#didn't go as in depth with the writing as I usually do
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Girrrereel!!! Cute start on your headcankns
Can you write another headcanon for Joaquin Torres and Bucky Barnes as bodyguards pls?
(If you do decide to add more character depth for them w the reader, maybe both romantic and non romantic routes? But that's up to you)
Thxxxx
Tysmmmm love!🥰
I love this prompt so much omg, for Joaquin the headcanon is set in the current MCU, for Bucky’s I made it a bit of an AU. There’s both romantic and platonic, everything will be the same up until they begin to realize their feelings, there are separate cuts for each.🫶🏻
BODYGUARD HEADCANONS




All pictures that I use I’ve found randomly on the internet - if I’m using something someone has created, please let me know and I’ll tag them! I never want to steal someone’s work and I would never want mine stolen.
Pairings: Joaquin Torres x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings: slight angst, slight mentions of violence, Joaquin is lowkey a menace, Tony Stark being a protective older brother💀
Joaquin Torres
Background:
You’re the daughter of a big politician in D.C., a politician who Sam and Joaquin need to convince to pass a bill to aid their missions as Captain America and the Falcon.
Joaquin was assigned by Sam to be your bodyguard for a few weeks, to try and sway the favor of your dad, while your current bodyguard was hurt and off-duty (…👀).
You’re the kind of person who likes to do things at your own pace, you’re bold and independent, and you 100% hate having a bodyguard; your main bodyguard was more of a friend to you, keeping you company when you wanted it, letting you be alone when you needed it.
With Joaquin, it’s anything but that.
When the two of you first meet, you immediately hate him. To you, he’s too loud, he’s too unprofessional, he’s too annoying, and he’s incompetent.
He goes over-the-top trying to impress you and get you to like him as a person, which only makes you hate him more. You try and keep your distance from him as much as possible, but he makes it very, very hard.
It gets too much for you where you get to the point of writing a list of rules for him. “You either follow these rules or I'll go tell my dad that you are incompetent in your job and your little bill won't get passed...don’t think I don't know that's the reason you're doing this.”
You left the room after that, leaving Joaquin dumbfounded.
From then on, Joaquin kept his distance, watched from afar, and let you tell him when you needed his help or assistance. Little did he know that you kind of missed his presence and annoying tendencies.
One day, you were cleaning your house, playing your music loudly, dancing and singing along. Joaquin entered your house like he usually did, quietly, and without bothering you.
He caught you singing and dancing along to some pop song while putting away dishes. He stood in the entrance of your kitchen, waiting for you to notice him—you didn't, so he spoke up, tired of being a silent bodyguard, watching you but never getting to know you.
“So you do know how to be a real person, and not just a frigid bitch all the time?” He asked, a grin on his face when he saw you turn around with a jump.
“What the fuck, Torres?“ You shouted at him, nearly dropping a plate in surprise. Part of you was glad that he caught you…you felt bad for being a “frigid bitch” for the past week and a half.
He would definitely apologize for surprising you like that, but then he would compliment your voice - this is the start of something more.
Romantic:
After he surprised you in the kitchen that one morning, you gradually grew more and more fond of him, later realizing that fondness was romantic attraction.
You started treating him more like a friend than just your bodyguard, and everything only grew from there.
Joaquin became someone you could trust and confide in, someone you found yourself going to when you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to complain to.
He loved being that person for you. He always thought that you were extremely pretty and attractive, he obviously never said anything, but that was why he was always trying so hard to get you to like him.
His assignment finished as being your bodyguard, but you’d ask him to come back and stay around - even when your usual bodyguard came back. You liked his presence and having him around, he was a strange sense of comfort for you after the four weeks of him being your bodyguard.
One day, he came to your house with flowers and a bracelet with a music note charm on it. He knocked on the door and everything and when you opened the door looking confused, he blushed and got nervous, stumbling over his words.
“Uhm…do you, uh…girlfriend? Wanna be mine?” He said to you awkwardly, holding out the flowers and the bracelet box.
You laughed at his adorable bumbling and took the flowers and box in one hand, taking his hand in your other, pulling him closer to you and pressing your lips against his in a short, sweet kiss.
You began to go on dates together, starting small; you took walks around D.C. with him, you guys watched movies together, you would cook or bake together (Joaquin would always eat the raw batter if you were baking something and you would always yell at him and slap his hand away), he would let you put face masks on him (he always said he didn’t like it, but deep down he did), you would go out to cute little restaurants and cafés, and he would take you to watch him work out on occasion.
There would be days the two of you would lay around your house and you would just casually go to cuddle up next to him. “You’re just warmer than a blanket right now, and I’m cold” you would say, using it as a reason to get close and feel the steady beat of his heart and his strong chest and arms.
Joaquin is such a romantic. He’s pulling out all the stops. You can’t meet his parents? That’s fine, you’re meeting Sam likes it’s the first time ever. You’re sick? He’s coming over with some cheesy rom coms or feel-good movies and soup and ginger ale. You see something in a store you like one day and your eyes linger on it for a second too long or comment about it in passing? He’s going and buying for you “just because”. He has to go on a mission with Sam for longer than a day or two? He’ll leave you his favorite hoodie and text you every single day. He’s 1000000% boyfriend material.
You still find him annoying, but now it’s in an endearing and sappily romantic way. You show him your love and affection in smaller ways; you’ll get him tickets for a sports game for a team he really likes, you’ll bake him little treats, when he’s away on missions you’ll send him little voice notes of you singing because he tells you it helps him fall asleep, and you’ll always make sure to check in on him when he’s gone for too long.
Even though he’s not your bodyguard anymore, he loves being the person who protects you. He always has his head on a swivel, he’s always holding you close by your waist, making sure that you’re safe and sound by his side at all times.
Platonic:
Although you started to warm up to Joaquin, you still had some walls up.
He was very successful in breaking those walls down. He would joke around with you, learn your interests and hobbies, and sing and dance around with you.
After his mission as your bodyguard ended, you would text him to hang out and he would respond within the first two minutes of you sending it.
Eventually, he grew to be one of your best friends. You met Sam (in a non-professional sense) and he told you a bunch of embarrassing stories about Joaquin.
You guys would have weekly movie nights where you would force him to do skincare with you and bake cookies.
You would confide in him and tell him your deepest darkest secrets and swore him to secrecy with a pinky promise.
He found out that you were a huge nerd and made fun of you for it, but you knew he was the same exact way. You guys went out and bought Star Wars Lego’s to build, you bought lightsabers to have fights in your living room (you always had the high ground), you guys would go to comic book shops together, and you guys would go to places like Disney and Universal and Six Flags together.
If you guys went to Disney together, he would force you to drink around the world at Epcot, then complain about having to take care of you while you were drunk.
The two of you would go to concerts together (he’s secretly a huge Swiftie - sue me, that’s what I believe😭) and went to the Eras Tour multiple times (against the will of both of your wallets). He would always dress up as the most random things from her songs - he once dressed up as the “You Okay?” note from the You Belong With Me music video. He was terrible at making friendship bracelets but the younger teen girls loved them because he’s a cutie and he’s the Falcon.
You asked him multiple times if you could try out the Falcon suit/wings - the answer was always no.
You guys would steal the shield from Sam and when it got cold in the winter and started snowing, you would totally take it and use it as a sled.
He still always felt the need to protect you, even when he wasn’t your bodyguard anymore, but he was always around you and made sure you felt safe at all times (this made it really hard when you wanted to go on dates because he would run intense background checks on each guy you showed interest in).
Bucky Barnes
**This is a slight AU, where Bucky is known as the Winter Soldier but he’s not a Hydra brainwashed assassin and he’s working in SHIELD and gets assigned to be the permanent bodyguard for Tony Stark’s younger sister.**
Background:
Your brother was an asshole. You knew it, hell, 3/4 of the world knew it.
What made him an asshole on this specific occasion though, was the fact that he made the executive decision in your life to get you a permanent security detail.
You hated the idea of having someone follow you around at all times. You hated the fact that Tony’s reasoning was “because the world is more dangerous now” - as if it wasn’t dangerous before a hole was ripped in the sky and aliens came through it?? There had been so many dangerous things that had happened to you before you were assigned a bodyguard. You single-handedly were able to track down a literal god (and punched him in the face - but that’s aside the point)!
You could handle yourself. So from the moment you discovered you would be assigned a permanent bodyguard and would be living in New York in the new “Avengers Tower”, you decided that it would be your number one priority to make this person’s life as hard as possible.
Then, the dreaded day came, and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes - aka the Winter Soldier - walked out of the elevator. Despite being frozen under ice for decades with his best friend, Steve Rogers, Bucky was extremely skilled and talented in hand-to-hand combat and multiple forms of weaponry.
You fought every urge in you to be nice and channeled it all into hatred. He expected it though, Tony had told him of your aversion to this decision.
For weeks you would be silent around him, only speaking when other people were around and talking to you, constantly throwing glares at him, and trying (with very little success) to ditch him at every chance you had.
“You’re gonna have to talk to me soon, doll.” He would say every morning when you glared at him as you left your room.
He would talk to you though. He told you what his favorite color was, he told you his favorite breakfast and dinner meals were, he told you about adjusting to the 21st century after being trapped under the ice all those years, he told you how he lost his arm during the war and how he now had a full metal arm, and he told you how it was working with your dad (you didn’t have many memories with him and any time Bucky would be talking about him, you would stand up and leave the room, going to your bedroom - you were usually about to cry).
One day, you went out by yourself (successfully ditching Bucky), but you were cornered near an alleyway while you were looking through your bag. You did your best to hurt the guys, but there were too many of them for you to take care of on your own. They had knocked you to the ground when someone came running over and started beating the guys up, threatening them if they ever tried to do something like that again - it was Bucky.
After the guys had run away, Bucky checked on you, helping you up and to the car he had taken to tail you, “Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch, doll.”
After that incident, you began to open up. You started being friendly with him - small steps first; you would sit and have coffee with him or make small talk during the day. This was just the beginning of something more.
Romantic:
You hated how attractive you found him from the moment he walked out of the elevator. He was tall, bulky and fit, his suits always stretched over his broad shoulders and looked absolutely delectable on him, and his hair looked soft as hell.
When he would call you “doll” every morning it almost made you want to blush (who are we kidding, you would turn away from him and your cheeks would automatically be flushed).
When you finally began to open up to him, you would find yourself moving closer to him and seeking out his comfort if you were having a bad day.
You would ask him to tell you stories about your dad; Tony never shared anything other than the negatives of your father. Bucky would always tell you whatever you wanted to know.
He fell first, you fell harder (after you stopped pretending you hated him). You told him you had feelings first and all he said was “I know, doll, you’re not exactly subtle” before pulling you in for a kiss.
When Tony found out, he flipped out; went on a whole spiel about how “he’s too old for you”, “he can’t keep you safe if he’s busy kissing you”, and “this was a stupid decision, why would you let me make this decision for you?!”
He got over it. Eventually.
Date nights with Bucky are so cute and romantic, he’s secretly a huge sucker for romantic gestures. Dancing in the kitchen while cooking, going out to little restaurants, nighttime date nights where the two of you would walk around Central Park, going to see different plays and musicals, taking trips to different museums, visiting second-hand book stores and finding books for each other, and your favorite: late night stargazing.
The two of you would go stargazing a couple times a month, taking a couple days to drive and stay upstate. You would stargaze, make bonfires and roast s’mores, drink coffee in the chilly upstate morning air, and spend the nights cuddled up together under warm blankets.
It was during one of the upstate trips where Bucky asked you to be his girlfriend.
There would be days where you would intentionally annoy him (read: you would put magnets on his arm until he noticed).
You love his hair. Any opportunity you get, you’re running your fingers through the silky strands.
He loves to kiss you. He’ll hold you close by the waist and lift you slightly to bring your face closer to his, then he’ll ghost his lips just over your own, feeling the way your mouth turns up into a smile and you close the space between the two of you, giggling into the kiss.
From hating pretending to hate Bucky to falling in love with him, you loved every moment you spent with him, and he loved it just as much (if not more).
He always acts like your bodyguard though, making sure that you’re always safe and protected, keeping you out of harm’s way.
Platonic:
When the two of you began to get closer, you found him to be the friend you never knew that you needed.
Bucky would let you talk and he would listen. You would rant about the dumbasses you dealt with for Tony and the issues you had with your friends. He would sit and listen and offer advice if you needed it or wanted it.
Very quickly, Bucky got to see your playful and sneaky side. You loved to pull pranks on him and you bought a whole bunch of random magnets to stick on his arm when he wasn’t paying attention.
You would force him to sit down and watch your favorite shows and movies, do some skincare, and bake with you (like a girl’s night, but he took it like a champ; and he totally loved the rom-coms you two would watch).
Bucky acts all tough and mean, but you’re one of the only people who gets to see his stupid, silly side. He totally pulls pranks on you to get you back for all of the pranks you’ve pulled on him and will suggest new movies for you guys to watch.
Tony’s glad that you and Bucky are getting along (and you’re not tearing his head - or his clothes - off).
He’s still your bodyguard, but now there’s a new level of fierce protection that Bucky had (you are his first real friend aside from Steve🥹).

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easy living



pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader
summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?
tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing
a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.
i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all
ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again.
Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.
You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.
And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever.
On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you.
You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?
Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world.
You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing.
Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?
No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.
Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?
You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you.
On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you.
Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.
Bloody American.
Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.
You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt.
You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?
He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.
You, too, were scared and alone.
Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture.
Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.
But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough.
The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you.
You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.
“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”
Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him.
“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”
You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else.
Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me.
“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.”
“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?”
His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.”
“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.
“Absolutely not.”
“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.”
“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur.
You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear.
“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?”
“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.”
Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.
You think you should pull away. You don’t.
Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”
He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now.
Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.
It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.
Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected.
“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.
You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin.
Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier.
Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate.
How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is?
You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet.
Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window.
You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”
Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.
“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes.
He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins.
You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?”
Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.
You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now.
He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder.
So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again.
His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan.
It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs.
Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.
Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief.
Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.”
He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.”
The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it.
With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again.
Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you.
You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap.
This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness.
There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head.
Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it.
You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does.
To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down.
Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.
Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet.
To keep you quiet.
Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.
“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”
A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.”
You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table.
You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other.
On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss.
And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear.
Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

#eric a quiet place day one#eric a quiet place x reader#a quiet place day one#roses*#eric x reader#eric a quiet place day one x you#eric a quiet place x you#eric a quiet place day one x reader#eric fan fiction#eric x you#joseph quinn
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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER
october 11th. blaise - mirror sex, body worship.
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.
summary: writing this was detrimental to my health. blaise is a man. a MAN. you’re having a terrible day, your boyfriend knows what you need to make it better.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, teasing, begging, doggystyle, dirty talk, praise so much praise, body worship, soft dom blaise, pet names, the usual nasty shit you'll find this month.
"Yeah that's what I said...he didn't listen to me, though. Of course."
Parchment crinkled under the weight of your hand, quill scratching faintly as your boyfriends voice hummed in the background—an effortless drawl that filled the room like low music. You barely caught the words, caught up in the mechanical rhythm of your writing—but that didn't stop him from droning on, stretched out like a relaxed cat on your bed—one leg bent, both hands tucked behind his head, his gaze lost somewhere in the ceiling's quiet expanse.
"And? What happened?" You asked, finally letting the quill drop, grimacing at the ink smudged across your fingers.
"Detention," he said, clearly amused, "cleaning rat barrels for a week."
You managed a smile, but it was small, fleeting—more like a shadow of the real thing. Blaise noticed, of course he did, but he let it linger undisturbed, as if waiting for the right moment to ask what was really wrong. His stories were always an offering, an attempt to pull you from the depths of a day that felt as heavy as the sky before a storm—which usually helped, but today, even he couldn't shake the weight entirely.
You rolled away from your desk, chair wheels creaking until you reached the mirror. There you were, reflected back at yourself—no makeup, hair half-tumbling from the ponytail you'd given up on hours ago, the lines under your eyes telling a story you didn't want to read. You sighed, lifting a hand to touch the flyaway strands, knowing it wouldn't help. You were a bloody disaster.
"What're you lookin' at, baby?" Blaise was behind you before you even realized it, his warmth filling the space behind your chair, his arms snaking around your waist with the same natural ease as breathing. "Did I tell you you look beautiful today?"
You exhaled as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the glass—
"Don't lie, Blaise," you muttered, the exhaustion making your voice heavier than it should've been. "I look a mess."
"Not a lie," he whispered back, his lips so close you could almost taste the mint on his tongue. His hand lifted, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down the side of your face like it was something sacred, like you weren't just a tired girl with too many thoughts. "You're always beautiful...so, so beautiful."
The heat from his words bloomed in your chest, a slow burn, even as the weight of the day pressed heavier. It felt as though the reflection was mocking you—this version of yourself you could barely recognize, worn down by everything that had gone wrong.
"I can tell when something's bothering you," he pressed on, his voice drawing you back, patient and unhurried. His fingers made soft circles on your stomach, waiting, coaxing. "Wanna tell me?"
"Nothing's bothering me...I just.." you shook your head, the words coming out on a breath, too small to carry the weight of what you meant. "I just had a bloody terrible day."
He hummed, thumb grazing your skin. "How terrible?"
"The kind that makes you feel like the universe is against you," you whispered, gaze falling, unable to look at him while your voice cracked. "I'm sorry—I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I just—"
"Shh—hey, don't do that," he interrupted, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing your eyes back to his in the mirror. "I don't care about going out. I care about you. We don't need to be anywhere else. I've got everything I need right here, baby. Okay?"
Merlin—your heart clenched, the ache reminding you just how easy it was to fall in love with him—and how you managed to do so, all over again, every single day. Blaise always had this way of making you feel like the center of the world, even on days when you felt like you were disappearing from it.
A small, trembling smile ghosted across your lips, and you nodded. "Okay."
"Yeah?" He nudged your chin gently, brushing more stray hair from your face—he never once took his fucking eyes off of you. "You're so fucking beautiful, babygirl...how are you all mine..."
A sigh escaped your lips as his fingers moved to massage your shoulders, his lips finding their way back to the curve of your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The tension in your body began to melt, replaced by something warmer, softer.
"Messy hair, no makeup...you're a fucking dream," he whispered. "Every morning I wake up...and I still can't believe..." his hands trailed down your arms, a slow blaze of fire, grazing over your belly before they curved up your chest. "...that all of this...is all for me..."
Your head tipped back, a soft whimper slipping from your lips as he pressed himself closer. One of his hands slid back up, fingers curling around the base of your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. He groaned softly against your temple, other hand still pawing at your chest.
"Look at you," he rasped as his eyes met yours again in the mirror. You could feel his gaze tracing the outline of his hand wrapped around your throat. "Tell me you know you're beautiful."
Your heart was racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts as the intensity of his touch, his words, filled the room. He was crowding over you, pressed against the back of your chair, his hands insistent but not frantic, like he had all the time in the world—
"I know," you whispered. "You tell me every day..."
He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Mhm…and I'll keep telling you…because I don't think you get it yet...just how truly beautiful you are…”
Your lashes fluttered, eyes heavy beneath the weight of his gaze as his fingers moved lower, the buttons of your shirt parting effortlessly, baring the delicate lace underneath.
His jaw clenched, hunger flickering behind his eyes, his touch roughening with it. “…and just how lucky I am... to get to touch you like this."
Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your back arched, baring yourself to him with a shivering sigh. His hand around your throat tightened, not too much, just enough to remind you he held you, that in this moment —this skin—belonged to him.
His other hand moved across your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric, kneading, coaxing your heart to race under his palm.
"I'm a better man because of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over the pulse at your neck. “...because you make me want to be."
Your whimper came unbidden, warmth flooding your veins as his eyes never left yours—devouring you through the glass. This wasn't just about touch. It was something Blaise always made sure you felt in this relationship, the thing tethered between you—the fulfilment of a need to be seen and a need to be known.
"Look at you." His lips tilted in a breathy smile, dripping with reverence, with something sacred as his hand roved over your chest, taking his time. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."
Both big hands fell to massage your tits now and a small, broken sound escaped you—helpless against the onslaught, your body betraying your efforts at control. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to stem the flood, but it was useless. Blaise, like this, was unrelenting, determined to make you remember this moment, every whisper, every touch. His voice was an echo you'd hear in your dreams.
"Blaise..." his name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Gods.”
"Open those pretty eyes for me, babygirl..." he purred as his teeth grazed the curve of your neck. You obeyed with a shiver—your reflection pure chaos — a mess of need and want, heat pooling low in your belly, an ache between your legs you couldn't ignore. Blaise hummed. "I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what I see."
His hands slid lower, skimming the curve of your hips and settling on your thighs. You watched as he moved with deliberation, savouring the way your skin shivered beneath his touch. He shifted your legs wider, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you weren't sure who was falling apart faster—him or you.
"Fuck," you moaned, barely holding onto the sound, feeling it slip past your lips like a breath. "Blaise.."
With a satisfied smile, his eyes flicked to yours and you noted the way his breathing shallowed—admired the way his fingers slipped along the insides of your thighs, tracing the soft skin without haste. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you bit down on your lip, fighting to keep your eyes open.
A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed your skirt up further, exposing your underwear in the reflection.
"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. "These thighs...mm, fuck...so soft.."
His fingers dragged back down, agonizingly slow, tracing your thighs again.
You shuddered. You knew just how needy you sounded but gods—"Blaise, please..."
Blaise knew too, and of course he just chuckled, lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the fabric there. The nip was gentle at first, but just enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking reflexively—and you watched his eyes flash, lashes fluttering—
"Fuck...these hips," now he was growling, his nails biting into your skin. "The way you roll them...torture, pure torture... just to make me give you what you want..."
Your breath hitched again. You were a squirming mess, now—each fucking word a slow burn that licked at every nerve.
"Is that so bad?" You whispered, though the words barely left your mouth before a soft moan interrupted them. "Making you…give me what I want...?"
His laugh was rougher this time, his breath searing hot against your ear. One hand moved again, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear—and you realized you were holding your fucking breath—meeting his gaze in the mirror, wide and wanting, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.
"Not so bad...when I want to give it to you..." his fingers danced over your clothed cunt—light, taunting, threatening to give you everything you craved but holding just shy of it. Your hips rolled again, involuntarily. "But absolutely disastrous," his fingers traced higher, the ache of wanting made your pulse thunder. "...when I'm trying to make you wait."
You whimpered, snuffing a groan in your throat, and he smiled—watching the effect, his jaw falling open when he grazed over your clit through the fabric and you moaned loud—shameless.
"Gods—Blaise, please—" you were so fucking desperate now. Heat scorching your skin. Eyes squeezed shut. He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “No more teasing—“
"Eyes open." He husked, bringing one hand back up to cup your jaw. "You close them and I'll stop. Keep being good for me, baby..."
You whinged—meeting his dark eyes in the mirror, lust blown pupils swallowing his irises. You watched yourself—his arms curled around you, strong and firm—long, slender fingers finally, fucking finally, giving you what you want—slipping under your underwear, fingertips kissing the sensitive lips of your throbbing cunt.
"Good girl...so good for me..." he muttered, slicking a single digit between your folds, grazing your clit. That did it—blinded with relief, you whinged, moaning deep in your chest. "Oh fuck, you're so wet...you need this, don't you, baby..."
"Yes—Gods—" you held his eyes in the mirror, hips jerking toward his touch. "Need it...need you..."
"So sensitive f'me..." he whispered in your ear, brushing the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. He kissed at your jaw. "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that...that you need me..."
"Fuck—I do—always—" the words bled out, unfiltered. "Always need you."
Blaise shuddered, you could feel his hips rocking gently against the back of the chair as his fingers found your clit, indefinitely this time, and began drawing tight, frantic circles over it. Your back crested, your head falling back just slightly before you remembered what he said and returned your gaze to his in the mirror—he was watching you, body crowding yours like he was preparing a meal—and you spread your legs wider, noting the entire mess he'd made of you in minutes.
"Beautiful," he cooed, jaw tensing as you gripped his wrist—one hand shifting to grope your chest. "Messy girl...m'dying to get inside you..."
You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Blaise—baby—please..."
Wetness soaked your thighs—coated his fingers as he dipped lower and pushed two inside you, crooking them deep. The reaction was involuntary—you cried out, ground your hips into his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, wanting—no, needing more. He groaned, squeezing your breast harder than you're sure he'd intended—teeth sinking into your shoulder in a futile attempt to compose himself.
"Fucking hell—that's it, baby—" his thumb twirled your clit, fingers driving deep—bliss burned your eyes, and you moaned. "Soaked and still so fucking tight...fuck.."
"M'gonna—I need you—" you were babbling, lost in sensation, coherent thoughts banished to the perimeters of your mind. "Inside—pleasepleaseplease—need you—"
"Cum first," his hand on your breast slipped up, tangling through your hair and nudging your face toward his—his lips found yours, soft and tender. "Wanna' make you feel good..."
Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it—Blaise kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster, pumped his fingers deeper.
"I...oh, Gods—already feel s'good..." you moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. "Mm—fuck—s'good—"
He groaned. "Mhm—cum for me."
And then you did—every nerve in your body ignited at once. The obscene, wet sounds of him pumping his fingers into you filled the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in your ears. His mouth smothered the desperate cries of pleasure that fought to break free as your body convulsed, writhing against him. Your hips bucked, helplessly seeking more, fingers digging into his wrist like anchors as your entire world spun wildly out of control. He was both your rock and your undoing—keeping you tethered to earth while hurling you into the stars.
It felt like you were suspended in that ecstasy forever, the air leaving your lungs in shattered gasps, until, at last, your breathing found its rhythm again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his own breath shaky, eyes dark with hunger. He brought his slick-coated fingers to your lips, pressing them past, and you groaned as you took him in, suckling greedily.
"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against your spine. You moaned in response, your tongue swirling around his digits, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of yourself. His other hand moved, urgently, his belt coming undone and echoing through the room as he freed himself, groaning, "Fuck."
Blaise had lost his composure completely—you didn't need to look at him to know it. In an instant, you were on your feet, his hands pulling you up as he kicked your chair out of the way, rolling into the wall with a thud. You turned your head to look at it but his lips crashed into yours, both hands cradling your face as he sank to his knees, dragging you down with him. The hardwood floor beneath you was cold, but his touch—his touch was a wildfire, scorching every inch of your skin, setting your blood to boil.
You moved instinctively and gasped as your fingers found him, warm and hard in your palm, twitching at your touch. He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you stroked him, kneeling together on the floor, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until with a swift motion, he spun you around, turning you to face the mirror.
His hands were everywhere—on your hips, sliding down your thighs, grazing the curve of your waist—pulling your skirt higher as he met your eyes over your shoulder in the reflection—
"Look at yourself," his fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you back against him, his length slicking between your thighs, grazing against your heat. "See what you do to me."
You gasped, melting into him, tightening your thighs around his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Blaise exhaled, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.
"Blaise—fuck—please..." your cunt clenched with anticipation, heat at your cheeks as you watched yourself in the mirror, desperately trying to tip your hips so he'd slide in. "Please, fuck me—"
Your voice was ruined. Music to his ears. Blaise could never deny that begging.
"Shit, baby..." he pressed in, leaning you forward until you were resting on your elbows in front of the mirror—seething as his girth stretched you open—splitting you wide in a way that made your eyes roll. He pulsed at your entrance, taking his time, letting you bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, his were lips parted, chest working with broken breath. "So goddamn tight..."
"Fuck," you moaned, unbridled, his hands bruising your hips as he picked up the pace. "Yes—mm—Gods, yes—"
The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Blaise was the most patient man you'd ever met, until he wasn't. He groaned, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps—you were captivated, unable to think or speak or do anything other than watch—fire stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge—you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself before gracing your ass with a soft smack, piercing your cervix.
"Sexy little thing. All fucking mine." He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. "You like that, hm? Watching yourself get fucked?"
You whimpered, neck aching with the force of his grip, nails digging into your palms as he drilled you. The switch in his demeanour was dizzying. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide—you could hardly focus on his words—
"Yes!" You managed. "Fuck—yes—"
He groaned, fucking faster—his gaze ravaged you, wandering over every inch of your reflection before stopping at your jiggling chest. His hand slipped down from your hair to grasp a breast—squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in his huge palm, his other hand snaking down around your thigh to swirl over your clit, and you choked—a noise wrenched from your lungs far louder than you'd have liked.
"Fuck—fuck—" his hips moved erratically. He was getting close. So were you. "Tight—squeeze me s'good—"
You whinged. He swirled his fingers faster. "Blaise—m'gonna—cum—"
It descended upon you—the promise of oblivion—as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, entire body shaking with the pistoning of your boyfriends hips.
His eyes were still on yours, reverence inside them, worship.
He grunted. "Yes—fuck, cum on my cock, baby—let me feel you—"
It was a command that shattered all thought, a primal cry of ecstasy that ripped through you, overtaking every nerve, every vein, every muscle in your body. Your limbs trembled, thighs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you, molten, burning under your skin. You were less than halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth—barely picking up on your boyfriends groans and moans in your ear as you squeezed and milked his cock through your climax, fucking you deep until he couldn't take it anymore and erupted as well—pouring his cum into you, rolling his hips until he was empty.
Swallowing hard, you collapsed onto the floor, your chest heaving as he pulled out, leaving you breathless and trembling. His hands, still warm from the heat of your skin, gently held your arm as he sank down beside you. Without a word, he tugged you against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a calming rhythm against your back. His fingers threaded softly through your hair, untangling the remnants of tension as the two of you lay there, catching your breath.
After a few moments, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, the touch so tender it made you melt all over again. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving your lips, all the stress that had plagued you earlier dissipating into nothing.
"Maybe I should have bad days more often." You smiled through an exhale.
"If this is what it takes to fix them," he murmured with a smirk, his voice deep and gravelly from exertion, "then I'm more than willing to be your remedy, anytime."
You hummed, a huff of a laugh slipping out as you traced lazy shapes on his chest—inhaling his scent with each breath. You loved this man. Loved that he never failed to make you feel so goddamn beautiful, so special, so needed.
"Seriously though," you whispered after a while, your cheek pressed to his chest, "thank you. For this. For knowing exactly what I needed."
His fingers stilled in your hair, a quiet hum of understanding in his throat.
"I always know what you need, baby," he said, his voice soft, filled with something more than just desire, something warmer. "And I'll always be here to give it to you."
#SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER👻#kinktober 2024#kinktober#harry potter#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#slytherinboys#blaise zabini x you#blaise zabini x reader#blaisezabini#blaise zabini#blaise x reader#blaise zabini smut#blaisezabinismut#zabini#slytherin smut
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— 𝖨𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖠𝖭 𝖠𝖢𝖢𝖨𝖣𝖤𝖭𝖳 𝖨 𝖲𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖱... .ᐟ
𐔌 💥 ꒱ Yeonjun didn't mean to brutally hit you with his car. It was an accident, he swears! He will do anything if it means avoiding a lawsuit — as the consequences, which is him losing his inheritance of his father's company, would be fatal. But when you struggle to make ends meet on a daily basis, the problems of a high income taker seem minimal. "Steal from the rich and give to the poor." And it seems Yeonjun is more than willing to pay the price for his mistakes.
⋮ 🎬 ⋮ 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦: chaebol!yeonjun x poor!reader (f) 𝖥𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤𝖨𝖭𝖦: assistant!taehyun, court judge!beomgyu lawyer!kai & lawyer!soobin
wc : 16.2k
𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 ⚠︎ [ car crash, descriptions of injury and blood, cursing, fake-dating, strangers to enemies to ...?, kissing, lots of tension between the mcs, crack fic ]
🎙️ yello yello, I'm slightly nervous to post this — mostly because I've never written something like this before. my writing isn't as descriptive and in depth as you're used to, the characters are also a lot more lighthearted so it might be somewhat of a switch. so please don't expect too much writing wise — the pacing might also be a little off (?),, I also haven't proofread this at all >< oh and I didn't research at all for the court scene but trust me I will be doing that for criminal conscience lolsies.. but please please comment/reblog/send asks with your thoughts and opinions afterward, that would make me so incredibly happy! I hope it's still an enjoyable fic despite it not being what I usually do, love you lots <33
note, this fic started as a joke to spite my friend cam,, so when I say it's unserious I mean it.
SOME LONESOME WEDNESDAY AT 10:25 PM
The rain bats against your naked arms as you pull them tighter around yourself, a pathetic attempt at keeping the blistering cold away. Your mascara has run down your cheeks, undoubtedly making you look even more of a mess than you felt – it wasn’t like your meek paycheck covered a water-proof one, hell it barely covered your rent.
On top of the ungodly weather, you had been held back at work for another two hours, making it your third day of overtime this week. Not only did that mean two hours less sleep tonight, it also had you running down the wet pavement as you hoped to catch the last train home. In your haste you’d forgotten your jacket, and despite it being late april, the air was freezing.
And it was only Wednesday.
Your steps echo down the vacant street, rain pouring over you like that of a cold shower turned on at full force. Keeping your head bowed as you squint, you focus on your worn out sneakers as they move forward – and in spite of the rush you were in, you still carefully avoid stepping on the cracks.
The screen of your phone quickly becomes covered in wet droplets when you pull it out, your eyes widening tenfold as you check the time. “Three minutes.. I can make that..” You deluded yourself into thinking you had a chance, your legs were already aching but you still geared up into a jog.
Your surroundings become a blur, the buildings you pass blending into one another as the dim street lights prod at the corner of your eyes. — Suddenly your foot catches on something, causing you to stumble forward. The shout of what could only have been a most miserable homeless man rings in your ears. But you don’t stop to check on him, merely yelling out a “Sorry!” over your shoulder as you keep going.
Maybe if you had been more attentive that night, if you had bothered to check your left twice, maybe things would have turned out differently. The red light blares in front of your face, signaling for you to stop, a clear warning sign. But you ignore it. Hell, it was nearing 10 pm, the street was vacant – and you had a mere two minutes to spare.
You go for it, water splashing around you as your feet hit the road crossing. You’re halfway across, the subway sign ahead illuminating your way – filling your desperate self with hope for the first time today. Your bed was just three stops away, warm and dry, a night's sleep and a freshly brewed cup of tea awaits you.
But then, just as you think you’ve made it, a light brighter than that of the street lamps suddenly floats into vision. It starts out small, a tiny dot in the corner of your eye. But as it grew in size you quickly came to understand that the source was heading straight toward you – and fast. You barely have time to react, but the sound of screeching tires is deafening, and it’s then you realize your mistake.
It doesn’t hurt at first, but you can clearly feel the heavy vehicle as it rams into you from the side. You hit the ground, it’s cold and the silence that follows is loud. It takes you a moment to comprehend just what had happened. Then pain flares up, and you immediately forget about the cold and the rain. Because it felt as though your entire body was on fire.
Your breath, previously knocked from your lungs due to the sheer force of the crash, returns and you gasp for air. The once tiny dot of light is now all you see, and it makes you squint, it feels as though you were put under a spotlight, on show for everyone to look at and possibly even applaud, if they wished to.
The sound of a car door closing echoes into the air, and soon you can make out approaching footsteps. “Holy fuck.” It’s a man’s voice, he sounds alarmed, and you fucking hope he was, seeing as he’d just hit you with his big piece of junk car. — “Shit”, he murmurs under his breath, “No… No I don’t know, she’s not moving…” Was he talking to someone on the phone, the emergency services?
There’s a brief moment of silence, and all you can think about is how much everything hurts, you were sure you could feel your fucking bones. And even if you wanted to scream, not a single sound would make its way past your bloody lips.
“What the fuck do I do?” The man hisses, but it’s clear that he isn’t addressing you. You can hardly make out his face, just the faint shadow of his silhouette as he stands above you. — “Oh my god”, he gasps, and you feel your stomach drop, bracing yourself for whatever doomsday news he’s about to deliver. “The paint is chipped!” The man suddenly exclaims and for a short second the consistent pain vanishes and you frown.
What?
“My fucking car– Shit, this is my most expensive one!” He whines into the phone as he leans over you to rub at the car hood. Your mouth falls open, there is no way he was being serious right now. You quickly understand that he was not on the phone with emergency services, or anyone of importance for that matter.
Your cough is what finally catches his attention again – blood follows and you cringe at the metallic taste on your tongue. “Oh fuck..” He murmurs as he crouches down next to you, his trembling hand placing against your forehead. Was he checking your fucking temperature? “I’m so going to court for this..” He says as he fiddles with his phone, bringing the device to his ear and emitting a shaky exhale as he waits for his next call to go through.
This better be 911, you thought with a small grimace, wincing as another flash of pain shot through you. — He’s talking, but you can hardly make out the words, apart from an occasional “shit” or “fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
At least he knew how to curse.
After that, everything went dark.
10 MINUTES EARLIER
Yeonjun’s fingers drum against the steering wheel as he waits for the light to turn green. He sighs, leaning back against the leather seat as his eyes flicker across the vacant streets. The faint buzzing of his phone, coming from the passenger seat catches his attention. He bites back a groan, leaning over and reaching for the annoying device as he swipes to accept the call coming through.
“Yes?” He drawls as he inspects his cuticles in a bored manner. — “Where have you been all day?” Taehyun’s voice is just as strict and accusing as it always was, despite the late hour. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, his feet pressing the gas pedal with a little more force than necessary as the light finally signals green.
“Always so happy to see me, are you?” He hums, earning himself a scoff from the other man. Taehyun mutters something unintelligible under his breath before sighing. “You’ve missed two meetings, one dinner and five important phone calls”, he lists them as though he’s reading off of a powerpoint, the monotone yet scolding edge to his tone slicing through the call.
Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing as his finger taps the back of his phone. “So, reschedule them?” He suggests to which his assistant snorts. “To when? – You’re fully booked all of this week, and the next, then there’s the ball on the 29th not to mention-” — “Alright! Alright! I get it”, Yeonjun cuts him off with a heavy exhale, “Tell them I was sick, or… I don’t know, make something up.”
A moment of silence follows and Yeonjun watches the raindrops as they race down the windshield, an impassive expression on his face. “You’ve used that excuse three times this week already”, Taehyun stubbornly reminds him and Yeonjun has to fight the urge to just hang up on him.
“You’ve got to start taking things seriously”, his assistant says, “Taking over the business when your father passes won’t be easy, and it’s…” — “Best for me to get as much experience as I can so that I’m prepared for when the day comes, I know”, Yeonjun finishes with a heavy exhale.
“Yes, precisely”, Taehyun hums.
Yeonjun nods, not that the other man could see it – a sense of dread settling within the pit of his stomach at the thought of overtaking such a huge role. His eyes dart from building to building, his nose scrunching at the cheap architecture of the area. Responsibilities had never been his forte, in any sense really. Neither was paperwork or mingling with important people and pretending to actually be interested in a single thing they had to say. Yeonjun often wished he hadn’t been the only child to come out of his parent’s loveless marriage. It would’ve been nice to share the burden with someone else.
The sound of Taehyun typing away at his computer echoes through the call, the persistent noise only adding to the overwhelming feeling coursing through his chest. He sighs, trying his best to relax and focus on the road ahead, not noticing the growing acceleration of the car he was currently driving. “What’s on my agenda for tomorrow then?” He begrudgingly asks, regretting the question as soon as it passes his lips.
Taehyun quickly goes off to list his schedule for the upcoming days, but all Yeonjun can hear is his future being carved out in stone before him. Meeting this, dinner that, small talking here and chatting people up there. It was exhausting.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking once, twice to shake the sleep from his already drooping eyes. “Are you even listening?” Taehyun asks, his sharp voice clipping him across the face and making him jerk in his seat. “Hm? Yeah, meeting at 11 tomorrow?” — “10”, his assistant corrects and Yeonjun groans.
“Are you headed home?” He then asks to which Yeonjun hums. “Yeah I’m…” But he can barely finish his sentence before the car suddenly shifts on the road. “Shit!” He curses, but it didn’t matter that his foot hit the brakes with a force that could’ve easily snapped his ankle in half, it wasn’t enough to stop the car in time, the wet road throwing the vehicle into hydroplane. — The screeching noise of the tires ring in his ears, the thud of what could only be another person hitting the hood of his car and then the ground is deafening.
The car jerks as it comes to an abrupt halt, but it’s far too late.
For a moment everything is silent. Only the sound of rain batting against the windows can be heard, and Yeonjun watches with his heart in his throat as the windshield wipers continue their pathway back and forth over the glass, as though nothing had happened. “Yeonjun? Are you there? What happened?” Taehyun’s voice, now lacking any sense of composure, is coming from the floor, for he’d dropped his phone in the haste of it all.
“Yeonjun! Answer me!” He demands, and only then is the older male snapped out of his trance as his hands let go of the steering wheel. “What happened?” Taehyun hisses on the other line and Yeonjun winces as he brings the device to his ear once more.
“Fuck…” He exhales, his voice trembling as he speaks, “I think I just hit someone.” — “And… oh my god my car!”
FOUR DAYS LATER
It’s bright. Really fucking bright. The sharp light stings your eyes, making you squint as you peer up at the sterile ceiling. This was so not the afterlife – because if it was, you most certainly wouldn’t be hooked up to a beeping machine and laying flat on your back on a small and hard hospital bed.
The constant chatter of nurses surround you, and it was to your greatest dismay that you realized you hadn’t even been granted the luxury of your own room. Separated only by thin, teal curtains you glance to the other patients occupying the room. — There was an older man opposite you and two beds to the right, he was staring silently ahead as a nurse tended to his plastered body, it covered both his legs and arms, making him essentially imobile. Upon glancing down at your own plastered arm you suddenly realized that you might actually have been in for more luck than you’d thought – unfortunately for you, it was your dominant hand that was out of order.
Still, you could perfectly wiggle your toes, and you were relieved to find that your legs obeyed your every command. With a small sigh you lean back against the lonesome pillow provided by the hospital. You glance around, trying to find out where you could possibly be – hopefully not somewhere too expensive, you were already indebted in every aspect of your life, a broken arm was not going to be next on your list.
Clearing your throat, you try to call for one of the nurses, but before you can even raise your still working hand, the curtain to your right is dramatically drawn aside. The sudden action makes you jump, your mouth falling open in a scream that never leaves your lips.
“Fucking finally, you’re awake!” A man you did not recognize, occupies the empty bed next to your own, you weren't sure that was even allowed – he hardly looked ill… At least not physically. “I was beginning to think you would never peel those eyelids open”, he mutters as he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress before standing up and approaching you.
He was handsome, no doubt. The jet black hair on top of his head fell across his face in even sections, framing his already sharp and prominent features. The grin that stretched across his lips displayed a set of perfectly white and straight teeth, almost uncannily so – and his eyes sparkled with what you thought to be relief as he came to a halt by your bed.
“I’m sorry… Who are you?” The question comes off almost stingy, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t place the man into any of the awful categories of people in your life. The man’s expression falters for a moment, his grin falling as his dark brows raise on his forehead. “What?” He echoes, and he sounds almost in disbelief. “You… Do you not remember what happened?” He then inquired, and this time he came off almost excited – he was probably ready to feed you a bunch of bullshit lies.
You scoff, averting your gaze for a moment as you let yourself recall the events leading up to your unfortunate and current predicament. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you remember the pain, the air being knocked from your lungs, the blood and the bright lights. — Your silence is not well received by the man as he immediately goes on another rant. “Well if you don’t then that’s fine – it wasn’t anything serious really, you just-” His voice was awfully familiar, and the longer you listened, the more pieces fell into place.
“You.”
The blunt accusation cuts him short and you turn to him with narrowed eyes. “You fucking hit me.” You jab a finger to his chest, making him grimace as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah… I see amnesia wasn’t the case then..!” He nervously chuckles to which your frown only deepens. “Excuse me?”
The man clears his throat, straightening out his shirt before reaching a hand out to introduce himself. “Sorry, I should've probably done this from the start… I’m Yeonjun, Choi Yeonjun.” Your eyes linger on the expensive watch that wrapped around his delicate wrist, then to the perfectly ironed shirt he wore, the brand foreign to your eyes. In fact, nothing he wore was something you’d ever see at the local markets you did most of your shopping at, it was all put together and neat, down to the very detail – which could only mean one thing.
This guy was absolutely loaded.
You take his hand, the handshake becomes awkward as you’re forced to use your left hand, seeing as he’d completely immobilized your right one. His grip is firm, and it surprised you, because truthfully he looked like a wimp. But the action in itself feels formal, as though it was something he did on a regular basis.
Your silence has him holding onto your hand a beat longer. “Not going to give away your own name?” He asks to which you nod toward the foot of your bed, “Says right there doesn’t it?” you mutter unenthusiastically. Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head as he lets go of you, “She makes jokes I see.” — You send him a nasty grimace in return, but he hardly seems offended.
He then takes a small step back, creating as much distance between you as the narrow space would allow. But when he glances over his shoulder, his demeanor suddenly switches. It takes him about half a second to have the curtains pulled around you once more, shielding you from the crowded room and leaving the two of you alone.
“Listen”, he says as he approaches you once more, and this time there’s not a drop of charisma to his voice. In fact he looks almost like he’s about to tell you a secret that might have the both of you beheaded. “About that night–” He begins in a hushed whisper but is abruptly cut off by the sound of the curtain he had just so meticulously closed, being yanked open.
A small nurse appears by the opening, the white hat sitting awkwardly atop her head, as though it was too big. She flattens out her robe when she steps inside, a friendly smile plastered onto her face. “I see you’re finally awake!” She exclaims as she grabs the clipboard hanging by the foot of your bed. That was the second time someone had said that, just how long had you been knocked out?
But you don’t get to ponder that thought any further as the woman takes place on the other side of your bed. “You can imagine it’s been a rough couple of days”, she says whilst shoving the clipboard under her arm to mess with the IV drop attached to you. “Your boyfriend’s been worried sick”, she then says without skipping a beat. — Yeonjun’s cough is almost comically loud as he brings a hand to his mouth, very obviously aware of your beyond baffled expression.
“My what?” You question, your brows shooting high on your forehead. The nurse turns to you with a perplexed look, her face faltering for a moment, as though she had said something out of line. But before you can further object, Yeonjun has grabbed ahold of your shoulder, pulling you against him in one quick motion.
The scent of his expensive cologne hits your nose, making you almost dizzy as you brush against his chest. “Darling”, he exhales against the side of your face, “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard.” He glances toward the nurse, sending her an apologetic smile and completely ignoring your protesting huff. “She gets a little disoriented at times.”
“Oh– Of course”, the nurse nods before shaking her head once, as if coming back to her senses. The remainder of her stay is spent in silence as she quietly checks your vitals, not oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as your eyes practically burn holes into Yeonjun’s figure – the latter, on the other hand, seems completely at ease as he watches the nurse work with an impassive expression, his arms folded neatly across his chest.
She leaves as soon as she’s done, quickly excusing herself and closing the curtains behind her once more. You don’t waste as much as a second, quickly pushing yourself into a sitting position as you try your hardest to yank the IV from your arm, it proved quite the challenge as your right hand was completely fucking useless.
“Woah there”, Yeonjun suddenly springs into action as his fingers clasp around your healed arm, keeping the needle safely in place, “I don’t reckon that’s very safe.” — You scoff, brushing him off but refraining from touching the drop again. “I don’t reckon hitting me with your car was very safe either.”
The comment has him biting the inside of his cheek as he takes a step back. “Touché”, he says as he runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes darting across the small and makeshift room you were currently in. — “Ahem..” The clearing of your throat hardly deters him as he steps toward the IV drop, watching with great intrigue as the droplets slowly transfer through the plastic tube.
“I reckon you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Hm?”
Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow as he turns your way, his hand placed thoughtfully under his chin. “Do I? You seem to remember just fine”, he drawls to which you frown. “I’m not talking about the crash-” — “Accident.” Yeonjun firmly corrects.
“What?”
“It was an accident. Don’t use the word ‘crash’ it’s too vulgar”, he shudders as he lets his hands drop to his sides. “Besides”, he then says as he takes a seat on the edge of your already narrow bed, “Accident’s make for better sob stories.”
You regard him with a look of disbelief, your brows pulled deep into a frown and your lips slightly parted. “Are you being serious right now?” You scoff, but the determined expression on Yeonjun’s face didn’t once waver – causing you to groan as you avert your gaze. “Alright, whatever. I wasn’t talking about the accident, because it was a crash – I’m talking about the whole boyfriend thing, what the fuck is up with that?”
Yeonjun shrugs as he fiddles with the expensive looking watch on his arm. “Oh, that small detail? They wouldn’t let me stay until you woke up unless I was family – figured boyfriend was as close as I could get.” He then glances at you with a small frown, “What, are you a lesbian or something?”
Your jaw slacked, half in disbelief and half in offense to his sheer audacity. “I… No? But why would it matter if I was!” You shake your head, blinking twice as you try to make sense of your current situation. “You’re telling me no one here knows you’re responsible for my arm being fucking encapsulated?”
Yeonjun huffs, “Alright now you’re being dramatic. It’s just a cast, you’ll have it off in a matter of weeks.” — “Weeks?” You shriek, “I can’t even type on a computer with this, how am I supposed to work?”
The man tilts his head to the side as he watches you with slight confusion. “So? Just take a couple of weeks off – I basically gave you a free vacation.” He then adds with a sly grin as he pats your knee. You resist the urge to quite literally kick him off the bed. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t just take time off work, the rent won’t pay itself.” Well, his probably did, you thought with a bitter grimace.
Yeonjun shifts on the bed with a small sigh, “Listen, I’m sorry about your arm alright – but it’ll heal. What I’m here for is to discuss something of far more importance.” He says as he turns to face you, his expression suddenly morphing into a most serious one. “What happened that night, it was an accident… And you don’t go to court over accidents.”
You frown as you listen to his words. “What? You’re asking me not to sue your ass?” — Yeonjun rolls his eyes but you catch the flicker of hesitation behind them. “Well, yes, something along those lines.” He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing as they catch on a strand before he continues. “How do I explain it to someone like yourself..” He murmurs thoughtfully.
“I’m not an imbecile”, you spit. The comment has him raising a brow as his lip twitches, “Your brain scans beg to differ.” — “What?” But Yeonjun only shakes his head as he bites back a chuckle. “Alright”, he begins as he straightens his back ever so slightly, “Supposedly, I have a reputation to uphold”, he says with a small shrug, “Nothing serious, just my future and my career depending on it.” He glances toward your injured arm, then over to the scowl plastered onto your face. “And this situation… Let’s just say it won’t look good for me to go public with it.”
“So you’re begging me not to sue you?”
Yeonjun frowns, “I wouldn’t use the word ‘beg’..”
“I would.”
He rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest as he throws one leg over the other. “Fine. I want to settle this without involving more people than necessary, how about that?” — You regard the expectant look on his face, from his calculating eyes to the subtle twitch of his defined jaw. Your financial situation was already bound to take a blow from this, not to mention that you might even lose your job. There was no way you were just going to let this man walk away with his pockets full and his ego still intact.
Take from the rich and give to the poor. That was the motto you strived to achieve.
“Alright..” You slowly begin, watching as his eyes lit up and his head jerk in your direction. There was something undeniably satisfactory in his already celebrated victory – and you have to push down a small smirk.
“How far are you willing to go?”
25 MINUTES LATER
“Come on – I think I can see the top!” You excitedly exclaim as you lean forward. The late afternoon breeze caresses your face, instantly bringing a smile to your lips as you bask in the warm air. Behind you, Yeonjun pants, his heavy breath fanning across your neck. “You’ve said that these past ten minutes now”, he groans as he continues to push you forward. You roll your eyes, not caring for his unenthusiastic attitude. “Well, I mean it this time around!”
What was probably meant to be a snort comes out as half a whine, half a whimper as Yeonjun begrudgingly pushes the wheelchair up the steep hill. “I don’t… -pant- get it… -pant- your legs are.. -pant- just fine.” His complaints were nothing but background noise to your ears – still, you glance down to your legs, swinging them back and forth to further prove his point.
The hospital grounds were a lot more terrained than you had initially anticipated, and what had started out as a walk around facilities, had ended with Yeonjun struggling to push you up the large hill that had caught your eye. The wheels of the wheelchair caught on snares and rocks, making it quite the bumpy ride, and you had to grip the armrests tightly with your one good hand to not fall overboard.
“Mind where you’re going! You’re transporting fragile cargo”, you snap when Yeonjun pushes the wheelchair over yet another branch, causing it to snap under the weight of it all. The man merely scoffs, the sound coming out breathy as he gathers whatever strength he had left. “Fragile my ass”, he mutters under his heaving breath, the words brushing against your neck. “That crash ought to have killed you then.”
“You wish it did, huh?”
Yeonjun sighs, “I’m starting to seriously reconsider.”
Finally, the steep hill pans out into flat ground and with one final push, the wheelchair comes to a stop. Bracing himself on the handles, Yeonjun trembles as he looms over you, panting heavily as he does. “This better have been worth it”, he coughs, completely overtaken by exhaustion. — “We’re about to find out!” You state whilst stretching your legs out in front of you before jumping to your feet.
“Oh fuck you”, Yeonjun spits as he watches you walk off to inspect the area. You ignore his crude comments, your eyes wandering across the few benches scattered around, none which were occupied. The spot was cozy enough though. With an approving nod you approach one of the larger trees, leaning against its trunk to peer out over the hospital yard. The place turned out to be quite decent after all, the food was good, and your room had been upgraded to a suite - the company however… You glance toward Yeonjun who had taken a seat on the wheelchair, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
He would do. For now.
His willingness had surprised you. He really must not want that lawsuit, you thought to yourself as you plucked a leaf from a low hanging branch. Oh well, you would continue to abuse your temporary power for as long as you could – if he could splurge money on a suite then he could surely treat you to a nice dinner as well.
And who said getting run over didn’t have its benefits?
“Hey stranger!” You wave him over with your good arm, and Yeonjun reluctantly lifts his head to see you jumping up and down by the nearby tree. With sluggish movements he drags himself from the wheelchair and over to you, his expression already painted with dismay. — “What’s with the long face?” You hum as he comes to a stop before you.
Yeonjun quirks an unamused brow as he glances between you and the handful of leaves you had picked from the tree. “Oh nothing, just the stock market crashing and my funds losing value while I’m playing nurse”, he shrugs, “But really I’m fine – I’m having loads of fun.” He flashes you a quick smile that drops just as fast as it had appeared.
“Really?”
“No.”
There’s a small pause as you both glance out over the hospital facilities, your eyes lingering on the patients out and about as they try to catch the last afternoon sun. The once warm breeze was slowly turning chilly and you could see the sun setting over the horizon. — For a short moment you stopped to wonder what would become of you when you were finally discharged. The call you had to make to your boss upon returning inside would surely not be a pleasant one. How did you explain your previous absence and the one to come? The chances of you keeping your already low paying job were slim…
“Is this why you wanted to come out here?” Yeonjun suddenly breaks the silence as he crosses his arms over his chest, a displeased look on his otherwise handsome face. “I mean, the view is nothing marvelous – plus it’s fucking freezing.” — “Hm? Oh, yeah.. It’s alright I suppose..” You murmur, your gaze dropping to the ground beneath you. The grass grew wild and untamed, peeking up in uneven sections and brushing against your ankles.
Your sudden change in demeanor doesn’t pass him unnoticed and you can feel his eyes on your frame as he regards you quietly. “What?” He then huffs, “Don’t tell me I’ve pushed you all the way up here for nothing?” There’s a light-hearted edge to his words but you can also make out the uncertainty behind them – as though the sudden switch in your mood confused him. Accident or not – your financial situation wasn’t his fault. Everything else though…
“No”, your lip twitches into a small, half-hearted smile, “It wasn’t for nothing.” You say as you walk past him and back to the wheelchair. “Plus”, you throw a glance over your shoulder, “Even if it was – I would’ve made you do it anyway.”
Yeonjun’s scoff echoes over the hilltop as he jogs after you, “I don’t doubt it.”
“Are you walking down?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He sighs, “Should’ve never asked.” — “Wow! Look at you, you’re learning!”
Though hardly amused by your sarcastic reply, he still waits for you to take a seat. “Don’t let it get to your head”, he grumbles as he grabs the handles and turns the wheelchair around as he begins your shared journey down the hill. You huff as you lean back in the chair, “Whatever do you mean?”
Yeonjun doesn’t reply as he steers you down the narrow pathway you had originally ascended from, this time with a lot more ease. The sky, now painted in hues of pink and orange, casts you in a warm glow and makes you squint. — Had it not been for your unfortunate situation, you would have probably found the scene quite beautiful.
“You know..” Yeonjun begins, his voice ringing out somewhere above you, “I actually don’t know shit about the stock market – I made that up.” The admission makes you grin as you shake your head, “I know.”
“Alright, fuck off.”
THAT SAME EVENING
The sound of footsteps echo down the hall as Yeonjun paces the empty corridor. Surrounded by white sterile walls and flickering bright lights, he battles the headache that had been so persistently following him around these past four days. — And Taehyun’s nagging voice certainly didn’t help one bit.
“Your father is asking for you”, his assistant says in a curt voice. “Did you tell him to check under my bed?” Yeonjun counters, earning himself a disapproving tsk from the other man. “Do you realize how serious this is? You injured someone- If she died you could’ve been charged with manslaughter!”
“But she didn’t die.”
“That’s not the point”, Taehyun cuts back and Yeonjun swore he could hear the gray hairs forming on his assistants head. “You’ve got to start seeing the consequences of your actions and… Where are you even?”
Yeonjun purses his lips as he glances down the hallway, “The hospital.” — “The hospital..” Taehyun sighs, “No, of course, Jesus, where else would you be?” He pauses, “Did she wake up yet?”
“Mhm”, Yeonjun hums as his gaze fixates on the door opposite him. It was only a matter of seconds before you called for him again, no doubt having him perform yet another task that a nurse easily could’ve done in his place. — “And?” Taehyun presses, the sound of his fingers tapping against what Yeonjun assumed to be the table of his office, echoes over the line.
“And… I’m handling it.”
“Handling it how? – The last thing you need is a lawsuit after you. If your father finds out about…” His assistant doesn’t even dare finish the sentence as he instead falls silent. Biting the inside of his cheek, Yeonjun leans against the wall behind him, his free hand reaching deep into his pocket as he exhales. He knew all too well what was at stake – Hell, he’d been lucky enough that you didn’t seem to have a single relative to come look for you, leaving him your only visitor these past days. When he thinks about it, the reality of it all was quite sad. But he couldn’t afford to waste his energy on such trivial matters.
“She won’t press charges”, Yeonjun finally states. The confidence in his voice is unwavering, but it does little to impress Taehyun who scoffs. “You ran her over.” — “Correction”, Yeonjun says with a frown, “My car hydroplaned and she was walking toward red.”
“You were speeding.”
“Was not.”
Silence.
“Alright”, Taehyun sighs but it was clear that he thought the conversation far from finished. “Did you offer her compensation?” — The frown on Yeonjun’s face deepens, “Compensation?”
“Money, Yeonjun. – You’ve got enough to waste, and especially if it means keeping her quiet.”
“Right.” He throws another glance toward the door which you reside behind, the suite had cost him half a fortune, but then, it was a lot more comfortable to discuss private affairs behind closed doors, especially when said affairs regarded his possible career. “I have compensated her, somewhat.”
Taehyun tsks, “What does that mean?” — “Oh wouldn’t you like to know?” Yeonjun drawls as he flattens out his shirt. The memory of pushing you up that god forsaken hill was still fresh in his mind and his arms ached just thinking about it. A small grimace passes his face as he imagines what you could possibly ask of him next.
As if on cue, your irritable voice calls for him. For someone currently hospitalized you still seemed to have loads of energy. “Ooooh Yeonjun~” His name coming from your lips alone was enough to send shivers down his spine.
“Was that her?” Taehyun wonders and Yeonjun suppresses a shudder as he swallows. “Don’t worry about it”, he says. His assistant makes a noise of disapproval, “I’m serious, you have to be careful with-”
“I’m handling it, alright? – You just focus on keeping my father away.” With that he ends the call and shoves his phone back in his pocket before pushing himself off the wall and approaching the door. He stops with his hand on the handle, gathering the last of his strength as he prepares to step inside.
The room in itself was grand, with its own bathroom and shower, a Tv and a fat stack of books. It was accompanied by windows that ran from floor to roof, giving the room as much natural light as possible during daytime. Your bed here was a lot bigger too, with a variety of both blankets and pillows. But despite being bathed in luxury, you seemed intent on using Yeonjun as your primary source of entertainment.
Propped on said big bed, you lean comfortably against the fluffy pillows, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. “Took you long enough”, you say as your narrowed eyes search his figure. “Where’s my coffee?” — Shit, Yeonjun had completely forgotten about that the moment he’d stepped outside and Taehyun called.
“Machine was broken”, he shrugs as he approaches the chair not far from your bed. He brushes past the look of disbelief you send him. “Did you even go down and check?” — Yeonjun shakes his head, “No. But they never work in places like these, besides the coffee tastes cheap.” He really was unable to grasp the fascination for such a beverage if it wasn’t brewed to perfection in the comforts of his own home.
“Cheap?” You retort as you twist on the bed, “What, do you get the beans grinded in your backyard?” Yeonjun shakes his head, “No. I have that done in the kitchen.” — You stick your tongue out in response. He couldn’t quite understand your frustration over such a mundane matter, but he watches as you then flop back down against the mattress with an exasperated sigh.
There’s a brief silence that follows your short conversation. Yeonjun had realized long before you even woke up that the two of you were very different. He’d spent the majority of these past four days studying you intently. — Your brows grew frantically, like they’d never seen a pair of tweezers, and your lips were chapped. Your nails were short and bitten, the lines on your forehead damn near permanent, as if stuck forever in a slight frown.
Still, you intrigued him greatly – for reasons still unbeknownst to himself. There was something raw in the way you acted, your words blurting out unfiltered and without a second thought – much like himself, in a way. The only difference was you had the freedom to express yourself without the constant worry of people’s approval. It must be nice, being that uncaring.
“The fuck are you staring at?”
Your sharp voice startles him from his thoughts and Yeonjun nearly jumps out of his seat. “Christ, do you intend to wake the dead?” He huffs in an attempt to downplay the fact that his soul just left his body and was on its way up the tenth and final floor.
You roll your eyes as you regard him with amusement. “Caught you lackin’” — “You- What? No, I..” He shakes his head, tsking as he dismisses you and instead turns his attention toward the black Tv screen. Just as he was about to suggest putting something on, do you interrupt him. — “I’m kinda hungry.”
“So?”
“Feed me.”
Yeonjun’s jaw slacks, his brows shooting high on his otherwise smooth forehead. “What?” He echoes to which you groan. “You heard me”, you point to the large fruit bowl by the Tv bench, “Fetch me those grapes.”
“You can’t be serious”, Yeonjun grumbles as his eyes flicker between you and the fruit, staring back at him with menace. The smirk on your lips only grows and he feels his heart sink as the reality of his situation dawns on him. — “Come on”, you drawl in a sing-songy voice, “Think about the lawsuit~”
Those words alone are enough to have him shooting up from the comforts of his chair and walking across the room in order to access the fruit bowl. It’s heavier than he’d anticipated and he almost stumbles over his own feet before reaching your bed. — “Jesus, I bet you weren't picked first in gym class?” You tsk as he places the bowl on your bedside table.
Yeonjun’s brows twitch in anger as his narrowed eyes find yours, “Alright fuck off.” Though he makes sure not to mention that he was in fact always picked last for football practice – or any other matter that involved some kind of physique. His nine-year old self still lived with a bruised ego, and he would be damned if his 25 year-old self had to live through the same torment, no less by you.
A flicker of confusion passes his face when you wordlessly part your lips, glancing up at him expectantly. His eyes drop to your round cheeks, the skin soft and smooth – just waiting for him to pinch it and make you squeal. Then his attention shifts to your lips, despite being slightly chapped they were still oddly enticing to look at and Yeonjun catches his tongue darting out to wet his own.
“Fuckass. Feed me the grapes.”
The quick and sharp snap of your voice breaks his trance and Yeonjun blinks twice as he shakes his head, “Huh?” You scoff, folding your good arm across your chest as you send him an impatient grimace. “The grapes. What the fuck are you thinking of?”
Right. Yeonjun coughs as he picks a handful of grapes from the bowl. “Nothing your mediocre mind could wrap itself around”, he spits before shoving a perfectly round and green grape into your mouth. It’s with great satisfaction that he watches you slightly choke on the fruit before angrily chewing it, your teeth grinding together as you shoot him a glare.
You swallow, “We’ll see how mediocre my lawyer is then.”
“Funny.”
“You think so?”
“Shut up and have another grape.”
You don’t protest when he shoves the fruit in your mouth, in fact Yeonjun thinks he might’ve even caught a subtle smirk playing on your lips. Whatever. You’ll be back on your feet soon, then he’ll offer you compensation, the case will be sealed off and forgotten about – and his life would go back to being what it had always been.
“Can you use that fan over there on me?”
“No.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Turns out hospital curtains were shit. Your eyes have barely peeled open and the sun is already stinging them. With a frustrated groan you squeeze them shut once more, intent on getting another hour of sleep. What time was it even, 5am? The bed was comfortable at least, far better than the petty excuse of a mattress you had been sleeping on last night.
You smack your lips together, cringing at how dry your mouth felt as you swallowed. The pillow felt wet against your cheek and with slight horror you realized that you had probably been drooling. “Ew..” Your attempt at sitting up proved futile as there was something warm and heavy occupying your left leg and greater portion of your right. — Confused, you finally tear your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light as your gaze falls on Yeonjun.
The frown on your face deepens, your face twisting into a small grimace as you scoff. “Fucking idiot”, you mutter when pushing yourself onto your elbows. Yeonjun, once slouched on a chair, now had his whole torso draped across your legs, his cheek squished against your knee as he snored lightly.
His once put together hair now lay a mess, a few strands falling across his forehead. The sleeves of the expensive shirt he wore had been pushed up to his elbows, his coat discarded on the backrest of the uncomfortable chair. The warm glow of the sun cast him in bright hues that highlighted the natural flush of his cheeks — his long lashes fluttering slightly as he frowned in his sleep.
What was he thinking? He should’ve gone home, changed and slept in an actual bed. Did he seriously think you were still suing him? God, you had too much on your plate to worry about arguing with his petty ass in court. — You purse your lips as your eyes linger on his unconscious figure. He looked funny. Slightly… cute, you suppose – he would’ve been a decent 8/10 had he not hit you with his car and immobilized your left arm.
Torn between wanting to kick him off the bed or watch him sleep just a moment longer, you’re suddenly pulled from your thoughts when the door to your room clicks open. A nurse enters, her robe wrinkled in places and her hair spilling out of the bun she wore, you imagined she’d worked the night shift for she looked absolutely beat. — Her eyes flicker between your unenthusiastic expression and over to Yeonjun’s slumped self.
A small smile tugs at her lips when she approaches your bed and you resist scrunching your nose in disgust when she says, “Why, aren’t you two the cutest?” — That was highly debatable and you don’t reply, instead settling back against the pillow as she begins checking your condition. You were still in disbelief over the ridiculous lie he’d told. Boyfriend? He could’ve went for distant relative, fuck you would’ve even taken cousin.
“You’re very lucky..” The nurse begins as she fiddles with the bandage wrapped around your arm. Her voice was filled with adoration and you held back the objection waiting on your tongue. You wanted to argue that you were anything but lucky. From losing four days of consciousness to the possibility of losing your job as well.. All thanks to the jackass shamelessly sleeping on your legs at this very moment.
But the nurse seems oblivious to your silent disagreement, and continues with a lighthearted tone. “He’s never left your side, you know? Barely slept either.” — You give her a tight-lipped smile, nodding quietly as your gaze travels down to Yeonjun by the end of the bed. He’s yet to wake up despite the conversation around him. Pushing the wheelchair must’ve really taken him out, you thought with a small huff.
“Lucky me”, you mutter. Your un-enthusiasm however, doesn’t seem to disturb your diligent nurse, who despite her rough exterior, works quietly on readjust your bandage. “How much longer until I’m out of here?” You wonder as you try to conceal the desperation laced curiosity of your voice.
The nurse pauses, her fingers having just fastened the bandage around your arm. “Well, my guess is sometime this afternoon, we need to run another brain scan since you’ve woken up from your coma. If your results come out clean you should have nothing to worry about.”
Right. Nothing to worry about. You lean back against the pillows with a deflated sigh, must be nice, having nothing to worry about. Your wandering gaze returns to Yeonjun’s sleeping figure, his chest heaving slowly as he takes long and steady breaths. “Bastard”, you mouth with a not-so-subtle sneer, though you quickly mask the grimace with a smile as your nurse gives your shoulder a small pat.
“I’ll be back to check in on you by lunch time.” She says before heading back out through the door she had emerged from not even ten minutes ago. Once the thick silence of your hospital suite returns, you find that you can’t take it anymore. — “Hey jackass”, your knee twitches under his cheek, making Yeonjun grimace as he mutters a string of unintelligible curses under his breath.
You groan, yanking the blanket from your legs and kicking him off in the process. Yeonjun wakes with a startle, his eyes wide and alarmed as his hands grip the armrests of his chair. The giggle bubbling in your throat makes its way past your lips without second thought. “At ease soldier, the enemy is still far”, you drawl as you throw him the blanket.
Yeonjun frowns as he blinks, slowly taking in his surroundings as he realises where he’d fallen asleep. “Fuck”, he grunts as he stretches out on the small chair, “My back is killing me.” His gaze snaps over to you, “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Giving him a small shrug as you pick at your already chipped cuticles, you say, “I tried — But holy shit you weigh like three tons when you sleep.” You survey his displeased expression with narrowed eyes before adding, “Plus you drool.”
“I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes. You. Do.”
Yeonjun sits up a little straighter, the chair creaking under his weight as if to testify to your previous statement. “Who are you to police me anyway? Last I remembered you couldn’t even eat your own grapes.”
“And whose fault is that?” You counter to which Yeonjun obliviously glances the other way. You scoff, rolling your eyes as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. “Nurse came, she said I’ll be out of here before dinner time.” With a small exhale you let your fingers dance across the soft pillows, remembering your own stale one at home with slight distaste.
“That’s good news”, Yeonjun mutters as he shifts in his chair, his dark eyes lingering on your hand for a moment. “Yes,” you hum in agreement, yet for some reason the thought of returning to your cramped apartment didn’t seem so appealing anymore. You were hardly getting any more days off of work, which would mean back to business within the day… Which would make today your last one of freedom.
Your gaze flickers over to Yeonjun who was currently flattening out his expensive shirt and running a tired hand through his tousled hair. “Soldier”, you say, easily garnering his attention and a small glare. But you merely brush past his lack of enthusiasm. With an exhausted grunt you slide off the comforts of your bed, stretching your sore muscles for a moment. “I think we should go explore the vending machine.”
Yeonjun raises a brow as he, too, rises to his feet. — You snort, “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t have a few pennies to splurge on poor o’le me.” But he only shakes head, “I don’t keep small change like that.”
With your hands on your hips you tsk:
“Alright. Then we’ll beg the elderly lady next door for some.”
THAT AFTERNOON
“What? You mean all of it?”
Your voice is unsteady as you hold your phone close to your ear. Your legs felt like jelly, your knees buckling under your own weight as you flop back down onto your bed. A distressed frown tugs at your brows and you chew your bottom lip anxiously. “How long will it take for them to get it back in order?”
With a small nod you hum along to whatever the plumber was reciting on the phone. Bunch of difficult terms, but none of them good, that much you knew. “Alright… Does insurance cover it?”
“Oh.”
“I see.”
When the line finally cuts the silence of your hospital suite was louder than ever before. You purse your lips, blankly staring ahead as you ponder your next move. Check into a hotel? Expensive. A motel? You grimace. — Scrolling through your pathetically short contacts list only serves as a reminder of how alone you really were. No place to crash, no place to go, no shoulder to lean on when your own was bandaged.
Before you can completely spiral, the door opens and Yeonjun stumbles inside. He’s clutching a paper in his hand, presumably your discharge one. “Ready to head out?” He asks as he approaches you, though his steps quickly falter upon noting the distant look on your otherwise expression filled face. — “You okay?”
Are you okay? No one had asked you that question in what felt like forever. It was always do this, get this done before the deadline, don’t forget that.. And when you weren’t being persistently nagged by your boss, there was nothing. Just silence. His expected question shouldn’t feel so… You give a small shrug, but the second you open your mouth to explain, everything just comes tumbling out all at once.
“My apartment’s fucking flooded”, you sob as your hands come up to wipe away the tears that forced their way down your cheeks. “Fucking stupid water leakage and– everything’s ruined!” Your words are interrupted by hiccups and small gurgling noises coming from deep within your throat. “C-Can’t go there and I… It’s going to be so expensive”, you whine as you shake your head.
Your chest heaves in tune with your pathetic sobbing as you aggressively wipe at your face. “Fucking– worst week ever! – Can never even.. Catch a fucking break…” You hated yourself for breaking down like this, for not being able to stop the tears that streamed down your face, your voice refusing to obey as you tried to reign in the helplessness to it.
Yeonjun’s fingers curling around your wrists as he pries your hands from your face is what finally breaks your trance. Granted you should’ve probably had a little more shame than you did, but nothing mattered in that moment and you immediately buried your face against his chest, sobbing your heart out against the smooth fabric of his shirt.
His arms are stiff and awkward as they wrap around your trembling frame, his hand patting your back in what was probably supposed to be soothing, but it more felt like he was beating a drum. — “You uh…” He clears his throat, his voice low and uncertain. “Gonna stain my shirt…” He murmurs as you snivel against the fabric.
“Shut up or I’m gonna use it as a tissue”, you huff between sobs. Yeonjun gives a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure if you were being serious or not. Good. He shouldn’t be.
It takes you a couple of minutes, but soon the tears subside, leaving behind ugly and wet streaks on your face as you pull away. Yeonjun’s arms release their hold on you, though his hands slide down to rest on your hips, the movement probably subconscious, but you were too beat up to even ponder on it, or slap him off for that matter.
“It’s fine”, you finally say with a shaky exhale as you meet his gaze for the first time since he stepped through the door. Yeonjun slowly nods as he watches you wipe off the remnants of your tears, blinking twice to clear them from your lashes. — “Yeah”, you then say with a firm nod, straightening back up as you glance over at him.
Immediately recognizing the mischievous glint in your eye, Yeonjun takes a step back as his hands fall from your hips. “What?” He says as his eyes narrow. You shrug, “Oh nothing… It’s just that, since I don’t have anywhere to go for the time being…”
“No.”
“It would be very considerate of my boyfriend to offer his couch for a couple of days.”
You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he slowly realizes that he’s effectively backed himself up into a corner. “Besides”, you add as you present your still bandaged arm, “I reckon I could use some assistance around the house.”
Yeonjun’s eyes widen tenfold, “I’m not–”
“You’ll be wiping my shit, bitch.”
HALF AN HOUR LATER
Yeonjun contemplated driving you both off the road approximately seven times on your fifteen minute drive home. This was a terrible idea, one you had decided on without consulting him about for as much as a second. Part of him thinks he deserves it — he did hit you after all… No. He shakes his head, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. You were crossing a red light, actively breaking the damn law. And Yeonjun was only going 10 miles above the speed limit.
He holds back a fifth sigh when your voice breaks the silence for the nth time. “How much longer?” You chirp, your legs moving restlessly in front of you as you gaze out the window. That was the third time you asked said question, and he knew his answer would be of little satisfaction.
“Almost there.”
“You said that last time.”
“You asked two minutes ago.”
Silence falls over the flashy vehicle. Yeonjun briefly worried that you might stain his expensive leather seats. But he held back any comments about the way your fingers wandered across the dashboard, you seemed intent on leaving your prints everywhere. “Are you trying to pin a crime on me?” He asks as he glances your way. — “Wouldn’t be pinning it on you if you actually committed it”, you snort.
“I didn't.”
“The law disagrees.”
God would you just shut up. It feels like pure bliss when he finally pulls into the familiar driveway of his house. The three floors were a most ordinary and mundane sight for him, as were the big and shiny windows covering the side of the building. But your impressed whistle still makes his ears burn.
“This is neat”, you say as the car comes to a halt, already halfway out before he even has the chance to turn the engine off. “And you’re telling me you live here all by yourself?” You wonder as you go to scour the cars lined up on the driveway, eyeing them each like a potential buyer would.
Yeonjun hums as he follows you with hasty steps, much like a parent anxiously waiting for their toddler to break yet another vase. Once you notice his lingering presence you turn around, your hands raised in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my paws off your shiny toys.” — He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, that hasn't aged well thus far.
Bringing you inside was an undoubtedly even more frightening experience. Yeonjun had never considered just how much stuff he actually treasured within the four walls of his home until you stepped foot on his marble floors. “Shoes off”, he snaps as you mindlessly saunter down the long hallway. You pause, glancing over your shoulder before your eyes drift to the worn out sneakers you wore. With a small shrug you pull them off, a grin Yeonjun knew all too well playing on your lips.
“Catch!”
The dirty shoe comes flying before he can as much as blink and he thanked god for his fast reflexes as he manages to catch it. “Fuck”, he huffs as his nose wrinkles in disgust, “Your feet stink.” Your second shoe strikes him across the face before the insult leaving your lips even has the chance to.
“I’ve been in a coma for four days, thanks to you.” You spit as you fold your good arm across your chest.
Yeonjun heaves a sigh as he realizes the devastating truth to your words. With a begrudging grimace he motions down the hall, “Bathroom’s to your right.” You send him a quick smile before disappearing from sight. Left alone with one shoe in his hand he contemplates just how long he would have to keep you here until he could finally get you off his back. Then there was the money too… You had yet to ask but he felt it was only right he offered some kind of compensation. Anything to settle it outside of court he reminds himself as he places your dirty shoes next to his freshly polished ones on the shoe rack.
The sound of the shower echoes throughout the flat, going through all the vacant rooms, following him around wherever he goes. Your presence is unfamiliar, the sign of life beside himself in this house an unusual phenomenon. — Yeonjun busies himself by preparing one of the guest bedrooms for you. He figured you’d want the biggest one.
He irons the sheets to perfection, gives each pillow a slap across the middle as he organizes them neatly by the headboard. Should he tell Taehyun that you were staying here — or was that better to be kept secret? He drags a hand across his face, groaning into his palm as he thinks back to a time where he wouldn’t have to deal with this.
In fact — Yeonjun is so busy with setting up the room for you and mulling over if he should make you dinner or not that he doesn’t even register the sound of the shower turning off. Nor does he pick up on your light footsteps as you descend down the hall. The uncharacteristically quiet knock you deliver to the door, despite it being ajar, is what pulls him out of his trance.
“Yes-”
But his words get lodged in his throat as he sees you lingering in the doorframe. Your skin is still wet and glistening as you hug the towel tighter around yourself, your bandaged arm hanging awkwardly by your side. Swaying back and forth on your feet, you release your bottom lip with a quiet exhale. “I uhm… Don’t have any clothes with me.”
“I can see that.”
God Yeonjun wanted to slap himself across the face. He quickly shakes his head, “I mean– I probably have something you can borrow…” You give him a small nod, and had it not been for your lack of clothes, and the fact that he was actively struggling not to stare like a kid in fifth grade, he would’ve probably relished in your shyness.
“Just uh, give me a minute”, he excuses himself as he squeezes past you in the doorway, wincing when your arms brush against each other. “When did you become such a prude?” He mutters to himself as he descends down the hall and to his own room.
Turns out picking clothes for a woman was a lot harder than he’d ever imagined. Yeonjun finds himself in front of his closet for a good ten minutes, wavering between green and blue like it was his finals. Perhaps he was reading into it too much, you weren’t going to care what he offered. He emits a defeated sigh as he glances over his options once more.
“Pushing her up a fucking hill, feeding her grapes and picking her damn clothes. Could’ve just hired a nanny”, he grumbles with a frown deep enough to touch the floor. He chews on the inside of his cheek, close to just giving up all together and letting you go naked. That would be a sight. No, ew, it wouldn’t. — “Girls like pink don’t they?” He finally huffs as he folds his arms across his chest. Well Yeonjun certainly didn’t own anything pink.
Red was close enough right?
“Fucking red?” You echo as he holds out the hoodie to you. Disgust is written across your face and Yeonjun resists the urge to tell you that the piece of fucking red garment was actually worth more than your months paycheck. Instead he scoffs, “You’re in no position to make demands.” Except you were. With a small tilt of your head you send him a look that could be best described as “Oh really?”
“Fine. Is green better?”
“... Red will do.”
You catch the hoodie with a glare that could slice through flesh. Were women always so angry? Yeonjun never lingered long enough to find out. He watches intently as you twist the fabric in your hands, then down to the naked skin of your thighs.
“Stop staring you perv.”
“Your kneecaps look weird.”
“How would you like them squashing your balls?”
Yeonjun suppresses a shudder at the mere thought, his hands flexing by his sides as he shakes his head. “I brought you some shorts too, not sure they’ll fit though.” He hands you the pair he should’ve gotten rid of five years ago, not that you had to know that of course. — You eye them skeptically, your lips pursed, another comment waiting behind them.
���Alright.”
Huh? Yeonjun blinks, his jaw slacking.
“No buts?” He frowns.
“No buts.”
Before he has the chance to speak, you reach for the towel wrapped around your body, undoing the small knot. It takes him about a fraction of a second to realize what you’re about to do. “Jesus woman! Let me flee the scene first”, he says as he scrambles for the door. — Your giggle echoes in his ears long after he’s slammed the wood shut, leaning against it as he screws his eyes together.
His hand clutches his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart thrumming against his knuckles. “The fuck…” He mutters as he tries to calm himself down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen women before, or brought them home for that matter. Usually he wouldn’t offer his clothes, they were far too valuable for that. But you left him no choice — which was becoming somewhat of a pattern.
With slow and heavy steps he makes his way over to the kitchen. The marble countertops feel smooth under his fingers as he drags a lazy hand over the clean surface. Yeonjun never felt like he took the comforts of his home for granted, but with the way your eyes had followed every single line of furniture like it was made out of gold made him reconsider.
He should probably make you something to eat. That would be the least he could do, right? Only problem was Yeonjun had never cooked as much as a single meal in his kitchen. It stood brand new, just like it had for the past two years.
“Where are the pans at?” He murmurs as he pulls cabinet doors open. He’d made sure to stock up on appliances, not that he was planning on using them, but they felt like a part of the house decor.
Once he’s got his hands on a decent pan he tackles his next obstacle. Turning on the stove. He tsks as he reprimands himself for choosing such extravagant and high-tech luxuries. Scratching the back of his head with a small frown he searches fervently for any button, but there were none.
“It’s a stove not a fucking ipad”, he grunts as he begins tapping the cool surface — flincing when it makes a beeping sound.
“Can’t believe it didn’t come with an instruction manual.”
20 MINUTES LATER
Yeonjun’s clothes felt light on you. The fabric was smooth against your skin and the garment wasn’t heavy. Admittedly you looked like a kid on the soccer team, but that was the least of your problems — not like there was anyone to dress up for around here anyway.
Having disappeared off to god knows where, Yeonjun had left you to roam his gigantic house. And you did exactly that. The hallways seemed never ending, sparsely decorated with a few plants here and there, who you all noticed to be made out of plastic when you passed them. “Must not have green fingers”, you hum as you twirl the artificial leaf between your fingers. Your eyes flicker down to the expensive-looking vase, “But a mind for money at least.”
Upon passing an ajar door, you stop in your tracks. Hesitating for only a moment, you push the door further open as you dare a peek inside. The room you find is nothing short of extravagant. With a king sized bed, clad in silk sheets and a carpet lining its perimeter. Windows lined the opposite wall, going from floor to roof, showing off the setting sun as it basked the room in a warm glow.
It hit you then that he would get to sleep in here every single night, in the comforts and luxury of such a nice home without a single worry about next week's budget. Your eyes flicker over to the dresser opposite the bed, your fingers twitching by your sides. No, you were no thief. Besides, you doubted there was anything worth selling aside from his plastic plants.
“Asshole”, you mutter as you step back out into the hallway.
Just then, a familiar scent hits your nose. It smelled just like a house fire. Joyous. — Yeonjun’s curses echo down the hall, the sound of cutlery clinking together making for a terrible beat to back up his vocals. Your bare feet pad toward the source of his chaos, and the scene you arrive at is far from disappointing.
Yeonjun stands bent over the stove, the culprit of the burnt smell being the eggs he’d attempted to scramble in the pan. Now all that was left was a crisp mess that had lost all its yellow — which he poked at with a spatula. Sweat pearls on his forehead, his expression stuck in a permanent frown as he pours his full attention onto the failed meal he was preparing.
“Need help?”
He startles at the sound of your voice, having clearly not expected your sudden arrival. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he finds you watching him with an amused expression. It was impossible to bite back the grin currently splayed across your lips.
“No.” He quickly retorts, sounding somewhat defensive.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
You round the marble countertop, stopping beside him as you peer down into the pan. “Smells…lovely”, you murmur, your nose betraying you as it scrunches in disgust. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he turns to you. Spatula gripped in one hand like a weapon, he folds his arms across his chest.
“What?” He snaps, clearly unamused by your silent critique.
Motioning toward the eggs still sizzling in the pan, “You do know how to cook right?”
“Of course I do”, he grumbles as he readjusts the grip on the spatula, “I cooked… In college.”
Your gaze flickers between him and the food, your brows rising on your forehead. “I can tell.”
You take a step forward, attempting to grab the spatula from his hand, only for him to immediately recoil, holding the utensil out of reach as he shakes his head. — “I’ll do it”, you scoff as you take another step forward, caging him against the counter. “No”, Yeonjun protests with another shake of his head, “You’ll burn the kitchen down.”
“I reckon that’s where you’re headed.”
He huffs, opening his mouth to bark out another remark — but all that he manages is a yelp when his free hand comes in contact with the scorching hot stove. The spatula slips from his grasp, hitting the floor with a clattering sound as Yeonjun grips his injured hand. You almost laugh, but the pain striking his face made you waver. Why did you feel bad?
“Fucking idiot”, you snort as you shake the thought away, grabbing ahold of his wrist and yanking him toward the sink. Yeonjun stumbles after you, muttering curses under his breath as you turn on the faucet. “Ow!” He hisses when you bring his now bright red hand under the lukewarm water.
“Get over yourself”, you mutter.
“It hurts?”
You give him a look of disbelief and Yeonjun’s eyes drift toward your bandaged arm, “Fine.”
He remains silent after that, letting you run his fingers under the water without complaints. His hands were oddly soft and you tried not to think about it too much, that and the fact that you were still holding on to him when he could’ve easily kept his hand there himself. — The silence seems to stretch on forever, making it the most awkward one yet, and that was saying a lot considering what the two of you had endured.
You avoid his gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you focus your attention to his hand, your thumb smoothing over his palm absentmindedly. You should say something — but for once you can’t find the words. Not a single remark came to mind.
Yeonjun clears his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as his eyes flit between your face and his hand. “I can–”
“Shut up.”
He presses his lips into a thin line, likely biting back another protest as he sighs.
“Do you ever cook?” You ask without looking at him. Yeonjun shakes his head, murmuring out a quiet, “Not really.”
Glancing at him through the corner of your eye, you find his brows pulled into a small frown, his lips pursed into an almost cute pout. “Then what?” You wonder as you turn his hand under the water. Yeonjun shrugs, sounding almost defeated as he says, “Usually just eat out.” Right. He could afford restaurant worthy meals seven days a week, must be nice.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Just a little.”
The silence returns, it seemed unavoidable at this point — and for some reason it bugged you. He doesn’t say anything when you turn the faucet off, nor does he comment on the fact that you had yet to let his hand go.
Jesus.
Yeonjun throws a glance over his shoulder, his failed attempt at scrambled eggs staring back at him from the pan. He turns back to you, his mouth open in a sentence he never gets to finish.
“I can make–”
Your lips against his swallows his next words.
It’s weird. Nothing like the kisses you were used to, it was awkward. His lips were stiff against yours, in fact you don’t think it could’ve even counted as a kiss. It was more a ‘our lips are touching and that’s kinda weird but none of us are gonna pull back’ type of thing. He blinks once, then his eyes flutter shut, his long dark lashes caressing the top of his cheekbone.
You do the same.
The moment might’ve lasted two seconds or two years for all you knew. Yeonjun’s hand went lax in your own, his fingers twitching slightly. His lips felt soft, and they tasted almost sweet — like the candy your parents only allowed on special occasions.
When you finally pull back his jaw hangs slack, his eyes slowly opening as his gaze finds yours. Neither of you speak, and you couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed, weirded out or strangely enough, turned on — or all three. You didn’t even know what you were.
Finally he speaks, “What was–”
“For letting me crash here”, you quickly say, your voice coming out a lot shakier than you’d anticipated.
“And for attempting to cook.”
He clamps his mouth shut once more, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softens. “Yeah?” He echoes, a small grin tugging at his lips.
“Yeah.”
“You kinda–”
“Don’t mention it again.”
“...”
You let go of his hand, pulling back like it had stung you. Yeonjun doesn’t comment on it, but you catch the flicker of disappointment striking his features before he covers it with a sly smirk. “Takeout?” He offers, already fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“Preferably.”
THE NEXT MORNING
The rich slept real fucking comfortable — and as you stretch your limbs out on the mattress, the expensive silk sheets tangled between your legs, you could’ve sworn that at least 23 years of back pain had been cured. Despite it being early morning the sun was already piercing through the thin curtains of the guest bedroom, making you squint against its bright rays.
Thankfully Yeonjun had gone back to being a self centered and arrogant prick shortly after dinner last night. The kiss was still fresh in your mind, and every reminder was like a harsh slap across your face, more specifically your lips. Luckily he hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had you. It was better to just forget it all together — your situation was messy enough as is.
With a tired groan, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, gingerly getting up as you trudge toward the door, nature calling you urgently.
The house is still silent as you step out into the hallway and you glance both left and right to secure the area before making a move toward the bathroom. Every sound becomes intensified in the quiet morning air and you wince when you accidentally knock one of the vases on your descent down the hall.
Breathing out a sigh of relief only when the bathroom door closes behind you, you go about your business quickly. Yeonjun lingers in the back of your mind — but not for the reasons he had these past two days. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above the sink, you frown at the state of your face.
“Jesus, I look like shit.”
He’s probably disgusted with the kiss — well, all the more reason not to bring it up at least. You would talk to him about finding another living situation for the time being. He was practically a stranger after all. It would be weird for you to keep staying here, right? With those exact thoughts in mind you push the bathroom door open, only for it to slam against something — or rather, someone.
Startled, you let out a shriek as you come face to face with an actual stranger.
“What the fuck?” You bark as you take a quick step back, your injured arm hitting the wall and sending a spark of pain through your body. — “Who the fuck are you?”
“I ought to ask you the same thing.”
The man, who looked to be your age, says as he peers over at you, the glasses on his nose sitting crooked. Then his eyes flicker down the hall. “Yeonjun! What did I say about warning me when you have hookers over?” He shouts, the irritation in his voice palpable. You were almost too stunned to catch the term he’d used to describe you with. But only almost.
“Excuse me?”
He gives you a quick one-over, “You’re excused.”
Your jaw slacks and you’re quick to raise your good fist.
“Listen here you little shi–”
Milliseconds away from getting your swing at the man, you freeze when someone grabs ahold of your wrist. Snapping your head to your left, you find Yeonjun next to you with a conflicted look on his face. “Taehyun”, he says through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist unwavering, “I see you’ve met my guest.”
The man, Taehyun, gives you another glass, his dark eyes peering at you through his glasses. His lips part once his gaze lands on your bandaged arm — had this been a cartoon, a small light bulb would have probably been lit above his head right about now.
“Oh.”
He immediately clears his throat, reaching a hand out for you to take. Snatching your arm back from Yeonjun’s grasp, you awkwardly extend your left hand, making Taehyun mumble out a quiet apology as he, too, switches hand. The handshake is somewhat awkward, as you both exchange names, and you learn that Taehyun is Yeonjun’s assistant. Figures. He looked like a nerd.
An awful silence settles over you after that as your unfortunate trio shifts in the hallway. Yeonjun is the first to speak, his brows tugged into a frown as he regards his assistant. “Why are you here? Did my father–”
“No.”
Taehyun cuts him off with a shake of his head, “Worse.”
Yeonjun’s frown deepens, “What could possibly be worse than–”
“The CCTV footage from six days ago.”
“Oh.”
Confused, you glance between the two of them. “Footage of what?” You ask. Yeonjun avoids your gaze like it might blind him, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweats as he studies the floorboards beneath him. You turn to Taehyun, an expectant look on your face.
“The crash.”
“Accident”, Yeonjun quickly chimes in, though quickly quieting down when both you and his assistant send him a sharp glare.
Stunned, you blink twice. “Wait, you mean to tell me there was footage of him hitting me?” All this time you had thought it would’ve been your word against his, should you ever bring it to court. And who would trust someone unable to afford their own lawyer? But a video of what had happened that night… It would change everything.
“Shit”, you say as you turn to Yeonjun who looked like someone had drained the blood from his face.
“You’re fucked”, you scoff as you give his shoulder a shove.
Yeonjun shoots you a glare, “Should’ve reversed up on you.”
You roll your eyes, dismissing him as you turn back to Taehyun with your good hand on your hip. “So, when are we going?”
“In thirty minutes.”
“Oh.”
“I would’ve been here an hour ago if Yeonjun picked up his phone.”
“Asshole.”
30 MINUTES LATER
Court was fucking lit. A little less excessive wigs of course, but the judges were still dressed in robes and one of them had one of those funky little hammers made out of tree, a gavel, your lawyer had said it was called. — Oh right, you’d gotten lawyers as well, epic. Knowing that there was an actual video with hard proof evidence of what had happened that night made you feel strangely at ease.
“What was your name again?”
“Kai.”
Your lawyer did not seem as relaxed — you couldn’t fathom why.
“Rough day at work?”
He quirks a brow in your direction, “Something like that.”
You scoff, “I can imagine. I mean, having to combat that thing.” You motion toward the opposite side of the courtroom where Yeonjun was currently sitting. His arms were folded across his chest, his dark hair neatly styled. He was dressed in a suit, which was a lot more convincing than the simple dress pants and blouse you wore. You had stopped by your apartment on the way, and it was only a miracle that some of your clothes were still intact.
Yeonjun’s lawyer sits beside him, you think his name might be something on S. He’s talking to him, but Yeonjun hardly looks to be listening, his dark eyes are stuck on you, a damn near permanent scowl on his face.
You mouth the words ‘Good luck!’ to him.
‘Fuck you.’
You grimace, whatever. He was going down, one way or another. A part of you almost felt a little bad for him. He’d actually been quite helpful these past two days — even though it had all been to avoid your current predicament. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. You would take your chances today.
A loud bang sounds through the room, efficiently quieting down the previous murmur. Your head automatically turns to your right where you find that the bangning noise had come from the peculiar little hammer thing. The judge holding it didn’t look credible in the slightest, with an almost boyish grin on his face and eyes that glimmered with mischief.
“Ahem”, the man clears his throat, coughing into his closed fists as his eyes gaze out over the crowd. You follow his line of sight, noting Taehyun posted up by the very front row, an anxious look on his face. But when the judge starts speaking, your attention returns to him. — “Good day”, he begins in an overly cheery voice, “My name’s Choi Beomgyu and I’ll be leading today’s trial. Let us commence.”
The sound of the gavel slamming against the mahogany desk rings in your ears, and the air inside the courtroom suddenly shifts. Kai had given you a brief rundown of your rights and how things worked. He’d informed you what you could say and what you should say. That meant bringing up how you’d exploited Yeonjun for two days probably wasn’t a fantastic addition.
“Alright, we’ll begin with both sides testifying their side of the story, blah blah— uh, and then we’ll play the provided evidence, mhm, and then… some more questions blah blah..” Beomgyu slams the file before him shut as he leans back in his chair. His sharp gaze flickers between you and Yeonjun, his eyes, despite their mischief, oddly calculating.
“Listen here, the faster you lot solve whatever happened – the faster we can all skedaddle out of here, and I don’t know about you– but I’ve got someone very special waiting for me at home. And yes, she’s a real woman, not a cat.” — The other judges shift uncomfortably in their seats but none of them comment on the head judge’s oversharing segment.
“You,”
Beomgyu’s voice is sharp as he directs it your way and you nearly jump out of your seat upon being so suddenly addressed.
“Let’s hear it”, he says as he stretches his arms out behind his head.
You glance over at Kai who gives you a small nod of approval and a look that says, ‘Don’t say anything stupid now’. With a small cough you lean forward, adjusting the small microphone placed on the table in front of you.
“Uh… So I was walking and–”
Beomgyu’s yawn pierces the air, somehow overpowering your voice on the mic. He gives you a quick wave with his hand, signaling for you to continue. With a small frown you straighten up slightly. “Well, I was making my way to the subway… It was dark, raining too– and my mascara was running. Do you know how much it stings when you get mascara in your eye?”
Beomgyu shakes his head, “Can’t say I do.”
“Oh. Well, that made my sight lessen significantly, and did I mention it was dark too? Yeah so I’m making my way down the street, and I run into this homeless man — completely unprovoked he starts yelling at me, and you can imagine I’ve already had a bad day working overtime, and not to mention my mascara smudging too. Anyway then I–”
“Objection.”
You frown when Yeonjun suddenly speaks up, it was the first time he had since you’d arrived here. Beomgyu raises a brow but nods for Yeonjun to continue.
“This has nothing to do with the accident.”
Beomgyu purses his lips, as if considering Yeonjun’s words for a moment.
“You’re right.”
“But I’m intrigued, and I don’t even wear mascara.”
Beomgyu turns back to you, “Continue.”
Yeonjun’s sigh is theatrical as he slumps back in his seat and you bite back a smirk as you pull the mic closer to your mouth.
“So as I was saying, whilst I was hurrying down the street, I came to a road crossing. Now me being a role model civilian and all, I check my left and my right before proceeding. But then–” You pause, glancing around the room as the suspension rose, even Kai is looking up from his papers, his eyes filled with both dread and curiosity.
“There was light, I’m talking real big flashy ones — and they’re coming fast. There was no way for me to jump out of the way, and before I knew it, something, well more like someone, rammed straight into me.”
Hushed murmurs erupt amongst the crowd, the judges conversing quietly with each other as their gazes flicker between you and Yeonjun, who was currently adjusting his tie nervously. Beomgyu on the other hand stifled a yawn as he blinked slowly. — You lean back in your seat, giving Kai a small thumbs up which was responded to with a subtle nod from your lawyer.
“Impressive story telling”, Beomgyu hums as he flips the papers before him, fingers tapping against his desk idly, “You should start a podcast.” Then he promptly shifts in his seat, redirecting his attention to Yeonjun.
“Alright, take the stage.”
Not late to bite at the opportunity, Yeonjun practically jumps in his seat as he grabs ahold of his own mic. “Your honor, that is not what happened.” He clears his throat, sending you a quick glare before turning back to Beomgyu. “I as a role model civilian was on my way home after a long day of tiring work. I run a business, so you can imagine that I’m exhausted after a long day.”
Beomgyu’s brow twitches as he leans forward, “You run a business, what kind? Is it like an ice cream shop?”
Yeonjuns lips part, “I– No, it’s–”
“Oh, oh, a children’s store?”
“No.”
“Hm. Alright, continue.”
Yeonjun mutters something unintelligible under his breath, and you watch as his lawyer leans over to whisper something in his ear. He responds with a small nod, his fingers flexing around the mic stand.
“I was driving home, the roads were practically vacant and I was going comfortably at the speed limit.”
“Objection!”
Your yell echoes out in the courtroom, making everyone turn your way. Beomgyu nods, motioning for you to proceed.
“He was speeding, he had to have been. There was no way he wouldn’t have been able to stop if he wasn’t!”
“Your honor that is the furthest thing from the truth”, Yeonjun fires back as he glares you down.
“Then how do you explain it huh?”
“If you would so kindly allow me to get to the part where my car hydroplaned because of the rain, you would know.”
“That’s a load of–”
“Alright!” Beomgyu slams the little hammer against his desk, making you both fall silent as you reluctantly turn to face him. “I reckon we watch the evidence sent in by the state, which would be the CCTV footage from the night at uh… 10:27 pm.”
There’s a slight rustle coming from somewhere to your right as one of the staff workers fiddles with a computer, finally managing to connect it to a projector. Beomgyu leans back in his seat as the footage becomes presented on screen, meanwhile both you and Yeonjun lean forward, eyes glued to the projector.
With a small bruising noise the video begins to roll. It’s showing the road crossing from a far different angle than you had been witnessing it all. Placed about 10 ft tall on one of the corner buildings, it captures the scene with a fishbowl format. — The whole courtroom is silent, everyone watching intently as quite literally nothing happens.
Beomgyu’s groan is the first to pierce the still air. “Is there a way to speed it up?”
The staff member mumbles a quick apology before tapping a few buttons, upping the pace of the footage until a figure makes an entrance. You quickly recognize yourself, drenched head to toe in rain, your arms wrapped snugly around yourself as you dart down the street. Ew, why did you run like that? Whatever.
You watch your past self run toward the road crossing, barely slowing down to glance left and right before proceeding over the white markings on the ground. You’ve barely made it halfway when the familiar sight of Yeonjun’s car cuts through the screen. It’s coming in at an awkward angle, its wheels locked to the left, testifying that it had actually been hydroplaning.
The collision echoes on the tape, and the whole courtroom lets out a unified noise of distress, everyone but Yeonjun. It almost hurt even more to watch than it had when he’d actually hit you.
Beomgyu’s whistle is low and dramatic as he motions for the footage to be rewinded. “Ouch”, he says as he parts his hair with the help of his pinky, “That’s rough.”
“How the fuck did you walk away with just a broken arm?” He then asks as he glances over at your bandaged arm. You give him a small shrug, “Call it luck.”
“Well, I think that settles it. — You were speeding, otherwise your car wouldn’t have gone into hydroplane.”
Beomgyu had already grabbed a hold of the gavel, raising it high as he prepared to slam it against the table when Yeonjun suddenly shot up from his chair.
“You honor! She was walking toward red!”
The head judge pauses, arm raised mid air.
“She actively broke the law!” Yeonjun motions between you and him fervently.
“Oh fuck off, so were you!” You snap as you, too, leap out of your chair.
“Well I wouldn’t have hit you if you hadn’t walked toward red.”
“Well you would have actually seen me if you weren’t speeding.”
“Ladies–” Beomgyu begins as he raises his hands in surrender, a conflicted look on his face.
“Don’t you think exploiting me like that for two days was a little too far when you were the first to break the law?”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“Your honor, she made me push her in a wheelchair up a hill!” — “Her legs are perfectly fine!”
“Oh my god are you still stuck on that?”
“Yes. Yes I am. My arms ached for days.”
“So you’re calling me heavy?”
“In a sense I guess I am.”
“Your honor, are you hearing this?”
You turn to Beomgyu, your chest heaving with suppressed anger and injustice as you point an accusing finger Yeonjun’s way. But the head judge is merely yawning, his head tiredly propped up on one hand as he watches the two of you battle it out.
Kai’s hand tugs at your wrist as he urges you to sit back down. But you merely shake him off, snatching your arm back to wave your hand in front of you dramatically. “No! Don’t silence me!”
Yeonjun snorts, “I reckon it’d take a lot more than that to shut you up.”
“You know I’m starting to get real sick of you.”
“It took you that long to come to the realization?”
“Can you just shut the fuck–”
The loud and final bang of the little tree hammer rings out into the room, breaking off yours and Yeonjun’s argument as your heads snap in Beomgyu’s direction. The head judge heaves a tired sigh as he leans back in his chair.
“This is going nowhere – you both are idiots and off the hook. Now get the fuck out of my courtroom.”
You blink once, then twice, your gaze darting from Yeonjun, whose reflection was a mirror of your own and over to Kai who looked more relieved than anything. “Wait what?” You dumbfoundedly say as you turn back to Beomgyu. “What does that even mea–”
“It means scram. Go!”
“God”, he mutters as he slumps against his chair, “I need a margarita.”
APPROXIMATELY 15 MINUTES LATER
You stand quietly outside the shut doors of the courtroom you’d just spent an hour in. Your back leaning against the wall and your hands clasped together in front of you, you gaze ahead. The hallway was silent enough to where you could hear a pin drop.
“Well, this is awkward.”
“No fucking shit”, Yeonjun scoffs somewhere to your right. He was also leaning against the wall, an equally impassive expression on his face.
“I can’t believe he kicked us out”, you mutter somewhat petulant as your gaze drops to your feet.
Yeonjun doesn’t reply as he sighs next to you. For a moment you think he might just pack up and leave, you wouldn’t put it past him anyway. But he doesn’t, instead he clears his throat.
“So, are we going to address the elephant in the room or?”
“I swear to god if you’re referring to me I’ll–”
“You kissed me.”
Oh. Right. That was hardly an elephant, more like a blue whale on land. You cough into your closed fist, avoiding his gaze like the plague as you debate on how much longer you could prolong your reply.
“Why?” He turns to you, his shoulder leaning against the wall as he peers at you through his dark lashes.
“Do I need a reason? Jesus.”
“Yes, you do.”
You bite the inside of your cheek before shrugging, “Felt like it I guess.”
“You felt like it?”
“Yeah, what else do you want me to say?”
Yeonjun huffs, burying his hands into the pockets of his suit as he glances over his shoulder. The tension between you two was worse than inside the courtroom itself and in that moment you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
“Listen, I’m not gonna stand here and explain myself to you so you can either–”
Your words are cut off by his lips on yours. A small strangled noise wriggles its way from your throat at the sudden proximity he displayed, your eyes going wide and your shoulders stiff. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care as his hand comes up to caress the side of your face, the touch so oddly gentle and tender that you would’ve probably thought you were dreaming if it weren’t for the uncomfortable way your bra was digging into your chest.
He doesn’t pull away for a long moment, the seconds dragging on far what seemed like forever, but for some reason you find that you don’t want it to end. And when he finally does part from you, his lips hover just a centimeter above your own.
“Why?”
You feel him smirk, his breath hot against your own, “Felt like it.”
“Asshole.”
“Does that mean I can do it again?”
“Yeah.”
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It's a Love Story - Chapter 9
Summary:
Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.
Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.
And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.
Warning:
Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?
If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Rhys had the seething hot realisation that he had really fucked up on Winter Solstice.
Before that…well. He could still pretend.
Pretend that maybe Azriel just needed time. That he just needed…time to adjust and would get over himself eventually.
Would get over Solstice two years ago. Would get over Mor finding her mate in Emerie… Would get over it all.
That it was just him moping and licking his wounds and he would be back to normal. That maybe he just needed to punch Rhys, get it out of his system and it would be done.
So Rhys had baited him.
Repeatedly.
Azriel didn’t fight. Didn’t protest.
As a boy…Az had attacked snarling and growling, furious and vicious.
Rhys had waited for that same exact result.
Nothing of that sort had happened.
Now…Now Azriel just looked at him, eyes dark and cold…
“Why should I tell you? I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”
And then he turned and left. Not giving them a second look.
Rhys could just stare at him.
He had expected anger, protests, anything. But this...this was worse.
This was Azriel putting him on notice that he didn't trust Rhys at all anymore.
For a moment it was silent.
Then Cassian broke it.
"Give me one good reason, why I shouldn't fucking snap your neck for talking to my brother like that," Cassian seethed. "One reason."
"I didn't...think...
"You didn't think?" Cassian repeated, his voice sharp and incredulous. "Really? You didn't think that your words and actions could have a negative impact on Azriel? You just expected him to be fine after you basically told him that you don't trust him to act like an adult around Elain? That you think Elain and Mor are more important than him? You're unbelievable, Rhys."
"I did what was best for the court," Rhys protested feebly.
"Yes, a spymaster that doesn't trust his High Lord is incredibly good for our court," Cassian agreed with a sage nod, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You told him to go to a fucking pleasure hall and pay for it? You told Azriel of all people that?! What is fucking wrong with you, Rhys?!"
Rhys let out a frustrated sigh. "I was trying to make a point, Cassian," he said. "He wasn't really in love with Elain, he just liked the idea of her."
Cassian gaped at Rhys, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "That's bullshit, Rhys, and you know it," he snapped. "Azriel had feelings for Elain, real feelings. Maybe still has them. Who knows. He was ready to die, so that Lucien could live. He did that for her. Tell me to my face again that he didn't really love her."
Rhys ran a hand over his face, his frustration clear. "I...I may have underestimated the depth of Azriel's feelings for Elain," he admitted grudgingly. "But my duty as High Lord is to protect my court first and foremost. And I really didn't want to deal with a Blood Duel. Beron was still in play then, before Eris got rid of him. If he got wind..."
"I understand your duties, Rhys," Cassian said, his voice gentler now. "But you went too far this time. You crossed a line, and Azriel feels betrayed and hurt. You dismissed his feelings as if they didn't matter, and that's not right. He's not just your spymaster or soldier, he's your brother."
He was. Which was exactly why Rhys didn't want him anywhere near that particular powder keg at that time. And then Elain had already chosen her mate, and Rhys thought with that...it was done.
"He's just being stubborn. He'll get over himself eventually," Rhys said. Right?
That's how far he got, before Cassian punched him straight into the nose.
Rhys stumbled back, clutching his nose. "What the hell, Cassian?" he demanded, his voice muffled by the blood gushing from his nose.
Cassian stared at him, his expression unreadable. "You are really, really stupid, Rhys. Idiotic. Azriel’s not being stubborn, he's heartbroken. Hurt. Betrayed. And you treat his feelings as if they are nothing!"
Rhys winced, his eyes watering from the pain and the accusation in Cassian's words. "I...I just wanted to protect him. I thought it was for the best..."
Cassian barked out a sharp laugh. "You were doing more harm than good, Rhys. You can't just push someone's feelings aside because it's convenient for you. That's not how relationships work, especially not between brothers."
"And what the fuck were you thinking when you told him to behave about Mor?! Did you ever even consider to maybe try and get Mor to talk to Azriel? That maybe that would be a good solution? Make her apologise for treating him like she did treat him? Azriel had every fucking right to be hurt and angry at her. He would have had every fucking right and Mor would have needed to accept that!"
Rhys winced again. "I...I just didn't want any… arguments, Cassian. Mor and Emerie are happy now. I didn't want to dredge up old hurts and cause tensions within the court."
"So because Azriel keeps his feelings quiet and doesn't complain, you just treated him like shit. Great job, High Lord," Cassian drawled.
Rhys flinched at Cassian's words. Deep down he knew Cassian was right. He had been too focused on preserving the peace and avoiding conflict, that he had overlooked and dismissed Azriel's feelings.
"Azriel has done everyhting in his power to make everybody around him comfortable. Nobody ever does the same for him," Cassian said darkly. "I fucked up too, you know. With Mor. With not being there when I should be...but at least I never told Azriel to Behave like he is either your dog or a child." Cassian shook his head. "I have no fucking clue if you even can fix this, Rhys, even if you wanted to. He clearly doesn't trust you at all anymore."
That had just become very fucking clear.
"I...I never meant to hurt him," Rhys said, his voice cracking. "I just...I thought I was doing what was best for him. For everyone."
"Azriel was willing to go to war for you," Cassian said sharply. "We both were. We knew that everything involving you and Feyre and Tamlin was a war waiting too happen. But we took that risk. And hwne it was time for you to take that risk for your brother, you chose your court over him, Rhys. I get it. I understand why you did it, even if I disagree...I could forgive you that. BUt you telling Azriel to go to a pleasure hall, because he doesn't know his own feelings..."
Rhys felt the weight of Cassian's words settling in his gut like a heavy stone. He had never considered that his actions could be interpreted that way. "But...you have to understand, Cassian. I have responsibilities, a duty to the Night Court and its people. I have to consider the impact every decision has."
“And in this, you were also Azriel’s brother,” Cassian cut him off. “I don’t care about your reasoning. You need to start with a fucking apology. You treated him worse than you would every other of your soldiers.”
Rhys swallowed.
To say that Cassian was furious…That was a fucking understatmeent.
And even if…even if he ignored this…there was something else that…
"His mother..." he wasn't sure how to ask that question.
"Azriel made that decision," Cassian said calmly. "He didn't want you to feel like that was in any way your fault because you sealed Velaris for 50 years. Quite frankly...I think Azriel's mother has been searching for an excuse not to see him anymore for a very long time."
Rhys' expression fell, the weight of guilt pressing down on him even more heavily now, if that was even possible. "I...I didn't know," he said quietly. "I...I really didn't know that it had come to this between Azriel and his mother. I...I really didn't, Cassian, I swear."
"Of course you didn't. We kept it from you," Cassian said drily. "Azriel does know how to keep a secret. Which we have just seen. I had absolutely no clue that he has met his mate."
Rhys swallowed. This should...It should have been...something happy that Azriel met his mate. He should have been telling Rhys and Cassian all about it, eyes alight with excitement and not...not spit it out just to spite Rhys.
He had really messed it up this time, hadn't he? Rhys knew that he had to make things right with Azriel, even if it meant facing the hard truth about how he had failed him as a brother and a High Lord.
"Who do you think she is?" he asked weakly.
Cassian stared at him. "I don't fucking care. She can be Sellyn Drake for all I care and I'll be her very best friend as long as she treats Azriel well and makes him happy," Cassian told him tightly. "And you...You'll keep out of it."
Rhys recoiled as if he had been slapped, but he knew Cassian was righr. He had lost the right to be involved in Azriel's personal life, and it was his own fault.
"An apology is the least you owe Azriel, Rhys. And you owe Mor the fucking truth as well. Namely that the only reason that Azriel is probably civil to her, is that you ordered him to. Actually, you owe all of us the truth."
Rhys grimaced. He knew that he had to come clean and face the consequences of his actions, even if it meant causing more chaos and unrest within his court. "Feyre is going to kill me," he mumbled under his breaht. Cassian didn't look sorry in the slightest.
"Then you shouldn't have behaved like a fucking asshole," Cassian gave back flatly. "Let's go back to Velaris. We'll have this discussion now.”
Rhys nodded, a sense of resignation washing over him. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the difficult conversation that was awaitng him.
"What happened to your nose?" Feyre asked as soon as he entered the River House. "Where's Az?"
"I broke it," Cassian gave back drily. "Don't worry, Rhysand deserves worse."
Rhys grimaced at the thought of having to explain the whole situation to Feyre. "Azriel...he got...upset. We had a fight. And Cassian punched me. It's...it's complicated," Rhys mumbled.
"Correction," Cassian snapped. "You were an utter prick to Azriel, who decided that he would rather spent Winter Solstice with his mate that none of us knew existed. And I punched you, because you didn't even fucking understand what you did wrong in the first place."
Feyre's eyes widened in disbelief as she listened to Cassian's explanation. "Rhys, what is he talking about?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Why would Azriel get so upset?"
"Because apparently, Little Rhysie in his infinite wisdom, did not only tell Azriel and I quote "If you want to fuck somebody, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it," when he found out about Azriel's crush on Elain, but has also apparently spent the last 2 years telling my brother to "behave" like he's some kind of dog," Cassian said sarcastically. Rhys grimaced. "You should consider yourself lucky that I only broke your nose," Cassian told him darkly. "I ought to fucking throttle you for doing this to Az."
Shock and anger poured all over the mating bond and he met Feyre’s eyes with no small amount of trepidation.
Feyre stared at him, her expression a mix of shock and disappointment. "Is that true, Rhys? Did you really say that to Azriel?"
"Feyre Darling..." he started.
*Did you really tell Azriel "If you want to fuck somebody, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it.”?* she demanded mentally.
Rhys winced, knowing that he couldn't lie to Feyre through the bond. *I...I may have said something along those lines,* he admitted reluctantly.
Feyre narrowed her eyes at Rhys. "And the whole 'behave' thing?" she asked sharply.
Rhys looked down, unable to meet Feyre's gaze. "I...I may have used that phrase a few times," he said quietly.
"A few times?" Feyre repeated, her voice rising in anger. "How many times, Rhys? How many times did you tell Azriel to 'behave' because of his feelings for Elain?"
“It wasn’t about Elain. It was also about Mor,“ Cassian said drily.
“What?“ Mor demanded.
Rhys winced as he realized that the truth was about to come out.
"Mor, I-"
Mor's eyes narrowed as she took in Rhys' reaction. "Tell me, Rhysand. What did you say to Azriel about me?"
Rhys sighed heavily, knowing that he couldn't avoid this conversation anymore. "I...I may have told Azriel to 'behave' around you and Emerie. I was afraid that his feelings for you would cause tension within the court."
Mor's eyes widened in disbelief. "You told him to behave around me?” She swallowed these beautiful brown eyes lined with tears. “You…I thought…I thought he was…he was happy for us but it’s was only because you told him to behave. I let him be, I didn’t try to talk to him, because he seemed fine.”
Rhys winced at Mor's words, feeling the weight of his actions. "I thought it would be easier for everyone, Mor.”
“Easier to make him lie?” Mor asked him, her voice tight. “Easier to forbid him to express his actual feelings? I know…I didn’t behave right with him but I thought we were better. But we weren’t. He was just acting like everything was fine so you wouldn’t lay into him and punish him for misbehaving!”
Rhys felt a pang of guilt in his chest. "I...I never meant to hurt him, Mor. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone."
Mor shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You weren't doing what was best for him. You were doing what was easiest for you."
Rhys dropped his gaze, knowing that he had brought this situation upon himself. "I...I don't know how to make it right," he admitted. "I've lost his trust, and I don't know if I can ever earn it back."
Amren huffed, crossing her arms, her dark eyes glittering with annoyance. "Well, you certainly made a mess of things, Rhysand." She leaned in closer, her voice low and intense. "But you'd better find a way to fix it. And fast. Because we're not just talking about Azriel here. We're talking about the future of this court."
Rhys nodded tightly. "I know," he said quietly.
He was very much aware what it would mean to their court if Azriel decided to leave them. The disadvantage they woul find themselves in…and this didn’t even start to cover the personal loss of losing his brother.
“Leave him be,” Nesta said at that moment.
Rhys turned to Nesta, his expression conflicted. "I can't just do nothing, Nesta. He's my brother,” he told his sister-in-law, but Nesta wasn’t having it, sticking out her chin.
"And yet you treated him like some kind of attack dog who needed to be kept under control. That's not how you treat a brother, Rhys," she seethed. “I ought to stab you.”
Rhys flinched at Nesta's words, knowing that she was right. "I know," he said quietly. "I was wrong, and I need to make things right with him."
"You sure as hell better," Cassian growled. "Azriel doesn't deserve any of this bullshit."
***
To his surprise… Sky was at home.
He hadn’t thought she would be there…he thought he would be greeted by an annoyed Hector, who would be bitchy that it was him coming home and not Sky.
But Hector was nowhere to be seen. He could hear his meowing though.
He found his mate buried in their bed, seemingly all the blankets in the house put on top of herself…and Hector pawing at the mountain of blankets, demanding to be let in.
"Are you hiding from the world, my love?" He asked softly, as he crawled into the bed next to her, lifting a few blankets so Hector could slither underneath them, which he did immediately. He carefully pulled the blankets away from her face and Sky looked at him, eyes red from crying.
In the same breath he suddenly picked up the salty scent of tears. That was all he needed to pull her into his arms.
“I thought you were having dinner with your family,” Sky whispered, her voice hoarse, burying her face against his chest.
“Didn’t end well,” he told her drily. “Yours?”
“Didn’t end well either,” she said with a laugh that turned into a sob.
A soft sniffle. No. Not again. He couldn’t deal with her crying. He couldn’t…it ripped apart his hear to see his mate like that and he held her tighter."It's all right, love," he murmured, holding her close. "I'm here with you now. Let it all out." He gently ran his hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.
"Tell me what's happened," he said gently, his voice filled with concern.
“I…I am a ho…horrible p…person,” Sky whimpered.
He nearly wanted to laugh at the pure ridiculousness of that statement. Sky, the sweetest person he had ever met, a horrible person? Not possible.
"You're not a horrible person," he said firmly. "Not at all. You're the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever met."
“I…I to…told Cl…Claire th…that at le…least I…I do…don’t ha…have my si…sister’s slop…sloppy se…seconds.”
He needed a moment to parse it, her stutter worse than he had ever heard it.
“What?” he could just ask dumbly as he blinked. Sky? Sky had said what?!
“I…I to…told Cl…Claire th…that at le…least I…I do…don’t ha…have my si…sister’s slop…sloppy se…seconds,” she repeated and began to cry again, hiding her face in her hands. “I…I am a ho…horrible p…person,” she whimpered.
Azriel gently took her hands in his, guiding them away from her face. "You're not a horrible person, sweetheart," he said firmly.
She wasn’t.
He highly doubted that Sky had said that without…without her sister saying something worse first.
And it wasn’t like it wasn’t…"Besides…you said nothing that wasn’t true,” Azriel said drily.."
Sky hiccuped out a laugh and then started crying in the earnest again.
“That’s why you are so upset?” He asked softly, against her warm skin. “You aren’t a horrible person. I swear.
“N..no.” Sky said softly. “I…I am ne..never se…seeing them again.”
Azriel's heart sank at her words. "Your family? Why…why are you never seeing them again?"
“I…I am ne..never se…seeing them again. Not after what they…they said.” She was dead serious. He could hear that in her voice.
And it was…
Azriel's heart clenched at the thought of her severing ties with her family, of her…they treated her horrible but Sky loved them. Sky loved them so much. So much more than they deserved. "What did they say, sweetheart?" he asked gently.
Sky took a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out. "They... They said…said so…some things," she whispered, her voice quavering. "Things I can't…I can’t for…forgive them for."
"What did they say, sweetheart?" he asked again, his voice gentle yet firm. "I want to know."
He wanted to know. And then he wanted to kill them for upsetting her like this.
Sky closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "You do…don’t want to know."
Azriel took her face in his hands, gently wiping away her tears. "I do want to know," he corrected her softly. "Because whatever they said, it hurt you, and I want to be there for you."
“They…They had a pro…problem with the fact that you were Ill…Illyrian,” she whispered.
Ah. “You don’t need to say anything more,” he said wryly. “But I promise that I have heard worse. If you still want to be around them…” he hated how they treated sky but he was not about to let her cut off contact with her family just because they didn’t like him. He could deal with that. He had survived worse.
Sky shook her head fiercely. "No,” she said, her voice so weak…and so definitive. “No.”
Azriel's heart swelled with love for her as she stood her ground. "I understand, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling her closer. "If that's what you want, I'll stand by you, whatever you decide. But I don't want you to make this decision because of me."
“They…They told me that you were a cre…creature and a mo..monster and that they were surprised you hadn’t rip…ripped me apart. My father threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t give up the m…mating bond. So I told him I never wanted to hear a single word from him ever again,” she whispered, her voice growing stronger.
Azriel's eyes darkened with anger as she recounted the hurtful things her family had said about him. He tightened his arms around her.
"I'm so sorry, Sky," he whispered. "You don't deserve any of this. And your family doesn't deserve you."
“I coul…couldn't just…just sit there and let them say those ter…terrible things about you, about us,” Sky whispered. “I can't be around people who would say those kinds of things about the person I love the most in the world."
“…you love me?” He whispered in wonder.
She loved him? She chose him? Even over her family? Even…
Sky looked up at him, these blue eyes looking at him. “Yes. More than anything.”
He swallowed, his heart swelling.
"I love you too, Sky. More than anything," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful that I have you in my life."
Sky smiled, her eyes shining with love. "You….You don't have to do a…anything to deserve me, Azriel. You just have to be yourself. That's all I've ever wanted. And I wouldn't change a thing about you. You're perfect, just the way you are."
Azriel felt a lump form in his throat. "I'm far from perfect, Sky," he said, his voice rough. "But I promise you, I will always do my best to make you happy. That's all I want."
He pressed soft kisses all over her face, making her giggle softly.
“Let’s just have our own Solstice celebration,“ he whispered softly.
Sky smiled at the idea. "Th..That sounds p…perfect," she whispered. “Just the two of us, together. It's a..all I need."
There still was a rabbit he had hunted in the cooling cabinet…and so while Azriel took care of cooking thst, Sky was making…something that involved stale bread, milk, eggs and plenty of sugar for dessert.
Azriel smiled as he watched her work. "What in the world are you making, love?" he asked, peeking over her shoulder. "It smells delicious."
Sky grinned, holding up the bowl she was stirring. "It's…It’s a bread pudding," she said. "I found an old recipe in a c…cookbook. It's supposed to be a t…traditional Winter Solstice dessert."
Azriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You never cease to amaze me, sweetheart," he said, chuckling. "I can't wait to try it." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his heart full of adoration for her.
Sky blushed at his affection. "I just hope it turns out okay," she said, adding a pinch of cinnamon to the mix. "But even if it doesn't, it will be p…perfect just because we're together."
Azriel smiled at her words, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "You're right," he said softly. "As long as we're together, it doesn't matter what we eat or what we do. Just being with you is a gift in itself."
“You should write poetry,” his mate told him sweetly and he couldn’t help but laugh. He had picked up one of the poetry books she kept weeks ago and had found the whole thing… well. As long as Sky liked it…
Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think I have the talent for poetry, sweetheart," he said, grinning. "But I'm glad you think so highly of me."
Sky playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "Oh come on, I'm sure you could write the most beautiful sonnets if you r…really tried," she teased. "I've heard you whisper s…sweet nothings in my ear before, and they sound pretty poetic to me."
Azriel laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “I'll leave the sonnets to the experts and just continue whispering sweet nothings to you instead,” he promised her softly.
“Sounds perfect to me,” she agreed brightly.
Dinner with Sky was better than any dinner with the inner circle could be. Roasted rabbit and crusty bread, followed by caramel bread pudding…
And then it was just him and Sky wrapped into each others arms on the couch, with Hector stretched out in front of the fireplace, blankets wrapped around him…
They had promised each other to not go overboard with gifts. But clearly oone of them had not listened, which hadn’t been him… there was a pile of wrapped gifts appearing on the couch table.
Azriel raised an eyebrow at the pile of gifts, chuckling. "Well, someone certainly didn't stick to our agreement, did they?" he teased, glancing at Sky with a playful smile. "Not that I mind, of course," he added, reaching for one of the packages. "I just hope my gift isn't embarrassingly small in comparison."
“���I…I only got you o…one thing,“ Sky admitted weakly, staring at the pile of gift.
Then who… Azriel stared at the shadows who were swirling happily around sky.
“I think I know the culprit,” he said drily.
*I thought I told you not to buy her anything new,* he told them drily.
*We didn’t!* they assure him.
Azriel chuckled at the insistent swirling of the shadows. "I don't know, love," he said with a grin. "It seems like my shadows are feeling particularly generous this year." He reached for the nearest gift and handed it to her. "Here, why don't you open this one first?"
“You got me something?” Sky asked the shadows. “You shouldn’t have! I didn’t get anything for you!”
Azriel laughed, knowing that it was pointless to try and reason with the shadows when they were in a playful mood like this. "They don't care about that, love," he said, nudging her gently. "They just want to make you happy. Go on, open it."
Azriel had no idea what to even give the shadows anyway. *You could give us permission to ruin her sisters life,* they told him brightly
Azriel laughed again, shaking his head. *As tempting as that may be, I don’t think that's the best way to spread the holiday cheer,* he said drily.
*She deserves it,* the shadows murmured. *We wouldn’t outright kill her…*
*No, you’ll find some mischievous and chaotic way to torment her and make her life miserable,* he retorted with a grin. *Don’t physically harm her,* he warned them quietly. Tacit approval. The shadows danced in the spot as Sky opened the first box. Velvet wrapped.
Jewellery.
A chicken egg sized sapphire in the middle of a necklace consisting out of sapphire and diamonds. He just sighed. Sky stared.
“Please…Please t…tell me that’s n..not r..real,“ she said weakly, her voice shaking.
*Of course it’s real,* the shadows assured her like even the suggestion of it being fake was an affront. *Master’s mate doesn’t wear fake gems!*
Azriel would have liked to face palm.
"I'm afraid the shadows insist that they only give the best for their master's mate," he said wryly.
„This must have cost a fortune!“ Sky protested. “Where am I even supposed to wear it?“
Azriel chuckled, "I wouldn't waste my breath trying to argue with the shadows. And as for where you're supposed to wear it, well… anywhere you want, really, love."
*Please tell me you didn’t steal that,* he told the shadows
*We didn't! We got it fair and square!* the shadows protested innocently.
Azriel raised an eyebrow, not quite believing them. *And how exactly did you manage that?* he asked dryly.
*We paid for it,* they told him innocently, fluttering around like they hadn’t bought her the biggest and most expensive sapphire he had ever seen.
“I can’t…“ Sky trailed off.
“You’ll break their heart if you turn it down,“ Azriel said with a sigh."Just accept it, love," he said gently. "They mean well, even if they have a tendency to overdo it sometimes,” he said pointedly, something the shadows happily ignored. "They have their own line of credit, so whatever they buy is theirs to do with as they please," he said drily.
Sky grimaced, staring down at the necklace…
"Please…please tell me there isn't…isn’t more pr…priceless je…jewellery in that stack?" she asked with a grimace. "
Azriel laughed, "I wish I could tell you that, but knowing the shadows, I wouldn't be surprised if they've bought you enough jewelry to start your own royal collection."
They had behaved...mostly.
If one ignored the hair comb dripping with some other blue stone...and the earrings that matched that necklace...and the quill that he was pretty sure was encrusted with actual diamonds.
Otherwise they had procured plenty of books for Sky, and had somehow found her a whole stack of notebooks…
(He was pretty sure they lied to him when they told him that they hadn’t bought any of this stuff knew. Where had they kept it otherwise?!)
Azriel couldn't help but shake his head in amusement as Sky opened each gift one by one. "Well, at least they managed to keep it under control for the most part," he said with a wry smile. "But knowing them, I'm sure there's still more where that came from."
Sky's eyes widened as she looked at all the gifts. "This is too much," she protested weakly. "I don't deserve all of this," she muttered. He would have argued, but instead he just pressed a kiss to her temple. "Thank you very much," she thanked the shadows that happily twirled around her hair at her words.
Azriel chuckled, watching the shadows twirling in the air around Sky's head. "I think you just made their day," he said with a grin. "They're always happy to spoil you, love."
"I…I just hope they re…realize that I have a…absolutely no place to wear all of this," she said with a laugh. "I don't want to look like a walking jewelry store every time I leave the house…"
Azriel chuckled, "Well, they do have a bit of a tendency to go overboard when it comes to their gifts. But I can't really blame them, they just want to make you happy." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, his eyes twinkling with love. "And you deserve everything and more, love, even if it makes you look like a walking jewelry store every once in a while."
She melted into the kiss.
"I went a very different route for your gift," she told him drily, handing him a sole gift bag.
The first thing he pulled from it was a tin of tuna.
The laughter was immediate. He couldn't help it. Deep belly laughter, his amusement apparent, warmth filling his chest. Azriel couldn't help but burst into laughter as he pulled the tin of tuna from the gift bag. "Is this for Hector or for me?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"I did promise to buy you tuna," Sky gave back with a laugh. "I just thought it would set the tone for the second gift."
The second gift he pulled from the bag was a knitted sweater. Slits down the back for his wings...made out of thick and warm and soft black yarn.
Azriel's laughter faded into a gentle smile as he took in the knitted sweater. "Sky, is this..." He trailed off, fingers brushing the soft, warm fabric. "Did you make this?"
"I did promise to knit you a sweater too," she said simply.
Azriel couldn't help but melt at her words, feeling his heart fill with warmth. "You remembered," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe you made this for me, sweetheart." He pulled Sky into a tight embrace, feeling her heart beat in sync with his. "It's perfect," he murmured, his voice muffled against her hair. "Just like you."
"I'm glad you like it," Sky said softly. "I know it's not as a King’s ransom in diamonds… but I wanted to give you something that was made with love."
Azriel pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression softening even more. "It means so much more to me because you made it," he said, his voice tender. "I'll cherish it always, just like I cherish you. Though I must admit my present is going to pale in comparison to that egg sized sapphire too," he told her drily.
Sky laughed, leaning into Azriel's embrace. "Well, to be fair, it's hard to compete with a sapphire that size," she said with a grin. "But I'm sure whatever you got me is perfect, even if it's not worth a small fortune."
It kinda was though. Even though it didn't look that way…mostly because he had spent a good few weeks until he had found a stone that even had a chance to stand next to her eyes. An oval sapphire flanked by two diamonds...set in white gold.
Azriel handed her the last box, trying to appear nonchalant. "Here, open this one," he said, trying to hide his nervousness. "I hope you like it."
Sky carefully untied the silk ribbon wrapped around the box and lifted the lid, her eyes widening in awe as she took in the ring inside.
"Marry me," it burst out of him.They had already accepted a mating bond. A marriage would be nothing more than a couple of vows in front of a priestess. But he...he wanted...
Azriel's heart was racing as he watched Sky's reaction to the ring, hoping and praying that she felt the same way he did. "I know that we already have the mating bond," he said softly. "But I want more than that, sweetheart. I...I want everything."
These devastating eyes lifted, looking at him."I want to spend every day for the rest of my life by your side," he continued, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep holding you every night. I want to build a life with you, a family with you." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "And I want to make it official, in every way possible. Will you marry me, Sky?"
"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, a hundred times yes. I want all of that too, and more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to be by your side every step of the way. I want to build a life together, a family together."
Quite frankly, Azriel thought that this Winter Solstice may be the best one he ever had, as she kissed him.
"We could get started on making that family," Sky told him, biting her lips as she pulled back. "You know how High Fae fertility can be...could take us decades..."
Azriel's eyes widened at her words, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, love?" he asked, his voice low and raspy as he pulled her close.
Sky nodded, her expression shy and hopeful as she looked up at him. "I…I want to be a mother s…someday," she said softly. "And I can't think of anyone I'd rather have children with than you."
Azriel felt his heart melt at her words. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found someone who loved him as much as Sky did. "I want that too, love," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Nothing would make me happier than to have a family with you."
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just discovered ur no doubt series and fell in love!! I LOVE the way you write 🙂↕️ are we going to see him propose?
HIII thank youuuu i'm so glad you're enjoying it 🥺🫶🏻 and ...do we WANT TO SEE HIM PROPOSE??? i meannn your wish is my command hehe..and plus no doubt!jakey is ALWAYS talking about marrying yn soooo...here's how i see it lolol imma take this casually :) but i feel like it could go one of two ways:
──── NO DOUBT!JAKE PROPOSAL 💍🤍🕊️ ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !
- literally out of panic, no plan, no set up - it's soo jakeyn though, just you two─ - it would definitely be a lot later in their relationship..like at least two /three years in? idk what's 'average' nowadays but knowing jake and his simp™ ways, it'd probably be as early as he can (in still a realistic, timely manner, ofc) he just wants to LOCK YOU IN. ASAP. - you two are probably sitting on the living room floor folding laundry. - you both have face sheet masks on, your hair is still damp, all wrapped up in a towel - there's leftover take out on the coffee table and some variety tv show playing on the tv that you're laughing hysterically like an insane person at - and jake is just . - in awe. - and out of no where─ - 'marry me.' - and you look at him with that face you make everytime he says this - (because it's a lot of times) - and he would usually say it like 'i can't wait to marry you' or 'i'm gonna marry you one day' or 'you know i'm gonna marry you, right?' - but never straight up, 'marry me.' - that's new. - so you put down the sock in your hand and lift a brow and you're like 'is this one of those times you're saying you want to marry me again? like this morning because i made you those breakfast pancakes you like?' - and jake is just─first of all, shocked that he said it in the first place because . it just slipped out without thinking - and second of all, he figures─well screw it. i guess there's no better timing than the present right? - so without a word, he just stares at you, wide-eyed, then shakes his head violently, scrambles onto his feet, and sticks his arm right into the deep depth of your couch cushions. - and pulls out a ring box. - and your jaw drops. - your eyes match his own wide ones. - you too are scrambling up to your feet and you look at the ring box in his hand. - then at him. - then at the ring box. - then at him but this time─ - he's on one knee. - 'oh my god.' - 'oh my god, i can't believe im doing this now.' - 'i cant believe you've been hiding a ring inside our couch.' - 'yeah, i didn't know where else to put it, you're kinda really good at ruining all my surpri─okay wait. im getting distracted.' - you're giggling, crouching down to meet the love of your life, one hand cupping his cheek, the other gently going to help him open the box. - you look and the ring, then back at him, and─ - 'wait i havent' even said anything yet, are you already crying?' - 'oh my god, jake hurry up or i'm gonna sob through this entire proposal.' - a couple cracked voices, sobs, & face sheets fallen off your faces later... - you say yes - of course .
no doubt m. list
tag list pt 1!:
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#enhypen#sim jaeyun#jake sim#enhypen x reader#enhypen jake#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#enhypen angst#enhypen crack#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fics#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha scenarios#engene#enhypen jake sim#jake sim x reader#sim jake x reader#sim jake imagines#enha imagines#jake sim imagines#jake sim fluff#sim jake fluff#jake#sim jaeyun fluff#sim jaeyun imagines#sim jaeyun x reader#──── ✎ᝰ.ᐟ⋆⑅˚₊ no doubt — the series!
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I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?
A joke too much
words: 1,3k
status: non-proof read
tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes
sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol
Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.
One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.
"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.
"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.
The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.
Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.
"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."
His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.
"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.
Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.
“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”
You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.
Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”
Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”
Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”
The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”
You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”
Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.
Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.
The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.
Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.
“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”
He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”
His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.
You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”
He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”
Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.
For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”
You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“
Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."
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Faded Restraint. | K.W
warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI | GN!reader | Unprotected sex | Teasing | Slight dirty talk | Light choking
a/n: Hi, I'm not dead. Sorry it's taken me a while to get back here. I have been distracted with other blogs and a bunch of stuff going on at home. The poll was half smut half fluff so I went with smut. I hope you enjoy, it's a little drabble, I have a long fic I've been working on for Kurt coming out soon. I'm trying to push to keep writing more often, it's just been hard rn. Sorry no pics or anything, I didn't feel like searching for any today. Unedited. ; wc: ~860
"Bitte...do not tease," Kurt muttered, looking up with lidded eyes as he watched you straddle him, the head of his cock barely poking at your entrance. He could feel the heat oozing out of you, your body fluttering against his cockhead as he struggled to keep his composure.
"You're so impatient Kurt, maybe I won't sink down...~" You teased him further as you spoke in a sultry tone, your hips gently rolling in a circular motion and allowing his head to feel how damp and tight you'd be, IF you sunk down. "Your cock would feel so, so good inside, but if you wanna talk, I suggest you really beg for it."
His eyes were dimly lit with desire in the dusky room, nearly rolling back as you continued to push him to his limits. It had been ages since you'd been such a temptation, the change was both thrilling and maddening for someone with a usually calm resolve. You had been so attentive to him lately, fulfilling his every request and leaving him breathless. He'd made sure to express his gratitude, always the perfect gentleman.
But now, oh now, you were testing his restraint.
Kurt's hands found purchase on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh. He possessed the strength to take control of the situation, but he resisted the urge. His voice came out as a husky whisper, "Bitte, bitte, you naughty minx...I ache to feel you." His words were a desperate plea, laced with need and want. As he spoke, his tail twitched and coiled, slowly wrapping itself around one of your ankles in a sensual caress.
He lifted himself just enough to press his lips against your sternum, the contact sending shivers down both your spines. With such a tender display, you finally relented, allowing your hips to sink down onto him. A sharp hiss escaped his lips, the sound muffled against your chest as you enveloped him completely. His arms instinctively tightened around your frame, pulling you flush against him as he reveled in the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within you.
Kurt held on tight as his hips gently bucked up against you, your slick walls tightening around him and squeezing every bit of arousal out of his cock. "Ach - you feel...so divine, Liebe" he whispered against your skin, drooling onto your chest as his body practically curled around you. He held you in his lap, feeling your weak, lazy movements to meet his shallow thrusts.
"You feel good too, baby," you breathed, your voice a soft, sensual whisper. Your hips undulated in a mesmerizing rhythm, each movement encouraging him to delve even deeper within you. As your bodies moved in perfect synchronization, his cock explored new depths, igniting sparks of pleasure in places you didn't even know existed.
Each increased thrust struck more sensitive spots inside you, causing your movements to grow increasingly urgent and desperate. A slow-burning fire of ecstasy began to build, its tendrils of electric bliss radiating through your body, shooting from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It felt like pleasurable static, in a weird way, your digits flexing as you held onto him, trying to process the near-overwhelming sensations.
Kurt's tail slithered up the curve of your spine, dancing across your skin in a teasing manner. It coiled gently around your throat while his strong hands guided your hips with increased fervor. The air in the dark room was filled with wet, primal slapping of skin on skin, punctuated by the hot, heavy pants and groans escaping Kurt's lips. His warm breath caressed your chest, contrasting the otherwise chilly air of the room. This interplay of hot and cold sensations only served to heighten your awareness, making every touch, every movement, every breath feel hypersensitive against your skin.
"I'm going to come," Kurt warned between labored breaths, his body still pressed firmly against yours. He clung to you with a desperate intensity, as if he were a man deprived of affection for an eternity. The urgency of his desire drove him to shift his position. He moved from laying back on his ass to kneeling, all the while keeping you in his grasp and leveraging this new angle to increase the depth and force of his thrusts.
A sudden jolt of pleasure coursed through your body, causing you to gasp and tremble. Your eyes widened in surprise and ecstasy as Kurt's cock head finally found that sweet spot deep within you. His cock caressed and teased that elusive area, that tender bit of flesh that caused orgasms to shake through you.
The world behind your eyelids seemed to explode in a dazzling display of white-hot fireworks, your vision blurring as the overwhelming sensations threatened to consume you entirely. You found yourself crying out Kurt's name, desperation and bliss mingling in your voice.
You pleaded with him not to stop, your words tumbling out in a breathless litany of need. Your unrestrained reactions amused Kurt and a knowing smirk played across his lips as he leaned in close, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and his goatee tickled the skin of your cheek.
Playful triumph dominating his voice, he whispered lowly to you as he buried himself inside, "Now who's the one begging?"
Thanks for reading <3
*BAMF*
Dividers by @/adornedwithlight
#kurt wagner#nightcrawler#kurt wagner x reader#nightcrawler x reader#kurt wagner x you#nightcrawler x you#kurt wagner smut#nightcrawler smut#kurt wagner x reader smut#nightcrawler x reader smut#nightcrawler x men#xmen#x men 97#x men#🎠my works
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for your valentines event ³⁾ "you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with quinny ❤️
✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩
"you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with toxic!quinn!!! ALOOF!QUINN TRUTHERS THIS IS YOUR MOMENT!!! this came to me in a fever dream last night tbh and escalated so hope you enjoy once again I took creative liberties with the exact wording (I didn't want it to be too much like the nico blurb) and I'm not sure this fits the vibe of the prompt but I saw I'm hungry and my mind went to one place!! and I don't even think this mentions valentines but what can you do it's may!!! (post requested blurbs within a normal response time you say??? who do you think I am?) I'm not great at writing smut but I did my best and my best is probably taking things too far with random interlinked plot dotted throughout
warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut!! the filthy kind tbh - dom!quinn, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, squirting, slight/light/barely even spanking if you want to be dramatic lol, degrading comments maybe, brief mentions of previous sexual encounters, quinn is a menace and a dirty talking tease :) ~cheating but not really it's a first date with no labels that's going nowhere and reader and quinn have history. he's an asshole :) but I'd let him do unspeakable things also
4.7k words!!



The last place you expect to run into Quinn Hughes is in the middle of a bar.
The venue is too crowded to be somewhere he would usually visit - rowdy guys in the corner watching the baseball on the TV, even though you're not sure it's even live, a couple pool tables occupied with the kind of people who would recognise him in a heartbeat - and maybe that's why you chose it in the first place.
But you should have run for the hills the second you saw Elias Petterson and Brock Boeser on your way in. You should have known it would only be a matter of time before Quinn himself showed up, and that you would have no chance of escaping before he saw you.
"Was gonna offer to buy you some fries to share," he comments as he slides into the booth beside you, his eyes assessing the rest of the bar as if he's trying to gauge who might notice him talking to you. "But Petey said you were meeting someone,"
God, he can be such an asshole when he wants to be.
You haven't seen him for weeks, he's been ignoring your texts for weeks, and he can't even look you in the eye?
This is exactly why you keep telling yourself that you're done. This is exactly why when you mention him to your friends, they roll their eyes and tell you to just block his number and move on.
But they haven't seen the parts of him you've seen - the parts you so desperately cling to when he's cold like this.
"I am."
"I don't see anybody."
"He got held up at work."
"Of course he did." he scoffs, "You're being stood up. You're lucky I'm hungry though, I'll save you the embarrassment of sitting here on your own."
"Just because you're an asshole who ghosts girls the second things get serious, it doesn't mean Justin is."
"You don't have to get protective, sweetheart," he purrs, glancing down at you in a way that shouldn't make your throat seize, "Just saying, it's the oldest trick in the book. I was gonna sit with you but if you're gonna be snippy about it, I'm sure Justin will turn up eventually."
Asshole.
You couldn't be more thankful for the buzz of your phone on the table, pulling you from the depths of Quinn's gaze as you glance down, Justin's name flashing on your lock screen.
Quinn quirks a brow as he looks down, too, watching as you swipe into the message.
I'm here.
And then you glance to the entrance of the bar, relief flooding your system at the sight of him - not a sensation you ever thought you'd be feeling when you agreed to meet up with him after months of him asking.
But you're supposed to be getting over Quinn Hughes.
Justin is sweet, and you suppose he's attractive in a cute sort of way. He doesn't make your head spin, or your heart pound, or your stomach swirl into knots, but you're not supposed to want that, so he's the next best thing.
You edge past Quinn without sparing him another glance, hoping it hurts him in some way - hoping he at least feels something at your feigned indifference - and you proceed to spend the rest of your night unable to shift that hope.
Every time you force a laugh at one of Justin's attempts at a joke, you hope Quinn hears it.
Every time you try to flirt, you hope he sees it.
Every time you lean over the table when the two of you move over for a game of pool, you're hoping Quinn's watching.
And you think it must be the karma that comes from craving his attention that has you colliding with somebody else on their way back from the bar, their drink spilling all the way down the front of your top until it sheers out a little, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to go and try clean up.
You really hope he didn't see that.
You're thankful it was vodka soda and not cranberry, the stain easy to shift with a little water and a blast of the hand dryer, and you're shrugging the top back on when you hear the rap of knuckles against the door.
"Yeah, sorry," you call out, shuffling towards the entrance, "I'm finished, it's all y-,"
Quinn stands on the other side of the door when you swing it open, hair astray like he's been running his hands through it endlessly, and his stature imposing.
“What are you doing?” You ask as he crowds into your space, backing up until you’re both in the bathroom, and he’s reaching back to lock the door behind him.
“Told you, I’m hungry,” and the look in his eyes confirms just that - dark and dangerous, a stormy swirl of greys and greens that make your breath stutter, the intensity sweeping straight through you.
He advances on you slowly, your feet stumbling back until you can steady yourself against the bathroom counter, and his gaze drops agonisingly down your body, lingering way too low for any sort of friendly admiration - because that's what he'd said the two of you were too many times to count, just friends.
You feel goosebumps rise as Quinn's head tilts, his eyes meeting yours just as the calloused pads of his fingertips graze the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt.
"You wore this that time we fucked in my car after a game," he mutters, pushing ever so gently until his hand slips beneath the fabric, "Did you think of me when you put it on?"
"No," you gulp, your tone entire unconvincing.
The guys had all gone out after a win, and Quinn had texted you his location - meeting you outside the bar so that the rest of his teammates didn't see you and him together - and had driven you out to some random parking lot, had you crawl over the centre console into his lap, and had pushed this exact skirt up until it bunched at your hips and he could watch himself disappear into you.
It was so hot and sticky that you remember swiping little jagged finger marks against the fog on his window, and you wondered the next day when you saw him and he pretended that none of it happened if he had just wiped them away.
You'd remembered the incident as you were getting dressed, earlier, smoothing your hands down your hips and picturing the way his knuckles whitened as he took the skirt into his grip.
You don't get how he can so easily pretend the two of you are nothing when he remembers, too.
"So you wore it for him?" He doesn't push any higher, but his hand forms an authoritative grip around the back of your thigh, squeezing until they part by instinct, and he uses the leverage to slot his own leg between yours so that you can't fully close them again.
He knows how to work you like it's second nature to him.
He brings his other hand up to shift your hair back over your shoulder, clearing a path from your neck to your collarbone where he can trail his knuckle along the smooth skin just to make you shudder.
You shake your head, again, an unconvincing response, but what else can you do? You're too breathless to speak when he crowds into your space like this, and all you can smell is his cologne, and all you can feel is anticipation of his touch.
"Does he know you like being kissed right here?" His thumb presses down on your pulse point, the pressure firm in a way that makes your spine stiffen, and he tilts his head again as you meet his eye, his smirk condescending and so so sexy.
"We haven't kissed yet," you blink slow, trying to shake the daze he's put you under.
"Ahh," the grin Quinn gives now gives a flash of teeth, and you gulp at the visual it brings - said teeth sinking teasingly into the plush skin of the thigh he's still holding, and it's only then that you notice how his hand has moved, how his fingers are now curled into the leg of your panties. "So he's not taking care of you?" And then he pulls, and you gulp as you feel the fabric fall in his clutch, loosening once they're not flush around your hips anymore and dropping when he's pulled them down enough.
"Quinn," you warn, and he waits, to give him credit - his dark eyes narrowing in on yours, pupils blown, his tongue swiping out against his lips, and it takes you back to another night, a few weeks back.
Quinn turning up at your apartment late, his game having gone into overtime and then a subsequent shootout, and he looked exhausted - hair a mess, eyes sunken, shoulders slumped. The team had lost, and the first place he thought to go was to you, and maybe this was the delusion your friends kept warning you about when it came to him, but it had been the first night things between the two of you had been slower and softer.
The way he kissed you was different - it wasn't a rushed fumble into more, it was intentional and tender, he took his time advancing it into something more, and when he finally backed you into your bedroom, the two of you laid together far beyond the two rounds he managed before tapping out.
He let you stroke at his hair, and kiss at his skin, and see him beyond the cold and unattached version of himself he so often gave to you. And he didn't leave until the next morning.
And sure, that was the last time you saw him, and every text you've sent him since has gone unanswered, entirely, but you can't help but think something changed that night.
Something he doesn't want to acknowledge, now.
A loss of control, or a surrender to his feelings.
You can only hope it's finally the latter.
And because of that blind hope, you can't bring it in yourself to push him away - not if this is the only way he's going to let you have him, teasing and detached.
You swear he sees the moment you give in, when something shifts in his gaze, and he slowly, tormentingly drops to his knees before you.
He looks up at you from the lower position, palms caressing your thighs as he pushes them both up, your skirt following his ministrations and bunching at your hips until you're bare to him, and it's only then that his eyes shift - somehow you feel the intensity of them as much as they stare at your very core than you had when he was looking back up at you.
"Please," you whimper pathetically as he admires the way your legs part even further without prompting, the way your body crumbles and you lean back against the counter, arching to reveal yourself to him entirely.
"Look at you," he mutters as he brings one of his hands to the apex of your thighs, using his fingers to swipe through your folds and pulling them back to show you the sticky mess that now coats them, "So wet, already."
"Quinn,"
"For him?"
You shake your head as he repeats his actions, running his fingers from your entrance and bumping them teasingly against your clit, looking up at you again with a raise of his brow, prompting a further response and pressing lightly at the bundle of nerves until you answer.
"For you," you breathe, your hips stuttering forward to try and increase the pressure - but he knows you too well, anticipates your impatience and lightens his touch even more. "Only you."
"Good girl."
You gasp the second his mouth makes contact with your core - tongue pressing flat between your folds until he can lick a firm stripe upward, his lips closing sloppily around your clit until he sucks it into his mouth, the pressure of his kiss divine and mind-numbing.
Your feet stumble a little against the floor, and he braces his hands against your hips, pulling them firmly against his face so that he can hold you in place, and all you can do to maintain your balance is curl your fingers into his thick hair, pulling and tugging as you please - as he pleases you.
And God, you can't believe you thought you could just give this up. He's so good. So fucking good it's insane. And you really considered leaving things alone with him, for what - some nice guy from work who barely knows how to flirt with you?
Quinn's fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, the pressure firm enough it'll probably bruise by the morning, and he's nipping and licking at your pussy like he can't get enough - the sound of it alone is obscene enough to make your legs feel like jelly, and you're pretty sure you're going to collapse if he carries on like this.
You tug a little harder on his hair until he parts with a wet pop, the sound making your throat go dry so that all you can do is pant down at him in response.
And his eyes are clouded over, entirely, a hunger you've never seen before taking over him. His lips are parted and slick, and his chest is heaving like he was depriving himself of breath, and the sight of it takes your breath away.
You heave yourself up onto the counter behind you, parting your legs again and leaning back a little onto your hands - all without saying a word.
You don't need to say anything, though. Not to Quinn.
He's diving straight back in as soon as you're situated like a man starved, and from where you are now, you can shuffle into him a little, grinding against his tongue as it works against you - works inside you, even, and you slap a hand to your own mouth in a last-ditch attempt to conceal the moans and whines before they carry way beyond the locked door of the bathroom.
Quinn's displeasure with that fact is obvious when he pinches and smacks at the side of your ass, his hand shooting up until his fingers curl around your wrist and he tugs it away from your mouth, pulling away from your pussy to glare up at you from between your legs.
"Don't you dare," he huffs, "I'm putting in the work, I wanna hear how much you like it,"
"But Quinn-,"
The press of his finger into your entrance cuts you off, and the squeaky, surprised moan you let out seems to echo off of every wall, heat creeping up your neck as you hear how pathetic you sound as he pushes the digit all the way in, pressing as far as it will go into your spongey walls until your back is arching and he's straightening up with it still inside you.
"You think you can hide from me?" He asks as he crowds back into your space, your faces level and his other hand coming down onto the counter beside you. "You think I don't know how to make you scream for me?"
He presses another finger into you, and the slow stretch of your walls around him has your eyes fluttering shut, your head lulling forward until it bumps into his, and your clammy foreheads press together. He shakes against you with a dark chuckle, allowing you a moment to adjust until he's thrusting them in and out, stroking up until he presses into your g-spot.
You haven't been with anybody since you were last with him - you haven't been with anybody since you were first with him, however many months ago that is, now - and you're pretty sure he knows that, for as much as he's been teasing you about your date.
"You think you can walk around in this skirt, bending over pool tables, looking this pretty, and I'm just gonna sit back and watch you with another guy?"
"No," you whine, your hips bucking and your hand reaching out to clutch at his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt until you hope they leave a mark, too. You hope there's something left behind to remind him of this tomorrow when he wants to pretend you don't exist, again.
"No, that's right," he patronises, his lips nipping at your jaw when he leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against your temple. "'Cause you're mine, aren't you?"
You nod frantically, chasing something more from him, as if he could possibly give you anything else - your back arching until he retracts his fingers, ignoring the instant whine you give only to push three inside, your mind going blank at the pressure of it all.
"Oh my God," you throw your head back, giving him access to the front of you, your neck bare all the way down to the low cut of your top, and he takes full advantage of the space.
You can't even bring yourself to care about marks, as stupid as it is to let him touch where someone else might see - and there's a voice in the back of your head that tells you he wouldn't risk it, anyway.
Quinn doesn't want anyone talking, not about you.
He'd rather keep you some dirty secret confined to the back bathroom of a dingy bar, the front seat of his car in the middle of some random parking lot, or the privacy of your apartment on the other side of town.
But that was before Justin, who's voice carries through the thick wood of the bathroom door accompanied by a few bangs and a call out of your name - and Quinn is the first to react, his movements more vigorous and intentional.
You grab at his wrist in some weak attempt to slow him down, but he won't budge, and then you're too consumed by how good it feels to actually get him to stop.
Your jaw goes slack as Justin calls your name again, and you can't move, can't breathe, can't blink without your space being consumed by Quinn.
"Are you good? You've been in here a while, your shirt isn't ruined, right? You can cover up with my jacket if you need to!"
You press your hand to your mouth to try and conceal the moans he's eliciting from you, his pace unrelenting as your eyes go wide, and you hate how much it spurs you on to see him enjoy this.
“Tell him you’ll come in a minute,” Quinn mutters into your ear, his fingers relentless in their movements as they curl inside you, his palm firm against your clit.
“I’ll come-,” you squeak, arching into his touch as his lips press wet, hot kisses into your neck, “I’ll come out in a minute!” You call, a little steadier though still breathless. "It just needs to dry off a bit!"
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Justin calls through the door, and you feel the vibrations of Quinn’s groan into your skin.
“Tell him I’m helping you just fine,” his mouth moves against your jaw, the low hum of his voice carrying all the way down to the base of your spine in a persistent, dizzying vibration. He starts to shake his hand with his fingers still inside you, and the pressure inside you builds to the point you think you might burst, your thighs trembling and your hips stuttering against him. "Go on, tell him you're all taken care of,"
"Tell-," you stutter mindlessly, your only thought to repeat him, not even considering what you're repeating. "I'm-,"
Quinn chuckles darkly against your throat, his teeth nipping into the sensitive flesh - and you swear you can feel him everywhere. He's relentless, he's unforgiving, he's determined to get you to come with Justin on the other side of the door, and you're in no fit position to stop him.
"I'm fine," you call out in one last attempt, praying to whatever god is up there that he finally gets the hint and leaves.
There's no way you can be quiet about this.
"Alright, I'll get you another drink!"
"You're gonna need one, aren't you baby?" Quinn asks, his grin smug and his tone teasing as he parts from your neck, your faces level again as he juts his chin to catch your drooping gaze, the pet name doing little to rouse you from your stupor as he draws you closer to an orgasm. "Gonna make you come so hard it fuckin' drains you," he promises, "Gonna make you walk back out there and sit in a mess in your panties while you talk to him, and all you're gonna think about is this."
"Quinn," you cry out, the mind-numbing pace of his fingers rubbing into your pussy bringing tears to your eyes, and your bottom lip pops out in a pout as you try to chase him for a kiss. "Please, please, please," you beg as he evades you, keeping up the fervour with his hand. You need something to occupy your mouth so you don't scream out, and he hasn't kissed you yet - not tonight, not properly.
"You think you've been good enough for a kiss?" he taunts, his fingers curling inside you just when you're at the brink, "You think that a naughty girl who's letting me fill her pussy with her date standing just outside deserves a kiss?"
"Yes," you whine, "Quinn," and plead, and you bat your lashes in one final attempt at convincing him, your eyes watering, lips trembling, spine tingling as he considers it for a brief moment.
"Come," he commands, "And then I'll kiss you."
You groan, throwing your head back as he brings his other hand into the mix, swiping at your clit with a feverish speed until you really feel like you're about to scream, gripping onto him for dear life as his three fingers plunge all the way into you, to the bottom of his knuckles, his touch pressing against the deepest part of your core until you fall apart.
And it's a mess.
The counter becomes slippery beneath you, your thighs coated in your own slick, and the way you hear Quinn remove his fingers makes you wince more than the feeling, itself.
He's still looking down at your pussy when your vision comes to, blinking away the white spots in your eyes until all you can see is him - in a daze at the way you can feel your walls contracting still, missing the way he had them filled just seconds ago.
You think you're shaking all over, too weak to move - to lift yourself onto your legs, to even lift your arms to do anything about how bare you are to his hungry glare - and you're struggling a little to catch your breath, if you're honest.
You feel hot all over, too. In your head, on every visible surface of your skin - and you can't tell if the flush is from the physical activity or the sheer mortification of the fact you just squirted in front of him.
Your last shred of dignity probably disappeared as soon as that drink fell into your lap, there's no use in denying it now.
And just as he said, Quinn bends to retrieve your panties from where they hang from one of your ankles, bending your leg to slip it in the other side and pulling them up until you can shimmy your hips into them despite how wet you feel all over. He puts one hand down beside you on the counter once they're in place, his gaze lifting to meet yours, a little lighter but stormy, nonetheless, a million unspoken thoughts swirling behind those cloudy irises.
"You said you'd kiss me," you mumble, feebly, leaning into his touch when he pushes a strand of hair back out of your face.
"Did I?" he smirks slowly, those same eyes now tracing your lips.
You nod, your tongue swiping out against them in preparation.
He hums, teasing as he leans in, and he brings his free hand up to your mouth, hooking one of the fingers that had just been inside you against your lips until they part, pushing the digit in until it's pressed against your tongue, and you close your lips around it by instinct.
He watches as your cheeks hollow, satisfaction in his stare, and the slight upturn of his lips causes your chest to puff with pride, opening your mouth again so that he can slot the other two fingers in.
"Maybe you are a good girl," he mutters, and you nod, humming around the taste of your own release until he pulls his fingers out with a pop, using them to grasp at your chin and pulling you forward until your lips collide.
It's almost like he's trying to chase the taste of you, his tongue licking into your mouth and then he's actually sucking at yours, your hands clutching at the chest of his shirt to keep him close, letting him do whatever he wants for as long as he wants, because you're trying to get your fill.
Him using you like this seems better than the alternative - him ghosting your for days or weeks at a time, making you feel like you don't matter to him in the way he matters to you, or that he'll never feel the same way.
But there's something desperate in the way he kisses you - you think that's why he tries to deprive you of it, like you'll be able to read him through the taste on his tongue.
And you get a little greedy with his affections, probably, your hands sliding down until they meet his belt, and he pulls away before you even realise, stepping back completely so that you can't reach and running a hand through his already messy hair.
"Or maybe not."
"I just thought-,"
"You really are naughty, huh?" he chuckles, "What were you gonna do, make him wait out there all night while you tug at my cock? Get on your knees for me while your sweet little boyfriend buys you drinks and sits alone?"
"No," you pout, "He's not my boyfriend, he's just a guy from work."
"Just a guy you're using to make me jealous."
"Don't flatter yourself," you scoff, suddenly finding the nerve to stand up to him - the smirk he sends your way a touch too deep, and lasting a second too long. "I didn't even know you'd be here. Not everything is about you."
"Not what you were saying when my face was just between your legs." He shrugs as he takes another step back, and the grin you found so sexy mere minutes ago now makes you want to smack him as you watch him retreat. "I'll see you around, pretty girl, don't forget to clean up after yourself before you go back out for your date."
He winks before he leaves completely, leaving you alone in your own sticky mess, feeling dirty and used just like you always do when he disappears.
You find yourself wishing he stayed as you shuffle completely off the counter, pushing your skirt back down and grabbing some paper towels to clean the spot you were just sat on.
He'd stayed that night in your apartment, and you really thought things might change after.
But you should know by now things will never change with Quinn.
Especially when you head back out into the bar and find him speaking to Justin, shaking his hand with the exact same one he'd just used to bring you to a screeching orgasm, a crooked smirk stretching across his lips as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he leaves for the night.
Especially when he texts you moments after, your screen flashing with his name until you press through and read, He'll never be good enough for you.
And especially when you're answering the door of your apartment to him again a week later, falling back into the same pattern and letting him charm his way back in, no matter how shitty you feel when he disappears afterwards.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#the fact that the middle pic is barzy kills me every time lmao#Pinterest boyfriend to his core#me writing smut is mental work honestly be kind to me lmao#this is so far removed from anything I've ever posted idek who I am#*writing#.ve#💌.valentinesevent
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No Strings attached || P.Jisung (PART 1)
˖ ࣪⊹🎸 Rockstar!Jisung x fem!reader (ft. crush!haechan) || PART 2- read here
˖ ࣪⊹🎸synopsis- Everyone's been raving about Black Horizon, and now they're in town for a concert. You never paid them any mind— didn't even know who they were, that was until you discovered that their lead guitarist is your long lost childhood best friend. You're finally reunited, but at what cost?
˖ ࣪⊹🎸genre/warnings- friends with benefits, porn with plot MDNI!, angst, fluff, multiple smut scenes, unprotected sex (don’t do.) oral (m.& f.receiving), fingering, car sex, sex under the influence of alcohol, jealousy, smoking, cursing.
˖ ࣪⊹🎸 w/c- 17.6k
Playlist- Come through and Chill- Miguel, Mascara- Deftones, Fill the Void- Lily Rose Depp, What you need- The Weeknd, Belong To You- Sabrina Claudio, Fallingforyou- The 1975.
a/n- omg omg took me forever. I really wanted to make it one part, but tumblr messed up, so two part series! I really hope u enjoy this and feel the rollercoaster like I did while writing. Love u mwah💋!
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January 15th.
It started like any other night. You standing in front of your mirror, adjusting the tight ponytail. The soft hum of the fan filled the quiet room as you smoothed your hands over your uniform, ensuring everything was in place before grabbing your bag. Another long, late shift at the bar awaited you. The tips were good, but the exhaustion was there before you had even clocked in.
Setting your things down in the employee locker area, you barely had a moment to breathe before a familiar voice called out behind you.
"Hey Y/n."
You turned, instantly recognizing the warm tone, and found yourself meeting Haechan's eyes.
"Hey Haechan." You smiled instinctively, as if it was second nature.
He leaned against the doorway, his usual effortless charm on full display. His dark hair was slightly messy, his lips in that easygoing grin that always seemed to linger when he was around you.
"Thank you again for covering my shift tomorrow." He said with sincerity in his voice. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Yeah, no problem." You waved him off, though you couldn't help but appreciate the gratitude. "Anything to rake in some extra money."
His eyes lit up in understanding. "For your cafe, right?"
"Of course." You responded without hesitation.
The cafe had been your dream for as long as you could remember. Every extra shift, every tip jar stuffed with crumpled bills, it all went toward making that dream a reality.
Haechan smiled. "I would wish you good luck, but you don't need it. I know you can do it."
For a moment, you forgot to breathe. It always felt like he saw something in you that even you doubted sometimes.
"Aw, thanks Haechan." Your smile grew, warmth blooming in your chest.
Silence stretched between you for a minute too long, the kind of quiet that felt loaded. His eyes held yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.
Clearing your throat, you broke the moment. "Well... um, you should get going. To make sure you're ready for your date tomorrow."
His reaction was instant, an awkward giggle as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yeah. It's not a date though, just going to a concert with my best friend."
"Your hangout." You corrected."Who are you going to see?" You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.
"A band called Black Horizon."
You tilted your head. "Never heard of them."
Haechan smirked. "Yeah, that's typical. They're a relatively new band, but they're gaining a lot of popularity. You should check them out."
"I will." You nodded, making a mental note to look them up later.
He hesitated for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You could feel it again, that silence that felt loaded, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.
"Yeah, I'll see you later." He gave you one last smile before turning to leave.
You watched him go, exhaling softly once he was out of sight.
Haechan had been your coworker for 2 years. He was cute, kind, considerate— everything you wanted in a guy, but no matter how many moments like this passed between you, neither of you ever crossed that line. He didn't make a move, and you never dared to either.
With a deep breath, you pushed those thoughts aside and stepped onto the floor, slipping behind the bar. The night was just beginning.
The bar was buzzing per usual. It never really bothered you—if anything, the flow of customers made the hours slip by faster. There were moments like now though, when the chaos pressed in a little too much.
You turned your back to the crowd, facing the liquor shelf restocking bottles. In reality, you just needed a second. A second to breathe, to let the ache in your feet settle before another round of drink orders came in. The bar was packed tonight, but for once no one was calling your name. At least, not yet.
"Excuse me, Miss?"
You closed your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. So much for a break.
"Give me a second, sir." You replied, turning around. Your breath caught in your throat. The face in front of you familiar, yet changed.
Your heart stuttered, then pounded. It had to have been, what, six years? Six years since you'd last seen him. Six years of brief thoughts about him, wondering where he was now. You had figured he was off chasing his dreams, too busy to look back, too far removed from your life to ever cross paths with you again.
And yet, here he was.
He blinked, his own surprise mirroring yours. His lips parted slightly, as if trying to confirm you weren't just some trick of the dim bar lighting.
"Y/n?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, his body instinctively leaning closer across the counter.
"Jisung?" You set the cocktail shaker down, barely aware of it leaving your hands.
He let out a breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving laugh. "What a fucking coincidence. I was just thinking about you."
"You were?" Your brows lifted slightly.
"Yeah, totally. I just landed back here after forever. How could my mind not wander to my closest friend growing up?" He grinned, though there was something unreadable in his expression.
You exhaled a small laugh, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. "That's sweet." You forced yourself to slip back into professionalism, wiping your hands on a bar rag. "What can I get you to drink?"
"Shit—sorry, vodka lemonade please." He settled fully onto the barstool now, elbows resting on the cold counter. "How have you been?"
"I've been good. Just working, saving up." You started mixing his drink, pouring the vodka over ice. "What about you?"
"Life's been good to me lately." He admitted, a lightheartedness in his tone, but his eyes searched yours like he wasn't sure what to say next.
"That's amazing." You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "What brings you back here? I thought you moved away a few years ago and didn't look back."
Jisung chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "Yeah, I did, but I have a concert tomorrow."
You quirked an eyebrow. "Wait hold on. Is it for that Black Horizon group?"
His lips curled into a small grin. "Yep."
You groaned dramatically. "Why does everyone like this band except me?" You slid his drink across the counter.
"Ouch." He gasped, placing a hand over his chest in offense.
"I'm serious!" You laughed. "I've never heard of them, but somehow everyone else has. Even my coworker is going to the concert tomorrow."
Jisung tilted his head, eyes glinting. "You should come. Just to check it out. I bet you'd like it."
You hesitated, shaking your head slightly. "I would, but I have work. Besides, I don't have a ticket."
His response came instantly, a little too eager. "I can get you in—for free."
Your lips twitched into an amused smirk. "Are you trying to sneak me in? I didn't take you for a criminal Jisung."
He laughed, holding his hands up in innocence. "No illegal activity here."
You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Or do you work with the band or something?"
He hummed nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. "Something like that."
Your brows furrowed. "Wait, do you seriously work with the artist? That's sick."
His grin widened. "Yeah, the lead guitarist actually."
Your stomach dropped slightly. The realization hitting you.
"Jisung... you're part of the band?"
He gave you a sheepish smile. "Surprise!"
Your eyes widened. "Are you serious?! That's insane. Is that why you left, to become part of a huge band?"
The excitement was evident in your voice, but as soon as you spoke, something in his expression shifted. His eyes darkened slightly, his playful smirk fading just a little.
"Okay, but let's not forget you left first." He pointed out, his tone a mix of teasing and something else.
Your stomach twisted.
"Jisung—"
"No, I'm serious. I'm still salty about that by the way." He finished off his drink in one last swig, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink.
You sighed, gripping the counter. "Look, it's not my fault my mom withdrew me junior year and cut contact with everyone. I didn't have a choice." Your voice softened, but there was a weight behind your words. "And let's not forget, you were the one who said you never wanted to talk to me again. So if anything, I guess I'm salty too."
Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he cracked a small, lopsided grin.
"Whatever."
He reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and sliding it toward you.
"Let's make it up to each other." He said. "Come to the concert."
"I would, but I seriously have to work tomorrow. I'm covering someone's shift, so I can't back out. Sorry." You said, lips falling into a small frown.
Jisung nodded, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's okay." He pushed the twenty closer to you, tapping his fingers against the counter.
"It was nice seeing you Y/n." His voice was quieter this time.
Before you could say anything else, he stood up, slipping away into the crowd.
Six years.
And just like that, he was gone again.
You tried to push the interaction with Jisung out of your mind.
Tried.
Even so, you focused on your work, keeping busy until your boss finally gave you the okay to step out for a break. You didn't hesitate. The moment you were free, you slipped outside, inhaling the cold night air as if it could wash away the weight of anything.
You leaned against the rough brick wall of the building, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself just be. Until a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"You're off work?"
Your eyes snapped open, turning instinctively toward the sound. Jisung stood a few feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his expression unreadable under the dim glow of the streetlights.
Your heart jumped just a little. You hadn't expected to see him again so soon.
"Did you follow me out here?" You asked, a smirk tugging at your lips.
He grinned, rocking on his heels. "Maybe."
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "A musician and a stalker. How many more surprises are you gonna hit me with?"
"I never changed." He shrugged.
His words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. Jisung pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, flipping it open with ease.
He tapped one out, sliding it between his lips before angling the box toward you. You glanced at it, then back at him, shaking your head.
"I quit."
Jisung's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't question it. Instead, he closed the pack and tucked it away.
"And you never changed, huh?" You teased, watching as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.
He rolled his eyes with a quiet chuckle, flicking the lighter open. The small flame illuminated his face for half a second before he lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. Smoke drifted into the night air as he exhaled slowly, his gaze momentarily drifting before settling on you again.
"You know those things aren't good for you, right?" You said, crossing your arms. "Your words, not mine."
Jisung paused mid drag, giving you a pointed look before blowing the smoke out to the side.
"My words years ago." He corrected. "When you were sneaking around smoking at sixteen."
You scoffed. "Oh whatever. I was young and dumb. What's your excuse now?"
He hummed, rolling his cigarette between his fingers as he considered his answer. "I guess I have none." Another slow inhale... another exhale. "But shit changes."
You eyed him carefully. "That sounds like an excuse."
Jisung smirked. "I don't know, being young and dumb sounds like an excuse too."
"Is there a problem or something?" You asked, tilting your head slightly. "Why did you follow me out here?"
Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before flicking his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe.
"I just wanted to talk, catch up a little." His voice was softer now, more serious. "Is there a problem or something?"
You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "No, but I'm at work. So if you'll excuse me." You started, moving to step past him.
"You should come to my hotel room after the concert." The words tumbled out quickly, like he hadn't meant to say them.
Slowly, you turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "Why?" You tried to sound indifferent, but curiosity was evident in your voice.
Jisung ran a hand through his hair, exhaling before meeting your eyes again. "Just to catch up."
"My mother taught me not to go places with strangers." You teased, a smirk on your lips.
"Oh, so I'm a stranger now?" He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly.
You didn't answer, just turned away with a small smile, but then his voice cut through the air, lower, almost hesitant.
"I missed you, I can't lie."
You stopped in your tracks as you turned back, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Missed?" You echoed, your tone teasing, but your curiosity genuine.
His gaze met yours, steady now, but serious in a way that made your heart skip.
"Just come."
You hesitated for a moment, searching his face. Then you smirked slightly, turning to walk away. "My number's the same."
Jisung stayed where he was, watching as you disappeared back inside. For the first time in a long time, he smiled—really smiled. Because whether you realized it or not, that was as good as a yes.
══════════════════════════ You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your ponytail like always. Same uniform, same shift, but something felt off.
Jisung never texted you.
Not a single message, not even a half hearted excuse, just silence.
You told yourself it didn't matter. That after everything—the history, the falling out, you shouldn't have expected anything, but the truth was it did bother you. Not because you were still upset about the past, but because you hated when people made plans and didn't follow through.
So why was there this unsettling feeling in your stomach? Was it disappointment? Annoyance? Maybe a mix of both. Whatever it was, you pushed it down and focused on work, pouring drinks, flashing polite smiles, letting the hours slip by. When your boss finally gave you the okay for a break, you stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air, trying to clear your mind.
Then, your phone buzzed. Your brows furrowed as you pulled it out of your pocket, eyes flickering to the screen.
Unknown Number
You hesitated before opening the message.
An address. A hotel.
Your mind immediately went to Jisung. You had spent all night forcing yourself to forget, convincing yourself he already had, but he hadn't. He actually remembered. A slow smile tugged at your lips as you locked your phone, stuffing it back into your pocket.
When you finally clocked out, you were exhausted. You looked at your phone. 12:03 a.m. It was late, too late really. The rational part of you told you to go home, take a shower, and go to bed, but before you could make a decision, your phone buzzed again.
Jisung [12:04 AM]: "Are you still coming?"
You hesitated, fingers hovering over your keyboard. You should say no. You should tell him you were tired, that it was late, that catching up at this time was ridiculous.
You started to type out a polite excuse, but then for some reason you erased it.
You [12:06 AM]: "Maybe."
He read it instantly.
Jisung [12:07 AM]: "Well, I'm maybe waiting for you. And I'll maybe wait all night if I have to."
There was something about his answer that made it hard to ignore the curiosity in your chest. Why now? Why did he suddenly want to see you so badly? There was only one way to find out.
And that's how you found yourself standing in front of his hotel room door.
You hesitated for a moment, raising your hand before knocking lightly.
Seconds passed.
Then a full minute.
Just as you were about to turn and leave, the door swung open.
Jisung stood in the doorway, dark hair damp, skin slightly flushed, the faint scent of body wash lingering in the air. His t-shirt clung to his frame.
"Oh, hey." His lips curled into a small smirk. "You came."
You tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms. "Maybe."
"Maybe." Jisung huffed a small laugh, stepping aside to let you in.
You walked in, glancing around. The room was simple but elegant, a neatly made bed, a small couch, and a coffee table. But what caught your attention was the massive floor to ceiling window that showed the breathtaking view of the city skyline.
"Nice view." You murmured.
"Yeah, it is."
You turned, only to catch Jisung watching you instead of the city. Clearing your throat you moved toward the couch, sitting down as he walked to the mini fridge.
"Is it okay if we drink?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Yeah, for sure." You replied.
He grabbed a bottle and two glasses, joining you on the couch. The way he moved was effortless, but there was something about the way his fingers lingered as he poured the drinks, something in the way his eyes flickered up at you as he handed you your glass. You clinked your glass against his before throwing back the shot, the liquor burning slowly down your throat.
"So." You started, setting your glass down. "How was the concert?"
Jisung exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "It was good. Feels crazy seeing that many people singing along to our songs."
"Must be a wild feeling."
"It is." He leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the couch. "A few years ago, I was just some kid messing around on his guitar. Now, I'm on stage in front of thousands."
You smiled. "That's amazing, Ji. I'm happy for you."
He smirked pouring another round, sliding your glass toward you.
"What about you?" He asked. "What have you been up to?"
You hesitated, then shrugged. "Just working, nothing as exciting as you."
He tilted his head, eyes studying you. "I don't believe that."
"I promise you, my life is pretty boring."
"Doubt it." He murmured, taking another sip.
Silence stretched between you for a moment, like you both didn't know what to say next.
Then Jisung sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. "You know... I was pissed when you left."
Your entire body stiffened.
"I don't wanna talk about that."
He studied you, expression unreadable. "Y/n—"
"I mean it, let's not do this."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't let it go. "You disappeared— no calls, no messages. I didn't even know where you went."
You exhaled sharply, gripping your glass. "I didn't have a choice."
"You could've at least—"
"Jisung, stop." Your tone was firm, eyes locking onto his.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then slowly he leaned in, a smirk on his lips.
"Then make it up to me."
Your breath hitched slightly. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice was lower now, gaze flickering between your eyes and lips. "Make it up to me."
Something shifted in the air as the space between you shrank. The hum of the city outside faded into nothing, the only thing you could hear was the distant sound of traffic and the quiet rhythm of your own heartbeat.
You didn't know if it was the alcohol that had you both like this. Yes, you two kissed a few times in the past for fun, but that was when you were teenagers, and... closer. You didn't know what was happening now, but you didn't mind it.
"And how am I supposed to do that?" You questioned, even though you knew the answer. Your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes flickered to his parted lips before meeting his eyes again.
"You know how." He responded, his hand landing on your knee.
"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it." You responded, lips ghosting over his.
"I don't know." He said, his eyes darkly looking into yours. "I feel like if I kiss you, I won't be able to stop." His hand cupped the side of your face, the distance between you begging to be closed.
"Then don't." You replied.
The second the words left your mouth, he was on you, lips crashing into yours like he couldn't hold back another second. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as his tongue slid into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything but the way he tasted and how he made you feel.
You climbed on top of him without thinking, straddling his lap as his hands immediately found your hips, gripping you tightly. The kiss grew rougher, more intense—his mouth moving against yours with need, your bodies pressed together.
He broke the kiss, breath heavy against your skin, and trailed rough open mouthed kisses down your neck. Each one sent a jolt through you, making you squirm in his lap. You couldn't help pressing against him, grinding just enough to feel how hard he was beneath you.
His hands moved you against him, slow at first, then harder. You leaned into him, arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers threading into his hair gripping tightly.
He leaned back in, kissing you again messily like he couldn't get enough. His hands slid up from your hips to your waist, grabbing at you like he needed to feel every inch, one hand slowly slipping lower. The kiss didn't slow down—if anything, it got rougher, more intense.
"We shouldn't be doing this." You muttered, pulling back just enough to breathe, lips brushing his as you spoke. He looked up at you, lips swollen and plump, eyes half lidded. You knew you should stop, but the way he was looking at you made it really hard to remember why.
"Tell me to stop then." He whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours.
You paused, trying to gather your thoughts.
"Exactly." He murmured with a lazy grin before you could respond, pulling you back into a messy kiss, this time his hand slipping under your pants, sliding past your underwear.
His fingers teased your folds, moving in slow circles before slipping one finger past your entrance. You broke the kiss, a breathless sigh escaping as he moved inside, your body instinctively responding to the sensation.
"Fuck, so wet for me." He murmured against your lips, his voice rough. He pulled you back into another kiss, deep and heated, his fingers working you slowly as his other hand slid up to grip your waist keeping you pressed against him.
His finger teased at your entrance before finally slipping inside, making you break the kiss with a soft moan. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, watching every reaction as his finger started to pump in and out slowly.
You tilted your head to rest on his shoulder, unable to keep the soft moans from escaping as he moved inside you, each stroke sending a rush of warmth through your body. His touch was torturously slow, drawing out every sensation until you were lost in the feeling of him.
"Feels good?" He mumbled quietly, his finger curling deeper inside you, making a soft whimper slip from your lips.
"Answer me." He pressed, his other hand gripping you tighter.
"Mhm." You managed to get out, breathless.
"What, you can't speak now?" He teased, his voice low. "Does it feel good? Yes or no?"
"Yes." You whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as your body reacted to every move, every breath.
"Oh yeah?" He teased, a sly grin forming on his lips.
He pushed another finger inside, stretching you open with the pressure of his large digits, making you shiver at the feel.
"Oh my god." You moaned, your grip on his hair tightening as his fingers moved quickly inside you. The sound of your arousal grew louder, each thrust of his fingers driving you closer to the edge.
"Fuck, I'm gonna—" You gasped, the words barely making it past your lips as your head dropped to his shoulder. Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside you. He didn't slow down, if anything his fingers drove harder, hitting that spot again and again until you were clenching around him. Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his skin as you reached the edge.
"Let's go to the bed." He whispered, his voice low and rough against your ear as you tried to catch your breath. You nodded, still dazed, your body soft in his arms. Without hesitation he lifted you, your arms draped around his shoulders, fingers brushing against the nape of his neck as he carried you.
He laid you down, eyes dark as he climbed over you, pulling you into another deep messy kiss. His hands moved fast, stripping your pants and underwear, tossed aside without a second thought. He broke the kiss just long enough to undress himself as he watched you, chest rising and falling.
"Are you sure?" He asked, voice low and breathless, his eyes half lidded but locked onto yours.
You nodded, a soft "Mhm" leaving your lips, your body already aching for him.
He kissed you again, slower this time, then he pushed in, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath stuttered, nails dragging down his back as your bodies met, heat curling through every inch of you.
"Fuck, you feel so good." He breathed, voice rough as he sank all the way in. He stayed there for a moment, chest rising and falling just watching you, letting you adjust, letting the feeling of you wrapped around him settle deep. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing your skin, the heat between your bodies unbearable.
"Tell me when." He murmured, barely holding back, eyes flicking over every inch of you.
"Move." You muttered, barely able to get the word out.
He didn't hesitate. His hips pulled back, then rolled forward again, slow at first. A low groan came from his lips as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust dragging a soft sound from your lips. His hands gripped your waist holding you close, eyes locked on where your bodies met.
"Faster." You whimpered, voice barely above a breath.
His eyes darkened, and he gave you exactly what you asked for. His hips snapped forward with more urgency, each thrust deeper, harder, the sound of your skin meeting filling the room. He moaned softly, his own pleasure spilling out in breathy sounds as he watched you, eyes fluttering, lips parted, taking him so perfectly it nearly drove him insane.
"Fuck." He groaned, one hand sliding up to grip your waist tighter, the other landing beside your head as he drove into you, lost in the way your body pulled him in, begged for more.
He started to move faster, hips snapping against yours with more urgency. He couldn't help himself, your warmth, the way you wrapped around him, the sounds you made, it was too much. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his rhythm changed just slightly overwhelmed by how good you felt.
His teeth grazed his bottom lip, catching it for a second before letting it slip free, lips parted, breath fast and uneven. His eyes locked on yours, heavy with lust.
"Fuck... I'm close." He said in a low whimper.
Every muscle in his body tightened, chasing that edge as he started to unravel inside you.
"I'm almost there." You whimpered, your voice trembling as your hooded eyes met his for a second before fluttering shut. Your head dropped back against the mattress, fingers gripping the covers beneath you.
He let out a low shaky breath, pulling one hand from your waist and dragging it slowly up your body. He found your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, holding them tightly.
The change in angle had him thrusting even deeper, hitting that spot again, your whole body jolting with pleasure. His grip on your hands tightened, hips chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.
Your legs began to shake, trembling uncontrollably as you clenched around him. The sounds falling from your lips grew louder, broken and breathless mixing with the wet slap of his hips against yours. A ring of your arousal coated the base of him, the sight alone pushing him right to the edge.
"Fuck." He gasped, voice catching in a choked whimper as he fell apart, thrusts growing rougher, messier, desperate. He pulled his hands from yours, fumbling to yank your shirt up, needing to see you—needing to finish.
With a few last messy thrusts, he pulled out, hand wrapping around himself. His jaw clenched as he let out a shaky groan, coming across your stomach, his body shuddering as he spilled every last drop.
He collapsed beside you, chest rising and falling rapidly, body still trembling. His fingers gently traced the curve of your waist. His eyes softened as they met yours, a breathless smile appearing at the corners of his lips.
"Are you okay?" He murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He didn't need to ask, not really, but he wanted to make sure you felt as safe and cared for as he felt in that moment.
You nodded, your own breath finally starting to steady, fingers running over his chest. The quiet of the room felt like everything had slowed, each moment stretching out just enough for you both to catch up with each other.
5:00 AM
Your eyes fluttered open. The sheets were warm, tangled around your legs, and for a brief second you didn't remember where you were. Well, not until you looked beside you.
Jisung. Fast asleep.
You sat up quickly, rubbing the blur from your eyes, heart pounding just a little too fast. You never woke up this early—not naturally at least. Maybe it was your body's way of reminding you that you weren't supposed to be here, that this was real, that it happened.
Lying next to him had felt natural, like second nature, like slipping into an old habit you didn't know you still had. His warmth still lingered on your skin, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets, wrapping around you.
He looked peaceful like this.
Hair messy, his lips slightly parted, his breathing steady. He didn't look like the Jisung you had been reunited with last night—the one who was cocky, pushing your buttons just enough to get under your skin. No, this was the Jisung you remembered from before. The one you used to sneak glances at in class, the one who made you laugh without trying.
A part of you, a stupid part of you wanted to lay back down, press yourself against him, bury yourself in the comfort of his presence. Wanted to let him pull you close in his sleep like he used to, wanted to pretend, even for a little while, that none of the years apart had happened.
You swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away. This was probably just a hookup to him—one last reckless decision before leaving the city, and maybe that was all it should be to you too. Before you could change your mind, you carefully slipped out of bed, grabbing your scattered clothes off the floor. You dressed quickly, barely breathing, barely thinking, just moving.
Jisung stirred slightly, mumbling something under his breath, but he didn't wake up. You slipped out into the cold, dark morning.
10:04 AM
Your phone buzzed beside you, the screen lighting up against the dark comforter of your bed. You weren't even sure why you reached for it so fast.
Jisung [10:04 AM]: "I had a fun time last night. When can I see you again?"
You stared at the message, fingers hovering over the screen. The easy answer was never. You could leave it at that—ignore him, let this be a one time thing and pretend none of it mattered.
Another buzz.
Jisung [10:10 AM]: "Can we grab lunch together or something this afternoon?"
Your lips pressed together, exhaling a slow breath. Everything in you screamed that this was a bad idea. That seeing him again after everything would only make things worse, but he wanted to see you, again and maybe that was enough.
You [10:12 AM]: "Yeah, okay."
The restaurant was small, tucked away on a quiet street corner. A place you wouldn't have picked yourself, but the atmosphere was nice. Jisung was already there when you walked in, sitting in a booth by the window. His eyes met yours instantly, and that stupid smile of his tugged at his lips as he waved you over.
"You actually came."
"I said I would, didn't I?" You replied, sliding into the seat across from him.
"Yeah, but you also left me alone in bed this morning, so I wasn't sure."
You huffed, shaking your head.
"What? It was kinda tragic." He grinned, leaning back in his seat. "Woke up cold and abandoned."
"Tragic, really?" You murmured.
"Devastating honestly." He sighed dramatically, then smirked. "Thought maybe I imagined the whole thing."
He didn't. You knew that. You both did.
"You didn't." You said dryly, picking up the menu.
He chuckled, eyes still fixed on you.
"So." He said, tilting his head slightly. "What do you recommend? This was your idea after all."
"Excuse me? You invited me."
"Yeah, but you said yes."
"Which makes it my idea?"
"Exactly." He smirked.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile that slipped through. It felt familiar, like nothing had changed. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long, the way his fingers tapped the table, like he was thinking of saying something but holding back. It was also in the way you couldn't help but steal glances at him, like you were trying to find something in his expression that wasn't there before.
The waiter came, and you ordered, the momentary distraction shifting the mood back to something lighter for only a split second.
But then—
"Why'd you leave?"
Your hand stiffened around your glass.
You didn't look up. "Jisung."
"I know, I know." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't wanna talk about it, but—"
"But nothing." Your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn't soften it. "I told you I don't want to talk about it."
His jaw tensed, eyes searching yours for something, but he exhaled and leaned back.
"Fine. No deep shit today." He paused, then smirked. "But you can make it up to me later."
Your breath hitched. "Jisung—"
"Relax." He grinned, reaching for his drink. "Just a joke."
It wasn't, but you let it slide.
"So, what's next for you?" You asked, shifting the conversation.
Jisung's smirk faded slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. "Heading to another city tomorrow. Last stop on the tour."
"Oh."
You didn't know why that answer made your chest tighten. It wasn't like you expected him to stay, it wasn't like this changed anything.
"You gonna miss me?" He teased.
"Not even a little."
He gasped dramatically. "Liar."
"Delusional."
"You wound me, Y/n."
You laughed, shaking your head.
Lunch continued, and despite the underlying tension, it was... good.
You laughed more than you wanted to. Fell back into old habits, old inside jokes. For a moment, it almost felt normal, but as you walked out of the restaurant together reality hit. Jisung was leaving and you had no idea if, or when you'd see him again. He seemed to read your mind because he gave you a small smile.
"You know, if you ever feel like seeing a Black Horizon show, I'll get you in."
"Oh, so you're offering me free tickets now?"
"I always was."
You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. The goodbye hovered between you. Neither of you wanted to say it, but it was inevitable.
"Goodbye Jisung."
His eyes softened slightly, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you, but stopped himself.
"Yeah." He murmured. "See you around."
But as he walked away, you couldn't help but wonder— was this really the end?
══════════════════════════
It had been about a month since Jisung left, and honestly, you had forgotten all about him.
Well—partly.
His number still sat in your phone, not saved, but memorized enough that your eyes lingered over it sometimes. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at your screen, wondering if you should reach out, if you should at least say something, but you never did, never could. It was better this way, he should stay in the past—strictly.
It was time to focus on your future.
"You okay?"
A voice knocked you out of your thoughts, and you turned your head.
Speaking of the future.
"Yeah Haechan, I'm good. Just thinking." You flashed a small grin, trying to shake off the moment.
He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "About what?"
"Nothing you'd be interested in." You grabbed your washcloth, running it over the counter, focusing a little too hard on the streaks left behind.
"I'm interested." His response came quickly.
When you looked up, his eyes were locked onto yours, a grin forming at the corners of his lips. The moment stretched just long enough for warmth to creep up your neck before you turned away, cheeks feeling a little too hot.
The bar was practically empty now, the usual hum of voices gone, closing time. You always liked this part of the night—the slow, quiet moments when it was just the two of you finishing up, the outside world feeling distant.
"Just about life, that's all. Nothing I can really put into words right now." You finally answered.
Haechan nodded like he understood, turning back to organize the glasses behind the counter.
"Is it something you can put into words later?" He asked after a second. "Outside of work, maybe?"
His voice was quieter now, almost like the words slipped out before he could think twice.
Your hands froze mid wipe.
"What did you say?" You asked, turning to face him.
Haechan had his back to you, placing the last glass on the shelf, but when he turned around his lips were pressed together, cheeks puffed out slightly like he had been caught.
"Huh? I didn't say anything." His voice was light, but there was something a little nervous about the way he scratched the back of his head.
You squinted at him suspiciously. "I swear you said something. I must be imagining things—I'm exhausted." You giggled, shaking your head, but you didn't miss the way he let out a small breath of relief.
"Yeah, I get it honestly." He wiped his hands on a towel, eyes scanning the room before nodding in satisfaction. "Looks pretty good in here, I think you're good to go."
"Are you not coming with?" You asked, genuine concern slipping into your tone.
"Nah, the boss texted me and asked me to check out the security cameras since I'm the only one who knows how to work them."
You frowned. "I can learn—"
"I'm good, swear." He cut you off quickly, shaking his head. "Go home and get some rest. I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"
"Maybe tomorrow. The boss needs me for the afternoon shift, so we'll run into each other most likely."
Haechan sighed, his lips forming into a smile. "You've been working back to back Y/n, you need a break. Take tomorrow off— I'll cover you, I like working Monday anyways."
"No, it's okay, swear. I need the money anyway. It'll all be worth it when I have the—"
"Cafe, I know." He finished for you, his smile growing.
You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, sorry."
"No need to be sorry, I love hearing about it." His voice was soft, but firm. "But you're gonna be burned out by the time you open it if you keep working like this."
Before you could protest, he reached into his pocket pulling out a crisp hundred dollar bill and holding it up.
"Take a break Y/n."
Your eyes widened. "Haechan, I can't accept this."
"Yeah... I think you can." He shifted on his feet, his smile turning a little awkward, like he wasn't sure if this was too much. "Just... think of it like an early birthday gift, I guess."
"First off, my birthday is in 3 weeks. Second, how did you even remember that?" You asked, exasperated.
He raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips in a line. "It happens every year, kinda hard to forget."
You stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Okay, okay. I'll take the day off, but keep your money—seriously."
Haechan pouted dramatically. "So you're rejecting your gift? Wow, okay, I didn't know you hated me."
You laughed, shaking your head. "Fine." You grabbed the bill from his hand, rolling your eyes. "Thank you for the three week early gift, kind sir."
"You're welcome, madam. There's more where that came from." He smiled brightly.
"There better not be."
His smile softened. "Well, I'll at least get you a little something more on your birthday. Even though you shouldn't set foot in this place on your birthday."
"Trust me, I won't, but the day after? I can't promise anything." You shrugged playfully.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't stop you that time, but I'll make sure I'm scheduled so I can give you your gift." He smiled comfortably.
"Okay, I'll be waiting on it."
Your eyes met his, and for a split second, it felt like something hung in the air between you, but before it could settle Haechan cleared his throat.
"Well, you should head out."
"Yeah, okay." You nodded, stepping away to grab your stuff from the back.
When you returned to the front, Haechan was still adjusting bottles on the shelves.
"I'll see you later."
He turned, a smile on his face. "See ya."
You pushed the door open, stepping into the cool night air. The smell of cigarettes hit your nose. Familiar... too familiar.
Before you could process it, a voice came from behind you.
"You're off work?"
Your stomach dropped. You turned slowly, eyes locking onto Jisung.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Jisung stood there, cigarette dangling between his fingers, dark eyes flickering over you.
"Well, I wanted a drink, but it looks like you're closed." He peeked through the glass doors before returning his gaze to yours.
Your arms crossed tightly. "Jisung, seriously. What are you doing here? I thought you were gone... for good."
He tilted his head. "I said I was going to another city for a stop, not that I was gone forever."
You narrowed your eyes. "I don't know, the way you said bye made it seem like—"
"I said see you around." He cut you off. "You said bye. Honestly thought you'd disappear again before I came back."
Silence.
You exhaled sharply. "Goodbye, Jisung." You turned to walk away.
"Wait. I came because I wanted to see you again. Don't act like you don't want to see me too."
"I don't." You shot back, rolling your eyes, your arms folding tightly across your chest.
His expression flickered, just for a second before he scoffed. "Why are you so damn mean all of a sudden? This new personality is seriously unlikable."
Your eyes narrowed. "I don't know, maybe because we haven't been friends for, I don't know—six years? So yeah, I've changed, and I'm sorry you don't like it." Your words were sharp, cutting.
"I'm trying to like it, but you're not making it easy." His voice was firm, frustration creeping into his tone as he leaned forward.
You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "It's literally the second time you've seen me Jisung, relax. You're acting like you've been chasing me down for years."
"You left first, yet I'm the bad guy for trying to reconcile?" He spoke, jaw clenching.
Your stomach twisted, irritation bubbling up.
"You don't want to reconcile, you want to hookup. Which was a one time thing by the way." You snapped, crossing your arms. "What happened to gentlemen who take you out to dinner." You said rolling your eyes.
Jisung blinked, tilting his head slightly. For a moment, you thought you'd struck a nerve.
"I will."
His voice was different now, lower.
Your brows furrowed. "What?"
"I didn't know you wanted to, but I will." His eyes met yours.
You huffed, shaking your head. A short exasperated laugh escaped you, like you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Nah, you're good."
But Jisung didn't let it go.
"No, send your address." His voice softened slightly, but the determination was still there. "You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner."
"Right." You scoffed, lifting an eyebrow. "I bet you will." You said sarcastically, turning away from him, walking quickly.
And he didn't call after you, didn't try to stop you, but you could feel his eyes on you.
══════════════════════════ You sat on your couch, phone in your hand, your knee bouncing slightly as you stared at the empty message thread. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea, but your fingers hovered over the keyboard anyway.
Jisung had gotten under your skin the way he always did—effortlessly. You could still hear his voice, see that teasing smirk he always wore when he knew he had the upper hand.
"You want me to take you out to dinner? I'll take you out to dinner. Tomorrow."
You huffed, this wasn't some big deal—it was just dinner, just food. You felt that you should just ignore it, let it go, prove that he didn't still have this stupid, frustrating hold on you. But instead, before you could overthink it, you typed out your address and hit send.
It took less than a minute for the read receipt to pop up.
Jisung [6:24 PM]: "Oh? Someone came to her senses."
You rolled your eyes.
You [6:25 PM]: "Shut up. Are you picking me up or what?"
Jisung [6:26 PM]: "Relax Y/n. I'll be there at 8."
You could practically hear the cocky tone in his voice just from the text. This was going to be such a mistake.
Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment exactly at eight, which was surprising considering his usual habit of running late.
He rolled down the window, resting his arm on the door as he looked at you with a smirk. "Look at you, actually waiting outside for me."
You gave him a dry look, tugging the car door open. "I swear to God Jisung—"
"Ok, ok." He laughed, unlocking the door fully. "Get in before you change your mind."
The drive to the restaurant was... normal and that in itself was strange. There was no arguing, no sarcasm, instead, the conversation flowed naturally. He talked about the last stops of his tour, about how much he thrived on stage, but hated how exhausting the traveling was. You mentioned how much the city had changed since he left—how certain streets felt unrecognizable now, but some places stayed exactly the same.
By the time you reached the restaurant, you weren't sure what to expect anymore, but when you sat across from him, your menus open but untouched, Jisung leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Alright, let's talk about you."
You raised an eyebrow. "What about me?"
"Everything." He said simply, tapping his fingers against the table. "What have you been up to? What do you do when you're not pouring drinks?"
"I work. I go home. That's pretty much it." You said.
"Bullshit."
"It's not bullshit."
"No, see, that's bullshit." He leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto yours. "You never just work, you always had something else going on. So?"
You hesitated, your fingers tracing the condensation on your glass. You weren't sure why you felt reluctant to tell him—maybe because it was personal, and you weren't ready to hand him pieces of yourself again, but still, you sighed and gave in.
"I've been working on opening a café."
Jisung blinked once, before letting out a scoff of amusement. "I knew it."
"Knew what?"
"Knew you wouldn't let that go." He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You were obsessed with that idea when we were younger."
You frowned slightly. "Yeah, now I'm actually making it happen."
Jisung tilted his head, his smirk fading into something unreadable. "Why didn't you just say that earlier?"
You looked away, your fingers still trailing along the glass rim. "I don't know, you've been gone for years. I figured it didn't really matter to you."
His expression flickered, but he didn't immediately snap back with some sarcastic remark. He leaned back, watching you carefully. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" You asked, glancing up.
"Talk like I don't know you at all anymore." His voice wasn't teasing anymore. It was steady, a little softer than before. "Like I didn't spend years listening to you go on about this."
You cleared your throat. "Well, it's happening now. I have a location and the last bit of funding."
Jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Damn. You really pulled it off."
"Trying to." You corrected.
His lips curled slightly. "I'd go."
You met his gaze, eyebrow raised. "You better."
For a while, the conversation kept its natural rhythm. The teasing was still there, but it was balanced by genuine curiosity. It almost felt like nothing had changed.
"How's your mom?"
Your expression dropped for a small second as you reached for your drink, stalling with a small sip. "Huh?"
"Your mom." Jisung repeated, tilting his head slightly. "How's she doing? I should stop by, say hello."
You let out a short, forced laugh. "Oh, I don't think she'll be too happy to see you."
Jisung's easy expression faltered slightly. "Huh?"
"Oh, no I'm just saying that she probably just doesn't want to see you." You said, a forced smile on your face as you brushed it off.
"What do you mean?" He questioned.
"Nothing, just... I don't think she really cares about catching up with you, she doesn't really like having company y'know?" You said, keeping your voice casual.
His fingers tapped lightly against the table. "Yeah, I understand. Why do I feel like you're leaving something out though?"
"I'm not." You said, forcing a small smile. "Seriously, it's nothing."
Jisung studied you, his gaze sharp, like he was picking apart the way you avoided eye contact.
"Does it have something to do with you leaving without telling me anything?"
Your shoulders stiffened. "Jisung, stop. Seriously."
"No." He pressed, his voice low. "I feel like I deserve to know—"
"I said stop."
The words came out sharper than you intended, a little too loud. A couple at a nearby table glanced over.
Jisung leaned back slowly, raising his hands slightly. "Fine."
But the mood had already shifted.
Jisung cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "So... did you ever get good at baking?"
You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Baking." He repeated, his voice forced light. "You used to suck at it, burnt cookies every time."
You let out a small, barely there laugh. "I got better."
Silence stretched between you. Jisung drumming his fingers against the table before trying again. "So, uh... do you live alone?"
"Yeah."
"Nice place?"
"It's alright."
"Any pets?"
"Nope."
Another pause.
He let out a slow breath. "Still listen to the same music?"
"Mostly."
"What happened to that one band you were obsessed with?"
"They broke up."
Jisung sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, you gotta give me something here. I'm trying, but you're shutting me down."
You finally looked at him, shrugging.
He studied you for a second, then nodded, pushing his chair back. "Let's go."
The ride was quiet, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering between you both. Jisung pulled up in front of your apartment, resting his hands on the steering wheel.
"Okay, bye." His voice was flat, casual...too casual.
You glanced at him. "You're not coming in?"
He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking up slightly. "Why would I need to come in?"
His tone was teasing, but there was something beneath it, like he was testing the waters.
You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "Come on."
Jisung stepped inside, hands shoved into his pockets as he looked around, taking in the space.
"This is a nice place." He said, his voice casual, but there was a hint of genuine interest behind it.
You huffed, kicking off your shoes by the door. "Yeah right."
"I'm serious." He replied, trailing after you as you walked into the living room.
You turned to face him, arms crossed. The air between you felt... off balance. Like you both knew where this was going, but neither of you wanted to be the first to say it.
"Would you like a drink?" You asked, your voice a little quieter now.
"Naw, I'm good." His reply was smooth, but his eyes never left yours.
Silence stretched between you, before you finally broke it.
"Okay." You said, the word lingering in the air.
Jisung raised an eyebrow watching you carefully, waiting.
You swallowed, exhaling softly. "We're on the same page here, right?"
His lips twitched slightly, like he was holding back a smirk. "I don't know, maybe. What are you thinking?"
His voice was lower now, he already knew what you were thinking, but wanted to hear you say it.
You hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. "I don't know." You admitted, your fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt. "But I think we should stop talking about it and make it happen—only if we're on the same page, of course."
Jisung's smirk deepened as he took a slow step forward, closing the space between you.
"Oh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes had darkened slightly, his gaze locked on yours. "What happened to it being a one time thing?"
You felt your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady. "I mean... if you're not interested, that's—"
Before you could finish Jisung interrupted you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands finding your face, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in like he'd been waiting for this. You barely had time to react before your hands instinctively moved to his waist, gripping onto him and pulling him even closer, surprising him slightly.
He broke the kiss for just a second, his breath fanning over your lips as he whispered. "I am."
Then his lips were on yours again. You truly thought that was going to be the last time, but first it started with him appearing in your notification center.
Wednesday, 2/19
The first time was impulse.
You were in the middle of getting ready for work, standing in front of your mirror, smoothing out your shirt when your phone buzzed.
Jisung [6:47 PM]: "Hey, wyd tonight?"
You stared at the message, your fingers hesitating over the keyboard for a moment before you responded.
You [6:49 PM]: "Work, why?"
Jisung [6:50 PM]: "Can you come over after?"
It would be the last time. You'd make sure of it.
You [6:52 PM]: "Okay, but this is the last time."
Lying to him was one thing, lying to yourself was another because your mind kept drifting back to him—to the way he touched you, the way he felt.
Friday, 2/21
By the third time, it wasn't impulse anymore.
You were curled up on your couch after a long shift, staring at your phone, fighting yourself over sending a text you shouldn't be sending, but then you did.
You [10:23 PM]: "Have you left yet?"
He opened it instantly.
Jisung [10:23 PM]: "No, why?"
You could still back out or you could do the exact thing you promised yourself you wouldn't.
You [10:24 PM]: "Do you want to come over?"
The moment you hit send, a wave of shame settled in your stomach. You shouldn't want this.
Jisung [10:24 PM]: "Of course, I'm on my way."
Saturday, 2/22
Jisung was leaving soon. This thing—whatever it was, would be over, and you'd be able to return to normal.
Jisung [4:19 PM]: "I leave tomorrow. Can I come over to see you before I go?"
You read the text twice, then a third time, before finally responding.
You [4:22 PM]: "You were just here yesterday lol."
Jisung [4:23 PM]: "I know. Just want to hang out and say goodbye. Maybe we can watch a movie?"
You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head.
You're not stupid.
You [4:24 PM]: "Right... watch a movie and say goodbye."
Jisung [4:24 PM]: "I'm serious."
You didn't believe him.
You [4:26 PM]: "Whatever, just come over."
Jisung showed up at your door, a bag of takeout in one hand, a smug grin on his lips.
"Brought food." He said simply, stepping inside.
The two of you settled onto the couch, the movie playing in the background, though neither of you were really paying attention. This was the most casual hangout you'd had since running into him weeks ago.
Until it wasn't.
Until his hand drifted to your thigh and stayed there.
Until your gaze lingered on his lips longer than it should have.
Until his fingers traced small circles against your skin, slow and teasing, like he was daring you to acknowledge it.
And then you did.
And then his lips were on yours again.
And then you were leading him to your bedroom.
It felt like a never ending cycle, something you should have been able to stop but somehow never could.
It wasn't even about the number of times—four, maybe five. It was the way it felt natural, even when it shouldn't. Especially when you considered that this was Jisung. Your childhood best friend, the same person you could never see that way.
And yet, here you were.
Again.
You lay beside him, his arm draped lazily over your waist, the sound of his steady breathing filling the space around you. You lifted your head slightly, resting your chin against his bare chest.
"So, um." You started, voice softer than intended.
Jisung hummed, eyes barely opening as he tilted his head toward you.
"What is... this?" You asked.
His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't look surprised.
"I don't know." He said, his voice groggy but calm. "What do you want it to be?"
You hesitated before flipping the question back on him.
"What do you want it to be?"
He let out a quiet laugh. "I asked first."
You sighed, playing with the hem of the blanket. "Well, I know that I've had a good time with you."
"I agree." He nodded.
"But."
His eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely.
"I think we should keep this... platonic."
Jisung's lips parted slightly before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Platonic?" He scoffed. "I'm in your bed with no clothes on for the, what, third time this week—and you want to keep it platonic?"
You smirked slightly, shaking your head. "Not like that, Jisung."
His lips quirked up, but there was something else behind his expression now.
"This, but just... no titles, no relationship, no... feelings."
Jisung's grin faded for just a second. It was quick, so quick you almost missed it.
"So just friends?" He asked, voice unreadable.
"Right." You nodded, giving him a small smile.
There was a pause, then he exhaled, shaking his head with a smirk.
"Sorry, but I thought that's what this was in the first place."
You searched his expression, trying to decipher whether or not he meant that.
"I never doubted that." You said quietly, watching the way his grin faltered just slightly. "But I just want to make sure it's in the air, that we're on the same page."
Jisung held your gaze for a second longer before nodding. "We are. No titles, no relationship, no feelings."
"Got it." You smiled. "Now, I think it's time for you to leave." You added playfully.
Jisung clutched his chest, sucking in his teeth dramatically. "Ouch."
"Stop." You rolled your eyes. "I don't mind, but if you're anything like how you were years ago, then I know you need to go prepare to leave tomorrow."
"Whatever." He sighed, getting out of bed and getting dressed.
You walked him to the door, leaning against the frame as he lingered for a moment.
"When am I gonna see you again?" He asked.
"I could ask you the same question."
Jisung tilted his head slightly. "No clue." He frowned a little, then forced a small smile. "But I'll at least try to come for your birthday in a few weeks."
Your eyes flickered in surprise.
"You—"
"Remembered?" He raised an eyebrow. "Yes."
A small smile tugged at your lips.
"Hey, you can't blame me." You teased.
Jisung gave you a long look, like he wanted to say something—something you didn't want to hear. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and nodded.
"Safe travels and good luck with your band." You said.
"Thank you. I'll text when I make it back."
You paused, then nodded. "Cool."
"Cool?" He repeated.
"Yes Jisung. Goodbye."
He chuckled. "See you later."
Sunday, 2/23
Back to routine. Same shift. Same uniform, except this time, your phone buzzed.
Jisung [11:45 AM]: "Hey, I made it back. Whatchu up to?"
══════════════════════════
It was the usual tonight—customers flooding in, the hours passing by, keeping you busy.
By the time closing rolled around, it was just you and Haechan, wiping down the counters, stacking chairs, and finishing up the last of your closing duties.
"Happy birthday Y/n!" Haechan suddenly spoke, glancing at his watch before flashing you a grin.
You looked up from the register, momentarily surprised before smiling. "Thank you."
"What are you doing tomorrow—well, technically today?" He corrected.
"Just going out with family." You replied.
"Oh, nice." He nodded, setting the last of the clean glasses in place before turning to you. "You know, it's funny—I could've just brought your gift today."
You giggled, shaking your head. "Yeah, I don't know why you didn't."
"Guess I wasn't thinking." He admitted with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're still working tomorrow, right?"
"No? It's my birthday tomorrow." You replied, stretching your arms with a grin.
Haechan cocked his head at you. "It's your birthday today."
You blinked, realizing he was right. Midnight had already passed.
"Oh, right." You laughed at yourself. "Sorry, my brain's fried."
"You need sleep." He teased. "But that means, yes—you're working tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I'll be here." You confirmed.
Haechan grinned. "Then I'll bring your gift tomorrow. The boss said I can work, so it's just gonna be the two of us."
"Sounds good to me."
With that, you finished closing up, locked the doors, and parted ways for the night.
The moment you stepped into your apartment, exhaustion finally hit you. You kicked off your shoes, sighing as you tossed your keys onto the counter, but before you could even change, your phone buzzed from inside your bag.
Jisung [1:07 AM]: "Happy birthday."
You smiled a little before responding.
You [1:08 AM]: "Thank you!"
A few seconds later, another message popped up.
Jisung [1:08 AM]: "I'll be there soon to take you out."
You [1:09 AM]: "Not today, already got something planned."
He didn't respond right away, but when he did, it was short.
Jisung [1:10 AM]: "Noted. I'll lyk."
You exhaled softly, locking your phone.
The past few weeks with Jisung had been... unexpected.
You weren't together, but somehow he was more present in your life than ever. You called each other almost every day, talking until one of you fell asleep. You texted constantly, sometimes about everything, sometimes about nothing. Even at work you found yourself sneaking replies between shifts, only to find out he was doing the same, sending you snippets of whatever he was recording or doing that day. So it wasn't really a surprise when your phone rang again the next day later that afternoon, just a few hours before your shift.
"How can I help you Jisung?" You said, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear.
"Ouch." He gasped dramatically. "That is not how you greet the person taking you out tonight."
"Well, thank god you're not the person taking me out tonight, because I have work."
"Y/n, no." He groaned, dragging out the word in a whine.
"Jisung, yes." You mocked his tone. "There's nothing I can do about it."
"Can't you take off? Get someone to cover you?" His voice had shifted from dramatic to genuinely pleading now. "I leave tomorrow, I have work to handle. I have a job, remember?"
"Yes, I remember. Do you remember that I have one too?"
"Please Y/n." His voice softened, making you rethink your decision. "I'm coming for you, to spend a birthday with you—something I haven't done in a while. Let me."
You paused, your lips parting slightly. A long silence stretched between you both before you finally exhaled.
"Let me call you back."
"Y/n, wait—"
"Shh, I'll call you back." You hung up before he could argue.
You scrolled through your contacts, clicking on Haechan's name. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.
"What's up?" He answered, his voice slightly winded like he'd been running around.
"Are you busy?" You asked.
"Yeah, a little, just at work. What's up?"
You bit your lip. "Do you think you can cover me tonight?"
The line went quiet.
You frowned slightly waiting for a response, but when he finally spoke, his voice was noticeably different.
"Um... I don't know. I'll be by myself on a Friday night, that's a lot."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. You were just the first person I thought of." You admitted. "But you could find someone else to help, right?"
"I could, but it's gonna be hard on such short notice."
"Maybe not." You countered. "People always want extra shifts. I got covered ten minutes before a shift once."
There was another pause.
"Right." He murmured, his tone unreadable.
Guilt spread through your stomach. "I'm sorry, these birthday plans are severely last minute. You can totally say no if you want—"
"Ok."
You blinked. "Ok?"
"I'll cover you tonight." He said, his voice forcefully light. "But you owe me."
"Oh my God, I owe you the whole world." You exclaimed, your voice almost painfully cheerful now. "Thank you Haechan, I love you for this."
"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Love you too." His voice sounded... off, but before you could linger on it, he spoke again. "I'll see you tomorrow."
You barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up. Shrugging off the weird feeling in your gut, you immediately called Jisung back.
"Oh, you actually called back." He teased as soon as he answered.
"Yeah, I did." You replied, your voice noticeably lighter now.
"You seem to be in a much better mood." He said with a hint of amusement in his tone.
"That's because you are the person taking me out tonight."
"Oh, am I?" His voice brightened, more than he probably meant for it to.
"Yes, you are."
Jisung let out a soft chuckle. "Well then, the person taking you out tonight is picking you up at six."
You smiled. "Thank you for informing me. See you then."
Jisung [5:58 PM]: "Outside. No rush, but also... hurry up."
You rolled your eyes but smiled, quickly slipping on your jacket before grabbing your phone and bag. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing out your outfit before heading outside.
Jisung was leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable until he saw you, then that stupid little smirk of his appeared.
"Damn." He said, looking you up and down. "You look nice."
"Shut up." You huffed, but you were smiling as you reached for the car door.
"I mean it." He added, a little softer.
You glanced at him, your heart skipping for half a second before you quickly slid into the passenger seat. He got in after you, starting the car as music hummed through the speakers. The air smelled like his cologne, mixed with the faintest scent of vanilla from the air freshener hanging from the mirror.
"So, where are we going?" You asked, buckling your seatbelt.
"Dinner first." Jisung said, glancing over at you with a small smirk. "Gotta feed the birthday girl."
Jisung took you to a small, cozy restaurant tucked between some buildings downtown. It wasn't fancy, but it was warm, intimate, the kind of place where the lights were dim, and soft music played in the background.
The moment you walked in, he casually placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you toward a booth. It was barely anything, but it sent a small shiver up your spine.
He slid into the seat across from you, leaning back comfortably. "Alright, order whatever you want. Birthday rules."
"Birthday rules?" You raised a brow.
"Yeah, you get whatever you want, and I don't complain about the price." He grinned. "And also, you can't get mad at me for whatever dumb shit I do tonight."
You laughed, shaking your head. "We'll see about that."
When the waiter came, Jisung let you order first before he placed his, and true to his word he didn't even flinch when you went a little overboard with your choices.
"So," He said once the waiter left, propping his elbow on the table. "How's twenty three treating you so far?"
"It's only been a few hours Jisung."
"Yeah, but do you feel different?" He wiggled his brows dramatically.
"No idiot." You laughed.
"Lame." He sighed. "I was hoping for some life changing wisdom."
"You just turned twenty three a few months ago. Where's your wisdom?"
"Ah, but I'm not the birthday person today." He countered, smirking.
You shook your head, but the smile never left your face.
When the food arrived, you both dug in immediately, the conversation never slowing down. There were moments where Jisung stole food from your plate without asking, moments where you flicked a fry at him in retaliation, moments where the laughter between you felt so easy—so natural, that almost made you forget all the years you spent apart.
By the time the plates were empty, you were both comfortably full, and Jisung looked across the table with a small glint in his eyes. "You ready for the next stop?" He asked, as you nodded with a smile.
The moment you pulled into the arcades parking lot you felt the nostalgia settle in your chest.
"Holy shit." You murmured, looking around once you stepped inside.
"Feels like high school, huh?" Jisung grinned.
The arcade looked almost exactly the same as it did years ago—the flashing lights, the smell of popcorn, the sounds of tickets printing, and people shouting in excitement.
"Come on." Jisung said, already heading toward the change machine. He pulled out a couple of bills, exchanged them for tokens, and handed you a stack. "Hope you're ready to get your ass kicked."
You scoffed, stuffing the coins in your pocket. "We'll see about that."
The first game you played was air hockey. Jisung was obnoxious about it, smirking every time he scored on you.
"Damn, you used to be way better at this." He teased.
"I'm warming up." You argued, huffing as you tried to block his next shot.
Then came racing games, basketball hoops, and a whack a mole battle that ended with both of you laughing so hard you almost forgot to keep score. Everything about it felt... familiar.
Then you saw it, the claw machine. You both used to be obsessed with it.
"No way." Jisung breathed, already walking toward it. "They still have it?"
"I can't believe this thing is still standing." You added, stepping beside him.
Jisung cracked his knuckles. "Alright. If I win, you have to admit that I'm the best at everything."
"And if you lose?"
"Not possible." He smirked before inserting a token.
He almost won the first time, then failed spectacularly the second.By the third time, you were laughing so hard you had to lean against the glass.
"Shut up." He groaned, focusing harder.
And then he actually won, turning to you, holding up a small stuffed animal with a shit eating grin.
"Bow to your champion." He said.
"I hate you." You grumbled, grabbing the toy.
"No, you love me." He corrected, his voice teasing, but his eyes soft.
You swallowed, ignoring the warmth spreading through your chest. "Where to next?" You asked.
His grin widened. "You'll see."
The last place you expected Jisung to take you was a music studio.
"Uh, why are we here?" You asked as he led you inside.
He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Just trust me."
The room was dark, blue and red lighting, a few instruments scattered around, soundproofed walls, but one stuck out to you.
A guitar— his guitar, the one he would always use when you both were younger... the one you had given him as a gift.
Jisung smiled picking it up, settling into a chair before glancing at you.
"You remember your favorite song?" He asked casually.
Your breath caught. "You remember?"
"Of course I do. I couldn't get a break from it, always asking me to play it, even though I wasn't very good." He murmured, fingers strumming the first few chords.
And then he played and it was perfect. You just sat there watching him, feeling your chest tighten. When he finished he looked up, eyes locking onto yours.
"Happy birthday." He murmured.
You didn't say anything, you couldn't. All you could do was walk over to him, stand in front of him and stare into his eyes. Then you leaned in, closing the small space between you, and pressed your lips to his in a slow kiss. His hands found your waist almost instantly, pulling you against him like he couldn't stand another inch of distance.
The moment you reached your apartment you guided him to the couch, your lips never leaving his. With a gentle push, he sank onto the cushions, and you climbed onto his lap, pulling him into another messy kiss. Then you trailed your mouth to his neck, kissing down the warm skin slowly. Soft gasps slipped from him as you explored the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, his hands gripping you tighter with every touch.
Your hands moved down his body, eager and a little shaky as you worked to undo his pants. You freed him, wrapping your fingers around him and stroking, slow at first. Soft moans slipped from his lips, his eyes locked on you. Then you slid down between his legs, settling on your knees in front of him, your touch never leaving him.
"No, I'm supposed to be treating you for your birthday." He said, breath hitching.
"I want to." You whispered, your thumb brushing over his tip.
"But—" He started, the protest dying in his throat the moment your mouth wrapped around him, cutting him off with a choked whimper.
His head dropped back against the couch, a low groan slipping from his throat as your mouth moved around him. You took your time, letting your tongue swirl around his tip before sliding deeper, feeling him twitch against your tongue.
His fingers clenched the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Every soft suck, every flick of your tongue pulled a new sound from him—quiet moans, hitched breaths, curses whispered under his breath.
He looked down at you through half lidded eyes, dark and dazed. One hand reached for you threading into your hair, not to control, just to feel you.
"Fuck... you feel so good." He breathed, his voice low and wrecked.
You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you sank down further, cheeks hollowing around him. The moment your pace quickened his hips gave a slight helpless jerk, and he bit his lip to keep another groan from spilling out.
You kept your rhythm steady, teasing him with just enough pressure to keep him right on the edge. Every time you pulled back, you let your tongue drag along the underside of him before taking him back in, deeper each time. His thighs tensed beneath your hands, a clear sign of how hard he was trying to stay still, to not lose control.
You let out a soft hum around him and he gasped, hips twitching as the vibration shot through him, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Shit—baby, wait..." He muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice, only pleasure and desperation. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before locking back on you.
You kept your eyes on him as you picked up the pace again, your mouth moving faster, more focused. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thighs tightened beneath your hands, the way his breathing turned shallow and uneven, every soft gasp turning into a ragged moan.
His hand gripped your hair even tighter, hips lifting just slightly.
"Fuck, I'm—" He tried to warn you, voice cracking, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.
You didn't slow down, taking him deep, lips and tongue working him through it as he came hard, a broken sound tearing from his throat. His whole body tensed under your touch, breath catching as waves of pleasure crashed over him as he twitched, sinking back into the couch with a shaky exhale.
His hand loosened in your hair, fingertips brushing your cheek as he looked down at you, completely wrecked and grinning like he couldn't believe what just happened.
"This night was supposed to be about you." He murmured as he tucked himself away, then reached for you, gently pulling you up onto the couch. Before you could protest, he stood and dropped to his knees in front of you.
"I said I wanted to." You replied with a soft smile, your voice breathless as he pushed up your skirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric to pull your underwear down to your knees.
"Mm, right." He said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, hands firm on your thighs as he leaned in. His lips brushed along your leg, leaving slow lingering kisses that traveled upward. He never looked away from you, his gaze dark as he inched closer.
Each kiss grew slower, hotter, as he neared your inner thigh, the anticipation curling tight in your stomach. He paused, just breathing against your skin, making you feel every second stretch before he finally moved in closer.
Then finally, he leaned in.
His tongue found you in one slow stroke, and your head fell back against the couch with a sharp inhale. He moved with purpose, his mouth working you open smoothly, his tongue flicking and curling just right. One of his hands slid up to press against your stomach, grounding you as the other gripped your thigh, keeping you right where he wanted you.
You moaned loudly, fingers digging into the cushions as he kept his movements steady and deep. He pulled you in closer with every stroke of his tongue, every wet, open mouthed kiss he left against you, his eyes flicking up to watch you.
"You're already shaking." He murmured between strokes, his voice rough and hungry.
And the way he was working you, tongue pressing just right—it wasn't long before heat coiled tightly in your lower belly. Your thighs began to tremble around his shoulders, breath catching as the climax crashed through you in waves.
He didn't stop right away. He eased you through it, mouth softer now, slower, until your body finally relaxed under his touch.
When he pulled back, lips slick, he looked up at you like he could devour you all over again.
He stayed close, brushing slow kisses along your thighs, like he couldn't stop touching you, couldn't get enough. His hand slipped into yours, fingers lacing together.
After a few quiet moments, he smiled and whispered. "We should probably go to the bed." Pulling back just enough to look at you properly
You gave a smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Okay."
══════════════════════════
You walked into work, setting your belongings down and stretching out your shoulders before making your way to the floor. The dim lights of the bar cast a soft glow over the counter, the scent of citrus and liquor lingering in the air from the night's previous rush. Haechan stood behind the bar finishing up with a customer, his movements slow.
When he turned toward you, his tired eyes met yours. You offered him a small smile, but instead of his usual playful smile or greeting, he just stared at you blankly.
"I'm going on break." He muttered, turning away before you could even respond.
You blinked, slightly taken aback by his tone, but shook it off and got to work. When he returned, he seemed a bit more like himself—his posture wasn't as heavy, and he spoke a little more, but the exhaustion still clung to him. His voice remained low, and he couldn't stop yawning between sentences.
"You okay?" You asked once all the customers were taken care of.
"Yeah, I'm just exhausted." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"It's you who really needs the break, huh?" You teased lightly, hoping to lift his mood a little.
"Yeah." He chuckled, but it was weak and forced. He turned away to wipe down the counter, avoiding your gaze.
"You're not usually this tired— what's going on?" You asked, genuinely curious now.
He hesitated for a moment before answering, still focused on the cloth in his hands.
"Well... working by myself last night didn't help." He muttered.
Your stomach twisted with guilt. "You couldn't find anyone to work with you?"
"Nope."
"Haechan, I'm seriously so sorry. Let me buy you a coffee or something."
"No, you're good." His voice was low, he wasn't mad just drained.
You let it go, working in silence beside him as the night carried on. The bar began to wind down, the crowd thinning as closing time crept closer. You stepped away for a quick break, heading to the bathroom, but as you walked back onto the floor, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.
"I'm a big fan of yours, it's cool that I saw you around here."
Haechan's voice was animated, the tiredness gone replaced by something closer to admiration.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you turned the corner, only to lock eyes with Jisung. You immediately stepped back behind the wall, mentally cursing to yourself.
"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Jisung replied politely before making his way toward the bar toward you.
"Y/n." He greeted you with a small grin.
You rolled your eyes. "You just love coming to my job for absolutely no reason, huh?"
Haechan glanced between the two of you with his brows raised, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he studied the exchange.
"Can I not want a drink?" Jisung asked, taking a seat on one of the stools directly in front of you. "Vodka lemonade, please."
His smirk was taunting, like he was enjoying the way you flared up at his presence.
"I hate you." You muttered, turning around to make his drink.
"I'm sorry, I may be missing something," Haechan cut in, moving slightly closer to you. "Do you two know each other?"
"I wish we didn't." You muttered, making sure Jisung could hear you.
He only chuckled under his breath. "You didn't say that last night."
Your face burned as you whirled around, shoving his drink toward him a little harder than necessary.
"Okay! Here you go, sir. Now please be quiet."
Haechan's confusion only deepened. He stared at you both before turning to you expectantly.
"This is Jisung." You finally said, introducing him with a tight smile.
"I know." Haechan nodded.
Then you turned to Jisung. "And this is Haechan. One of my closest friends and coworkers— also, the reason we went out last night."
Jisung smirked at you, then at Haechan. "Wow, thank you so much Haechan. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Haechan nodded back, clearly still putting the pieces together. "Yeah... you're welcome?"
Jisung leaned forward on the counter. "Y/n, quickly, hand me a pen and a napkin or something."
"You don't know how to say please anymore?"
"Please." He murmured, his voice low and breathy. The way it sounded sent a shiver down your spine.
You sighed, grabbing a napkin and a pen before handing them over. He signed quickly and slid it toward Haechan.
"I wish I could give you more, but I can't." He said, a little dramatically.
Haechan let out a small laugh, taking the napkin and tucking it into his pocket. "I still appreciate it. Thank you."
"Now." You interrupted. "I think you should be on your way."
Jisung tilted his head, his expression shifting. "I need to talk to you though."
"Well, I'll see you at home in an hour or so." You replied, attempting to brush him off.
"At home?" Jisung echoed, his brows raising slightly.
"Yes. My apartment where I reside, so it's my home. I will see you at home." You maintained your serious tone, making Jisung chuckle.
"Right, I'll see you at home." He said, sliding a $20 bill across the counter before standing up.
As soon as the door shut behind him, Haechan turned to you.
"You didn't tell me you knew the lead guitarist of Black Horizon." He said, his expression unreadable.
"I mean, it's not something you just bring up in casual conversation." You replied. "I didn't even know before you went to the concert."
Haechan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you two like... dating?"
"No, no." You said quickly. "Not at all. We're just friends."
Haechan studied your face. "And how did that happen?"
"We used to be best friends when we were younger." You said, but your voice was softer now.
"That's sick. Glad you stuck together, you have excellent taste in friends." He said, finally turning away.
You hummed in response, but a lump settled in your stomach. You didn't really stick together.
When you finally got home, Jisung's car was parked in front of the complex. He leaned against it, arms crossed as he watched you approach.
"Took you long enough." He sighed.
"I'm so sorry that me working is inconveniencing you." You replied sarcastically.
He let out a short laugh before rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen... there's something I need to tell you."
You paused, something about his tone making your stomach tighten.
"Are you not coming in?" You asked.
"We both know how that's gonna turn out." He replied, his eyes a bit wide as he gave you a face.
You couldn't help but giggle before shaking your head. "Ok, what is it?"
"I'm not going to be around for a while." He said carefully. "The band's touring in another country for the next few months, and after that... we have to go straight into working on the next album."
"So... you're leaving?" You asked, voice quieter than before.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I am."
You forced a smile, though it didn't reach your eyes. "Right. Well... I guess this is goodbye."
Jisung looked at you for a long moment before sighing. "Yeah. I'll see you when I see you."
And with that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving you standing there in the dim glow of the streetlights, watching him disappear all over again.
══════════════════════════
Jisung had been gone for a few months now, but it never really felt like he had left.
No matter where he was, no matter how far, you never failed to call, never missed a day to text. Sometimes it was just a simple "good morning" or a half asleep voice memo when one of you were too tired to type.
You were just about to head out the door for work when your phone buzzed in your pocket.
Jisung [5:48 pm]: "Hey, wyd?"
You glanced at the time, thumbs moving across the screen as you typed back.
You [5:51 pm]: "About to head to work, what's going on?"
Jisung [5:52 pm]: "I won't bother you, just have a good day at work."
You frowned at the message, pausing with one hand on the doorknob. He never texted like that.
You [5:54 pm]: "That's a first lol. Seriously, is everything okay? I'm getting worried."
Jisung [5:55 pm]: "Yea everything's cool. I was just curious lol."
Your brows furrowed as you stared at the screen for a second longer. You knew Jisung well enough to tell when something was off, but you didn't have time to pick at it right now. With a small huff, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and headed out.
The bar was already buzzing with low chatter and music by the time you arrived. Haechan greeted you with his usual smirk, wiping down a glass absentmindedly. These days, you and him had grown closer.
"How's the night been so far?" You asked, setting your bag down and tying your apron.
Haechan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "Here by myself, no one to talk to, so not so good. Thanks for asking."
You blinked at him, tilting your head. "No, Haechan."
He gave you an innocent look. "No, what?"
You giggled, shaking your head. "I meant the customers— is it busy?"
His mouth fell open in fake shock. "Oh, I thought you were checking up on me. You know, because I was working alone and you were late."
You stared at him with narrowed eyes as he barely held in a laugh.
"I was only five minutes late."
"Ah, time is money, money is time. Get to work." He said, tossing a cloth in your direction.
You caught it mid air with a dramatic sigh, looking at him before fluttering your eyes, your voice sweeter. "Haechan, don't be like that."
He stared at you for a second unimpressed before scoffing. "Whatever. We get it, you're pretty, just occupy yourself."
The shift passed in a blur. Eventually, the rush died down, and the atmosphere grew quieter, more relaxed. This was always one of your favorite part of the night—the moment where you and Haechan had the most fun.
"You're wiping oddly slow." Haechan noted, watching you over your shoulder.
You turned, leaning against the counter. "And you're talking oddly fast... and a lot."
"Oh, I'm talking a lot?" He said, smirking.
"Yeah, you're talking a lot. Do your job."
"Oh yeah? I need to do my job?" He poked your side suddenly, making you jolt.
"Haechan, stop." You giggled, twisting away as his finger jabbed at your ribs.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The deep voice cut through the air, sending a jolt down your spine. You turned quickly, your stomach sinking as your eyes landed on the figure sitting at the bar, his hat pulled low.
"Jisung?"
He tilted his head up slightly, his face partially shadowed, but you could see the his expression.
Haechan glanced between the two of you before nodding to himself. "I have to go do something, I'll leave you two." His voice was casual, but as he moved past you, his hand brushed your waist—subtle, but noticeable.
Jisung's gaze followed him, a flicker of something passing through his eyes.
"Hm, that was weird." He muttered, finally looking back at you.
You hesitated for a second before shaking your head with a small laugh. "Jisung, what are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming back."
"It was a surprise." He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the counter before nodding toward where Haechan had disappeared. "You know, this doesn't seem too professional."
You blinked before realizing what he meant. A smirk tugged at your lips. "Jisung, are you jealous?"
His eyes flickered up to yours, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"No." He replied simply, but the way his fingers drummed against the counter told a different story.
You grinned, leaning in just slightly. "Mhm, sure."
Jisung huffed, shaking his head, but there was something softer in his expression now.
"You're back." You said, voice quieter now. "I missed you."
"Did you really?" He murmured, the corner of his lips curling up a bit against his will.
You nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah."
Jisung let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Well... I guess I missed you too."
You rolled your eyes pretending to be unimpressed, but deep down warmth spread through your chest.
"So." Jisung said, tilting his head. "Are you gonna serve me a drink, or do I have to watch you flirt with your coworkers all night?"
"Jealous." You smirked elongating the word, reaching for a glass.
"No." He said, but this time his voice lacked conviction, and somehow that made you smile even more.
"Ah, right." You giggled, sliding him the drink. "Well, I'm glad you came to visit."
And after, that became the routine. Jisung would do whatever he had to do during the day, but at night he was here.
First, it was just stopping by for a drink. Then, it was sitting there while you and Haechan closed everything out and of course, it always ended the same way—going home with you after work.
You never talked about it, but the pattern was clear. The moment you locked up for the night he'd be waiting, shoulders relaxed, an expectation between the two of you.
Tonight though, something was off.
Jisung never showed up before closing, so you didn't think much of it. You did what you always did—finished cleaning up with Haechan and got lost in conversation and somehow, that conversation led back to Jisung.
"Can you tell your boyfriend to hurry up and drop the album? I'm craving some new yearning music." Haechan teased, leaning on the counter with an amused grin.
"Oh, my boyfriend?" You scoffed, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "You like him more than I do. He's your boyfriend."
"I wish." He muttered, eyes widening playfully before bursting into laughter.
"Ew, Haechan oh my god." You nearly choked on your own laughter.
"I'm just saying." He shrugged, still grinning.
Before you could respond, the door swung open with a sharp creak.
"Sorry, we're closed." Haechan called out without glancing towards the person, the two of you still giggling.
"You do not want Jisung as a boyfriend." You joked, turning back to wipe the counter, only for the smirk on your face to vanish completely when your eyes locked onto him.
Your stomach dropped. Jisung stood there, his frame relaxed, his face unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze as he stared at you.
"Ouch." He said.
You froze. Your mind scrambled between apologizing or pretending nothing happened, but no words came out.
"Welp." Haechan placed a hand on your shoulder, glancing between the two of you. "You got that."
With that, he disappeared into the back, leaving you and Jisung standing in a thick, suffocating silence.
Jisung took a step forward, resting his hands in his pockets. "You're not gonna say hello?" His brows lifted slightly.
You swallowed. "Hello."
"Hello." He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "You don't want me as a boyfriend?"
"That was a joke, we were just joking." You forced out, letting out a nervous laugh, though your voice cracked slightly.
Jisung tilted his head. "Oh, so you do want me as a boyfriend?"
"No." Your answer was immediate, his expression faltering for a second. "We already talked about this, so you know the answer to that."
"Right." He nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek before finally dropping into a seat at the counter. "I want a vodka lemonade."
"Well, you're gonna have to get that from somewhere else. You heard Haechan, we're closed."
Jisung exhaled dramatically. "Ah, bummer." He clicked his tongue. "Forgot we follow Haechan's rules now."
Your eyes narrowed slightly as you leaned in, elbows resting on the counter. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, he's all you talk about these days— Haechan this, Haechan that."
You blinked. "Well, I talk to him a lot."
"You talk to me too." He countered, fingers tapping against the counter. "Do you talk about me that much?"
You smirked. "You just heard me talking about you."
Jisung went quiet for a moment, staring at you before shrugging. "I guess."
Before you could say anything, Haechan peeked out from the back. "Am I intruding?"
You smiled. "No, of course not."
Jisung shot you a look before dropping his gaze to the counter.
Haechan grinned. "Sorry to say, but I kinda expected you to come tonight, so I brought a CD."
Your brows lifted. "Where did you even get that from?"
"I've had it." He shrugged. "Do you think you could sign it? It would mean the world to me."
Jisung barely lifted his head. "No, not allowed."
Bullshit. He just told you a few days ago he spent fifteen minutes signing things for fans after getting swarmed.
You grabbed the CD and marker from Haechan, slamming them onto the counter in front of Jisung. "Sign it."
His eyes lifted, visibly irritated. "I can't." His voice was louder now.
"Jisung." Your tone was firm. "Sign it."
His jaw clenched before he snatched the marker aggressively, yanking the cap off and scribbling his signature harshly across the CD, before shoving it back at you.
"Since you're gonna fucking die without it." He said pushing back from the counter, storming toward the door, shoving it open and leaving.
Haechan sighed. "I didn't need it if he couldn't do it."
"He's fine." You forced a smile, handing him the CD and marker.
Haechan gave you a look. "You can go talk, if you need to."
"If that's okay with you."
"Yeah, go ahead."
You stepped outside, and the scent of cigarettes instantly surrounded you.
"I know you're still here you big crybaby." You rounded the corner, finding Jisung leaning against the wall, cigarette dangling between his fingers.
He exhaled slowly, eyes meeting yours.
"What the fuck was that?" You asked, arms crossing.
He stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. "What's going on with you and that guy?"
You groaned. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about." He said, pushing off the wall. "He's all you've been talking about on the phone, now this?"
"Jisung, will you relax?" You said, shaking your head.
"You fucking him or something?"
"That's none of your business."
"I feel like it is though." He shot back. "We have sex—unprotected sex. If you're out whoring around, I need to know that."
You scoffed. "Whoring around? I'm the one whoring around? Don't act all innocent Jisung, I know you fuck other people."
"I don't." He said, stepping closer. "You're the only one."
"Not anymore since I'm such a whore apparently." You said, turning around from him, beginning to walk away.
"I never said that."
You turned, exasperated. "You literally just did."
"Ok look, I'm sorry— but I asked you a question, all you had to do was answer."
"I don't have to do anything." Your voice shook. "We're not together. I don't owe you anything. I don't owe you an explanation. If you're scared I'm whoring around then leave or shut up and get over it."
Silence.
His eyes locked onto yours. You stormed toward him, inches from his face.
"Stop looking at me with that stupid face."
Jisung didn't move.
"Say something."
His lips parted. "I don't owe you any explanation."
Your breathing was heavy, your chest ached, fingers clenched into fists, but before you could react his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you in. His lips crashed onto yours, swallowing whatever words you had left and you melted instantly, fingers tangling in his hair.
His hands tightened, pushing you against the wall, the cold brick cooling your hot back. The kiss was rough, his tongue brushing against yours, his grip possessive.
It wasn't enough.
Jisung broke away, breathless. "Car. Now."
You nodded, and in seconds, you were following him to the parking lot.
When you slid into the backseat, you barely had a moment to settle before he was on you, lips crashing onto yours once more.
His hands found the hem on your shirt, pulling it over your head. His hands lingered back up, landing on your jaw as he pushed your head up roughly, moving down to your neck, kissing roughly before sucking, leaving markings in his wake.
You moaned softly as his hand slid down your body. He unbuttoned your jeans quickly, tugging them down to your knees along with your underwear in the cramped space of the car. The cool air hit your thighs, but his hands were warm.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them slowly while his eyes stayed locked on yours. Then he reached down, parting your folds and running his slick fingers through you, dragging them over your clit before slipping one inside you without warning.
You gasped, your head hitting the back of the seat. He didn't ease in, thrusting hard and fast, his thumb pressing tight circles against your clit. His finger curled just right, hitting that spot again and again knuckle deep, wet sounds filling the space between your moans.
Your hips bucked into his hand, head thrown back and eyes closed chasing every stroke, every flick of his thumb. You were already close, your body clenching around him, desperate for more.
"Look at me." He said, voice low and rough, just before sliding another finger inside you. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching as he moved them fast.
"I'm gonna cum." You gasped, your body already tightening around him, but just as your climax started to rise, his pace slowed.
Your breath caught. "Why are you stopping?"
His eyes narrowed, tone sharp and possessive. "What's going on with you and that guy?"
"Jisung, what are you—" You started, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust of his fingers, rough and deep, forcing a whimper from your throat.
"Tell me." He said. "And I might let you finish."
"Jisung, please." You begged, hips bucking, you were so close it hurt.
"Then talk or I'll stop." He said.
His fingers sped up again, sending you right back to the brink, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, demanding an answer.
"We're just friends. I—I don't like him." You cried out, your head hitting the window as your body trembled under his touch.
"Oh yeah?" He said, darkly amused, his free hand wrapping around your throat pulling you back to him, forcing your eyes on his. "Say it again."
"We're just friends." You gasped, breath hitching as his fingers moved faster inside you.
"I thought it wasn't any of my business." He taunted, voice low and rough. His fingers curled deep, hitting that perfect spot that made your whole body jerk. "What changed?"
"I'm sorry—fuck, I'm gonna—" You could barely speak, the pleasure overwhelming as your stomach coiled tight, your legs beginning to shake.
"Are you?" He said, leaning in closer, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to make you dizzy. His face hovered just inches from yours, lips parted, eyes locked on the way yours fluttered shut.
"Yes." You gasped out, barely holding it together. Your orgasm hit hard, rolling through your body in waves as he kept going, thrusting into you fast and deep, fingers soaked.
"He'll never make you feel like I do." He whispered, watching your face as you came undone for him. "Never."
Your body slumped back against the seat, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. The windows were fogged, your skin still flushed and tingling, your thighs sticky and trembling.
Jisung stayed close, his hand finally slipping out of you, fingers glistening. He looked down at them for a second, then wiped them slowly on your inner thigh teasingly. His other hand loosened around your neck, thumb brushing over the spot where he had held you, gentler now.
Neither of you said anything for a moment. The only sound was your ragged breathing.
Jisung leaned back slightly, eyes still on you as he slid his hand off your thigh.
"Go get your stuff so we can take this someplace else." He said quietly.
You blinked, still trying to steady yourself.
He smirked. "You've got five minutes, don't make me come in there."
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(Part two)- read here
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#nct x reader#nct smut#nct#nct fanfic#nct dream#nct dream smut#nct dream x reader#jisung nct#nct jisung#jisung nct smut#nct dream jisung#park jisung smut#park jisung#park jisung angst#park jisung fluff#jisung x reader#jisung smut#jisung angst#jisung fluff
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how you thrill me [K.Bishop]



pairing: servicetop!kate bishop x powerbottom!reader
summary: kate takes you out shopping for the next gala you’re attending together but she gets distracted in the dressing room.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> service top kate, my beloved <3; slightly public sex in a private fitting room; lowkey sugar daddy kate; one use of puppy because i couldn't resist; cunnilingus {R receiving}; like two seconds of grinding; cute banter; kate being effortlessly strong because it's hot
wordcount: 1.9k
a/n: it's been SO long since i've written for kate but i decided to give it a go once more. this was such a random idea but i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy <3
* * * * * * *
"Babe, come on," Kate says, hand tightly gripping yours as she drags you into yet another store.
You sigh but allow her to drag you behind her, her hurried steps giving away her growing excitement.
Normally, the brunette hated clothes shopping. It required far too much of her attention, far too much focus going to small details that genuinely didn't matter to her. It wasn't like she didn't like fashion, she simply didn't have the time for it most days. There was nothing wrong with wearing random coats and her signature Docs, it was winter in New York, after all.
Despite her lack of interest in her own style or clothes, she devoted a lot of time to yours. And money.
It didn't matter how many times you told her you didn't need the most expensive clothes or that you were running out of space for all the jewelry she bought you, she simply found some other way to spoil you.
When you told her not to buy you any more clothes, she switched to jewelry or shoes or long vacations to places she could barely pronounce or reservations to the most exclusive restaurants in the city.
Sure, her spending habits are more than a little irresponsible, but you can't deny that you prefer her spending money on you than buying unnecessary gadgets that only serve to clutter her apartment. Seriously, how many monitors does one person need for their PC?
"Slow down," you reply with a giggle, barely keeping up with your girlfriend's sleep. "Where's the fire, Katie?"
Your teasing question makes her chuckle. "Fashion waits for no one."
Now it's your turn to laugh at her. "Fashion? Coming from the girl wearing a band tee under a blazer?"
"Hey! You said you liked my outfit."
"I do like it, but it's not the pinnacle of fashion, babe."
Despite your teasing, she pulls you closer to her side, her hand leaving yours only so she can wrap her arm around your waist. "Okay, I can't argue with you there."
"You can't argue with me period," you point out.
Almost as if proving your point, she doesn't reply. Instead of making fun of her, you decide to simply lean against her and allow her to lead the way to yet another store. It's not exactly the most entertaining way to spend a day but you can't really complain when you get to spend it with your girlfriend.
You let her lead you to the next store, her fingers drumming a random beat on your arm. The contact distracts you enough to ignore the chaos going around and focus simply on the clothes themselves.
The two of you walk around a little until you stop in front of a rack filled with velvety blazers.
Kate shifts from her spot next to you, a flicker of her usual impatience shining through. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know," you reply as your eyes scan the clothes rack. "I can't decide between red or black."
"Then take them both."
You should have expected her response. Part of it is, of course, her tendency to buy you anything and everything you could possibly want, but another part of it is her own desire to see you in the expensive fabrics. To see you dressed up like you're a natural part of her world. Like you're not completely out of your depth whenever she takes you to those stupid rich people parties.
The thought is more than enough for you to snap into action. You are not going to let your overthinking stop you from enjoying a nice day out with your girlfriend.
Your hand reaches out to grab both blazers off the rack and Kate separates herself from you to help you carry them. "Anything else you'd like, love?"
You want to say no but then your eyes catch a rack of dresses and before you can stop yourself, you're adding items to the archer's eager arms. It's not clear yet what vibe you're going for but you're sure you'll figure it out soon. It helps that Kate's wardrobe is already filled to the brim with suits in all her favorite colors.
The two of you make your way to the fitting rooms after adding a few dresses and you can practically feel the excitement radiating off your girlfriend. You're not sure if she's excited about seeing you in them, though, or getting to take them off at some point.
One of the perks of shopping at rich people stores is both the size and the comfort of the fitting rooms. Not only is the area spacious, there's also an arm chair and a few wall-length mirrors. The smirk on Kate's face tells you she's thinking the same thoughts you are.
First things first, though, you have a fashion show to conduct.
It's practically impossible but you ignore your girlfriend's staring as you shed your coat and start trying out the blazers. More surprising than that, is how she's able to keep her hands to herself and keep her comments surprisingly family friendly.
To no one's surprise, though, her focus is shattered when you start trying out the dresses you picked out.
You're in the middle of rambling about the different colors, trying to figure out which ones match best with what Kate has in her wardrobe when she pounces on you.
You can't even pretend to be surprised. Especially when her hands land on your waist and she pushes you up against the door of the fitting room. "y/n."
"Kate," you reply, smirking as your arms wrap around her.
"Stop talking."
Before you can even make fun of her, her lips are on yours, stealing your train of thought before it can leave the station. You don't mind, though, and instead pull her impossibly closer to you.
The fabric of the dress you'd barely slipped on bunches underneath Kate's fingers as she grips you so hard, you're sure you'll be feeling it all day. You hook one of your legs around her before you can stop yourself, both of you gasping as the change in position makes your hips shift.
"You're worse than a dog in heat, Katie," you tease her, hoping she'll ignore how flushed you already are.
She does, but it's mostly due to how much your words affect her. "Shut up. You were thinking about it too."
"About why they make these fitting rooms so big?"
She groans, for once, rendered speechless. "Not what I meant."
You decide to give her a bit of mercy, even though she looks really cute when she gets pouty. "You're right, I was thinking about you."
That seems to be exactly what she wants to hear. Her lips find their way to your jaw where she's content to kiss and nip at your skin. "Gonna need you to be more specific."
You could be more specific or you could put her mouth to better use. The idea makes your heart skip a beat and you know you can't pass up the chance. "And I'm going to need you on your knees."
At first, she simply giggles. Until she realizes you're being serious. Then, she leans back to look at you, her eyes quite literally sparkling. "You mean that?"
"Of course, I mean it." Your hands slide around until you're gripping her shoulders, giving her a gentle push down.
Kate, the ever gracious lover she is, goes right with the movement. Even though you both know she's stronger than you, she allows you to act like you're manhandling her. It's a brief fantasy but it adds to the ache between your legs.
An ache that intensifies once your girlfriend is fully on her knees, her fingers caressing your thighs. Okay, maybe wearing a dress more often wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Kate must have the same thought as you because hikes the dress further up your legs but doesn't even attempt to take it off of your body. Instead, she spreads your legs wider, her teeth sinking into the soft skin of your inner thigh.
"Kate," you hiss, your hand tangling in her soft locks. "What's with the teeth, puppy?"
The petname makes her groan, although her pitch gets higher and it ends more like a whine than anything. "Shut up. I know what I'm doing."
A chuckle escapes you. "I wasn't complaining."
You don't get an answer from her but you don't really mind because she continues her path up your leg. She litters your skin with kisses and half-formed bites before her mouth hovers over the wet patch on your panties.
The mere feeling of her breath against you makes your hips buck. "Don't be a tease."
If she hears you, she doesn't respond. Her full focus is on your cunt and moving her tongue against you, humming at the taste that clings to the fabric.
There's something incredibly desperate to what she's doing but you don't dare call her out on it. At least not yet.
Because before you can form a single word, she's slipping your panties to the side and attaching her lips to your clit. The contact is so sudden that it makes you buck into her face, your fingers digging into her scalp.
"Oh, fuck," you whisper.
Kate hums around you, her tongue flicking out to tease your clit before sliding down to your folds. No one can ever say Kate Bishop isn't committed to your pleasure. You don't even know how she does it but she manages to slip her tongue inside your leaking hole.
It's messy and filthy and far too loud for the public setting you're in but it feels incredible. Especially when her hands move to your hips and encourage you to keep grinding against her.
You don't even have time to feel embarrassed about your movements as the pleasure skyrockets up your body.
"Don't stop," you groan, holding her so close you fear you might suffocate her.
Kate doesn't seem to have the same fear you do, though, considering the way she pulls herself even deeper into you. You have no doubt her jaw is cramping but that doesn't stop her from eating you out like a woman starved. It would be cliche if she wasn't so good at it.
The knot in your stomach gets tighter as Kate's tongue messily thrusts in and out of you. Your back arches off the door, your leg hooking over her shoulder as you struggle to keep yourself up.
The archer holds you up with ease, almost taking you off the ground with her strong grip. The quick show of strength only adds to your desire and you cum hard with a gasp.
The sudden pleasure overwhelms you, catching you completely off-guard as you soak your girlfriend's face.
There's no way to deny how little she minds. She keeps her movements up, easing off your clit to not further overwhelm you. That doesn't stop her from running her tongue up and down your folds, though.
You pull her away by her hair, barely suppressing a laugh as she whines. "I wasn't done."
"I know, but I can't feel my legs."
Kate rises to her feet, easily moving your legs until they're both wrapped around her waist. "I've got you."
All you can do is groan as her actions reignite the heat in your belly. "You're the worst."
This time, she's the one who laughs. "I love you too."
#kate bishop x reader#kate bishop x female reader#kate bishop x y/n#kate bishop x you#kate bishop smut#kate bishop#hawkeye#hailee steinfeld#marvel fanfiction#mcu imagine#wlw#wlw fic#writing
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HII you commented on my post :’) 🎀
can I request pro hero bakugou x pro hero reader where reader usually pick up their kid(s) from daycare alone since BK is busy and usually gets home late:( and that kinda made their kid(s) upset and ignore their dad at home and cry really loud in front of reader secretly. So like reader came up with an idea to surprise the kid(s) and told BK to change his schedule or else reader will whoop his ass. So like the next day BK and reader went to daycare together and instead of reader standing behind the glass door it’s BK and that made their kid(s) go crazy and jumpy 🥺 thank you 💗
Idk I was watching this reel and got a lil inspired ~ https://www.instagram.com/jaxon.trevor/reel/CsTuZLUofpg/?igsh=MTNuZHY3ZDEwMnNoZA==
A/N: HIII SORRY THIS TOOK ME A WHILE AHAHAH BUT I LOVED WRITING THIS IT WAS SO CUTEEE Here's the masterlist!
Warning(s): Mild cursing, f!reader, your kids love you, pre-established relationship (you two are married), you have twins, Katsuki loves you, just fluffy fluff with like the mildest angst if you squint really hard.
Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴅᴀʏᴄᴀʀᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•
It's late. You were in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner, as your husband finally relaxes in your shared bedroom after a long patrol. It was always like this, Katsuki getting home late, and you were left to take care of your two children in the meantime.
You didn't blame him, of course, you knew how hard he worked, given that he was the number 2 pro hero and with that came a lot of responsibilities. You yourself were number 5, which meant you also had a lot of missions, but thankfully since you ran your own agency, you could manage your schedules easier to be able to pick up your kids from daycare every day.
However, your twins, Kasumi and Akio, weren't as understanding as you were when it came to your husband's attendance at home.
You understood their pain, but tried to keep an open mind for the sake of your family. However, after a two month long mission that Katsuki was sent on, he had consequently missed your birthday, something that might've upset you slightly, but you didn't think it was a big deal.
The twins, however did. They were furious at this point, sobbing as they clung onto your shirt, snot and tears soaking the fabric, but you didn't mind, rubbing their backs comfortingly. You thought it was sweet, how much they cared, but they little voice in the back of your head agreed with them, if only a little. Katsuki was never at home anymore, and to be honest, you missed him.
When he came back, you welcomed him with open arms, but the twins had just peaked their heads out of their rooms before retreating back, as if this was a normal occurrence.
You sigh, and look back at Katsuki, who had a heartbroken expression on his face.
Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your shared bedroom, squeezing his hand softly and getting ready for bed.
Katsuki gets changed but only sits on the bed, and you lie down next to him.
"What's on your mind, love?"
He grunts and looks away, conflicted before looking back at you.
"Do...do the twins hate me?" he mutters, and you frown softly.
"No...they don't hate you Kats, they just...wish you were around more."
Your husband frowns, and you can see the guilt swimming in the depths of his vermillion eyes.
"Maybe you can pick them up from daycare tomorrow?" You suggest, as Katsuki still hasn't said a word.
Katsuki frowns. "But my schedule-"
"Katsuki Bakugou if you do not pick up your children from school tomorrow then I'm sleeping on the couch for a month." You retort back before he can finish.
Your husband's eyes widen, realizing that you've got him stuck. If it really came down to it, he would gladly sleep on the couch if you wanted him to - but you knew he loved you too much to subject you to the same fate.
"Damn it, fine. Don't you dare threaten me like that again, woman." he grumbles and you smile up at him victoriously.
"Awww you love me." you coo, and you kiss his arm softly before tugging him gently to join you under the covers.
Katsuki watches you drift away to sleep, cheek half smushed against his bare chest and he can't help the dorky smile that stretched across his face.
He loved you so, so much. More than you would ever know.
Encircling his strong arms around you, he hold you close, making a mental note to take you out for a nice date tomorrow as well, before drifting off to sleep as well.
When he wakes, you're gone, with a note on the fridge that says that you left to drop the kids off and that you'd be back after work. He chuckles, and decides to clean up the house in the meantime.
He can't remember the last time he had a day off, it felt weird, to be honest. He felt restless, and so he did everything and anything to keep himself occupied while taking a majority of the burden you had off your shoulders.
Once the house was clean, he rifled through your closet, picking out the sundress he loved - accentuating your curves while the color brought out everything he loved about you, which was well, everything.
When you return home, Katsuki's getting changed into some nice clothes, surprising you as he tells you to go shower and get ready while he picks up the kids.
You're most definitely surprised, wondering where all of this is coming from, but you can't say you're upset about him, giggling softly and deciding to play along, feeling your heart warm as you hear the car door shut.
Katsuki parks the car in the parking lot, and approaches the building, giddy but slightly nervous at the same time. What if the kids still hated him? Would he be able to make things better?
However all his worried disappeared the moment he saw his kids' overjoyed faces at seeing him.
Their eyes brighten and they scream excitedly, bolting towards him with speed that was almost inhuman, tackling him and almost knocking him down.
"DADDY!!!!!" Kasumi squealing, leaping up and attaching herself to his leg.
Akio looks up at him, agape. "You-you're actually here?!"
Katsuki chuckles and ruffles his son's hair lovingly."Yeah, I am, bud. M'sorry I couldn't pick ya up sooner...Ya know how hero work is."
The kids nod, hugging him tightly as his hefts them up to sit on either of his hips.
"C'mon you two. We're gonna go surprise yer mama when he get home, got it? We'll take out her somewhere nice."
The twins look at each other micheviously and nod vigorously. "Daddy's in looooove" they sing, giggling uncontrollably.
Katsuki chuckles and can't help but feel his heart flutter at the thought of you.
"Yeah, Daddy's in love all right."
#⋆。‧˚ʚ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 ɞ˚‧。⋆#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou katuski x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou drabble#bakugou fluff#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#katsuki#bakugo katsuki#mha#katsuki bakugo#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugou#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugo fluff#bakugo fluff
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Miraculous vs The Power of Love
I've written several posts where I talked about Miraculous' poor use of the power of love trope and how that massively turned me off to canon. Three strikes and you're out! When this topic comes up I usually bring up Adrien and only Adrien. This has led to some anger at the fact that I didn't mention love failing anyone else as it absolutely has. I've also seen some anger over my desire for Adrien to defeat Gabriel's control and win the day since Adrien is a victim and that means that it's perfectly fine if he fails to beat his father's control no matter what the consequences of that failure are. After all, the failure isn't really on Adrien. It's on Gabriel. A sentiment I understand, but don't agree with since this is a writing blog. I'm discussing the message the writing is sending not which character gets the in-universe blame.
I'm not going to change how I discuss this topic since it is my honest opinion, but I can explain that opinion in depth to hopefully save us all from miscommunication! That's why I'm making this post! It addresses all of the above. I'll be linking to this whenever the topic comes up so that I can include some nuance without having to go into all of the detail I'm about to go into because - as you'll see - this is a long one which is why I don't go into this depth in other posts. It would just totally derail them. I'm also not going to go into the deconstruction aspect of things here because this is already really long, but I do have a post on that for even more nuance!
If you disagree with any of this, that's totally fine! I just ask that you keep the your counter arguments civil. Remember, we're talking about a badly written kids show that none of us have the power to change and the magical power of love isn't real so it doesn't actually matter if I'm right about this. Nor is Adrien going to thank you for coming to his aid. He doesn't exist and, as always, my issue is not him as a person. My issue is the way the narrative uses him as a storytelling tool.
What Is the Power of Love?
The power of love is a trope where either platonic or romantic love saves the hero from some type of conflict or upsetting situation. It's a rather broad trope that can be used in conflicts of any size, but even TV tropes acknowledges that it's primarily "applied in dire situations to make things better. In fact, in many Disney movies it's the solution to everything." That definition is how I approach the power of love.
To put it more bluntly, unless we're talking about a specific example, when I say "the power of love" I am thinking of a story's climax or, in the case of something like a multi-season show, one of the climaxes. More specifically, I'm thinking of the lyrics to one of my favorite cheesy pop songs:
There comes a time When you face the toughest of fights Searching for a sign Lost in the darkest of nights The wind blows so cold Standing alone Before the battle's begun But deep in your soul The future unfolds As bright as the rays of the sun You've got to believe In the power of love
If it's not the toughest of fights or the darkest of nights, then the power of love failing may disappoint me, but I don't consider it an unforgivable sin. In some cases, I'd even be disappointed if the power of love was brought in before the climax! The power of love is the ultimate cheesy move so it makes sense to save it for the last minute if using it earlier would lessen or even ruin that last minute epic save.
To show what I mean, let's talk about another trope that Miraculous has failed to use well, but that doesn't ruin the show for me. A trope that has led the show to do the exact thing we just discussed: ignore a small moment when love should have won to allow for a bigger win when all hope seems lost.
The Evil Clone Thing
[Image description: the Buzz and Woody meme with the words "Evil Clones. Evil Clones Everywhere"]
There have been an absurd number of episodes where the evil clone/evil twin trope came into play, but the three big ones are Ladybug, Optigami, and the season four final. In each of these episodes, we see a good character replaced by an identical evil version. We also see the good character's love interest fail to recognize that their crush/romantic partner has been replaced. That means that all three of these episodes see the power of romantic love failing. We also don't see a more platonic version of love show up to save the day.
The worst of these episode is the season four final where Marinette doesn't recognize that Felix has taken Adrien's place. That deception is how Gabriel steals the miraculous so it's obviously a pretty big deal and can be argued as a major fail for the power of love. I don't disagree. I think that Marinette's love should have let her see through the lies and dislike that the writers took this route to make her lose. However, I don't have this on my list of moments when the power of love needed to win for the story to work.
While Marinette failing to recognize Felix leads to her darkest hour, it does not happen in her darkest hour. Her darkest hour comes when she actually loses the miraculous which happens in a completely different scene from the one where she's deceived. It's also worth noting that Felix is not present in this moment of loss so there was no opportunity for the power of love to pull off a last minute win.
The loss of the miraculous leads to a scene where Ladybug is sitting alone in the rain, ready to give up all hope. And what happens next?
[Image description: Chat Noir standing in the rain, smiling, holding out his hand to Ladybug]
Chat Noir shows up to reignite Ladybug's will to fight via his love and support. She takes his hand, he draws her into a hug, and they stand together as one, ready to once again face their enemy:
Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again. Ladybug: You...and me? Cat Noir: You, the best superhero there ever was... and me, your loyal partner.
A lot of people love this scene and it led to some major hype for season five which means that it's time to quote some more of that cheesy song that I brought up at the start:
Stand by my side There's nothing to hide Together we'll fight to the end Take hold of my hand And you'll understand What it truly means to be friends You've got to believe (you've got to believe) In the power of love
While I don't love the season four final, it is a B-tier execution of the thing I was talking about earlier. Canon let love fail in a small moment to increase tension and give Ladybug a "darkest night" moment. That darkest night moment then led to a semi-epic power-of-love comeback that understandably got a lot of fans super excited for season five because they assumed that it was going to be the season of Ladynoir. In other words, for a lot of fans, the power of love did its job in the season four final!
All of this is why I don't bring up Marinette when I talk about the power of love failing. It does fail her, but not in her darkest nights and toughest fights. Any time she's overwhelmed and ready to give up all hope, someone comes along to give her the will to fight on. That person is usually Chat Noir because he's her end game love interest so of course the writers use him! His "you and me against the world" moments may not be the most epic example of the power of love winning, but they are the power of love winning, so saying that the power of love fails Marinette feels like an overstatement of harm. She's never had a total loss.
The closest we get to Marinette truly losing is the season five final. That episode feels like an ultimate-level failure to many of us, on par with Ephemeral, but the writers clearly don't agree. For them, season five had a happy ending which makes critiquing that final fight tricky. I'll be arguing that Adrien lost hard in the next section, but I can't say the same for Marinette and this section is about her so let's focus on that for now.
No matter how much I hate the final, I can't look at the picture below this paragraph and argue that love failed Marinette because what did losing cost her? This isn't the season four final where she genuinely suffered. This is her getting everything she's ever wanted! The miraculous are back in her hands, she won the heart of the boy she loves, and no one is actively messing with her love life anymore. That's a pretty solid win even if she didn't win the actual fight.
[Image description: Adrien and Marinette at the end of the season five final, kissing in the spot that used to house Emilie's statue.]
This is further complicated by the fact that - as written - the season five final doesn't put Marinette in a position to use the power of love. She's never given a chance to save Adrien or even just talk to him. She doesn't know that's he's in trouble, locked up in a padded cell, suffering all alone! And Adrien's love can't rally her in her darkest moment when all hope seems lost because - for the first time ever in a season final - she never got one of those! She was a badass in the final fight! No pep talk or supportive teammates necessary! She would have had a total victory if the writers hasn't made her try to talk sense to the villain or sent her Adrien's ring just so Gabriel could make the wish, further adding to the problem of this show's absolutely vile messaging around love.
In other words, lack of love isn't why Marinette loses the final fight. She loses because the writers wanted love to empower Gabriel in his darkest moment, a move the writers have the audacity to call a mutual victory. (Gross. Abusive terrorist should not get power of love moments without a massive redemption arc first. It's yet another insult to the trope. Gabriel did not deserve peace while his son goes on to suffer.)
If you think about the episodes Ladybug and Optigami you'll notice a similar problem. The power of love failed to let Chat Noir and Alya recognize that their romantic interests had been replaced, but that failure didn't lead to their ultimate defeat. It didn't even lead the villains to a minor victory! Both episodes maintain the status quo.
This doesn't mean that I like those episodes. I would rewrite both of them to let love win because they're good examples of small moments where love can win without cheapening or ruining the season's big climax. I just don't view these episodes as times when the show needed to use the power of love if it wanted to honor its chosen genre. That requirement only applies when it's a darkest night or toughest fight.
Before we move on, please note that Ladybug was the power of Adrien's love failing, yet I never mention it when I'm complaining about the power of love failing. That's because I'm never purposefully listing every time Adrien's love failed and ignoring everyone else. I'm simply listing the moments when love needed to let the heroes win because we were in one of the show's darkest hours and that is the only time when I consider the power of love a true requirement. Love can fail in small moments to increase the tension, but if love fails at the moment when all hope seems lost, then why are we even here?
There are only three episodes that get that level of criticism from me and each one had a single character whose writing infuriated me: Adrien.
Adrien vs The Power of Love
There are three episodes where Gabriel's identity is revealed and the final fight goes down. Those episodes are Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, and the season five final. In each of these episodes, Adrien suffers on a scale that no other character has had to suffer:
In Chat Blanc he is akumatized and forced to use his cataclysm to kill both his father and the love of his life, dooming him to spend eternity alone in a dead word.
In Ephemeral he is akumatized and forced to use his powers to hand the love of his life over to his father, thereby allowing Gabriel to win and rewrite reality.
In the season five final, Adrien is left alone in a jail cell, tormented by nightmares while his father dies leaving Adrien an orphan. Adrien is then told some truly colossal lies about what actually happened, leading him to believe that Gabriel scarified himself to save Ladybug's life. Since Chat Noir's usual role in fights is protecting Ladybug, this is arguably the equivalent of Adrien being told that his failure to show up killed his father. I'm not even sure if that's the wrong message because Gabriel did die from a cataclysm and Adrien would understandably blame himself for that, too, so maybe this was a way to address that without going too dark for kids and why does that argument hold water? Wtf was this trash fire of a story line???
When you compare Adrien's treatment in these episodes to something like Marinette's treatment in season four final you can hopefully see why it feels like comparing a broken arm to a mortal blow. It's not that Marinette doesn't suffer. In terms of individual moments of suffering, Marinette beats out every other character! But while she may beat Adrien in breadth, he is the clear winner in terms of depth and the only one who never gets a true power of love moment.
Marinette's darkest nights and toughest fights ultimately work out so that she can go on to some new type of suffering, the old suffering fading away to nothing more than memory. Adrien's darkest nights and toughest fights lead to loss and suffering for which there is no cure other than rewinding time or rewriting reality. The season five final even has Adrien directly state that he's not worthy of Marinette's love:
Adrien: I'm not in my right mind. I'm too angry — at myself for falling short of Marinette's love, at my father for sending me here in London, at this stupid app and these rings that use my image... it makes me sick! This nightmare is giving me the horrible feeling that, if I transform, I'll get akumatized and destroy everything with my Cataclysm — Marinette, Ladybug... (Takes off the ring and hands it to Plagg.) Plagg: Surely Ladybug can help you. Adrien: If I ask her for help, I'd have to give her information that would jeopardize my secret identity... and I can't.
This is literally Adrien's last scene in the main story line. He doesn't show up again until the happily ever after epilogue where he and Marinette kiss. In other words, the show had Adrien directly state that he's unworthy of Marinette's love and then did nothing to counter that statement. I guess this poor unfortunate soul is just lucky that Marinette likes him enough to keep him around in spite of his many failings...
Writers, seriously, what the hell are you doing? This is the kind of dialogue that should lead into a power of love moment! How is thinking about Marinette leading Adrien to despair instead of strength? Why is Plagg just accepting this? Plagg is a magical being who was assigned to watch over Adrien. Shouldn't a character like that help Adrien rally in his darkest night? Where's Adrien's you and me against the world pep talk? That should go both ways!!! Have him break out, call Ladybug to tell her that he's not coming, only for her to rally him so he comes and at least fights outside in the city while she does her solo fight! Don't leave him alone to rot while almost every other character in the freaking show gets to fight!
It would be one thing if Adrien gave up because he was alone and scared, but Plagg is there and the writers directly bring up Marinette and love only to do nothing to show those as positive forces in Adrien's life!!! Instead, Marinette is the thing that keeps him from the fight because Adrien's nightmare is him getting akumatized and killing Marinette even though Adrien knows nothing about Chat Blanc.
[Image description: Adrien's nightmare where he's a blue haired version of Chat Blanc, holding Marinette's body in his arms having killed her with a cataclysm]
To be clear, in each of the three episodes I listed above, Adrien is undeniably a victim suffering at the hands of his main abuser. They're also some of the worst moments of abuse in the entire show. It would be perfectly reasonable for a real life person to give into despair if they were put into this situation, but real life people don't transform into magical cat boys who wield the raw power of Destruction. I was not looking for realism here. I was looking for hope and inspiration!
I wanted to see Adrien win! I wanted his love for Marinette and/or his friends to give him the strength to overpower his father's control because that's what the power of love is all about! When all hope seems lost, it's there to let the hero win because love is stronger than despair, hatred, fear, and magical remote controls! It is the bright light that blasts away the darkness in your darkest night! Unless your name is Adrien Agreste, then no love for you! Suffer, feather boy, suffer!
Example of what I wanted from canon
There are many ways to fix these three episodes so love wins, but to keep this simple let's focus on Chat Blanc and what the power of love winning might look like if we let canon play unchanged up until the moment where Adrien loses control of his powers:
Hawk Moth: Cat Blanc, I'm giving you the infinite power of destruction!! Together, you and I will seize Ladybug's Miraculous and awaken your mother!!! Obey!!! Cat Noir: (tries to fight back but fails) I'm sorry, Ladybug! (He succumbs his akumatization and transforms into Cat Blanc. Ladybug watches in horror at his transformation.) Hawk Moth: Seize her Miraculous, My Son!!! (Cat Blanc lifts his right arm to Ladybug, activating Mega Cataclysm.) Ladybug: No, Adrien! You have to resist!! (Cat Blanc whimpers as he changes his mind and points his arm to Hawk Moth.) Hawk Moth: How dare you!? Not me, Adrien!! Cat Blanc: (whimpering while looking to both of them) I... I don't know what to do!!!!!!
Instead of having the mega cataclysm go off here, we instead see this: Ladybug and Hawk Moth both realize that Chat Blanc is incapable of listening to either of them. Hawk Moth's reaction is to turn and run away, desperate to save himself. Ladybug's reaction is to run to her boyfriend's side, not caring about the danger. She wraps her arms around him, closes her eyes, and tells him that it's okay. That she's here and she loves him and she'll stay here and love him no matter what. It doesn't matter who his father is, it's still him and her against the world now and forever.
The more she talks, the weaker the mega cataclysm grows. By the time she makes her final vow, the mega cataclysm is little more than a flickering glow. A black clad hand touches both of her hair ties, disintegrating them, leaving her hair to fall free around her face since that was a thing in this episode. The minor wardrobe change makes her pull back and look at her boyfriend to see that he's back to Chat Noir, a purified akumas fluttering off in the distance. Chat Noir is crying, clearly distraught, but he's himself again because Marinette's presence allowed him to focus on her love over his father's poison. They won. Love won. Fear and abuse lost.
The couple embraces. Hawk Moth's big gambit failed and they now know his identity so the fight is almost over. Paris will soon be free.
From there you can have an epic battle with the temp holders where the butterfly and the peacock are recovered. Nino gets to punch Gabriel in the face a dozen times or so as a treat and Adrien gets to cuddle up with some treats, sitting the fight out since he's already done his part by surviving the reveal of his father's identity.
You could also have Gabriel just give up because he doesn't have any moves left and the full implications of what he did are smacking him in the face, sapping him of the will to fight. Anything that lets this asshole suffer is fine by me! Emilie's fate is up to you. I like to make her at least semi-decent and revive her to give Adrien a happier ending and Gabriel the horror of divorce papers, but that's just me.
Final Thoughts
As I said at the top, I'm going to continue to complain about the way that Adrien was written in these episodes. I don't consider his victim status a reasonable excuse for the way these episodes played out. If anything, his victim status is an even bigger black mark against the writing!
I come to family-oriented media for hope and happy endings! I want stories about victims being empowered! I want Gabriel's controlling nature to totally backfire on him and not in a mutually-assured-destruction way like we saw in Chat Blanc. I want Gabriel's choice to cost him everything and for him to suffer that loss for the rest of his life while Adrien gets endless love and support, allowing him to survive the reveal and go on to live a happy life. If that's not what you're selling, then I'm not buying thus me giving up on canon after the season five final. There's just no coming back from that kind of colossal writing failure.
I will try to remember to use the word "forced" when describing the problems (as in "forced to kill"), but that's the only thing I can change while still sharing my honest opinion since my main problem with these episodes isn't Gabriel's treatment of Adrien. While I don't like how far these episodes took Gabriel, you don't need to rewrite him to make the episodes work. It doesn't matter how far the writing takes Gabriel, he should never be able to successfully manipulate Adrien while threatening Adrien's supposed True Love.
As soon as Adrien knows that Marinette/Ladybug is in danger, it should be game over for Gabriel because love is supposed to be stronger than all of the awful things that Gabriel has done up to and including the sentimonster crap. In fact, the sentimonster crap just makes it even more important for Adrien to win! Gabriel should think he has victory in the bag because he views Adrien as a perfect doll, but love proves Gabriel wrong letting Adrien overpower his amok and win. The trope is called "love conquers all" not "love conquers the mildly inconvenient." The more dire the straits, the more important the win!
Unfortunately, that's not the message Miraculous is sending. By letting Adrien give into his father's control in the show's darkest hours, the message is that Gabriel's control is stronger than love. That Adrien will never be free. That he was Gabriel's perfect doll and you were silly if you ever expected him to be more than that. That's not a message that I'm that ever going to agree with and is yet another reason why I only bring up Adrien + these three episodes when I talk about the power of love failing.
You are never going to convince me that Adrien being allowed to give into despair was a good thing unless you pair that argument with some major changes to canon like love square not being together and/or Adrien not knowing that his actions would endanger Marinette. Even then you need to design that fix in a way that ultimately allows Adrien to win otherwise you are sending a terrible message to the audience. There should never be a scenario where the final battle ends the way canon had it end.
Gabriel is the show's big bad, Adrien is his main victim, and the theme of their relationship has been control. That means that, when it comes to the final fight with Gabriel, Adrien needs to be involved in a way that gives him agency. I'm not saying he needs to fight his father on his own or even at all! I'm okay with him sitting out the fight so long as you pair it with something big like Adrien being the one to learn Gabriel's identity or something more dramatic like my simple Chat Blanc fix.
However, Adrien sitting out only works if it's his own, freely-made choice. As soon as you pair it with something like magic nightmare dust you are once again sending the message that Gabriel's control is the strongest force in Adrien's life. I truly don't understand how anyone can embrace that message and call it good, especially when canon didn't ultimately do something positive with it like letting Adrien become stronger as time went on. He actually got weaker as the show went on!
Chat Blanc saw everyone lose because Adrien was able to at least try to fight back, denying his father total victory. Ephemeral saw none of that fighting spirit and Gabriel just outright won. Season five once again saw Gabriel win only, this time, the show didn't even let Adrien be part of the fight. What an uplifting character arc for Adrien! (That was sarcasm.) Play the episodes in reverse order and you might actually have something if you add a fourth one where he finally wins!
If you want to talk about more minor conflicts where the power of love should have won then I'm happy to do that! Canon has lots of options to pick from! But unless you specify that you want to talk about something minor, these three episodes are going to be my only examples of the power of love failing because they are the only times when love completely failed the character in question. Total loss, no silver lining, writers wtf are you doing?
Listing times when love failed Marinette or Alya in the same list as these three episodes just feels insulting to Adrien unless the context is something like a list ranking the failures from smallest to largest. I'll once again point out that I don't even list the other times when love failed Adrien because my issue isn't Adrien as a person. My issue is Adrien as a tool of the narrative and the asinine message that the Agreste arc sends to the young children this show is aimed at. I wouldn't even be okay with this in a show aimed at adults unless it was clearly marketed as a grimdark take on superheroes. Miraculous should not feel like a kiddiefied version of The Boys and yet here we are.
Why was Adrien granted magical powers and allowed to fight his controlling father for five seasons if Gabriel was just going to die without Adrien getting a decisive victory? Why focus season five on Gabriel controlling Adrien to such an extreme if Adrien was never going to be allowed to break free? Why make Adrien the main love interest and focus the entire show on romantic love if you don't have anything positive to say about romantic love? Why bother getting the love square together before every single final showdown in the freaking show if their relationship status was going to mean nothing? Where is my power of love always so strong?
(Btw, that song I kept quoting is from the original English dub soundtrack to Sailor Moon R - The Promise of the Rose. It plays as love and friendship save the planet Earth from an asteroid. The updated dub replaced the song with the original Japanese soundtrack and the comments are full of people complaining about the change because the song just takes this scene to the next level! I bring this up because Sailor Moon set many people's standards for the magical girl team show genre that Miraculous is clearly taking inspiration from, but failing to fully embrace. If you don't want love and friendship to be on par with nuclear weapons and asteroid attacks, then don't write a show about love and magic aimed at kids.)
#ml writing critical#ml writing salt#power of love#adrien deserves better#reference#Fingers crossed that this goes over well#Hopefully now my brain will stop obsessing over this and we can go back to business as normal#Since trying to just stop thinking about it wasn't doing the trick#Fly free my little post! The fate of the blog rests in your hands!#I'd say that you hold my sanity's fate too but that's long gone so let's not overstate your mission.#Special thanks to my partner for listening to me read this from start to finish multiple times as I obsessed over the wording#Fun fact: I read around 10 love and friendship books over my brief break#They just stoked my rage over how badly Miraculous does this trope#How dare you spit in the face of my comfort food trope!!!!!!!!#Especially when it's such an easy trope to get right#We're talking about the power of love here not a successful strategy for winning a land war in Asia
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In honor of whatever Jewish holiday is close when you get to answering this (currently Passover), what's the deal with that Monolith guy?
This is only going to work once and it's still getting your position reset to the bottom of the answer list because it is CHEATING. I don't know the Jewish holidays but I DO know that Passover is one of, if not the most important one and considering how...well let's just say how things have been going for my Jewish friends out there on the wide interwebs I feel its important to let people know where I stand. Like the blog says, we support Jews here. Also if I do this no one is allowed to judge me for how many Yiddish words I drop into every piece I write. ANYWAY.

(A painting of the Monolith, showing it standing literal watch over Brooklyn. Not to scale) "The Monolith" is a Golem. Which...umm... Look, I'm not a Jewish mythological scholar. Jewish mysticism is a whole kettle of fish and the worst part about trying to make heads or tails of it is that a big chunk of the information offered online is from people who AREN'T Jewish trying to sell you a 12 week course on the Kabbalah to make your dick bigger or something. Assume I am taking this information directly from as trustworthy sources as I POSSIBLY can and if I say something horribly untoward then I ask that the righteous bricks through my window be limited to one. If you want to learn some Jewish history, look up Sam Aronow on Youtube and thank me later. To avoid another false start. The Monolith is a Golem, a creature formed usually out of clay and animated by Jewish mysticism to serve as guardian and protector for a local Jewish community. The most famous one is in Prague, the Golem known as the monolith was animated at some point in the mid 30s. Theories abound as to whom or why but during the weeks leading directly up to the Monolith's appearance the Brooklyn Jewish community had come under a rash of attacks from local bootleggers and mafiosos leaving many dead and multiple businesses up in flames when the community was in the depth of the Great Depression.
The Monolith was only originally active for a very short time before its prerogative to track down and halt those who would put Brooklyn's Jews and risks lead to it unleashing violent attacks on what were purported to be small time or nonviolent offenders. It vanishes from the historical record close to a year before the Crimson Avenger and the Sandman make the scene. Stories abound that just like the golems of other cities it is sealed away awaiting a time in which it is needed to defend the Jews of Brooklyn once again. It only reappears in the modern day where it is reported to have fought a demon underneath an old church near its old neighborhood, as well as teaming up with Batman to halt a series of arsonist attacks on Brooklyn's Muslims from an Islamophobic bigot calling himself The Incinerator. It also battles a creature of animated iron that people also call a Golem but I have no citation on that and helps break up a trafficking ring. It shows up for a very short time during the so called 'Battle for Bludhaven' after the dropping of Chemo decimated many of the city's lower income neighborhoods including its Jewish quarter. There it clashed with the government goon squad Freedom's Ring and assisted the modern Freedom Fighters in making sure the disaster didn't continue to spread helping to salvage the city as it still exists to this day. (Whether this is a good act depends on one's opinion on Bludhaven/s) Since then? Its most often cited around the NYCAT (New York Citizen's Assistance Team) Center in Brooklyn, a mutual assistance network for Brooklyn's lower class or homeless citizens. As is shocking to truly no one the last year or so of sightings have been it standing guard against or breaking up hamasnik mobs around synagogues, Jewish cultural centers and Hebrew schools because people DEEPLY suck. It's a hero that means a lot of things to a lot of people. Finding sources on it it was hard to not stumble into antisemetic corners who basically called it the second coming of Mongul just for existing because it will stand there for 30 minutes getting belted with bottles and only start shoving when the bottles start getting aimed at somebody else. This has been the pattern placed upon openly Jewish superheroes for the past year or more, where their every action is vilified because protecting Jewish communities is what they've always done. To that I respond the same I would respond to anyone who was complaining about an 'ethnic' superhero of any other kind: What the hell are you doing that a superhero whose purpose is to defeat threats to Jewish communities has suddenly become a problem for you? Why have you joined the same cohort as a literal demon and a terrorist lighting mosques on fire?
#dc#dcu#dc comics#dc universe#superhero#comics#tw unreality#unreality#unreality blog#ask game#ask blog#asks open#please interact#worldbuilding#monolith
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Hey I just wanted to say I really love your Harley and believe you're the only one who got his character so far.I am also in love with your y/n and how you didn't make her perfect or useless.Not to be a bother but can you show or tell us Harley and y/n's relationship after their first kiss or just any of their general interactions?Whatever suits you,thank you.
It doesn't bother me at all, thank you for asking and I so happy I got Harley right. 💖💖
HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCOLOGIST READER
AFTER KISS HEADCANNONS

The first thing you noticed was Harley's hand on your face, caressing your cheek. He was only going to quickly clean near your lip but after feeling your jaw, your face, brushing his fingers against your neck he couldn't resist to cup your cheek.
The other hand fell down to loosely grab your waist. He was getting closer and you could feel his breath on your lips. You slowly put your hands on his shoulder, testing how he would react.
"Harley" you mumbled, you lips brushing his. That was enough for him to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips moving together, not in perfectly or coordinately way, but in your own way.
You tightened your grasp in the fabric of his shoulder as he fully envolved your waist with his hand while the one that was on you face fell down to your neck where he started caressing.
Finally you both separated from the kiss, both of you agitated but still close. His hand was still on your cheek and yours still on his shoulders
You looked at him again and got close to give him another short kiss. "Do you have any appointments left for today?" Harley asked you. "Yes I do, I still have to supervise Kissy Missy, she hasn't been responding lately"
"Good, come to my office after that, we have to discuss this in depth." He let you go and while you went to the enclosure of said toy, he remained still in the corridor looking at you intensely.
HEADCANNONS After the kiss:
At first sigh, there wasn't much change, maybe the staff of the company noticed you being closer than usual.
Now, Doctor Sawyer and you were seen together very often. Maybe not all lovey dovey but together nonetheless. The caretakers saw often Dr Sawyer accompanying you when you needed to go to Home sweet Home to talk with the children.
Once Ludwig joked to Sawyer that you two seemed glued together and Harley only shrugged not denying anything.
Now that you two had already acknowledged your feelings, little things he did for you sometimes became the norm and started becoming part of your routine.
For example: When you were finishing a design late at night in his office (you often spend time together in each others offices) and he was finishing surgery reports, he would offer you the sofa to sleep in.
Once you were asleep he would raise his gaze from the papers and look at you. Some nights, he would even approach you and touch your face very lightly, not wanting to wake you up.
Quiet moments like this made him calm and let him forget, just a little, about all of the chaos and restriction that your jobs were.
In the nights that he was in your office, he would be just behind you with his hand on your shoulder, looking at you writing and archiving some documents. Caressing your shoulder, then the back of your neck and sometimes, if he was feeling kind enough, he would massage the back of your scalp with his long, cold fingers.
Another thing that became more regular between you both was physical contact. He wasn't a touchy person. Hell he even felt repelled to it sometimes, but one thing he loved was the back massages you gave him.
He had a very tensed back and it felt like heaven whenever you would untangle all of the knots.
So he payed you back giving you head massages. He was probably the only person allowed to tangle and touch your hair. You two just melt into each others arms when you had contact.
Another thing that was common now was that you would do little task for each other. Like for example, Harley reminding you that you needed to drink water. You were so concentrated into your work that you just forgot how much time it had been since your last glass of water.
You sometimes shave the little stubble he had on the sides of his face, styling his facial hair so he would look all put together. This also applied with the hair. You cut his hair and mantain it in the way he liked.
One night that you miraculously ended your work sooner than expected he invited you for dinner.
The restaurant was a fancy one, both your salaries permitted you to be there.
The night went by very calmly, you talked about work and what projects you had in mind. At some point you started talking about your experiences in collage...
The night continued to go on until you both finally went to your apartment. You lived in a good neighborhood and your place was nicely decorated. The first thing Harley though when entering your apartment was you. Everything in there screamed you.
You invited him to a few drinks and gave him some reports and books about investigations on child psychology so he could study his experiments on a deeper level.
The drinks were forgotten on the table after a few sips.
He barely talked while you ranted for minutes about techniques to manage anxiety crisis or stress attacks that sometimes overcame the toys on the prison.
He looked at you, talking and talking. It was always like this. You talked nonstop and he would listen, but lately he also started admiring you. Your hand gestures, you movements, your words slipping due to talking to fast...
You stopped talking when he started to gently stroke your neck with a precision only a surgeon could manage to have. He started naming the muscles, nerves, veins and arteries that were in your neck
With each name he said, he got closer to you to the point of feeling his lips touching your neck.
He repeated the list of names but now kissing each place he named while laying you on the sofa of your living room.
There's no need to say that the night didn't end quickly.
————————————————————————
Another thing you both got used to do was taking books from your offices. Harley had anatomy books and autobiographies in his office and you had sociological, historic and anthropological ones.
Often you would spend your breaks in each others offices reading in the sofa, just enjoying each others presence.
The staff already suspected that you two were either together or at the verge to be. Hell even one of the children had drew you and Harley sit together in a chair while interviewing him.
Stella went to tease you about the drawing, and insisted on you keeping it.
At some point some guards started to joke about the two of you being together.
"Where is Dr (Y/L/N) right now, we have matter to discuss with them?" Leith asked to one of the guards accompanied by Stella
We need to discuss with her some changes on the home sweet home caretakers" Stella added.
She is in the observation room 007, accompanied by Dr Sawyer, sir" He responded cordially.
Both executives went to said room while the guard looked sideways to his coworker who was chuckling to himself.
"What are you laughing about" He asked, questioning what had his companion found that it was so funny
"Nothing, just wondering how Dr Sawyer would react when 'Mrs Sawyer' gets taken by these two for a reunion. I bet five dollar he will accompany them when they get out." He was now laughing a little bit louder but covering his mouth.
"You shouldn't be talking about that kind of stuff. If either of them hear you you might be the next dinner of Boxy Boo." He couldn't believe his coworkers audacity. He wasn't being discreet at all and that might cost them their jobs and life's.
Just as the guard predicted, the four executives went to the upper levels. Apparently Harley insisted on supervising the changes on the environment of the potential experiments children
-Unedited-
#x reader#poppy playtime#harley sawyer x reader#headcannons#dr harley sawyer#the doctor x reader#the doctor#fanfic#harley sawyer
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My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)
My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?
5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal
Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.
This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)
He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!
I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)
Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.
And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.
I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.
Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.
Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.
Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.
Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.
I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.
It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.
We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)
4. Market Scene
ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.
SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.
I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.
If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!
There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.
I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.
"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.
Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.
She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.
Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.
When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!
3. Candy Tent
Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!
Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.
Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"
The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!
I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.
Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.
He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.
Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.
His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.
I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.
Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.
Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!
2. First kiss/Dream Sequence
Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.
This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?
The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.
This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!
then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!
What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.
Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.
THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.
This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!
Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.
1. Carriage Scene
Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.
And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.
How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.
Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)
He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.
The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.
on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.
Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....
Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.
Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3
#polin#analysis#bridgerton#long post#penelope featherington#colin bridgerton#season 3#spoilers#carriage scene#first kiss#romance
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