bandmates joined in her mocking. During their friendship, they had never made her feel different because of what side of the island she was born on. She thought they didn’t care about the number in her bank account; apparently, they did. She wondered how many lies they told her. Was everything they ever paid for for her because they pitied her? Were they truly her friend? She stepped back to leave, not having the courage to face the most important people in her life until Rafe said something that turned her agony to rage. “What about that stupid saying her mom always said that she lives by. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. It is so ridiculous. One. Not everything talks. Two. Does she believe that a life outside of the cut is meant for her? Y/N is so delusional.” Samantha let out a cackle. This was the ultimate betrayal.

She stormed into the room, letting the boys’ height tower over her. The faint smell of weed permeated the air. With the number of times they smoked in here, she was surprised the fabric of the light brown couch didn’t permanently smell like the drug. Topper’s garage wasn’t what most people would imagine for a place to park a car. It made sense though because his family didn’t keep their cars in this garage. They had another small building to house their vehicles in true Kook fashion. This room was a modern finished room, perfectly equipped for whatever Topper’s new hobby was and it happened that his hobby for the past year was being in a band. Rafe could see the fury in her eyes and knew she heard everything they said. He felt horrible. In an ignorant teenage boy fashion, he said anything he could to get laughter out of his friends, creating the biggest mistake of his life. Time needed to rewind, so he could say what he should’ve. The way she looked at him buried him in regret. His desire to take her into his arms for her comfort was trumped by the knowledge that she would chew his head off. “How can you say those things about my mother? The fact that you would ridicule her after she treated you like her own son is sickening. You didn’t deserve her love and she would be disappointed in who you turned out to be. So would your own mom because the Margaret Cameron I know would be ashamed at how you just talked about her dead friend and your presumed best friend,” she fired. He could make glass out of sand with the way she scorched him. His mind zipped around with ways to apologize and make things better, yet his dumb hormonal self advised him to keep digging. She was outnumbered after all.

“Playing the mom card, how depressing. No, I think my mom would be proud of me. She never liked you anyway. How could she? All you are is a sad little poor Pogue.”

Lies. Margaret adored Y/N, loving getting to sing with the little girl. The laughs from the Kooks fueled his outer confidence, while his heart was being grated into millions of pieces. She froze; her face contorting into a pout. He spotted the wobble of her lip and the hitching of her breath. His feet shuffled forward a micro-inch, wanting to wipe away her despair. She took a deep breath. Silence seeped into the air. The tension thickened like trying to swim in a pool of peanut butter. She held her head high as she spun to leave, refusing to let them see her misery.

———

Another competition night passes with the survival of Just Wanna Have Fun and the Melodies. The venue hall is practically empty, except for a few stray people. While the rest of the girls go home, Y/N stays behind to get some downtime alone in the rehearsal room. Being in the Battle of The Bands with Rafe is proving to be harder than she thought. They haven’t had another conversation, but their proximity puts her on edge. Her footsteps echo in the hallway as she leaves the bathroom. Headphones cover her ears, distracting her from the presence behind her. A tap on her shoulder causes her to twirl around. A skinny man with a sad excuse for a beard leers at her. He is wearing The Melodies’ merch and gives her a gut-twisting smile. Suddenly, she feels uneasy because of the lack of people in the building. Time droops as his thin fingers encase her wrist. She tries to yank her arm out; his baby-like grip impedes her attempt. “You have such a beautiful voice,” he mumbles. The usual compliment doesn’t have the same effect coming from a man who looks at her in such an objectified manner.

“You need to let go,” she orders, having no obligation to acknowledge the content of his words. His hand further coils around her skin, “I said something nice about you. The least you can do is say thank you.” Fear sets in when his other hand reaches for his belt and he begins to drag her toward the bathroom. An arm hooks around the delusional man’s neck, causing him to stop and jerk her backwards. She quickly recognizes the thick bicep. “Let go of her,” Rafe growls in the assaulter’s ear. Relief flushes her at the release of weight from her wrist. “Rock Star, go get security and go back to the practice room.” Her mind goes on autopilot and follows his instructions, overlooking the manner in which he knows why she is here late.

Once security is sent to aid Rafe, she returns to the instrument-filled room. Her attention is on the blue acoustic guitar resting in its case close to the metal stool. She picks up the guitar and takes a seat. Her fingers press against the string on the neck and her other hand strumms to create the chord. The lyrics she wrote so long ago flow out of her.

“You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You said I was priceless but you really meant worthless. It took you a second To pretend I was nothing Guess I should’ve known That you were always a liar.”

Rafe's back rests against the stone, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and down his face. He was going to go in to check in on her but hesitates to fall through. She needs to say something to the universe and for once, Rafe isn’t going to take that away from her. He saw the way the bounce of her foot disappeared with the song. Instead, he plans to give her exactly what she needs. The guys are going to hate him for this.

———

The crowd is electric as Rafe takes a second to breathe. He looks around the venue, searching to see if she is in the section for the musicians to watch the show. His eyes connect with Y/N’s. He can carry on with his plan. He rests a hand on the microphone and adjusts the earpiece in his ear. The mic stand tilts while he brings the mic closer to his mouth, “This next one is new. It’s not on any of our albums, but it is something that is long overdue.” He flicks his head toward Topper to start playing the song they worked all week to perfect in time. Rafe’s head bobs to the beat of the drum, waiting for his queue to jump in. He starts singing at the same time he strums the first chord.

“I've gotta right my wrongs With you is where I belong You've been down from the go Recognition is what you want And it's something that I should know Something that I should know All the things that you went through I never meant to put you through it twice, no Tell me how can I right my wrongs That's something that I should know All the things that we been through I never meant to put you through it twice, oh no”

His eyes flicker to her and his heart drops at the tears running down her round cheeks. Every part inside of him wants to stop playing when he sees her go backstage. He gets through the set and the rest of the guys say goodbye to their fans. He is too distracted to give it his full attention. Once backstage, he removes his guitar and weaves through the crew and other musicians in a jog to get to the musicians’ lounge. Disappointment crosses him when he can’t find her. He spots Kie and runs over to his sister’s friend. “Where did she go?” he interrogates, eyes frantically scanning the room for her. Kiara’s eyes roll, “You seriously expect me to tell you after the stunt you just pulled.” His hands clasp together in a shake. “Please, Kie. I needed to do it. She had to know how sorry I was and music has always been our way to connect. It felt right,” he explains, trying to resist the urge to drop to his knees in front of everyone.

“It’s seven years too late, Rafe.”

“It’s only too late unless one of us is dead. I need to make sure she is okay. That she knows I mean what I wrote.”

“I don’t think you are begging enough.”

His head goes crooked and he follows her gaze to the floor. He swallows his pride and gets onto his knees, “Please, Kiara Carrera. Tell me where Y/N is.” Kie smiles in satisfaction. “I won’t tell you where she lives, but I will tell you where she works and you can keep going there until you happen to be there when she works,” Kiara grants, typing the location into his phone.

———

The clouds outside make the afternoon dark, adding to Rafe’s loss of hope of not seeing Y/N. The news said it was supposed to rain tonight, but it said that about every day this week and it was wrong. There is a small skip in his step as he reaches for the handle of the coffee shop. An elderly lady stands in the doorway he opened, so he steps back and allows her to pass him. She gives him a small smile as she does. Freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of steam coming from the machine strike his senses. Lydia at the counter recognizes him and begins making his usual before he gets to the register. TJ already has his order punched into the system when he gets there. All Rafe has to do is pay. Once that is done, he sits at a booth sitting along the right wall to wait for his drink. This allows him to see the counter and the front door at the same time. He has been to the cafe every day this week. He only leaves when they close or when he has to practice at the venue. A week isn’t long, yet it still allows him to get to know the people working there. They couldn’t disclose when Y/N is working for privacy issues and he understood why. He would be more concerned if they did tell him no matter who he claimed to be. His name is called and goes up to get it. He reseats himself, opening his laptop to keep himself occupied.

Lavender. It overpowers him in a good way. He glances toward the front door and she is there, walking further into the store with the most dazzling smile directed toward Lydia. “Look who finally showed up to work,” the barista calls out. Y/N laughs, “I haven’t been scheduled to work. You know that, Silly.” “I know. Work just goes a little slower without my work wife here to keep me company,” Lydia complains with a grin. Y/N hasn’t noticed him and a part of him wishes she never will so she never loses the joy he hasn’t gotten to see since he was sixteen. He considers ducking out before she can see him, except Lydia has other plans. “Oh, by the way, this guy has been coming in every day to see you. He’s sitting over there.” Y/N’s eyes follow Lydia’s finger to where Rafe sits.

She sighs, “My shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Is it okay if I…” TJ answers for the barista. “Yeah, take your time.” Y/N’s head bobs and she pulls the hood off from her head. The KCHS written across her chest causes his heart to ache. He gave her some of the money so that she could buy the hoodie. She must not have remembered that fact if she kept it. Her path turns to his table and she settles herself in the seat across from him. “The nerve you have to sing that apology like it can solve all of our problems and then stalk me at my place of work,” she grits through her teeth. He bites the corner of his lip, “Music was always how we connected. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran off during my set.”

“You don’t get to pretend like we still have music after what you said about our mothers. You gave that right up a long time ago. You also aren’t allowed to pretend you care for me.”

He reaches out for her hand and she yanks it away. “The things that I said… They were my greatest mistake. I have never forgiven myself for not apologizing on the spot and I don’t expect you to do so either. I do hope that you know that I regret every single word I uttered that day, Rock Star,” he pleads. He tries to meet her eye, but she averts her gaze. “The world has been a much darker place since you left. I am so sorry that I caused you the pain that I did. I would do anything in this universe to tell my younger self to tell you the truth that day.” She can’t help herself, “And what was the truth, Rafe?” “That even though we hadn’t been on our date yet, I was madly in love with you. I love you with every fibre in my being and it scared me because I knew how much it would hurt if I lost you. Not only that, I was just a teen and stupid enough to think getting a laugh out of my friends was better than facing something new. I had never been so wrong in my entire life.” Her eyes gloss over and checks the time on her phone. She stands up without another word, breaking Rafe’s heart as she walks to the back room.

The air comes out of his nose in high pressure. He understands her message and leaves Y/N’s place of work. It is hard to process the words he said. Her younger self would’ve loved to hear his declaration of love. She would’ve been so excited. A small part of her heart flutters at the reveal, no matter how angry she is at him. The worst is she genuinely believes he is remorseful of his actions.

Their issues couldn’t be fixed with one small apology; however, she would never forgive herself if she never saw where this could go. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take my break right now,” she informs her co-workers, not waiting for answers. She takes off her apron and throws it onto the ground. She runs out the door in hopes she can still catch him. The crowd makes her question her belief until she spots the blue flannel he is wearing. She threads herself through the people and is met with resistance. “RAFE,” she yells out. He freezes, spinning around to see her. He pushes his way to her and they stand before each other as wet spatters begin to hit their heads. He chances resting his hands on her elbow, delighting when she doesn’t flinch away from him. “I think I forgive you,” she says. The patter from the rain drowns out her words, so he places his forehead against hers to hear her better. His smirk reveals he does have an inkling of what she confessed, “What did you say?” She knows the game he is playing and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’m just going to go back to work,” she snarks, turning away to head back to the cafe. Rafe catches her wrist and tugs her against his chest.

Their lips finally connect in the way they have been waiting for for twenty-three years. Her soft petals press hard against him like a rock. He reciprocates the pressure, running his tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. The rainwater mixes in with their saliva as she allows him in. He remembers the jet ski that once drowned him and pulled away. “What about Knox?” he questions. She stares at him with big eyes, “We were never really dating. He is Viola’s brother. He knows our history and thought it would be fun to play around with you to keep you away.”

“I see. That didn’t work out as you guys had planned, did it? I don’t think anything can keep me away from you once I realize how stupid I was.”

“No it did not… You need to know that just because I forgave you doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. We can’t go back to pretending that we are still the people we used to be. I’m not the girl I was seven years ago and you’ll have to regain my trust.”

“And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain back what I broke. As long as I can be by your side.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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zirconika · 2 months

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nine lives of a thief

ONE | living in high cotton

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a series entitled 'Nine Lives of a Thief,’ but you may choose to read each part as a oneshot. Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 4.1k SUMMARY: Years after your first love broke your heart, you’re stunned to see him among the newly welcomed group of survivors in Alexandria, and his return might just be the cure to your heart that’s been malfunctioning ever since he left. Your personal goal to put everything in the past is interrupted by his mission to win you back. WARNINGS: Major angst in progress. Talks of a miscarriage and a former abusive relationship. SETTING: First few weeks in Alexandria and pre-apocalypse flashbacks

The last time you spoke to each other, the two of you were getting high in your parents’ Chevrolet Cavalier that you stole. On your ring finger rested a bejeweled stone he’d given you, promising you his love.

I’m gonna marry ‘ya, he had told you. You believed him more than you believed any god in your life. You were going somewhere far away together, ready to leave behind the life both of you had. To him, leaving meant leaving Merle. But to you? It meant leaving everything behind.

And now, there you were. You no longer sported the voluminous curls the eighties deemed fancy, your face was bare, and you were older. He couldn’t take your eyes off you, and he wondered if you could also tell how much he’d changed ever since…

Well, ever since he ditched you. And most of all, he wondered if you were still carrying the same indignation you had when he left.

For the first time, your eyes laid on him from afar. Of all the many survivors you expected to find within the walls of Alexandria, you didn’t expect this damn asshole.

He watched as your face went from bliss to raw recognition, his heart thumping faster and heavier in every passing second you didn’t dare to walk over to him, until you did.

Oh, he didn’t know what to make of the world around him as you came closer. It was just like seeing you for the first time again, but this time he was begging the Earth to swallow him whole.

By the time you were standing in front of him, the archer was at a loss of things to say, but also the power of saying it. Seconds passed and a look of doubt and uncertainty kept flashing on his face, and yet nothing came out of his mouth.

You were just as bad. God, you hated the feeling in your bones that wanted to throw your arms over his shoulder. He was alive and breathing. The closest thing you could do was give him a tight smile.

“Hi,” you tell him with a smile. “I—uh, it’s been, what, thirty years?”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh, and he was grateful to all the saints and gods in the world no matter how much he lacked faith that some force of destiny had brought him here, and that you were still safe.

The weight in his chest was slowly beginning to lift. Maybe it really is all in the past.

“Yeah, m’still Daryl, though. You?”

You chuckle. “Still [Y/N], sadly. Y’know, uh, I was actually just about to head out to the porch with a beer. You…wanna come with me?”

Then came the weight. You noticed rigidity returning to Daryl’s stance, and you instantly regretted having asked.

You chuckle nervously. “You don’t have to, I just… Thought you looked—”

He shook his head to assure you. “Nah, yeah, I wanna come with ‘ya. Let’s go.”

The air was cold, but it didn’t bother you as much in the presence of Daryl Dixon. You wanted to beat yourself over the fact that he had so much control over you all thanks to the scent of his you could recognize anywhere. Heck, you smelled him before you saw him. The moment that you got a whiff of him just a few minutes ago, you knew you were bound to crumble. It’s only thanks to the bottle of beer in your hand that you’re able to comfort yourself.

He leans against the porch’s post as you lean opposite him. He’d changed indeed. You eye him with deliberation: his hair was darker, longer. Wrinkles were present in places where you used to kiss him. You shake the thought away. “Not surprised you’re a survivor.”

An unsaid anguish hung between the two of you. Daryl crossed his arms to gnaw at his thumb. He never seemed to outgrow that habit, and you couldn’t help but feel comfort from the familiarity.

“Have ‘ya been here right from the start?” he asked to break the ice, taking a sip from his bottle so he’d have something to do with his hands when you spoke.

“Yeah, I—uh—bought a lot here when they were still preselling, so I got it for a pretty good deal.” You shrugged. Moving away from the post you were leaning on, Daryl thought you were going to leave with no farewell, but instead you just set the beer down. “Y’know the house you and your folks holed up together in? That was mine.”

You could see heat rush to his face, and you could tell he felt bad over the prospect of you giving up your house for them. Daryl’s shoulders tensed. “They kicked ‘ya outta yer own house?”

You shake your head with a smile. “No, it’s not like that. I volunteered to give it up. I moved to a smaller house. I’ve been dying for an excuse to leave that house, anyway.”

“Why’d ‘ya wanna leave? It’s a big house,” he observed. It is a big house. It catered to the entirety of their group with no problems.

“Because it’s a big house,” you answered as-a-matter-of-factly. Living alone in that shell of a home haunted you in more ways than one. At one point, you felt as if there was a ghost upstairs because you had never bothered to visit it.

Daryl paused. You had to glance his way to check on him. He seemed to be debating on whether or not he should ask something until he decided on doing so. He needed answers. “What about your…family?”

He’d been trying to forget that the last time he really saw you was years after he’d left you. It was in a grocery store, and you were shopping for baby diapers while caressing your belly. And then he was on the run with Merle again.

That was ten years ago, some time before the turn. Daryl assumed one of the kids he ran into was yours, or maybe you’d tucked him or her to bed. He knew nothing about you.

“Oh, it’s just me.”

It was clear Daryl had more questions, but you figured he deserved to know at least a little bit of your recent history.

“It’s alright to be curious, y’know. Husband ditched when he knocked up his work wife. Good riddance.” You hated that you were only relieved to find out he’d left. It wasn’t standard for a woman to rejoice upon discovery that she’d been left for another woman, but it meant freedom.

Daryl nodded slowly, processing it all in his mind. He couldn’t believe it, any of it. He’d been living on the belief that you were better off. That you were happy.

You sipped from your beer again. “I didn’t really mind, and taking care of the divorce papers proved to be a good distraction. Plus, I got the house and the car so I’m not really complaining. He did get our vacation cabin in Vermont, though. But what good is it for now, right?”

“Right,” he scoffed. And he didn’t want to ask, but he decided to maximize your go signal to ask anything. “What about… What about your kid?”

You raised a brow. “You know about that?”

“M’sorry,” he hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Ya don’t have to tell me anythin’ about that.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You waved a dismissing hand. It surprised you that you were no longer as affected as you were then. It no longer pained you to talk about her. “She died the minute she came into the world.”

“I’m sorry.” The image of you shopping for diapers came to Daryl’s mind. At the time, it seemed that you were happy, and maybe he was right. But the more he knew about you, the more he began to doubt that your life was better the moment he left it.

All the time you spent apart, Daryl concocted an image of you tending to your sweet and happy family in the suburbs, busy sending your kids to school and celebrating every anniversary with your husband in different countries every single year.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you said with a smile. You’ve moved on from it, really. “It was for the best. Can you imagine raising a kid in this mess?”

Daryl made no comment whatsoever, but you remembered that his gang had brought a teenager and an infant.

You sigh. “Sorry. But you get it.”

“S’fine, yer right anyway.” Daryl took a sip from his bottle. “You should meet ‘em sometime.”

You nodded in response, and he watched as you subconsciously and subtly knocked on your chest. It was one of those things he’d gotten used to seeing you do back then, and he never got to ask why you constantly did it. It didn’t feel like a big deal to ask now, so he let it slide, simply grateful for the opportunity of seeing the little parts that made you who you are once more.

“Geez, I think I gotta lay off the beer,” you said, settling it down on the floorboards.

He nodded. “Right, good call.”

“So, how’s my house?” you started. Daryl knew the time for him asking you questions was over, at least for now. He respected that.

“S’good, there’s plenty of space for us all,” Daryl answered. “Though I gotta be honest, ‘ya gotta give us some time to warm up to it.”

You give him a warm smile. “I get that.”

“But it is cozy,” he added. You don’t know what he meant by it, but a playful grin rested on his mischievous lips. “Pretty far from the camper van ‘ya said ‘ya wanted to live in forever.”

“We’re gonna run away and we’ll just…I don’t know, steal one of those camper vans and go anywhere together!” you had told him when you let him put the ring on your finger, wearing a smile you were so sure you’d never have to bother removing.

You stared at him a little longer than you intended to. You notice the mole he had just shy above his smirk that slowly faltered. You used to love kissing that very spot. No, don’t think about that.

Fuck. “M’sorry, didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” you laughed, waving your hand in the air to assure him. “I’m just surprised you remember.”

His shoulders relaxed, but the guilt that accompanied him in every journey he’d taken on never left. If anything, he felt its weight more so now that he’s found himself in front of you again.

“Yeah, well, how could I not?”

“To be fair, you did drive away in my car while I was getting nachos.” You had to look away this time, bringing your attention to the gates in the distance.

Daryl froze. He wasn’t stupid, but he might as well have been. He knew what it looked like to you all these years, and for the first time in a long time he thought once more about how you must have felt in the parking lot, searching for half an hour only to realize you were all alone miles away from home.

It was too late to explain himself, but he could at least try.

“M’sorry about what I did,” he said carefully. “I was an idiot for that. M’just glad to know you’ve been alright all these years.”

He didn’t mention noticing your jaw tightening as you smiled at him, but he also realized how much of a bad choice it was to comment that you’ve been alright. There was a story in that expression of yours somewhere, he knew that. It just wasn’t the time to ask about it more.

“It’s fine, really,” you told him. “It’s in the past, it’s been decades. We’re adults. And it’s the least of our problems now, I mean, we got the dead walking for fuck’s sake!”

You laugh in disbelief, and so does he. It was so easy, so natural. Suddenly, you were seventeen in the passenger seat right next to Daryl fucking Dixon singing Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure as it played in the car stereo.

No.

This shouldn’t be real, you thought to yourself. You’d put him in the deepest, darkest pit in your mind and in your heart. Daryl coming back was a blessing and a curse. Though you were grateful to discover that he was a survivor, his presence ached you deeply.

It dug out every single memory from your past you’d tried so hard to bury. Your smile faltered as you felt the past blending with the present.

Daryl noticed the change, so you spoke before he could.

“I should get going now,” you announced with a forced smile, a little bit louder than you intended as your mind was preoccupied thinking of an excuse. “I gotta go home!”

“Want me to walk with ‘ya?” You could see a grin growing on his damned lips. It was like being brought back to the past. You knew this scene somewhere, and you hated that you liked it.

“Well, I—it’s fine!”

“S’fine to walk with ‘ya or s’not fine to walk with ‘ya?” he asked, but it was more of a challenge. Usually, you knew what to say and how to say it. You were just that kind of person, it was even something you were proud of.

“Erm,” you gulped.

This was not one of those ‘usual’ moments.

You wanted to return to the party, but you couldn’t just say that—you’d already taken one step down, away from the porch!

You look back at him to explain yourself as you walk a little bit farther every single time. You were going the wrong direction, but you decided that it was too late to go the right way. You’d just have to make a round trip across Alexandria. “I got this…thing. In my stomach. I have to, you know. And I’m tired, so I guess I’ll—!”

“Nah, seriously, I insist.” Daryl had made up his mind the minute he asked. He brought the half empty bottle of beer with him as he walked ahead of you.

You scoffed. “Fine.”

Though Daryl seemed to have built this wall around himself, you could still see rays of his stubbornness. It used to be something you’d fight over, but also solely for the purpose of kissing and making up.

The first half minute of the walk was silent, and you hated how peaceful and at ease you felt. It should have felt unbearable, uncomfortable. Daryl had a way with his presence you never realized you’d been missing until now that you have it again.

You tell yourself it’s just the severity of being your first love, but it was more than that. You waited for a couple of seconds to pass before deciding that this idiot wasn’t gonna make conversation despite insisting to walk you home.

“So, the outside,” you started. “How long have you and your people been out there?”

“For a while. The longest home we had was a prison.”

“You were…in jail?” you asked hesitantly. You knew of his criminal record, but you didn’t consider for a moment that he’d been behind bars this entire time.

“No,” he answered. “Just found shelter there.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know you’d find a grin on his face. His stupid, stupid, stupid face. “Ya thought I was in prison?”

“No! Just when you mentioned it. Then just now, I thought it made sense why I never heard from you.”

Daryl stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’d thought you wanted nothing to do with him. “You were expecting to?”

Maybe it was wrong to confess something like that. “A postcard would’ve been nice.”

“Didn’t know where ‘ya lived.” He shrugged, even though he wanted to admit that he assumed you no longer wanted to hear news about his whereabouts.

“Well, you knew about my kid. What’s that about?” You’d been meaning to ask, but you couldn’t find the opening.

The archer halted, looking for an escape hatch.

I heard from a friend? No, he didn’t. The honest answer would’ve been that Daryl wanted to reach out to you but bailed when he discovered the good life you were blessed with. The life Merle said you’d be robbed of having had you run away with Daryl.

But Daryl wasn’t an honest man, at least not tonight.

“I didn’t know, I just guessed.”

And of course, you let him lie. “Right. And you wanted to walk me home because…?”

“I wanted to.” Daryl had not yet toured the entirety of the neighborhood, but it felt like a pretty long walk for a walk home. Just when he’s about to ask, you reach the small apartment buildings just across Deanna’s house. The two of you had just done a round trip of Alexandria. You were just right across the street.

He wanted to ask why you’d taken the long route when you’d seemed so eager to be away from him earlier that night, but he knew exactly why.

You were never able to make the sane decisions when you were with him.

You stop in front of your home. “Well, this is me.”

“M’kay, I’ll see ‘ya around.” The archer gave you a tight smile, raising his hand as a wave right before turning around to make his way to the gate.

“Daryl,” you called. And he’s glad you did. “Have you been well? Ever since?”

He thought of Merle. Beth. Herschel. Everyone they lost. When you were younger, you changed him. That change was undone when he left, ruining everything you’d built together. But this time, the man you built before was slowly returning.

Has he been well? Daryl knew better than to disagree.

The archer stared up at you one step away, curious if his eyes were deceiving him by letting him see you again. “Yeah, I’ve been alrigh’.”

“Okay,” you say, half-satisfied. “I had fun. Bye, Daryl.”

And Daryl watched as you hurriedly got inside your home. You didn’t know it yet, but something inside him sparked bright with ambition. This wasn’t the end of it.

Mornings in Alexandria were particularly slow in the most comfortable way possible. It unnerved Daryl; something about going on his day ‘normally’ felt alien, out of place. Thus, he’d often step out for long hours to ‘hunt,’ when really he could be back anytime he wanted with his stellar skill in the craft.

He wouldn’t say it, but he just felt suffocated in Alexandria. Some would argue that the apocalypse wired him to be the way he was now, but a part of him would beg to disagree. He would’ve felt smothered had he found himself inside the damn gated community way before the turn.

And that’s precisely why he’d fallen prey to Merle’s argument about you that fateful day he left.

“What, ‘ya think a girl like [Y/N]’s gonna be fine livin’ off pot? Nah, brother. She’s been livin’ in high cotton her entire life. Girls like her were made for them nice houses with picket fences married to a fancy man who works in a bank. How’s that g’nna work, huh? Hell, yer the kind who robs one!”

Daryl had been so sure he made the right choice then…

“Something bothering you?” Carol asked the archer, just leaving the house in complete uniform looking very much like a sweet, harmless housewife.

“Nah.” Daryl looked up behind him as he sat on his haunches, cigarette in his loose hand as if it was an extension of himself. “Didn’t feel like goin’ out today, but I didn’t feel like stayin’ here, either.”

“You could take a shower,” said Carol. Daryl grunted, and she only smiled, knowing where to direct the conversation to. “Maybe then you could finally ask out your pretty neighbor.”

“What?” Daryl spun, standing up to meet Carol at eye-level. He didn’t want anyone to know of his past, much less see a part of it. Suddenly, everything felt real. You felt real. You were, but it pained him to admit that he hasn’t yet been able to say everything he’s wanted to say in every single day that haunted him when he left.

Carol, on the other hand, had thought nothing of it for the past week. Though she wondered if there was more to the story, she resorted to assuming Daryl simply liked the Alexandrian. But Carol wasn’t stupid, she knew now for sure that there was something deeper.

“See, I was making conversation with everybody. I heard from Sally that [Y/N] was supposed to bring cookies, but she burnt them too much.” Carol wanted to laugh at how serious her friend looked, eager to hear more. “So, I wanted to help her out and Sasha said she saw her leave with you.”

“S’that it? All of it?” Daryl asked, his voice grim.

Carol crossed her arms, raising her brow in question. “That’s all of it for me, what’s all of it for you?”

The archer trudged down the stairs of the porch, tossing the cigar on the floor as he did so. “Nothing.”

“The house we’re staying at,” Carol started, just enough to get Daryl to stop in his tracks. “That house is hers, isn’t it?”

Daryl paused. “Ya heard some of it?”

“I may have heard some of it,” she said. “I might have even heard…all of it? Before you walked her home?”

“Damn it, Carol!” he groaned in exasperation. There was no point in denying it now. Carol knew something, and knowing her, Daryl knew she’d been observing you ever since that night. No lie would slide past that woman no matter how hard he tried.

“So?”

Daryl looked around him, checking if someone else was listening into their conversation. “The garage,” he said. And so they went.

When they got inside, Carol was surprised to find a brand new motorcycle. She ran to its side, eyeing the shine on the body. “Oh, she’s pretty! Where’d you get her from?”

“I know,” Daryl exclaimed. “Aaron, he… He wants me to look for survivors with him instead of—Ow!”

Carol punched his arm, her eyes wide in defiance and her mouth grinning wide. “You’re trying to change the subject!”

“Am not,” he defended, feeling his arm with his hand. That woman was a nut, and she was getting an answer whether he wanted to or not. “Fine. Just the short version.”

She crossed her arms again, making her outfit look more like a costume than a uniform. “Alright, what’s the story?”

He didn’t want to tell it, but somehow he felt he needed to. Daryl was used to bottling his secrets in the belief that he could carry it all on his own. He couldn’t. It just so happened that it was your history together that had the most effect on him.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Daryl started. His heart was begging to be released into the wild where it could be free. Telling this part of his life was something he’d never bothered to let out. Heck, he’d never even thought about it to himself in a long time. He treated it like a dream he was starting to forget but couldn’t. “I was trynna win her when we grew up, and I—we dated. For some time. Then we were gonna run away together. She was the one who wanted to; stole her parents’ car ‘n everythin’, brought a wad load of cash. I gave her a ring I saved up for, and we were gonna go far away. We hopped two states. Then I… And… I just—she was one of those kids from a well off family, alrigh’? And I was…intimidated.”

Though Carol found herself smiling for the first half, she didn’t like where this story was going. “What did you do?”

Daryl stilled himself for what was about to come out next, from his mouth and Carol’s.

“I left her while we were two states away from home. She was shoppin’ for groceries while I was in the parkin’ lot. I drove away. With the car. And the cash. Never looked back.”

The next thing he knew, his friend had planted a hard slap across his face. And he knew he deserved it. Heck, he deserved worse than that. Maybe even deserved to die for it, now that he knew the life you were left to live wasn’t exactly paradise.

Daryl Dixon was a coward.

Daryl Dixon was stupid for assuming he could even win you back.

And most of all, you would be just as stupid if you let him.

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