#dreamed up an amusement park that was almost made to kill people last night

[ferocity-flynt]

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[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Falling in love always meant falling out of it...

...but with Nanami Kento you never had the chance.

Hard and impassive as ever, Nanami said nothing. Age, it seemed, had made him even less of a talker than before. It has been several years since you had seen the man last. You still saw him as hed been. 17 and full of promise.

When disaster struck, no one saw it coming. You were both devastated by loss. Haibara’s untimely death, Geto senpai’s defection, the events hit you hard. Him, more than anything. It was then that you had both decided to abandon the Jujutsu world after graduating, opting instead to take part in regular society. Society where the people in charge weren't comfortably killing children daily. Where you would have a chance to live past 30.

So you wrapped up your life of curses and coffins and went to work. Day in and day out. The cold grey office space. Killing you in a different way. But the corporate world suited Nanami. Dressed immaculately with his hair now cut short and styled in a way that made him look so much more mature, you admitted to yourself, he was attractive.

Having left at the same time you found comfort in each other. The jobs you did took up the majority of your days but the evenings were spent first, just hanging out, and then, as the days turned to weeks turned to months, it was just easier to stop pretending there wasn't something there. His quiet storm complimented your gentle calm. It worked.

You started dating. Dinners, movies, sometimes even amusement parks. But mostly, home with each other. Reveling in the presence of the other.

The first time he kissed you, it had been so cliche. He'd taken you to dinner and bought you flowers – lilies. Then dropped you off at your apartment.

“May I kiss you?” He'd asked.

And though he spoke it clearly, the subtle rasp in his throat and the slight tensing of his shoulders told you all you needed to know. You’d nodded and he'd bent down to kiss you, softly pecking at your lips.

The first time he made love to you it was just as sweet. He had asked you for permission, which when given, he had taken full advantage of. He treated you like a queen. His queen. Kneeling between your thighs, worshiping at the altar of your lust. His velvet tongue unceasing…

Every moment with him had felt like bliss. Wrapped in each other's company it was easier to keep the horrors of your pasts at bay. But it wasn't meant to last…

There were dreams, no, not dreams. Nightmares. Guilt ate away at the man shaking him awake in the dead of the night. His friends, his peers, you, dead. Lost to the curses that still roamed unchecked. Powerful creatures, dark and evil, ripping, tearing, obliterating. The feeling became too much to bear.

Nanami knew he had to go back. He didn't want to ask you to join him. You would be safer away. He would do anything to keep you safe…

So he left you. He packed up his things and returned to the world you had sworn you wouldn't touch again.

Heart shattered, and not willing fully to follow him, you accepted an attractive position that had been offered to you in Germany. The benefits were amazing. You jumped at the chance. There was a hope that once you were there, you would forget him. But part of you knew you were fooling yourself. Nanami was not a man one could get over…

So here you stood. 20 years later. In front of him – a cold stony facade.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

He did not respond.

“I never should have left! I should have come back with you! I should have–”

The tears fell down your cheeks onto the ground below.

“I still love you, Nanami Kento…” you composed yourself and pulled out a handkerchief from your handbag to dab at the tears.

“I still love you Nanami Kento.”

Strong warm hands grasped your shoulders holding you up. In the corner of your eye you saw his pink hair flashing reddish in the sun. Almost like fire. Itadori Yuuji, the man who finally connected you with your lost love.

“I'm sorry I'm late. Parking was tough. Here,” he handed you a large bouquet of white lilies. “You should give them to him. He’d like that.”

You kneeled down and laid the flowers on the cold marble gravestone.

“Yes, yes he would…”

🩷and reblogs are appreciated. Comments too.

[gabessquishytum]

CW: past child abuse, past parricide

Special inspector Hob Gadling hates his job. Well, it's actually not true - he loves his job, but today specifically, he hates it. First, he was hoping for a bonus, and now he got assigned to a years-old cold case 'just to ensure that no new details emerged, and the investigation needs not to be reopened.' Second, he'll have to deal with some filthy rich weirdos.

Destiny Endless is a top-tier consulting risk manager, his services costing more than Hob's yearly paycheck. Death is the founder of a successful chain of funeral homes - after all, people always die, and rumor has it that Death is the best in her line of work. Dream is a famous writer who's able to write it all: whatever genre he sets his eyes - and pen - on, the book becomes a bestseller. Desire Endless is a porn star; the only mention of their name makes armies of fans go hard, wet, and horny. Despair founded a pharmaceutical corporation and revolutionized the world by introducing new, highly effective antidepressants. Destruction seems like the only normal person in that fucked-up family of masterminds: he had made a career in the military and then fucked off to travel the world. Last but not least, there is Delirium, an artist. Personally, Hob thinks that one needs to be constantly high to come up with such colors and forms, but hey, it's not him who's paid six figures to install some mind fuckery in amusement parks, so he doesn't get to judge.

Hob wouldn't come close to any of these freaks, but he has to verify that nothing was missed during the investigation, and so, here he goes. Mama and Papa of the Endless disappeared almost twenty years ago with no trace. Their bodies were never found, and there was no evidence of foul play. They just vanished into thin air, voilà. It was presumed that they had got bored, bought themselves new personalities, and left to live someplace else. To Hob, this seems strange yet plausible: looking at their kids, it's obvious that insanity runs in the family.

Still, Hob shows up to do his job, examine old records, and talk once again with all the Endless heirs. All goes very smoothly - there's nothing suspicious, all the kids' testimonies match. Hob would gladly close the check, but there is one tiny problem: he fell head over heels in love with Dream. Now in his thirties, he's unconventionally beautiful, insanely talented, and he's got Hob wrapped around his slender finger. Dream keeps his distance at first, but eventually, they begin dating. Hob finally closes the check for good - it's as clear as day that Endless parents must be chilling on some private island - and plunges into the relationship with Dream, learning him from the other side, as someone vulnerable, insecure, and kind-hearted. There's only one strange thing: Dream is inexperienced in bed for his age, and he's always somewhat tense during sex. Hob tries to talk to him, but Dream shuts the conversation down. Hob guiltily googles his bf and finds out that despite his high profile, there are no mentions of his exes in the media. At all.

Hob is puzzled, but it all falls into place when, one night, his lover has a nightmare. Hob wakes up from his screams and, with horror, realizes that this is more than a nightmare - it's a memory. He wakes Dream up and holds him while he cries. On the periphery of his mind, Dream's screams and pleas create a terrifying story of the siblings being abused by their parents for years.

'You killed them together, didn't you? Each of you thought you were the only one who suffered and thus kept the others safe. But once you all learned the truth…' Hob whispers into Dream's hair and holds him tighter. 'It's alright, my sweetling. I'd have killed them myself for you if they had been still alive.'

They stay like that through the night. In the morning, Hob makes Dream breakfast like nothing happened and goes to work. He's got no reason to worry about the case ever being reopened: there's no evidence, and he's determined to be the only one who sleeps by Dream's side till the end and holds him through his dreams and nightmares.

I love this so much. Poor, poor Dream. And the rest of the siblings too!

Hob doesn't want to draw further attention to the case of course, but he does all he can at work to make sure that files are carelessly "lost" or at least buried so deep in the archive no one will find it for a century. It even occurs him to frame someone else for the crime to make sure that the siblings are thoroughly safe, but... its better left forgotten. God knows Hob will spend the rest of his career making sure that no one ever goes sniffing around the Endless siblings ever again.

What's more he'll spend the rest of his life helping Dream in his recovery. He makes sure that he has private, confidential access to resources that a survivor should have - none of the siblings ever told anyone about the abuse or went to therapy because they're terrified to look like they had a "motive" to get rid of their parents. Hob changes that. He persuades as many of the siblings as he can to visit trusted therapists. Not all of them go for it, but at least someone is finally advocating for them and offering a little bit of support.

Hob loves Dream most of all of course, but he considers all the siblings as his family. He hates what happened to them. He can't fix it. But he can protect and love them as they deserve. Maybe all of them can finally breathe a little easier, with a friend on their side.

[maybebored]

Dream 2: That Snake and Lego

I had two dreams last night. Details are a little cloudly now that it’s been several hours but I’m going to write the short parts I remember from it anyways.

Snake rules the Boat 🐍🛥️

      The first dream had to do with living on a boat and having a very shifty, long, several meters long snake living with us. It was really long. Like think the snake from The Jungle Book but twice as thicc and more of a light pale-ish green and yellow. He could strangle me by the waist if he wished.

     So we obtained the snake from the previous owners because he ate the wife and I don’t know why we have it but because of that I was very wary of the snake and really did not know why my parents thought it was a good idea to go out to sea with a snake that murdered its previous owner because there really was no way to escape from that snake in the ocean. Yeah. I made breakfast and stuff and talked to some friends and generally lived out of the way of the snake. 

     On details of the boat, it’s blue, a fishermen’s boat, and there’s water in the kitchen that comes up to like half of your foot from the floor to your ankle. There’s also various random animals scattered across the boat like that one furry round brown muskrat-looking dude. And I think there might have been other small creatures too, but not rats, probably hamster or guinea pig of some sort.       Anyways, one day the snake got mad at me, idk why, maybe because I do want to kill it sometime, but I never told it that. So we’re there and I’m backing to the side of the boat trying to calm the angry snake down and next thing I know I’m wrestling with it and we fall off the boat. There’s a huge shark that appears almost immediately, a great white shark. I try to abandon the fight and get back on the boat. Snake is really good at swiming and gets back on the boat too.       The boat makes way back to shore and parks by some old dock next to a market and we’re just catching our breath and I guess the fight is over. Snake goes to the market and I’m annoyed at my parents for keeping the snake.

The Lego House (and People) 🧍🏠

The second dream is something about lego and slowly turning into machinery.  My family is out looking for a place to stay, maybe cuz we decided the boat and snake was a bad idea, but there was this set of houses that looked really nice and modern but also quite expensive. No idea how we would be able to afford that, but the lady advertising the house led us in and my brother and I explored the rooms while my parents got the sales pitch. 

It was probably part of some home owners association, except we were told it’s owned by LEGO, and it was pinkish outside with one part of the building just sloping downwards like a weird lego brick. ✨modern houses✨ya know?

So I’m inside going to different rooms and my brother tells me, “that’s your room, I’m taking the other one.” The room he was mentioning was the one right by the door, even before the kitchen and the living room. It was also by far the most ordinary one. The living room was strange. It was mostly empty, with round cusions on the floor one end, and there was a literal amusement park ride that started by one side of the room and went through a door sized archway into another room. Instead of the usual seats, the two-seater ride had plush sofa seats and round cushions. There was the usual single handlebar that you would pull down on your lap for safety though. 

It was strange but I continued on to another room, hearing my parents and the saleswoman come closer. By now I’m feeling a little strange. My movements seem to be... jerkier. I can see myself lifting my arms in an odd fashion, not clumsily but stiffly. My brother is excitedly looking around his new bedroom and I can’t really see much but a strange swing that resembles the ziplines they put in fancy park playgrounds, the flat round plastics attached to a rope. His appearance has changed and his eyes have grown much bigger and his body, plasticky yellowish. His arms are gone, he’s now like a yellow russian stacking doll without curves. His eyes now large googly eyes and he’s jumping around excitely but without bending motions, just like a bad rendering animation. I tell him that “hmm that’s cool” but also asked him if he feels like there’s anything off about the place. I tell him I feel like I’m moving stiffly and something is strange about the yellowy haze I’m feeling. His googly eyes narrow in a way I didn’t realize was possible and he tells me that no, I’m just jealous of his place that’s so cool and turns around to continue his playing.

I head to my parents to tell them about the strange vibes I feel about the place. They’re with the saleswoman and they’re scooching into the two-seater ride, inspecting the softness of the seats and my mom comments to my dad about the different ways we could possibly use it. They’re a little yellow too. I walk up to them and ask them if they’re sensing anything strange about the place and the saleswoman prattles on about how the machienery works and pulls the lever to get the ride to start. I don’t know what to think about it but I don’t know where the ride leads to because there’s no door to go see unless I get in a ride myself. I’m quite certain that my parents will not be human once they return from the ride but I don’t know how to tell them that and off they go.

I wake up from my alarm clock. Sorry, I didn’t end up seeing what transformation took place. Could have been fun. p.s. We’re not actually turning into legos, more like a bad knock off version. Without limbs.

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[h2bakugou]

Hey, I saw requests were open and got realll excited I wondering if you could do a little angsty/fluffy scenario for Bakugou where it's his s/o's birthday and him and the class starts ignoring her but their actually trying to surprise her?

a/n: hiya!! awe this is super cute and soft, and i think it’s time to break out soft bakugou again, skfjdskf thank you for the request hun!!

summary: with your birthday coming up, you half expected bakugou to at least send you a text but when it seems like the entire class is constantly avoiding you, you can’t help but feel a little bummed out, that is until...

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, some angst

word count: 1.8k

;cut for length;

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Waking up the day before your birthday was always a little nerve-wracking. You were a little anxious to see if anyone would notice. It wasn’t like you expected a big grand celebration, but you’d been stressing, even a little upset since you asked Bakugou if he would be free the day of, to which he declined.

You were almost certain he knew of your birthday, you know you've at least mentioned it a few times to him, and his mom, who has stated multiple times that she wants to have you over for cake or whatever you’d prefer the weekend of your birthday.

You were about ready to just go celebrate with Bakugou’s parents since they seemed to be the only ones who remembered, the text that had come through earlier in the morning furthering your proof of Mitsuki’s knowledge on your date of birth.

What stung a little more than the fact that Bakugou hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that your birthday was tomorrow, was the way he didn’t even think it was within the week, or even the month.

You wouldn’t have been nearly as upset if maybe he’d guessed the date wrong, but now things were just starting to make you feel upset.

It didn’t feel like something you should be so upset over. You felt a little selfish, wondering why something so small, such as acknowledgment of your birthday from your boyfriend, was bothering you so much.

Deep down, however, you were excited. For your birthday. And the warm feeling of birthday wishes, from anyone, especially your significant other, always felt ten times warm and fuzzier inside.

But you trudged on, went to class, and tried your best to keep a smile on your face. Even during lunch, Kaminari, who seemed to do nothing but run his mouth, was quiet.

Everyone was. It felt, strange.

And now, you were wondering if maybe it was something deeper. Had something changed during the week? Were you not caught up? Why did it feel like everyone at your lunch table despised you, Bakugou leading the group as he barely even looked at you when he was sitting right beside you.

But when the day was over, you didn’t even bother sitting in the commons until most everyone went to bed. You finished your homework early and sat in your dorm, trying to cheer yourself up. 

And as the clock passed midnight, you wished yourself a lousy happy birthday before tucking yourself into bed.

Nothing prepared you for what was to come when you woke up.

The ear-deafening alarm on your phone woke you up to nothing. A blank screen. One single notification about a software update on your phone. You hadn’t expected your parents to text you this early, they were probably still in bed.

Their messages came in around the time classes started.

But getting dressed and meeting up with Bakugou, you tried your best to hold your head up high.

“Hey ‘Suki.” You smiled, standing beside him as he slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave the dorms to head to school.

“Hey.” Was all he said. You nodded and sighed, staring at the ground.

“Today’s gonna be a fun day, don’t ‘cha think?” You tried to hint at the topic but nothing seemed to give.

“What, you think tests in algebra are fun?” It was like a slash to your heart.

“No, it’s my birthday.” You whispered, gathering your things and walking away, walking straight out the door to the school.

Bakugou’s heart stung. In truth, he’d arranged a whole party for you. Everyone was kind of shocked to hear the words ‘I need your help’ come from his tight lips.

He was flustered and trying not to kill Kaminari who was already making fun of him. But he’d arranged the whole thing, planning it out down to a t.

He’d asked for everyone, especially Kaminari not to say anything about it, and he didn’t think much of it. But now his heart hurt, watching you fight back tears as you felt like he’d forgotten, as if everyone had forgotten.

Bakugou wanted to chase you down, pull you into a kiss, and wish you happy birthday, but he didn’t. The surprise would be coming up soon enough.

Sato presented the cake he’d made the night before and everyone was shocked to see how beautiful it looked.

“Oh, she’s gonna love it!” Mina cheered, helping the class pull out some of the decorations.

They’d be tasked with putting up decorations during lunch and after classes let out when Bakugou would keep you in the library for at least another hour.

Bakugou would make it up to you in the end if you still felt upset. But he was counting on this being the best damn birthday surprise, especially since he thought of it.

You were the first one to class. Slumped in your seat, you noticed Present Mic walk in.

“Happy birthday! Would you like a super awesome birthday track played on my show tonight?” Mic was genuinely surprised to see you break down crying after saying something so happy.

“You’re the first person to tell me happy birthday today.” You wiped your eyes, embarrassed to be sappy in front of your teacher.

“Oh, well then an extra special happy birthday! If you’ve got a song you’d like to play, just stop on by the studio!” Mic smile before exiting. You couldn’t think of a song you’d want to broadcast to the entire school on Mic’s radio show but if something came to mind you might just have to stop by, he seemed like he could be pretty fun to party with, if maybe he weren’t your teacher.

The thought of spending your birthday moping alone with one of your teachers didn’t sound at all like the dream you’d had about today. 

No, you wanted to be hand-in-hand with your boyfriend talking a walk through a pretty park, or stargazing under the night sky, or spending time at some sort of amusement center with your class, having fun.

But as students piled into the classroom, not a single happy birthday left any of them.

Not even Bakugou who now knew.

Getting through class was about as fun as watching paint dry. But when it was done, everyone rushed out, leaving you confused.

“Where is everyone going?” You asked, stopped by Bakugou who’s hand landed over yours on the top of your desk.

“Hell if I know.” He stared down at you, books in hand.

“You don’t wanna go with them?” You looked away, pulling your hand out from under his.

“Don’t tell me you already forgot.” You mumbled. Bakugou tugged you along to the library, silent the entire way.

Sitting across from him, you didn’t even have a clue as to why you were here, but not even thirty minutes later you were being tugged right back to the dorms.

“What’s your problem?” You stop, about three minutes away from the dorm.

“Huh? The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Bakugou stopped, his hands slung in his pants pockets.

“It’s my birthday Katsuki. And I told you that earlier, and you couldn’t even remember for a couple of hours? Am I that forgettable to you?” You sniffled, staring at him as your eyes began to sting with tears.

“I was busy. Had to focus for all that work.”

“And you still avoid saying it! I just, I just wanted to hear it from you. Is it so selfish of me that I just want to hear my boyfriend tell me happy birthday?” You felt like digging a hole and crawling into it. 

With shut eyes, squeezed so tight so you couldn’t see anything, you felt a hand land in yours, fingers intertwining with yours.

A finger under your chin lifted your head up, tear-stained cheeks and all, and a warm pair of cinnamon-tasting lips landed on yours.

“I never forgot, dumbass. I just wanted today to be special.” Bakugou whispered against your lips. Suddenly his free hand landed over your eyes as he tugged you along, your hands now gripping at his arm.

“Hey! Wait, what’s going on?!” You shrieked, confused as you moved unconsciously.

“Just hush for five seconds.” Bakugou sighed, pulling you up to the dorms, shoving you inside.

Removing his hand, Bakugou landed his hand on your shoulder and your eyes opened.

Your once rapidly spinning world was now standing still.

“Happy birthday!!” Your peers cheered. Familiar faces of your classmates, friends from Class 1-B, the Big Three, Eri, even Mr. Aizawa, and All Might were standing there in cheesy party hats.

“Wait...” You sniffled harder, tears now pouring from your eyes.

"Ah, don’t cry, idiot!” Bakugou shook your shoulders from behind you.

“I thought you all forgot! How could I not cry?!” You wiped your eyes with both of your hands, trying not to laugh at yourself.

“You can thank your boyfriend for the party! We were all gonna get you gifts but Bakugou suggested a party!” Kaminari finally blurts out.

“You were all so quiet, because of this party? And it was all your idea?” You turned to Bakugou. He sighed and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

You gave him a big hug and pressed a cute kiss to his cheek, earning a few ‘awes’ from some of your peers.

“Thank you. Thank you all.” You tried to stop crying, but it felt impossible. Bakugou just nodded, ushering you to go and give some people hugs.

The festivities lasted pretty much all evening, from opening gifts to eating the delicious cake Sato baked for you.

You had a fun time with everyone, and after thanking everyone for the time, you sought after Bakugou on your way back to your dorm with all of your things.

“I’m sorry. For earlier.” You apologized, feeling a bit embarrassed for seemingly going off on him.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry for acting like a dick. I just wanted to surprise you with the best fuckin’ party.” Bakugou’s intentions weren’t vile, and you couldn’t be mad at him. You shook your head and pulled him into your dorm as you set your things down.

“Can we watch a movie together, and cuddle? I think I could take that as an apology.” You smirk.

“I know you’re not mad. But if that’s what you want.” Bakugou gets into his usual position, under your covers, waiting for you to join him. You stood speechless.

“Wh- I went off on you! Of course I was mad- But- I-” You huff and crawl into your bed beside him.

“You’re not still upset is what I’m trying to say, dumbass. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.” Bakugou kissed the top of your head. You snuggled into his side and smiled.

“You really planned that whole party just for me?” You looked up at him as he selected a movie to watch.

“I wouldn’t be the best fucking boyfriend if I didn’t.” He said smugly.

“All for you. And I would do it again.” Bakugou glanced down at you.

“Because you deserve it. I love you.” Bakugou mumbled his ‘I love you’ a little softer, but you heard.

“I love you too.” You lean over and peck his lips, smiling as you snuggle into him, ready to unwind after having so much fun.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[mae-gi-writes]

Twilight | Changmin (The Boyz)

Twilight drives and tender eyes.

Genre: fluff, little angst if you squint, soft Changmin hours, Changmin being the softest bf ever.

----

"Stop! Changmin seriously!"

The said brunette's grin widens and in response, he follows up with more splashes, his giggles mixing in with the scent of salt as the ocean roars behind you in the distance.

You duck, hands covering your face and hair -- to no avail -- before splashing him back in retaliation. It's cold and soaks you right to the bone, but nothing can compare to the stupid grin that's been permanently stretched across your face from the moment Changmin had greeted you with a coffee and a promise to soak up the sunlight at twilight.

He had a tendency to do that. Just appear out of the thin air whenever you were having a hard time and drive you along the coast of the country till the weight in your heart had lifted.

"Ha! Take that!" Changmin childishly sticks out his tongue when you got drenched by an ongoing wave, only to yelp himself when it swept him off his feet.

You burst out laughing, "say what?!" You taunt, giggles intensifying when he sticks out the finger in mock annoyance.

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon as you clamber back into his used-up, battered red Honda and get hit in the face with Changmin's towel, "ow!"

"That's for laughing at me earlier," comes his muffled alto. Then, before you can retort, his hands come on either side of your head. He rubs att your hair, drying it off, and your heart warms up at his gesture.

When your eyes manage to peek out of the towel, you offered him a soft smile, "thanks."

Changmin stills for a moment as he gazed back in your eyes. Features softening, he leans down to drop a shy kiss at your temple, "pleasure," his words tickle your forehead and you swear that heat has blossomed through your limbs at his sweet countenance.

"Want me to drive?" You offer while watching him pull out of the parking lot, eyes lingering over the curve of his arm, the way the golden hues of the sun bathes his side profile.

Changmin snorts, "and get myself killed? No thank you."

"Says the one who failed his driving test three times."

"That was the policeman's fault."

"It's okay Changmin. Not everyone can be as talented as I am in driving," you taunt as you reached for some chips you'd packed in your bag, pop it open to offer him some, "also, was it necessary to drive all the way out here just for the beach? There's a beach back home too, you know?"

"So that we could bump into people we know? No way," he shakes his head, "not my style. Anyway, it's prettier here."

The more you gaze fondly at the young man sitting beside you, the more your heart beats for him, dances to the rhythm of his laughter and reacts to the curve of his smile.

You are lucky. Oh so lucky indeed.

A comfortable silence eases your nerves and as you settle comfortably in the passenger seat, you let out the softest of sighs while taking in the array of trees spilling on both sides of the quiet road. It's almost as if only you and Changmin are present in this very moment. Reddish gold sunlight streams through the leaves, the darkening purple sky softening life and all its forms. Somewhere in the distance, you catch the sound of a bird singing.

"Oh let's stop here for a minute," Changmin says. You follow the direction of his gaze towards the edge of the forest lining that gives view of the ocean lying beyond. Pulling onto the side of the road, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and ushers you out so that you stand only a few feet away from the edg of the cliff.

"Now that-- that's what I brought you here for," his murmur gets washed out by the crashing of waves below. A deathly drop if one was to jump. You are so mesmerized by the swirls of foam that you don't miss your boyfriend's absence -- until coldness suddenly presses to your cheek.

Jumping slightly, you turn towards him to see that he's holding out a beer that he has previously cracked open, and gratefully take it from him with a soft thanks. He takes his place next to you amidst the tall grass and it's almost like instinct that your body curves into his ever so slightly, your shoulder meeting his own while admiring the gradation of blues and mixed purples and soft dimming oranges that are washing out by the minute.

"Is it safe here?" You can't help but wonder aloud.

"I'd like to say yes," his face looks so determined that you giggle slightly, "you're so dumb."

"Is that what you say to the best boyfriend in the world?" He gasps mockingly, hand over his chest to stare at you. Trust Changmin for always being a drama queen, "I am hurt, Y/N!"

"Oh shut up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Dream on," your cheeks flush despite the tone of finality in your voice, though you don't protest upon feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder to pull you close. He giggles in response as his nose bumps against the side of your head and you flush with even more heat.

To distract yourself, you take a sip of your beer, "I gotta say, you impressed me today."

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds smug, "so admit it, I'm the best boyfriend you could ever ask for--"

"You--" your finger reaches up to shove his forehead back, "need to stop being so cocky. It doesn't look good on you."

"Are you saying I'm not the best boyfriend you could ask for? After everything I did for you?" That's when he pulls you even closer before pressing the softest of pecks along your brow line. Heat explodes through your cheeks, and you know it's not from the cold that suddenly sweeps in without warning.

"I never said that," you manage to mumble out. Proceeding to hide your face in the depths of his chest as his arm curls around your middle, you continue, "actually, I do think you're winning the best boyfriend title today. With everything that you did."

"Well I gotta keep up my game. Can't have my girlfriend always being better at courting than I am."

You shove him then, "you know what? Screw you, I'm trying to be serious and grateful here."

"And I'm trying to compliment you," his lips skim along your cheekbone. He peppers a few kisses there before mumbling out, "you smell like the sea."

"Wise observation, considering we just went swimming," your face turns ever so slightly to face your boyfriend's doe-eyed gaze and in the warmth of his brown pupils your breath stutters at how beautiful he looks. That, and the fact that it feels as if he can't seem to look at amything else but you.

Beautiful, your throat closes up. Beautiful. Changmin's features rendered soft in the dim shades of the evening, the angular curve of his brows matching the feline tilt of his eyes, and then of course--

His mouth. Curled slighrly upwards in amusement because he just knows that you're ogling him openly without excuse. He knows.

"I know you've been struggling," Changmin's eyes search yours, "and it hurts me to see you like that."

"It hasn't been all that bad though," you murmur out before your throat clogs up as his palm cups your cheek, stroking slightly, "I've ...been okay."

Changmin snorts, "Y/N, anyone who knows you can see it. It's not that hard," his gaze softening then, his nose nudges yours and very lightly, as if you're made out of glass, he pecks your lips, "and honestly, it hurts me more to see you sad. You can be angry or moody or snappy. I don't mind that. I can take all that. But your sadness, that hurts more."

Guilt coats your tongue in a bittter aftertaste. You hate it, how much your mood affects Changmin and how you get overly sensitive, how the tiniest things can trigger you.

"I'm really sorr--" his finger presses upon your mouth to stop your attempts and he pins you down with his gaze, now hard and firm, "don't. It's my duty. No--it's not even my duty. I just love you Y/N. What hurts you hurts me too."

"Well maybe you can love me less?" You try to lighten up the atmosphere but the joke falls flat. He chuckles anyway, bringing you into another chaste kiss and murmuring against your mouth, "that, I definitely can't do."

Allowing yourself to kiss him back while your hands find their way to his chest, tracing the span of his shoulders to tug him closer, your mouth slants against his as time slips through your fingers.

It is only when you pull apart for air, foreheads pressed together and eyes half-closed, that you realize that the night now fully dominates the sky, the ocean dark and deep and abstract.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. You close your eyes and press one last kiss to his mouth.

"You know that--" he kisses you in-between words, "you can't just--" kiss "get away" one more "with that."

Giggling and kissing him once more on the lips, you proceed to pepper his entire face with kisses-- his nose, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead -- everywhere you can think of. So much so that by the time you pull back, he's grinning at you with wet eyes.

"Let's go back home," his alto is rough with emotion. It makes you smile that you have that effect on him.

Pulling himself up and you along with him, his fingers find their rightful place in-between yours while making your way back to the car, the night air now cool against your faces with Changmin's warmth to keep you warm.

He holds your hand all the way back home, even if that means driving at turtle speed.

You let him.

Because after all, slowing down to bask in a moment is a luxury.

And you won't have it any other way.

[kpopchangedme]

Bang Chan | Royal Affair [M]

Your fiancé had always been audacious but you never thought he'd dare sneak into your royal quarters after nightfall...

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You (ft. a very wise Park Jinyoung)

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: NSFW | SMUT | Romance | Princess | First Time | **Sexually explicit** - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “If you keep looking me like that I won’t be able to handle myself” [for @marklee-johnnyseo​​]

Stray Kids | M.list

You barely had time to register your advisor's toupet before ducking behind a stone bench. Muffling your giggles with your palm, you looked back at Chan who wasn’t doing any better. His eyes had creased, glimmering with amusement, and his cheeks were reddened from your little run. Your heart swelled at the lovely sight. Still beaming, he reached, brushing a strand away from your face. His fingers lingered there, trailing your ear until they were against your nape. The moment stretched into infinity before he claimed them back once your silent laughter died down. Your advisor’s calls echoed, still looking for you in the maze of the French Gardens. He was getting more urgent by the minute but you didn’t mind.

There was not much time left for you two anyway.

Chan leaned in and you removed your hand, tilting your head to receive his furtive kiss. Softly, his lips ghosted over yours, the touch barely a graze before it was gone. Keeping your eyes shut, you savoured the moment as your fiancé’s breath climbed on your cheek until it was in the crook of your neck. His other hand slid on the grass, finding yours to intertwine fingers. 

“Write to me,” he demanded in a whisper. A shiver travelled your spine.

“Every day,” you gladly promised, “I’ll expect you back at the palace soon nonetheless.”

Chan chuckled softly, nose tickling your ear. “I’ll come before the first snowfall.”

“Winter is so far away,” you whined right back.

“You’ll pray for a cold Autumn, I'm sure.”

“There you go, teasing me again...” 

“I will neither rest nor eat before every single enemy of the throne is defeated...” He was only half-joking. “The sooner the rebellion is quashed, the sooner I’ll be called back.” 

“Chan, don’t be foolis–”

“Y/n…” He was more serious when he interrupted your scolding and sat, staring at you intently. “Tonight–”

“Princess!” Chan jerked backwards at Jinyoung’s interruption, startled to have been discovered so soon and you jumped up, panting. “Lord Bang!”

“Sir Park!” The young Lord exclaimed with similar disparagement making you snort.

“The Queen has called you to her chambers,” the advisor quipped back, highly unimpressed, and your stomach sank at the news. “While I believe you – Lord Bang – were expected by the House half an hour ago.” Tugging at your dress that had been goofed by your short escape and run through the gardens, you missed Chan’s magistral eye roll. “The Duke doesn’t like to be kept waiting, my Lord,” Walking the fine line between impoliteness and indisputable truth, Jinyoung smiled haughtily. If you hadn’t just been caught fooling around with your fiancé, perhaps you’d have more ground to call out the royal advisor on his attitude problem, but he was an expert at that game. Jinyoung always won when it came to reason.

“Who would dare make my uncle wait to order me around?” Sarcastic, Chan excused himself before hurrying to the House of Lords, not without one last heavy look your way. He'd probably come to the same conclusion as you; fighting your advisor with words was not worth the wasted effort. 

Later, Chan's wink assured. Sure, your coy smile replied.

You would see him soon enough.

Before the first snowfall, he had promised.

___

The night had come, you were now sitting in front of your tinted glass, trying to loosen the knot in your stomach as well as the ones in your hair. Your discussion with the Queen and Jinyoung had made you wary, painting the Duke in a new much grimmer light. You couldn't shake the dread of their suspicions.

They'd said you were getting old enough so they didn't see any point in shielding you from the matters of the throne anymore. As they’d voiced their concerns over the power-crazed leader of the House of Lords only one thing had been on your mind.

Jinyoung's usually wise judgement was unforgiving, he was certain the Duke was weaponizing the rebellion to ensure instability throughout your future kingdom. There were only a few months left before your wedding, before your older sister's planned abdication. The people loved you but you were still young, having the support of the House was requisite for your coronation to go seamlessly. 

Something only an alliance with one of the most powerful families could ensure. 

Your trust in Chan was unwavering and so was your advisor’s, remarkably so. But said loyalty, as it turned out, was the main cause of your worries tonight.

If Chan married you as intended, his uncle's ambitions would be laid to rest... But if your soon-to-be High King was to never return from his latest military assignment...

Something cold stirred in the pit of your stomach.

If Jinyoung was right, and to your knowledge, he was rarely ever not, this could all be a plot by the horrid Duke to have you marry him instead.

Chan was leaving for the frontlines at dawn tomorrow and now you couldn't help thinking back to his wink, that kiss in the gardens, wondering if this would be your last farewell.

A muffled sound right outside your window pulled you out of your anguish. 

You held your breath, listening keenly for a few seconds. Another thud, louder and unmistakenly closer this time. Standing in fear, you glanced back at your door. Should you hail the guards? The last time you had been frightened, it’d turned out to be a simple rodent in your parapet. Against disturbing them, you grabbed your letter opener and tiptoed to the large window by yourself. Just as you were leaning over, a formless shadow hoisted itself up making you yelped in terror. Startled, the dark silhouette raised its head and your hand around the paper cutter loosened.

"C-Chan!”

“I thought I saw an early snowflake f...” Seeing your poor state, your fearless fiancé shut up and lost the dumb smile, still crouched on your stone window frame. “By God, were you about to gut me?”

“Princess?”

There was a knock on your door and the fortune weapon slipped your fingers, falling on your carpet. You might be promised to one another, but sneaking into the royal quarters was still a crime punishable by beheading. Without thinking, you shoved Chan behind the embroidered folding screen in the corner of your room. Thankfully just in time, since half a second later your guard busted in, sword drawn.

“My apologies...” Jackson hastily faced back the door when he caught a glimpse of your indecent attire and put his weapon away. “I thought I heard you scream, your Royal Highness.”

“Y-Yes...” you admitted, heart in a frenzy. “I, uh, thought I saw… A squirrel at the window!”

“Oh,” you cringed at the smile in his voice, “Want me to get rid of it? Where–”

“NO!” Jackson froze again when you yelled, about to step closer.

From his fortune hiding spot, Chan didn't seem worried about his head at all. He had noticed something far more interesting. Blushing furiously, you kicked his shin when he reached for your lacy bodice, discarded over the folded screen. He hissed through his teeth at the hit, making the royal guard glance over his shoulder once again, curious. 

“Very well then Princess,” lingering suspicion in his eyes, Jackson conceded half-heartedly, “I’ll keep post.” Relieved, you thanked him and he excused himself. As soon as your door safely shut again, you faced the troublemaker, astounded.

Nevermind the Duke's scheming, Chan would end up executed before your wedding and coronation all on his own.

“What are you doing?” He pulled you behind the screen with him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Wondering…” He pressed a tentative peck on your cheek, undoubtedly heated by his antics. “Is this the haven that sees you undress daily?” Chan’s fingers grabbed a silk ribbon, hooked into your abandoned bodice, and you groaned, highly embarrassed. “I feel like I am having the most vivid dream, love.”

“You shouldn’t have come, you need to leave. If we get caught...” Your skin betrayed you, shivering as he pressed a second kiss to your jawline, at the very beginning of your neck. 

“Mmm… Don't want to.” He brought his mouth back to your left ear, breath tickling it. “Are you gonna scream for your guard, Princess?” 

“Chan…” You sighed in defeat when he cupped your face, running a thumb on your cheek.

This was nothing like your usual escapades in the gardens or dark, empty alcoves. You were both well aware of it. With only your nightgown on, you could feel the warmth of his body and you were sure that if he looked down, he’d see through the sheer fabric.

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” he lamented, and you weren't sure if he meant your bedroom or for his mission. Since you didn’t protest, he kissed your mouth, soft but firmer than earlier that afternoon. There was no one to interrupt this time, and his mouth opened yours, tentatively tasting your tongue. Throwing decency out the window, you pressed closer, and Chan had to step back and lean against the wall to remain up. 

“You are mad.” You accused in a whisper, not minding at all. 

“Smitten,” he replied, forehead against yours to stare into your eyes. His arms slid on the fine fabric, stopping where your lower back curved in.

“This is insane,” your own hands travelled on his neck, “we’ll get caught and you’ll get punished.”

“I would’ve died from not seeing you alone before I left.” His lips pressed yours again. “Execution will be far more pleasing knowing I had you unattended.”

“Don’t tease,” you groaned seriously, tilting your head upwards but he only smiled against your mouth.

“I am not, my love… You are killing me.” His tongue grazed your lower lip stealing you an unfamiliar mewl. Suddenly, Chan pushed you to safety, away from him. He seemed almost frightened by the lewd sound, face coloured, lips glistening, breathless. 

It got even worse when he finally looked down at your nightgown, your chest was naked, brushing against the fabric. Even in the candlelight, he could distinguish your shaded nipples, very little was left to his imagination. His gaze darkened as his chin dropped, the faint lighting stretching eerie shadows on his features.

“Do you always sleep in this?” Your modesty screamed to cover yourself, but something about the way he hushed those words, almost like an accusation, kept you from doing so. Your chin bobbed and Chan exhaled heavily, running his fingers through your strands. He hadn’t seen your hair loose since you both were kids. Back then you could spend every day together without any adult thinking much of it. “When are our nuptials again?”

“Chan…” You protested faintly at his humour, but he didn't seem to hear the wariness in your voice. His imminent absence and the dangers ahead weighed you down, but he was still high on the thrill of his illicit stunt.

“If you keep looking at me like that…” He heaved, gaze heavy with more unsaid improper things. This was not the look of a boy, but one of a grown man. “I want you so much I’m contemplating treason right now.”

“Oh, just now contemplating treason?” Tilting your head, you raised a skeptical brow. It was your turn to get caught up in the game “You climbed here knowing very well there would be no chaperone, Chan.”

“I mustn’t have thought that far ahead.” He so obviously lied that you quietly laughed, covering your whole face with your hands. “Y/n…” Chan exhaled, as though reading your mind. “Don't worry, I won’t do anything irrevocable. I’m not that foolish, that's not what I am here for.” Misreading.

“What are you even implying?” Faking offence, you backed away, letting him get the full view of your negligee. “Do I look like a lady of the evening to you, Lord Bang?” It took Chan everything to not follow you, drooling. Oddly bashful, he looked away, unable to see you standing near your large canopy bed like that. It’d be way too easy to lay you right here and then. His ears were scarlet at the simple thought.

“I merely wanted to see you before leaving. I would never suggest anything along those lines, your Royal Highness...” His voice was so ushered this time that you almost misheard. You glanced at the door, knowing full well no one would come back until your morning routine.

“I am aware, Chan.” Playful, you waved him, but he didn’t budge, feet glued to the carpet. “You are not a gentleman to climb into a lady’s room at night. You would never!” 

His mouth quivered before he snorted; “I am a nobleman.”

“Besides...” You extended a hand for him to come closer again, the picture of Authority. “I’m saving myself for my husband.”

At that, Chan couldn’t resist, his perfect pout broke into a wide smile. “Lucky bastard,” he mused before finally obeying. Your hands slid up his vest as soon as he got close enough.

“Watch your tongue,” you chastised with a grin, “you’re talking about my future king.”

“Apologies, Princess...” He hummed, bending to claim your lips once more. Breathing him in, you let your fingers run through his dark curls as his tongue tasted yours. You felt lightweight, about to break at any of his touches now. When you began leaning back, pulling him down with you, Chan tugged your wrists off him, startled.

His stupefaction was priceless.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Lay with me.” You requested, dead serious. His mouth fell open in consternation. Chan looked at the door, then at you, then at the window. 

“You are the one who's gone mad.” He accused, roles reversed. He had only climbed here for a kiss and a farewell, not your ruin.

“Yes,” you admitted, not the least shameful. “My fiancé is leaving for the frontlines and I am mad he is going without questioning his orders.” And I don’t know if I'll ever see you again.

“I am expected to be the frolicsome one, y/n.”

“Love made me crazy.” When you tugged at him again, he didn’t protest any further, falling above you with a sigh. If Chan had sensed your despair he didn't let it show. Your mattress protested loudly at the unusual additional weight. Both of you became stone, waiting with bated breath to be discovered. Thankfully, no guard burst in to save your honour.

Chan watched in a daze as you went and undo the buttons of his vest. It took longer since your fingers were made shaky by nerves. In the end, he sat back and helped, shrugging the garment to the floor. When he laid on top of you, he was in nothing but his own thin shirt. You both stared at the other in marvel. You were used to furtive stolen touches, the heat of his fingers intertwined with yours... This new warmth was outstanding, having him against you so close to your heart felt fantastic, almost skin on skin.

Chan was the first one to get a hold of himself, pressing closer, he kissed you once more. This time, his kiss was feverish and morphed into many. While your hands kept toying with his curls and exploring his large shoulders, Chan showed more restraint, settling for your face and loose hair. Even with just that, you were affected, a mess of pants and laments. None of you seemed to care to stop.

When you felt how hard he was in his pants, you were unsurprised. You had heard of that through the grapevines, eavesdrop on conversations. You had even witnessed two-person being intimate once as a child. Secretly observed one of your guards and a maid fool around. You'd thought about that day more and more often recently. Imagined yourself bent over that chair, Chan buried under your skirt. You'd wonder what kind of sounds he’d made.

“Hey,” Chan shifted his weight to stand on his elbows, frowning, “are you comfortable?” You shook your head, hands sliding clumsily to the buttons of his pants.

“More...” Your order was almost inaudible but his eyebrows raised in awe.

Chan shifted again, raising above just enough to allow you to undo the first button on his crotch. It was involuntary though because he immediately sat back. You followed, kneeling on the bed to kiss his neck as you kept working on your new task. 

“Y/n,” he called, voice shaky, “are you serious?” You only hummed in response, tongue tracing his collarbone. You felt him shudder when you finally managed to access his pants. Your hand wrapped around his manhood but you were unsure what to do from then on. Chan’s mouth opened on nothing, goosebumps visible thanks to the loose collar of his shirt. His tip was leaking on your wrist. Gently, you rubbed his thin skin, making him twitch into your palm in response. You paused again, frightened he was hurt.  

“S-Sorry…” Biting your lips, you were about to pull away when Chan's hand swiftly wrapped around yours. Head low, he gulped, guiding your palm over his hard sex. You watched your intertwined fingers move as one in the glow of the candles, gaze wide. For someone who was reticent to go on, he seemed oddly powerless now.

“What should I do?” The young Lord asked breathlessly, cupping your cheek to pull you into an umpteenth embrace. “I'm at wits’ end, love.”

“We don't know when you'll be back.” If.

“Yet we are not wedded.”

You would be in a matter of days if it weren't from this stupid rebellion. Your families had originally planned for a summer ceremony. Jinyoung had even pointed that out today as part of his suspicions, though if he found out you were twisting his logic to consummate your marriage in advance... Your advisor would probably strangle you with his bare hands himself.

"Does it matter that much?” Chan stared at your question, eyes shimmering in the shadow of his brow bone. “What is one more promise in front of the Queen and House gonna change? I am already yours.”

“Y/n…” He made your name sound dangerous. Exhaling in defeat, Chan slid his hand up your thighs, a gesture that left your skin humming deliciously. “I never belonged to anyone else.”

His hands didn't stop there, they kept climbing and soon they reached where your legs and hips met. Hiking smoothly your body and raising your nightgown, Chan let them roam you until you were exposed and in an instant, he was over you. Done with shilly-shallying and obviously giving in to his most primal urges. You were all too eager to welcome him, buried by his large chest in your mattress like all those fantasies. You didn’t mind the slight awkwardness of his prentice's ways or his now sloppier kisses. You took it all, shaking yourself from a strange fuse of fear and elation.

He was the one who finally made his clothes fully vanish, keeping you busy and distracted with his mouth. Then he was after your nightgown, delicately rolling it up until you were fully bare under him; skin to skin. Chan's breath was hitched, weakened when he pulled away to observe your reaction, a curious look on his face. 

“I love you,” he confessed and you'd have rolled your eyes if he hadn't said it ever so slightly more seriously than all those other times prior.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, so loud it felt like the guards outside might hear it. You cupped his face, thumb running on his cheekbones and on his earlobes while your fingers danced on his nape. Chan shuts his eyes at the caress, shoulders loosening. You wanted to remember him like that forever, swollen, crazy hair, honey skin, feel his weight over yours and his warmth everywhere. He was yours.  

Insanely enough, when his eyes opened again to meet yours, you knew he meant more. “Forever,” your fiancé insisted, lips hooking into his familiar smirk. 

The following kisses were diligent and purposeful, making you both almost forget your predicament. Almost, because your crotch was throbbing, burning and demanding like never before. If you could only guess, he was not doing much better. Chan's sex was pressed against you, long and stiff, slowly smearing wetness on your lower stomach. Mechanically, his hips rolled forward with each kiss, rubbing you both torturously. You were in shambles, sweating and feverish under him. You needed more of him so that’s exactly what you begged for, in a raspy whisper you didn't recognize of yourself. 

Eager to oblige, Chan wandered down, letting his length fall between your legs. His cock brushed over your sex and though you wanted him, your thighs jerked, only being kept apart by his own. He didn't seem to mind, pressing consoling kisses along your jaw and neck as he slowly ghosted over you again.

Chan hitched your legs higher, the tip of him stretching your entrance. It wasn't as absolute as you’d imagined when he made his way inside you. There was no divine uproar, no intense strain, nothing broken or ruined. Ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered, nothing mattered like his ardent breath on your neck and the feel of him as he rocked into you, just a little. Chan moved slowly, soft throbs as though he couldn't bear to pull all the way out.

You wanted him to keep going, could not have borne it either after being this united. He withdrew and pushed into you again, each time a little deeper until finally, he paused. Chan raised above, out of focus, leaning his forehead against yours. There were no words, so he didn't even try. Under your palms, his shoulders were shaky, unstable, and you held on tighter. His hips were pressed into yours, your bodies banded together in a crowning figure.

When Chan moved again it was almost unplanned, a primitive impulse to keep going, feel you, own you. Deadened sounds that could have come from either of you broke the silence of the room, as reserved and furtive as a secret. He pushed into you repeatedly, breathing hollowing with each thrust. His hips became more insistent, hitting yours. Your legs opened of their own accord allowing him deeper, closer. A sense of urgency you had never felt before overpowered you. You tugged him down to claim his mouth, his breath came in pants, hot in your mouth. Your body had started to rock in rhythm as he grinded into you. Chan's own desperation rendered more evident by the way he moved.

His hand slid down on your thigh, pulling you tighter against him, caging himself. You obliged following his lead, both learning together. His head fell back in the crook of your neck, too heavy to be held. 

“I love you,” Chan growled in your ear, so unrecognizable it sent shivers across your skin. 

You clung to his neck, carried by the need to possess him. “I love you,” your words were hoarse, weak compared to his but his hold still tightened impossibly around you. 

He drove into you harder, greedily. Your fingers threaded together, holding on tight as he pressed you to the bed. Overwhelmed by both the need to escape this building throb and wanting to get more of him at the same time, you arched up. Chan's rhythm was stuttering, coming apart as he lost grip on reality. You tilted your hips, spasming around him, unable to keep going and his body shuddered into yours. 

Chan held you tight as he came, roughly crushing you into the mattress. You would've protested at the weight, but nothing had ever felt more right than having him inside you like that. He rolled next to you soon after, length falling out.

Silence shrouded your room as both your breathing lulled, solemn witness to the gravity of your conduct. Trembling, Chan pulled your nightgown down to cover your modesty, burning hand lingering on your thigh. You were still squished, held strongly against him and he showed no desire to depart.

“My Lord,” you murmured into his chest, making it shake in response.

“Yes. I am afraid you are stuck with me now, Princess.”

“Oh, what a shame.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, hugging even tighter. 

“So, you have no choice but to come back now.”

If he hadn’t noticed your burden earlier, your comment certainly raised alarm.

“Y/n,” Chan exhaled, prudent. He gazed down at you, peering through his lashes. “Why would you even say that?” He had meant to say it lightly, but something in his tone hinted he wasn’t so honest. Which he realized right away; “I will be back.”

“Mmm...” You held your breath nervously, “Because you promised.”

He brought your hand to his mouth, “Promise.” He kissed it lightly before frowning, “Only if you behave with Sir Park while I'm away.”

“Jinyoung,” you repeated in disbelief at his seemingly random request, “I never thought I'd see the day...”

Chan laughed hollowly, a little easier. “He's not all bad.”

“You know, he said something similar about you earlier… Though I am certain his opinion would wave in light of recent affairs.”

“He did not.” You heard the smile in his voice, muffled by your hair.

“No,” he laughed once more, mouth now pressed to your forehead, “but I assure you I am very well behaved whenever you are not involved, Lord Bang. Everyone knows I am the moral one.”

“Are you, Princess?” Chan rolled over, raising on his elbow to eye you suspiciously. He had found his new natural position between your legs and your heartbeat quickened. “You have stolen my virtue. The bed isn’t even cold yet.”

“No reasonable soul would believe that.”

You tugged him down for a deep kiss, swallowing his laughter; “What a regent and ruthless thing to say, you are going to be good at this ruling thing.” Chan grinded forward with the kiss and you arched reflectively. He hummed in appreciation, “my Queen...”

“My King,” you found yourself echoing nauseatingly.

His chest vibrated against yours in a strangled sound, "I should be on my way." 

His impossibly large grin widened when he witnessed your dissatisfied scowl. Chan gathered his clothes and got dressed under your cold scrutiny. Too fast, his bare legs disappeared into his trousers. His vest was next, covering his thin shirt. You pouted, still a wreck on your mattress in your sheer attire. Your room seemed awfully freezing now that you had gotten a taste of what it would be like to share a bed with your husband.

Chan seemed to notice your shiver when you sat up and he cautiously neared the bed. His index raised your chin to force your gazes to meet.

“I do mean it,” he said with a grave voice you rarely knew him, “listen to your advisor and the Queen. You must be particularly careful until I return.”

“Chan,” you hushed, the name barely coming out, “you are the one who needs to be, the Duke–”

Your warning got stiffled by his lips and he delivered, almost making you lose your mind all over. When Chan straightened again, there was a darker glint to his eyes. Barely there before he blinked it to oblivion, but it was enough for you to know your cautioning would've been vain.

He wasn't a child anymore and he certainly was not a pawn to his uncle.

“Do not write anything too scandalous in those letters you promised, love.” Back to his usual poise, Chan was walking back to his exit. “I am positive Sir Park is intercepting our correspondence.”

This managed to make you grin at least, loosening the knot in your stomach. "Of course."

“That must be why the man loathes me,”

“That is just him being wise.”

Chan chuckled lowly, glancing at your bedroom door as he balanced his feet outside your window. “Before the first snowfall, love.” He winked as you shook your head in disbelief, “Thank you for the farewell favour, I am looking forward to our nuptials, Princess.”

And at that, he was gone into the night, your heart and virtue with him.

The separation didn't loom over you like the proverbial sword of Damocles anymore and it wasn't long before you fell asleep that night.

Because you knew this would not be the last you'd see of your playful lover...

Stray Kids | M.list

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It���s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts: Max Phillips

Hello!  This is sort of a sequel to the Pero story, in that we saw Max and now we know what he was doing there and what choice he needed to make.

Warnings:  Cursing. Angst. I had the trick of having to put both blank canvas characters into one story, lol.  But I think I finessed it.  The “you” character is a blank slate, mostly gender neutral (mentions of wanting to have children could sway your perception one way or the other.). Not betad.  

This is my late #writerwednesday entry, thank you to @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​

Prologue:

Max Phillips slammed the hospital doors open, eager to get outside.  The sound beeping machines seemed to echo in his ears, making them hurt.  The smell of the place stuck to the back of his throat.

He tilted his head back in the afternoon sun, and breathed in, breathed out.  Tried to make himself calm down.  The Autumn are cleared his head as he jogged across the road.  

“Bad day?”  A voice asked.

Between two benches, almost hidden in the orange leaves, was a woman, instead of the ‘Nam veteran he usually passed a few moments talking to.  Her wiry steel colored hair was in a messy bun, covered by a turban.  She wore layers and layers even though it was a warm fall day.  “Where’s Raffi?”  Max asked.

“His daughter found him.  He decided to try living with her again.”

Max nodded.  “I hope it works out.  She wasn’t…apparently he isn’t easy to live with.  Bad dreams.”

“It’ll be better now.”  She said with such serene certainty that Max believed her.  He gave a little wave and walked away.  

He was back, twenty minutes later.  He put a chocolate shake in front of her, and a boxed fried chicken meal.  If he had known his folklore…which, sadly, he would become intimately familiar with, he would have understood her amusement.  Milk, bread…these were the Old offerings.  

Instead he shrugged, uncomfortable.  “What?  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  And I needed to eat, too.”  He sat next to her.

“How old are you?” She asked, though she knew.

He shrugged.  “Seventeen.”  He buttered a biscuit and took a huge bite.  He ate like he was starving.  “Why?”

“You seem to be awfully young to be hanging out with homeless people.  Where are your parents?”  

He shrugged again.  “My mom’s gone.  My father…”. He pointed towards the hospital doors with his chin.  “He’s dying.”  He hunched over the greasy box of chicken, potato strips and biscuits, eating like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

She sighed.

He looked at her, and she shook her head, and ate the food he brought her.  You are going to go off the rails Max Phillips.  You are going to go off the rails so badly and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The Present:

He entered the library through the basement, crept up the stairway.  The first floor was nearly empty…the university library kept late hours so that students could cram late into the night, but it was Thirsty Thursday and most of the students were elsewhere.  

He waited until you were focused on the book cart again, back towards the main floor, and got himself around the corner.  Then he pulled out his cell and dialed the front desk.

You now turned to go to the phone, at least he hoped so, as he disconnected the call and opened the side door to the area behind the circulation desk…

You were there, leaning against the cart, arms folded.  “Nice try, but I know your tricks, Mister Phillips.”

He grinned and advanced on her, step by step.

“No no…”. You point a finger at him.  “Stay back, this is a work place…”. You shoot a look towards the front desk as he backs you into your office.   “You are going to lose me my job.”  You hiss at him, and he bends a little, and kisses you breathless.

“Quit.  I’ll take care of you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.  He’s cool to the touch.  It’s not disconcerting, not like it used to be.  “I wish I could.”

“Stop wishing...”

“If you say ‘and make your dreams a reality’, I’ll bite you.”  

Max looks offended.  “It’s a great slogan!  Do you know how many units of Losapill those golden words have sold?”

“I don’t understand how I can love someone so much and want to punch them so badly.”

He grins down at you.  “I can name several reasons why you love me.”

You smirk up at him.  “I’m sure you can…let me go, honey.  I’ve got to tell everyone we’re closing in half an hour.”  He listened to your voice on the loudspeaker, buttery and gentle and reassuring, and smiled a little. He could listen to that voice forever.  He could sell holy water to a priest, but so far all his skills had failed to net him the one thing he wanted.

He walks with you, as you check the restrooms (He even does the men’s for you on each floor, turning off the lights and blocking the doors open) and stands behind you, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy as you gently tell students to take their books to the front desk if they needed to check them out, that the library was closing shortly.

He waits, patiently, while you close up and lock the doors and usher the last people out.  

“I really wish you’d let me turn you,” he says when you are both in your car and on the way home.  Max often took the rooftops from his office to the university.  He was fast, and strong, and being fairly indestructible made him long for the thrill of possibly getting hurt, so he parkoured his way through the city once it got dark.  It was disgusting, how he looked so good after running and leaping five miles.

He shifts in his seat as you let the silence grow.  “Are you ignoring me?”

“Yes.”  You stop at a red light.  

“Why?  You said you’d think about it.  You’ve been thinking about it for a month.  Any idea where you are on it?  Like, from the scale of one to ten…”

You’ve been wanting to avoid this.  You’ve really been wanting to avoid this.  “Zero.”

She waits.  She waits for the torrent of salesmanship.  The spiel.  Why becoming a vampire and living forever is what she wants, she just doesn’t know it’s yet.  

For once, words fail him.  No quick comeback, no charming lines. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be with me.”  He says it so softly that you almost aren’t sure you heard it.  

You pull into the apartment parking lot, picks a spot quickly you can park and take his hands in yours.  “Max.  I do.  I really do.  But just…I don’t want to be a vampire.  I don’t want to give up the things I would have to give up?”

“Like what?  Death?  Getting old?  Getting sick?  Being weak?”  He pulls his hands away.  “I am offering you unlimited time.  Think of the things we can do together!  And you don’t have to kill…I haven't killed anyone in ages!”

“Sunlight.”  You say.  “Food.”  He makes a disgusted sound and looks out the window.  “A family.”  You take a deep breath.  “Children.”

He finally looks at you again.  “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”  He raises his hand, and time goes wonky for a moment, and when things snap back into place, he’s gone.

You stay in your car a long time, hoping he’ll come back. Every step up to your apartment, you look around, hoping.  

It’s dawn, before you give up, dried out from crying, your mouth feels full of ashes and your heart full of regret.

The next day:

Max was not in a good mood the next day.  Usually he has a nice word for, if no one else, his PA, a miracle worker of a woman he’d always been fond of, but he just glared at her and slams his door shut.

Emails.  Reports.  He plowed into work.  

The door opened, and he ignored it, steadfast in the hope that whoever it was would go the fuck away.   I could always eat them.  I don’t have to be good anymore.

A cup thumped down on his desk.  He looked up.  He didn’t recognize the woman — her steel grey hair was neat, her suit elegant.  Her heart beat strangely, and he could tell she was not — quite—human.  Great.  Someone new from corporate?

“I thought you said that everyone loves chocolate?”  She said, pointing at the milkshake.  “You’ve come far, since we last spoke outside the hospital…”

He shook his head.  “I remember you, but…”. How did she come to be here? Why? His brain was still trying to match up the homeless lady with the epitome of corporate flash in front of him.  

“Now, I didn’t say you moved in a good direction.  How did the sweet boy who spent his last twenty on dinner for himself and a homeless woman end up being a bloodsucking asshole selling fake products?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s schedule an appointment, maybe for the next century?”

“Nope.”  She reached across the desk.  “You gonna drink this?”

He shook his head and she took the milkshake, leaned back in her chair, moving the straw back and forth in the lid, making an annoying shriek sound that hurt his ears.  

“Do you think I wanted this?”  He snapped at her.  Vampires didn’t really need much in the way of sleep, but he was tired.  Tired and hurt.  “And who gives you the right to fucking judge me?”

“I’m one of the gentry,” she said.  “That doesn’t give me the right, but it gives me the power.”

“You’re fae.  That explains it.  You don’t seem human.”  

“I thought they taught you the rules.  You never call us out so clearly.  Always call us by some euphemism and hope we don’t take a notion to turn our attention towards you.”

He threw up his hands.  “Why?  Why does it matter?”

“Because if I wanted to, Max Phillips, I could turn you back into the weak, dying, foolish mortal you once were.”

This stopped him.  “You could?”  He said carefully.  

“I could.”

“What’s the catch?”

She smiled.  “Good boy.  Maybe they did teach you something, after all.”  She put the milkshake on the desk.  ”You were…what?  Twenty, twenty one when you got turned?  I could, if I wanted to, make it as if you never got turned.  I could choose for you to age to the age you should be, had you not cheated death…or I could make you start from where you are right now.  If I was feeling so inclined.”

“Why would I want that?”  He scoffed.  “Do you think I want to get old and sick?  Do you think I want to spend the last year of my life in a hospital bed, unable to even piss for myself?  You think this is a fucking gift?  Enticing?  No.”

“So you don’t want a life with the librarian? Probably for the best. She is made out of sunlight and deserves so much better.”

He stopped.  He could feel the slipping…where the darker side of him started clambering up, eager to take control and rend and kill.  

“Hush.”  She said, and the blood stopped rushing in his ears, the fangs stopped aching.  “I shouldn’t needle.  It’s just so frustrating.  You were a sweet boy and you just allowed the bad in your life to make you…well, frankly, a bit of a jackass.”  She shoot him an apologetic look.  “OK, that was a cruddy apology.  But.  Back to the subject at hand.  Once, you were kind to me.  And if you do me a favor — one more favor — I will give you a choice.  A chance to choose a life for yourself instead of being a victim of bad choices and worse luck.  No strings.  No further price.”

He side eyed her a long moment.  He was intrigued, despite himself.  “What’s the favor?”

She took a small painting out of her pocket and slid it over to him.  “Another debt to pay…that woman has a soul mate out there.  I know where he is.  If you get her to my house tomorrow night, I can unite them, give them a chance at well deserved happiness.”

“Yeuch.”  He said, then picked up the painting.  “Wait.  That’s my PA.”

“Is it?  How delightful.  Isn’t just splendid how fate intervenes.”  She put a card on the desk.  “This is the address.  Hope to see you.”  She held up her finger.  “There is one thing.  She can’t know.  You have to get her there without her knowing why.  Alright?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”  He muttered.

“Good.  I am glad you understand.  Ciao!”

He picked up the card.  And cursed a bit.

NIght, in the time middle of nowhere:

“So, Mister Phillips…are you taking me out into the middle of the woods to murder me?”  His PA asked, laughing.  She didn’t know he was a vampire.  Telling people what he was hadn’t worked out very well at his last job, so he’d been much more circumspect this time.

“I promise, you are safe.  From me.  I don’t know what Corporate will do, though,” he said, turning down another road.  

“So, did they tell you what the meeting is about?”

“It’s meant to be a retreat.  All the heads of the various branches and their PA’s.  They want to re-envision the future of the company”. He took one hand off the wheel to put air quotes in the right place.  “Apparently they messed up your email address so we didn’t get the invite in time.  Someone caught it and called me directly.”

“I hope the place they picked is nice…”. She was looking out the window, trying to make out the road ahead.  “Carol in accounting is super jealous.  I think she has a bit of a crush on you…”

“Well, I am irresistible.”

“Mostly.”  She grinned at him.  A square of light grabbed her attention.  “I think we’re here.”

He pulled up to the house.  It looked sketchy at best, and the looks his PA were casting made him wonder if her trust was stretching a little too thin.

He got out and walked up to the porch.  The Fae came out this time wearing a chic, flowery dress.  She ignored Max and called to his PA.  “Don’t be afraid.  You are here so I can talk to you about your dreams…and by that, I mean the Spaniard, with the scar over his eye.”

The PA froze.  “You…you know about him?”  

“Go inside, dear, and I will tell you all about him.  But I need to talk to Max, here, first”

His PA stopped next to him, put her hand on his arm.  “Will you be OK?”

“Absolutely.  You know me.”

She went into the house.  

“Come here, Max.”  The Fae held out her hand, gesturing him to come up to the porch.  He did.  A card table was set up, with one chair.  Two cards lay face down.  “Here is your choice.  Are you ready?”

He stood there, looking at the table, and nodded.  Fear coursed through him, as strong as the day cold hands grabbed him from behind, teeth sinking into his throat…

She reached down and flipped over a card.  The Queen of Spades.  “Darkness ever lasting.  A vampire queen even now is looking for her equal.  She will choose you, and the two of you will know power beyond your wildest dreams…until enough people get angry about it and decide to deal with you both.  You will not love her, but who needs love when you have sex and death and all the power you ever hoped for?”

She reaches again, flips over another card.  The Queen of Hearts.  “And this.  This is life.  Your soul will wake up, and you will be twenty one and full of possibilities again.  Your heart will beat every beat that was stolen from you.  The slate will not be wiped entirely clean, but you will have a chance — a chance with your lovely librarian.  Children.  Be kind when you were once cruel, and live a decent, good life.”  

His lips were numb.  “How…how long?”

“Long enough.  You will not feel cheated.  It will be a plain sort of life, but it will be yours, and you will have the woman you love…some would say that is worth dying for.”

“What do you know about death?  Your kind just fade when they are tired of living.  You will never know the absolute fucking horror of your body betraying you.  The fucking humiliation that waits.  The pain.”

“No.”  She said softly.  “I do not.”  She kissed his temple.  “I am sorry.  If I had met you sooner, perhaps…but, in any case, I consider all debts paid.  When you are ready, pick up the card representing your choice, and rip it in half.  Choose well, Maxwell Phillips.  May we never meet again.”

He didn’t notice her leave.  He sat down, weak, at the table.

Life.  Death.  Life.  Death.  

He’d seen both his parents die terribly.  After he was turned, he’d mourned, then he realized the gift he’d been given.  No hospitals.  No lingering disease.  No pain.

His hand hovered next to the Queen of Spades.  No love, but power and sex.  He’d tried to recover, tried to be good, for you.  And he’d started feeling the guilt.  And with guilt, came all the excuses.  That he was living according to the nature that had been forced upon him.  That he was giving people a gift…they died, or they become something that could never die.

You don’t punish the wolf for being a wolf.

But that was why it had been easy to walk away.  Because you deserved better.  Not a vampire.  Not a wolf.  A man…

He did not hear the car, but he heard the thump of the other man’s steps as he mounted the porch.  

“She’s in there…”  he said, barely paying attention.  

When the other man left, he repeated what he said to him, in his head.  Choosing between life and death.

He picked up the Queen of Hearts.  His hands were shaking.  He ripped the card in half.  Darkness roared around him, pulled him under.

When he woke up, he was on the floor of his apartment.  

No.  His fucking.  College.  Dorm room.

“Dude, you started early.”  Evan’s stupid face appeared as he bent over him.  

Max wondered if he could punch him in the face.  It would feel really, really good to punch the other man in the face,

“OK, well, I’m going to an away game…see you sometime tomorrow.”

He put the palms of his hands in his eyes.  “Yeah…have fun.”

Evan stepped over him.  “See ya…wouldn’t want to be ya!”  The door slammed shut and Max raised both hands in a one finger salute towards it.

He made himself get up and go to the bathroom.  He looked younger but not better, per se.  What is wrong with me?  What’s this feeling?

It wasn’t just that he could feel his body working.  Feel breath (was breathing always so fucking noisy?) and heat beats and aches in his neck and back from laying weird on the floor.

He’d lived for years.  But right now, he was still the same angry, miserable hit mess of a man he’d been at this point of his life.  

A phone was ringing, he went and grabbed it.

“Hey Maxie.  Is Evan gone?”  Evan’s girlfriend.  Great.

Oh.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.  Look…”

“Awesome.  I bought the cutest bra and panties…”

And this is where, he thought, this is where he took the step to becoming the man you deserved him to be.  “That’s great.  But you know…I only want to fuck you because your boyfriend is an annoying twit.”

Shocked silence.  OK still an asshole.  Check.  So much for being a sweet boy when I was younger.  “Look. I meant what I said.  You are beautiful. You are probably far, far too good for Evan. Or maybe not, if you are willing to screw around with an asshole like me. In any case, you deserve better. But you have to decide what better is.”

This treated him to a string of profanity before the woman hung up.

Then, he walked to the infirmary, and asked for aspirin. And if there were any free spots for the therapist.

Sunday, the conversation between roommates went like this:

“So you were going to screw my girlfriend?”

A shrug — Max concentrated on the video game.  “Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He paused the game.  “Because you deserve better.”

He felt Evan throw himself on the couch next to him.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I don’t hate you. You’re just so fucking happy and peppy and optimistic and everything is going to be awesome but I think the world is shit and misery and maybe if you dialed it back a little I we could have conversations that didn’t end with me wanting to punch your face.”

“Dude.”  It sounded defeated and apologetic at the same time.

Max held a controller out to him. “Sorry. I’ll try to be less of an asshole.”

He took it.  “I’ll try to be less…happy?”

Max sighed.  “Just don’t get me kicked out, ok? I can’t afford anywhere else and I really don’t want to end up in Transylvania.”

Two years later, he decided he could go and find you.

Most people went to nice places on their spring break.

Max got on a bus and headed to a University in the next state.  They’d had their Spring break a week sooner.

There you were. Sitting cross legged on a bench with a man with a streak of blonde in his hair, and a suit coat with elbow patches.  Elbow patches.  Pretentious asshole.

You were tucking hair behind your ear. You liked him. Max wondered if he should leave, come back…in a year?  Three?  When did he have a right to become part of your life?  Did he even?

You look at him and smile and it is sunshine and he can’t leave.

The man on the bench says something about class.  “See you at work,” she tells him, and he lopes off in an easy walk to one of the brick covered class buildings.

Max approaches carefully.  “Hey.  Um.  I’m thinking about transferring here, wondered what it’s like?”

She shifted her bag over, even though there was plenty of room to sit, and he took it as an invite.  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

He gave her his best smile. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

[ladyeliot]

Your legacy is my nightmare [½]  Re-written

Avengers: Age of Ultron / Post Civil War

Pairing: Avengers/Tony Stark x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Your past was marked by Tony Stark, ever since a Stark Industries bomb hit that restaurant when you were 10 years old, during an attack on Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia. From that moment on, the rage for revenge took hold of you, but things didn’t turn out the way you expected.

Warnings: Angst. Trauma. Deaths. Violence.

Word count: 5378

A/N:  Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic Force Projection. Psionic force fields that she can manipulate in various ways. 

When you were five years old you discovered that there was a completely different world inside that magic box. A world that seemed far away from the small town you lived in, a world that could capture your attention, that made you laugh, that grabbed you, and that you dreamed of living in in the future. It was then that American sitcoms became your world.

Your childhood in Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia, was like that of any other child, totally happy. You were an only child, you were born and raised in a hard-working and extremely loving family, your parents loved you and you loved them, because all they wanted was to make you happy. Your birth took place on a sunny morning in June, creating the tradition that every birthday you went out to do something special, something out of the ordinary routine of everyday life. On your sixth birthday your parents took you to the amusement park, discovering that you weren’t too fond of Ferris wheels. During your eighth birthday your parents opted to take you to a football match, which you enjoyed quite a lot. On your ninth birthday, the three of you took a little trip to the mountains, discovering that you were completely allergic to wasp stings, but on your tenth birthday, everything changed.

For several weeks you had been pestering your mother to go to the new restaurant that had opened in the city centre. Remember that you were madly in love with American sitcoms from the 1950s, which were constantly on reruns on Sokovia television, so you couldn’t have been luckier when you found out that they had opened an American-style restaurant in the city centre. Your mother used to make excuses for not going, but not because she didn’t want to, but because she wanted to wait until your tenth birthday to go and have lunch with the three of you as a family, and that’s how it happened. The morning of your tenth birthday, Novi Grad dawned bright and shiny, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the sun was shining. It was Saturday, so there was neither school nor any job that would prevent you from spending the day apart. Your face changed to excitement when you discovered a note along with a special breakfast, informing you of a surprise lunch at Fred’s, the American-style restaurant. At the time you thought you were the luckiest girl in the universe, and that nothing and no one was going to change your mind, but things never work out the way you expect them to.

At around 13:15 you were seated at a table, and you yourself had decided which table you preferred, opting for the one right next to the large window, where you could watch the crowds passing by on the street. While your father informed the waitress about the menu you were going to have, you played with the bottle of ketchup while looking out of the window, on Saturdays the centre was usually crowded and that put you in a good mood. A Jukebox harmonised the atmosphere with typical songs of that decade, you had no idea what the song was, but you knew that you had heard it before in some sitcom. You were delighted, you seemed to be part of one of those comic scenes that made you laugh night after night, however something outside caught your attention, making you drop the bottle of ketchup from your hands. The scene was strange, people were no longer walking, running, no longer laughing, shouting, but you barely had time to utter “Mum…” before a bomb smashed through the large window.

Trauma. An inconsistent word that has so many negative connotations for the person who suffers from it. You never thought that a life filled with numerous catastrophic experiences could ever find the meaning of the word ‘Peace’ again, yet there you were, searching for it. The placid singing of the water crashing against the stones of the riverbed was the best melody you could wake up to every morning. After so many years you had found a place away from civilisation, far from the terror of humanity. A hut in the middle of the green and brown fields of Wakanda, a place where nothing and no one could disturb you. You could say, you could barely remember the time when you were at peace with yourself, maybe your childhood, but there was nothing left of that. However, the harmony around you, together with the humility of country life had given you back all the strength you needed to be able to go on with your life.

But now the question is how you came to Wakanda and why. It had been almost a year since a terrifying experience in the maximum security prison for humans with superpowers, also known as the Raft, prevented you from ever finding inner peace again. During the indeterminate period of time you were held in that underwater facility, the guards did terrible things to your brain. Fear for your powers caused them to take the initiative in using brain torture methods, the only way they discovered that was effective in overriding them. It left scars on you that would last a lifetime, if you made it out of there alive, which you came to believe would be impossible.

The next question is how you came to find yourself in that situation, but we’d better go back to the beginning, when that bomb hit that American-style restaurant in your hometown of Novi Grad. The darkness came moments after the projectile pierced the glass of that building and found its way into the ruins inside, creating a gaping hole underground. The loss of time and space came upon you, when you opened your eyes there was nothing, it was all darkness, yet a red, flickering light was just a few centimetres from your face. You could not move, your limbs were confined by the debris, you could only see the light that slightly illuminated the small air chamber in which you found yourself. You saw that metallic object in front of you, which had written on its side words that were engraved in your memory forever 'Stark Industries’.

It was a long period in which tears silently flowed from your eyes, it was indescribable the way fear clung to your body, with a small hope of being found that flickered on and off with that red light. You hardly knew what that light meant, that it really was a 'lucky break’ for you, at least that’s what all the news said when you were rescued two days later. Eventually you discovered that the bomb must have exploded, that like your parents and all the other members of the local, you must have died.

Your life after that did not improve, but you found them, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Your similar experiences during the bombing of Sokovia brought you together, they had also lost their parents and now you were three orphans who were confined from house to house waiting to come of age and flee the place.  The country of Sokovia became a war zone, with US troops frequently invading the streets, causing protests by the locals to intensify. During your youth you were a very active part of them, along with the twins, especially those against 'Stark Industries’. What those experiences generated was that the hatred you had hidden for Stark resurfaced again. The three of you wanted to purge your nation of foreign conflicts, so you met a division fighting for the same thing called HYDRA. You joined together, hoping to change the world, hoping to seek peace and freedom again, but that is not what happened. That group had very different ideas, ideas that you three were obviously not a part of, yet your innocence played a trick on you. Stucker, the leader of the division, offered you power, an outlet in the fight against violence, and you accepted, exposing yourselves to a series of physical experiments, called the 'Miracles’ programme. The programme consisted of exposing your bodies to radiation emitted through a sceptre that you had no idea what it was. Thirty-two people participated in the experiment, only you three remained alive. This caused a series of supernatural powers to develop in each of you. In your case, the psionic force took control of your body.

At this point HYDRA had got what it wanted, three superhumans to fight the Avengers, including Iron Man, aka Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries. It was impossible to admit that this was too juicy an incentive for you to pass up. The Avengers travelled to Sokovia with the intention of stealing the sceptre that gave you your powers. It was then, at the age of 25, after fifteen years of waiting for that moment, that you came face to face with the creator of the bomb that killed your parents, in that HYDRA operations centre in Sokovia. For the first time you could look him in the eye.

“Hey, J, a quick infrared scanner to the room,” he said in the middle of that wide ship, he had shed the suit, which was now operating on its own.

“The column to your left, I detected a human presence, with radiation levels off the charts,” the suit spoke up, discovering your position.

There was no point in staying hidden, it was the opposite of what you wanted, you wanted him to see you, to have the courage to look you in the eye, to not know who you were and let him know. Tony turned quickly towards that column that the inner voice of his suit had informed him about and bumped into you. The moment came. The brown of his iris projected towards you, he looked terribly harmless, he raised his left hand and Iron Man’s limb covered his own, projecting the palm of his hand towards your body. A smirk of arrogance amplified on your mouth.

“I mean you no harm,” his voice came out fast.

“So late,” you whispered without wiping away the smile, as you slowly raised your palms, creating a psionic field in a circular shape.

Just as Iron Man’s limb had attached itself to yours, the entire suit suddenly encircled your body. At that very moment you projected the psionic field towards him, starting a fierce battle in the middle of that ship. A battle that lasted no more than ten minutes due to your lack of ability to control, manipulate and project your powers. But that would be the first of many times you were to encounter him, that first encounter left you with a thirst for vengeance that would eventually fade, but at that moment it was impossible for you to know.

Things evolved over time, from HYDRA you came to ULTRON, who immersed you in his power, told you he was coming to save the world, but also to wipe out the Avengers, trapping you again in his intentions, believing his were the same as yours. Baron Von Strucker was killed shortly after by Ultron, now it was just the four of you, Ultron, the Maximoff twins and you.

At Salvage Yard, on the African Coast, was the second encounter. Your little group had headed out to meet Ulysses Klaue, an international criminal and underground black market arms dealer, to obtain the world’s most durable material, vibranium, however the Avengers also showed up, making the encounter more interesting. Thor, Captain America and Iron Man stood before the four of you in the middle of a gorge of corridors inside that container ship. There was Iron Man again, covering the body of Tony Stark inside.

“Are you comfortable?” Pietro turned his gaze to a set of missiles that were located on the lower deck. “Like the old times?

"This was never my life,” Iron Man replied, his voice neutral.

“Of course not,” you interjected, stepping to Pietro’s side. “He’s just the enforcer, isn’t he?”

“You can still walk away from this,” Captain America interjected, offering a nostalgic gesture from under his helmet.

“Oh, we’ll do it,” you said with marked indifference. “When the time comes.”

“I know you have suffered,” Captain America commented, eliciting a broad smile from you.

“You know that…” you whispered with a grin, lowering your gaze to your hands where psionic force was slowly concentrating through your fingers. “I really don’t care if you know.”

“It’s about me,” Tony’s stiff voice hit the mark.

“Bingo,” you said wryly just as a wide psionic field formed between your hands offering the signal for the battle to begin.

Disproportionate beams of light slammed into your pupils, energy bursting from each of you, causing the others to stand on guard and find their opponent to carry out their actions. Ultron’s minions moved to counterattack, while you scattered without a specific destination. You had had weeks of training to be able to face the new encounter you all knew was coming, and you could feel your control over your powers becoming more extended, but to do so you had to have your full attention focused on your actions.

The clash between you and Iron Man sent you off course, into a maze of dark corridors and passageways that were only illuminated by the energy coming out of that armour. Your psionic strength kept at bay the radiation that poured from the palm of his gauntlets and the monorail on his chest, causing it to bounce hard off the iron blocks of the walls.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Tony Stark’s voice came through the armour.

“Very subtle when you hide behind a mask,” your words caused the mask that covered Tony’s face to be exposed.

You stared into his eyes, feeling the energy burning inside you, feeling it building up in your hands, so you raised the palm of your hands without holding back, letting all that power come out and collide with the stealth lightning that Tony Stark let out of the palm of his hands. As if the two segments of energy were fighting a battle of their own they connected. With each draw of energy, exhaustion began to wash over you, knowing that you couldn’t last much longer than a couple of minutes in that situation. The clash caused sparks to reach each of the four sides of that corridor, denting the iron, melting it, but neither of you noticed.

At the third minute you pulled your hands away and threw yourself to one side so that its beam would not hit your body. Almost out of breath you dropped to the ground holding your palms up, Tony stopped the repulsor bolts of his gauntlets and turned his gaze upon you, but just as he took a step to approach you, a sharp, screeching noise caused you to change the destination of your gaze. What your eyes saw caused a nightmare to cling to your memory, the ceiling began to collapse, your exhaustion prevented you from creating a psionic field, your body became unresponsive and your mind locked. Your only institute was to close your eyes as tightly as you could, not knowing what was going to happen, but at that very moment when you heard how everything started to collapse, arms caught your body clutching it against a rigid chest and pulled you out.

So it was that once again a new failure was added to the list of your interventions. When you opened your eyes your body was lying prostrate in a corner of the main ship’s nave, where it had all started, but where there was no one left. The consumption of energy you had expended had left you without a shred of power within you. You looked up, your eyes a representation of the terror that had just reminded you of that moment, barely able to keep your breathing calm, and barely able to keep the words in your mouth when you saw Tony Stark’s face in front of yours again, before he looked away and walked away.

That was a turning point, for the next time you met Tony Stark face to face, you were on the same side. After the battle at Salvage Yard, the four of you, Ultron, the twins and you travelled to Seoul where Ultron’s true intentions were revealed. Ultron intended to create a genocide of humanity as a whole, he intended to create an enhanced body to dispose of his own. This horrified the three of you, causing you to flee from his power, causing Ultron’s wrath to prevail, creating a conflict in Seoul, in which the Avengers appeared. But the important thing in that was that the three of you joined the Avengers to save what had been your city, the place where you were born, Novi Grad.

You knew of Ultron’s plans for humanity, his intention was to create a device that would lift the city of Novi Grad into the sky, then drop it to Earth in a meteoric impact. On the way back to Sokovia, the place where it all began, a host of inexplicable feelings came to you, anger, shame, humiliation, hypocrisy… all related to your actions. Silence was present over the three of you, no conversations except those present to plan actions upon your arrival.

“Ultron knows we’re coming. Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire, and that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn’t. So our priority is getting them out, ” the words coming from Steve made you nod, keeping your eyes averted. “All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that’s not going to happen today.” You felt Tony’s eyes on you, you looked up to confirm it, but this meeting of glances made you uncomfortable, changing your position. “But we can do our best to protect them. And we can get the job done, and find out what Ultron’s been building. We find Romanoff, and we clear the field. Keep the fight between us.” He paused. “Ultron thinks we’re monsters and we’re what’s wrong with the world. This isn’t just about beating him. It’s about whether he’s right.“

Those last words crashed into you, you had been asking yourself the same question for weeks, you also needed to have an answer to it. So that’s how the end of the beginning began. You could never imagine what it would be like to see hundreds of people running through those streets again, the streets where you had grown up, where you had fought for your ideals and where you were now saving all those people so that the events you had experienced would never happen again. Each of you had a specific area, your mission was to guide the population to the safe side, protecting them from Ultron’s minions. Everything seemed to be going as assured, however time ran out, the ground began to crack, creating cracks, splitting the earth, causing an area of the city to rise into the air.

The terror of the scene brought you back to your childhood, you leaned against a building keeping your breathing as calm as possible and looked around you, the horror was present again, the screams of the people made a dent inside you, you closed your eyelids as tight as possible and put your hands to your head trying to erase that sound from your mind. Your back was slowly sliding down the wall until you were sitting completely on the ruins of the building.

“Hey!” Steve’s voice sounded close to you. “Are you okay?” his question barely got an answer from you, you felt his hand resting on your shoulder. “Hey, look at me. Are you okay?” you opened your eyes again and with a terrified look on your face you nodded, looking for the strength to face it. “I need you, those people need you, I know this is crazy, I know you’re terrified, but so are they.” You looked around you contemplating the massacre. “You can help them, they are your people.”

Again, Steve’s words gave you the courage you needed to find the calm within yourself, stand up and do everything you could to stop those robots that Ultron had built and turned into his allies. You knew what your mission was, you had a mission now and you couldn’t let it paralyse you.

“Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely. The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed… walk it off.”

The population was congregated in a specific point of the city, there was no solution to evict them if that part of the city did not come down and land again, until a ship, the Helicarrier, appeared between the clouds to create a solution to one of your problems, the eviction of the population. Now all that was left to do was to get that piece of land back in place.

“Avengers, time to work for a living,” Tony announced over the intercom. While the population was getting to safety in the boats, you as a whole had gathered at the church in Novi Grad, where Ultron had located the core, or rather the button, with which he would bring the city down, destroying all of humanity.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, confused by the situation.

“This is the drill. If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose,” Tony replied pointing to the vibranium contraption in the centre of the shattered dome.

In front of you hundreds of robots captained by Ultron approached without stopping their pace. You sucked air into your lungs, awaiting the arrival of one of the most crucial moments of your existence, perhaps the most crucial, for in a few hours you could possibly be extinct along with humanity.

“This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me,” Ultron also had his plan and that was. “How could you possibly hope to stop me?”

“Well, like the old man said,” Tony looked at each of you. “Together.”

The battle for survival began. You thought the previous battles you had fought were the ones that could change the course of your destiny, the ones where you had faced Tony Stark, but you couldn’t have been more wrong, that was nothing compared to what you were going through right now. Each of you was part of that team, your energy was renewed every time you used it because you were fighting for a reason, the strength in you shone through. You were all a team and you were getting through this together. One by one Ultron’s robots fell, until there were none left standing, but it wasn’t over.

“We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I’ll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you,” Steve asked just after the last robot was down.

“The core-” began Tony after he had bared his face, but you barely let him finish his words.

“I’ll protect it,” you said firmly, giving a slight nod to yourself, “it’s my job.”

Tony connected his eyes with yours offering you a slight nod, just before he covered his face again and flew away. “I’ll stay with you,” added Wanda to whom you offered a faint smile before everyone disappeared from the scene and Pietro was ordered to return to you once everyone was in the boats. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, only a few straggling robots were presenting themselves to you with the intention of overthrowing your mission, but something happened. You felt your friend’s body collapse right behind you, you turned your head and saw Wanda’s face distorted, your eyes widened in confusion as she began to utter a scream that made your eardrums ring. She fell to her knees, causing her powers to spiral out of control in the crash, destroying every element in her path, so you had to create a force field around yourself in the hope that you would be unaffected. Your thoughts began to connect, trying to find an answer to his attitude, and you found it. Pietro.

You both walked through the streets, but she scattered within minutes Wanda disappeared in search of Ultron, leaving you there, but there was no one left to fight with, or fight for. It was at the very moment you questioned the functionality of your existence that Novi Grad plummeted thousands of feet into the air, offering you the answer to your question. Your eyes closed but you were no longer afraid, on the contrary, you had been able to find peace, everything came to an end in the same place where it all began. But as if someone had been watching over you, you felt arms holding your body and slowing down the frantic rhythm of the plummeting fall. You opened your eyes and found yourself being held by Iron Man’s armour.

“ I got you,” he said flying in the opposite direction, managing to dodge the ruins of that city. “Now Thor!”

A new turning point that changed the course of your actions and your destiny lay before you. Despite your best efforts, nearly 120 lives were lost during the Battle of Sokovia, including that of Pietro Maximoff. It was a before and after, symbolising the power of war and what could be its fatal consequences. For you it was a judgement, a learning experience, feeling guilty for much of what had happened, for helping HYDRA, for helping Ultron, to elaborate his actions. Your guilt led you to rethink your future, the course of new events led you and Wanda to a new country. You arrived in the United States, welcoming the New Avengers Facility as a new home. Offering you a roof to sleep under, training for your powers and a new family, though you didn’t feel that way at first.

You spent many hours in search of solitude, at the end of that green esplanade, when the tall oak trees were beginning to remind you of home. It was one afternoon in the first week, when you were still adjusting to it all, and you found yourself reading, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Hiding?” Tony’s voice pulled you out of your reading. “Oh, Sylvia Plath, great,” you looked at him, but offered no response, so he opted to sit awkwardly right in front of you on the grass. “Listen, we haven’t had much time… you know,” he took off his sunglasses and shrugged. “I’ve been looking through the files and … I know what happened to you… with your parents.”

“You know,” you said with a raised eyebrow, putting the book aside. “Do you also know what happened to the other thousands of people or do you only have a file on me and a file on Wanda and Pietro?”

The confidence in your voice was at odds with the insecurity Tony was showing, so when you saw him turn his head to the right side as he crumpled his face you opted to do what you had been thinking about for the last few days, call it a day.

“Listen. I’ve spent many years imagining what it would be like when I had you in front of me,” you began to say calmly, keeping your gaze fixed on your fingers as Tony watched you with his head cocked to one side, listening to you intently. “In what I was going to tell you, in the way I would let you know the pain I felt inside, because to me you were to blame for everything bad that had happened to me,” you paused, took a breath and thought about what you were going to say next. “But the moment I had you in front of me I didn’t say anything I had planned to say, I let my anger and pain guide me, and it didn’t do any good. The same thing happened the second time, and the third time it was pointless because there was something much more important to fight for.”

“I…” Tony interjected.

“Please, let me finish,” you cut him off, causing Tony to nod and turn his attention back to you. Sadness clouded his features. “So now I have you in front of me again I just want you to know that I have realised that…” you paused causing Tony to make a slight gesture of approaching you, but when you started to speak again he stopped. “I have no intention of you bearing my ghosts, but I need you to know that I spent two days under the rubble waiting for Stark to kill me,” your voice cracked, and Tony’s eyes reddened. “Watching your name light up on the side of that missile every time that flashing red light illuminated the darkness, hearing that beeping sound that I still can’t erase from my mind, terrified that my breathing would cause that bomb to detonate because my limbs could barely move.”

For the first time you raised your face to meet wide open brown eyes, reddened and unable to hold your gaze for long. Tony’s face was pale during those moments, his body was no longer upright and he was nervously running his hand over his lips.

“With that said, it only remains for me to let you know that I will not let the hatred and vengeance of a ten year old consume me,” you looked back down at your hands, allowing Tony’s eyes to fall on you again. “I’ve seen the power that resentment brings with it, I don’t want that for myself,” you connected your gazes. “Then I suppose I must forgive you in order to move forward.”

Silence. Silence flooded the room leaving heavy breaths in the air that symbolised the tension of the situation you were both experiencing for the first time right now. There was no right answer to everything you had said, it was clear to you that Tony didn’t know how to act at that moment. You sat cross-legged on the damp grass, watching him, seeing how he couldn’t hold your gaze since you had explained that you saw his name reflected in that missile. Yet he fought against it and focused his brown eyes on yours.

“I promise you…” he began stiffly, but again you cut him off.

“Tony, don’t promise me anything,” your voice was soft, as if you were talking to a small child.  "Please.“

After your denial of his action, he only nodded. He merely nodded as he intertwined his fingers and began to fidget restlessly with his left leg.

"Then I don’t know what you want,” his tone offered an enormous insecurity marked by nervousness.

“That’s the point. I don’t want anything, Tony,” you said without fidgeting.

“All right,” he nodded confusedly, rising quickly but awkwardly from the grass in an attempt to get away from the situation. “So… I hope it’s all to your liking.”

With that said, he turned his back on you and left the same way he had come. Leaving you under the shade of that oak tree with Sylvia Plath.

Now, too much had happened since then, much of it was why you found yourself in Wakanda trying to juxtapose all that had happened, but what you didn’t know was that on that placid morning when you went for a walk along the banks of that small riverbed, Shuri and T'Challa would come to inform you that he was there and that he had asked to speak with you.

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[cocastyle]

Robin — ONE

Pairing - Joel Dawson x reader

Word Count - 5,047

A/N - this chapter was so much fun getting to write! I wanted to introduce you guys to the dynamic of our two characters before they take off into the world. they are just a super close pair which is definitely going to cause some interesting scenes throughout this movie, especially with Joel being in love Aimee at the moment and Y/N being in love with Joel. but no matter what, it’s their friendship that makes them Y/N and Joel and it’s just the cutest thing.

also, I just want to say, take note of the little letters Joel writes to Aimee. they are definitely going to show growth in Joel’s character as the story goes on :))

if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

R O B I N

Robin Series Masterlist

⭒❃.✮:▹ ONE ◃:✮.❃⭒

Dear Aimee,

I am wide awake. I've just gotten good at not really moving or breathing.

Being stuck in a survival bunker with a bunch of people who have all found their soul mate is less than ideal.

Karen and Ray got together a few months ago, so they're still kinda in their honeymoon phase. It is super physical. Good for them, you know. They're both very attractive and apparently quite flexible.

Hey, life's short. Especially down here.

After Tim's parents were eaten by a warm of termites, he and Ava became inseparable. In every way.

So pretty much everyone's coupled up down here besides me and Y/N. We're the singles of the bunker and I don't know how I would survive by myself without her. Having your best friend stuck down here with you helps a lot.

Our first baby was born last winter. It was super emotional. Welcome to the apocalypse, kid. The food sucks. At least you'll never know what you're missing.

Kala and Connor got together after Carol died. Carol was a cow who ate a box of laundry detergent and now we only have one cow. Her name's Gertie. Gertie is great. Y/N named her actually and every time someone uses the name she gets this goofy grin on her face that's hard for anyone to not smile back at.

Gertie's not our only food source. We actually have a hunting party that brings back whatever they can from the surface. It was easier in the beginning, you know, before we ran out of bullets. Facing down one of those things with a hanky handmade weapon is no walk in the park. Or that's what Robin tells me. I-I don't go on the hunting parties. They need me in the kitchen. I'm kinda the, uh. . .the chef of the bunker. Everyone likes my minestrone.

Me and Y/N being the only single people in the bunker has its perks too. We get to hang out with Mav1s. Of course, she's not much for conversation anymore. Her core battery's shot, just like every other Mav1s, I'd imagine. Actually never seen a working one.

Other than that, it's become our favorite pass time to mess with the other couples. Or at least that's what Robin does. I kind of just cheer her on.

Sure wish you were here, Aimee. I'd love for you to meet everyone and become closer with Y/N. Maybe we could do a little target practice together.

It's kinda my thing.

- - -

Y/N had been in the middle of dreaming about killing a monster when something began poking her face and pulled her from her slumber. Letting out a groan, the girl turned her head towards her pillow in an attempt to hide her face, but the person was persistent and instead began poking the back of her head instead.

"Joel," Y/N whined in annoyance earning a soft chuckle from the boy as he continued to poke her head. "Joel, I swear if you don't stop poking me right now I'm going to drag you out of this bunker and feed you to the nearest cold-blooded creature."

The poking stopped instantly and she slowly turned her face and let her eyes flutter open for a second to see Joel smiling at her in amusement. "Seven years underground and you still aren't a morning person," he mused.

Y/N groaned and fell further into her pillow as she closed her eyes once again. "I don't think I'll ever be," she muttered, her voice trailing off a bit at the end as sleep tried to take over once again.

"Hey, I just woke you up. Don't go back to sleep," Joel insisted as he reached out to poke her again. However, Y/N was quick to grab ahold of his finger and stop him without even having to open an eye.

"Don't poke me," she told him before letting go of the boy. "I'm tired, Joel. I don't have to see the sun to know it's still shining on the other side of the world. It's too early."

"Actually, it's not too far away from dawn," Joel said earning a groan from the girl because it was in fact too early. The boy frowned and gently nudged her as he rested his head on the edge of her bed. "Come on, Robin. I can't sleep and as my best friend it is your job to keep me from doing anything stupid while I'm awake. You can't exactly do that while sleeping, can you?"

"Joel," Y/N complained.

"Y/N," Joel mimicked. Y/N frowned slightly and Joel sighed before looking away as he got lost in thought. Finally he let out a small gasp and nudged the girl again, a smile appearing on his face, "I'll make you breakfast."

Y/N peeled open an eye at that, flickering her gaze over the boy's eager face before hesitantly saying, "Throw in a piggyback ride all the way to the kitchen and you've got yourself a deal.”

"Deal!" Joel exclaimed as he reached out to grab her hand and shake it. Y/N let out a soft sigh, knowing she was going to regret waking up, but pulled herself up out of bed and let out a yawn. Joel was practically bouncing from foot to foot due to his impatience and Y/N just ignored it as she sat up for a moment longer before looking to Joel.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said and the boy quickly turned around. Y/N lazily got out of bed before slowly getting onto Joel's back. He made sure she was on securely and waited until she had her arms wrapped around his neck and her head tucked into the crook of his neck before he was practically running out of the room.

"Woah! Slow down!" Y/N exclaimed as she almost went toppling off of his back from how bumpy the ride was. Joel slowed to a walk and looked back to her with an apologetic smile while she just rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're my best friend," she muttered, propping her elbow against the boy's shoulder in order to keep herself up right.

"You know you love me," Joel retorted and Y/N let out a soft sigh for she knew the boy was right. He just didn't understand the kind of love she had for him.

The two were about halfway down the hallway when they suddenly passed a door that was wide open. "Hey, Joel! Hey, Y/N!" a fellow colony member of theirs named Ava greeted.

The best friends turned their heads and instantly looked away, their faces red while Y/N hid her face against Joel's neck once again. "Oh. Hey, Ava," Joel said, coughing awkwardly as he held onto Y/N a bit tighter and tried to ignore the fact that he just saw Ava and her boyfriend Tim being intimate.

"Ava," Y/N greeted.

"Joel. Y/N. How's it going?" Tim asked.

"It's going good, Tim," Joel responded, attempting to hide his small smile as Y/N just shook her head, obviously embarrassed. "How are you. . .How are you doing?"

"Yeah, good," Tim replied.

"Good," Y/N muttered as she sat up a little more and just leaned against Joel's shoulder. "Uh, we were just. . .um. . .heading to the kitchen. Joel here couldn't sleep, so now here we are." She let out an awkward laugh and Ava and Tim returned it.

"Yeah, we know the feeling," Ava told her and both Joel and Y/N made a face.

"Yeah. Probably not for the same reasons," Joel muttered. "Y-You guys's, uh, door's open. Is that. . .did you know that?"

"Yeah," Ava admitted at the same time Tim said, "Yeah, we know."

Both Y/N and Joel didn't move before Joel muttered awkwardly, "Okay." A silence fell among the group after that and Y/N could just feel herself growing more uncomfortable by the second and it was obvious Joel was too.

"Batman, away!" Y/N exclaimed, pointing towards the direction of the kitchens in hopes that they could get away from this situation as quick as possible. Joel chuckled softly and shook his head before bolting off down the hallway making the girl yell at him.

Joel didn't slow down until they were in the kitchen, setting the girl down in a chair before moving across the room. "This better be the best breakfast you have ever created after putting me in that sort of position," Y/N told him. "This is why you sleep at night, so you don't have to see or hear what the others are doing when the lights are out."

Joel just waved her off with his hand and Y/N craned her neck in an attempt to see just what he was doing, but the boy merely moved his body each time so that she couldn't see. "Joel!" Y/N complained, but the boy was already turning around, his hands behind his back as he grinned at her.

She fell silent almost instantly, the grin making her heart skip a beat while she watched him stop on the other side of the counter. "You ready?" he asked and Y/N nodded her head eagerly, her stomach growling at the thought of food. Joel's smile widened and he quickly took his hand out from around his back and slammed an apple onto the table in front of her.

Y/N stared at the apple with a blank look on her face before scowling up at her friend. Joel just smiled and leaned his arms on the counter before he shrugged, "I never said what I was making you for breakfast."

"You didn't make anything," she pointed out, grumbling softly to herself as she grabbed the apple and took a bite out of it. "You tricked me."

"Hey, but look on the bright side," Joel told her and the girl raised an eyebrow. "Now that you're up, we can spend more time together and I don't have to be alone!"

Y/N made a face before looking to her apple and chuckling as she took another bite. "Well, joke's on you because today's planning day," she said, her words making Joel frown because he knew that planning day meant she would be with the hunting crew all day and not him.

"But planning day was last week," Joel complained.

"It was actually last month, but nice try," she replied with a smug smile on her face.

"Can't you skip it? I was wanting you to help me with my aim. I'm using the tips that you said, but it would be different if you were actually there to help," Joel said.

"I'm sorry, Joel, but I have to go. I have to pull my weight somehow," Y/N reminded him.

"Then at least let me help out. I don't do anything around here except make shitty minestrone," Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration and not noticing the way Y/N’s eyes seemed to follow the action.

Y/N set the apple down, rolling her eyes slightly when Joel picked it up and angrily took a bite out of the other side. "First of all, your minestrone is heaven, so never refer to it as shitty ever again," she told him. Joel just looked away and Y/N sighed before reaching out and setting a hand on top of the boy's arm. He hesitantly looked her way and she offered him a small smile. "I know you may think you don't do anything to help out around here, but you do, Joel. You help out in more ways than you may think."

Joel looked away and bit into the apple again. "You're just trying to make me feel better and I appreciate it, but we both know I don't do anything," he muttered. "Not anything important anyways."

"Joel," Y/N began but the sound of someone yelling her name made her fall short. She glanced in the direction of the voice, putting together who was calling for her and why. It was planning day after all and those days always started at dawn so that they could get some training out of the way before mapping out their next hunting trip.

Sighing, Y/N looked back at Joel and gave his arm one more squeeze. "That's my cue to leave," she said, pulling herself up out of her chair. The girl began to make her way towards the door before pausing and looking back at Joel who was just staring at the table with the half eaten apple in hand.

Before Joel knew what was happening, Y/N was jumping on him from behind, her arms wrapping around his frame for a quick hug as she kissed his cheek and said, "Have a great day, Joel. I'll see you later for lunch, okay? Love you." She then slyly stole the apple from him and winked in his direction before running out of the room as her name was yelled out once again.

Joel couldn't help but smile as he watched the girl leave, ignoring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat which was unusual for him.

"Love you too," he whispered.

- - -

Y/N stared at the map in front of them with a contemplating look upon her face. She was resting her head on her hand and gently tapped her finger against her cheek while her eyes flickered over the marks they had already made.

"Why don't we try over here?" Y/N suggested, pointing towards the section that they had already marked off as 'Do Not Enter.'

All eyes turned to her almost immediately and Connor shook his head. "Y/N, you know why we don't go over there," he told her, referencing the incident where half of their hunting squad got killed, but the girl was persistent.

"That was back when we were just beginning our second year down here. We're more prepared now," Y/N told them. "Every time we go hunting, we stay close enough that we can run back to the bunker if needed. We can't keep living like this. I mean, aren't you guys a little bit curious as to what it's like out there?"

There was a unanimous, "No."

Y/N frowned and looked back down at the map, her fingers now brushing across the small area she had been pointing at while the others all watched her. “Y/N," Anna Lucia sighed, walking over to the girl's side and placing a hand on her shoulder. "There are so many unknowns out there and you know that. What if we go out there and our whole hunting party gets eaten by those monsters? What would the others do?"

"Live off Joel's minestrone," Y/N suggested before sighing and looking towards her friend. "But what if we don't die? What if this opens up a whole new world for us?"

Anna Lucia squeezed the girl's shoulder before whispering, "We can't risk it."

Y/N frowned and looked away while Anna Lucia let her hand fall back down to her side. "Anna Lucia's right except for the being able to live off Joel's minestrone thing. I'm pretty sure he'd be out there trying to avenge you before even thinking about making minestrone," Tim spoke up.

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to do that," Y/N assured them.

"He'd be reckless enough," Connor retorted. Y/N gave him a look and the man sighed, "Seriously, Y/N? When are you two just going to grow a pair and tell each other how you feel?"

Y/N blinked in surprise, a light blush taking over her features as she looked around at her friends who were all smirking. "W-What?" she whispered.

"Gosh, you're insufferable sometimes," Anna Lucia muttered jokingly. "It's obvious that you like him and he is your best friend who is also the only one that's still single down here."

"Joel and I—" Y/N hesitated, the thought of actually being with Joel like that making her heart flutter. "We're just friends," she insisted before giving them all a sad smile. "We won't be getting together."

"It's only a matter of time," Anderson smirked making the girl glare in his direction. However, she didn't get a chance to say or do anything because they all were frozen in place as the lights to the bunker flickered on and off before turning on once again.

"What was—" Anna Lucia began, but Y/N could already feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening.

"Breach," she muttered at the same time someone yelled out from another room, "There's been a breach!"

They all ran out of the room, a few of them scanning the perimeter before they made their way to the main room where everyone was waiting to help them get ready. They hurriedly put what armor they did have on their bodies and Y/N was pulling her hair back into a ponytail when she noticed Joel stumbling into the room with all the weapons in hand.

"Guys! Guys! I got the weapons," Joel announced before proceeding to hand them out to the hunters that walked by.

"Stay," Anderson told him as he took a crossbow.

Joel blinked in surprise, "What? What's happening? What's going on?"

"We've been breached," Y/N explained while she waited for Anna Lucia to grab her weapon so that she could finally reach Joel.

"Breached?" Joel asked. "What do you mean? Like, inside the bunker breached?"

"That's what 'breached' means, kiddo. Y/N, come on," Connor demanded causing the girl to sigh in frustration as him and all the hunters left the room. She turned to Joel who was still trying to process what was happening.

"Joel," she said and he quickly turned to her.

"Right. Right. Here," he muttered as he held out a back holster with two katanas strapped in. She had taken them off of a guy back when the apocalypse had first begun. He had been dead and it wasn't like he planned on using them anyways, so she had taken them in order to keep herself alive. They were her weapon of choice, but she was also one of the best shooters they had so she tended to use a crossbow when necessary. "And here's this," he told her before handing her a crossbow as well.

"Thanks," Y/N told him before nodding her head at him and running out of the room.

"Wait!" Joel yelled, but the girl was already gone. "Breached," he muttered to himself in shock before running after his best friend. By the time he made it to where everyone was, Y/N was already inspecting the gate to the sewers with a frown on her face and her crossbow at the ready while some others worked on getting it open.

"Anna Lucia, Y/N and I will engage," Connor directed. "Anderson and Tim, flank us."

"Flank 'em, yeah, okay. Where do you guys need me? The rear, or. . ." Joel trailed off causing them all to look his way, including Y/N.

"I thought we were past this, Joel," Tim told him as they all looked back to gate.

"Past what? You need help. I can help," Joel insisted. "In case you've forgotten, Robin and I are a duo and I know she goes on the hunting trips and I don't, but this I can help with. Let me help."

"You gonna make me say it?" Connor asked.

"Say what?" Joel questioned.

"You can't handle it, Joel," Connor told him.

"You're shook," Tim added.

"Okay, yeah. So, you guys don't get scared ever?" Joel asked them.

"We get scared."

"We all get scared, Joel, but you get really scared."

"We're not trying to make you feel bad."

"We love you, Joel."

"But you're unsafe."

"You're a liability."

"Even on supply runs."

"Guys!" Y/N exclaimed glaring at the men while Joel looked between them a bit confused.

"Okay, why did that speech feel so rehearsed?" Joel questioned.

"He's got a point," Y/N muttered, turning back around while she nervously fidgeted her hands against the crossbow. "If you're going to tell him something like that at least be sincere instead of rehearsing in your mirror beforehand."

"We did not—" Tim began, but the sound of a growl and something banging against metal made them all tense while Joel jumped back a good foot from where he originally was.

"Connor, Y/N," Karen said as she handed a device to the man. Y/N quickly stood up and hurried over, her eyes flickering over the screen where she could see a blue dot making its way through the sewers towards them.

"Shit," she muttered before standing up more and cracking her neck. She got an arrow ready in the crossbow and jumped in place for a moment to get her nerves out. "Let's do this."

"Okay, 30 meters out. Let's move," Connor directed.

The sewer door was pulled down before the hunters began making their way inside. Y/N was about to follow when someone grabbed ahold of her wrist. She looked back, her eyes locking with Joel's as he held on tightly and whispered, "I can help, Robin."

Y/N let her eyes flicker over his face while her mouth opened up to say something. However, she found herself unable to. All she could imagine was Joel getting attacked by whatever creature was in the sewers at that very moment. She couldn't let him go in there, no matter how badly he wanted to. This was the first time a breach like this had ever happened. Who knew what awaited them down there?

The girl rushed forward, hugging the boy tightly and making him stumble back a bit in surprise. She didn't give him time to react before she was pulling away. "I'm sorry," she whispered, quickly turning around and climbing into the sewers. However, she didn't disappear before she yelled out, "No one let Joel follow!"

Joel's eyes widened. "What?" he exclaimed before attempting to rush forward, but Tim was already there to stand in his way. "Tim, you got to let me go with her. I can't let her go alone. I-I can help."

"She'll be fine, Joel. Y/N’s a survivor. She won't let whatever creature this is take her down," Tim assured him before reaching out to grab the curtain. "You heard what she said. Now go with them." He then pulled the curtain between the two, effectively blocking Joel's view of the tunnel and leaving the boy standing there with a numb feeling coursing through his body.

"Robin," he muttered in frustration before turning on his heels and running to the room everyone was in. The door was locked behind him and Joel quickly shoved his way to the front so that he could watch the monitor with Karen and Kala.

They could all see five yellow dots moving through the tunnels near a bigger blue dot in the center of the screen. "They're getting close," Karen muttered, a silence falling upon them all as they noticed the five dots stop not too far away from the creature. Before anyone knew what was happening, the blue dot lunged out and grabbed ahold of one of the yellow dots.

"Shit."

"Oh, my God."

"It's got one of 'em."

"What about the others?"

The lights began to flicker while Joel felt his heart drop to his stomach. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice making everyone look his way. He was pale, his hands shakily holding onto the crossbow in his hands.

"We don't know if that's her, Joel," Karen tried to tell him. "She could be fine. She—"

"I'm going after her," he said before turning and running for the door. Everyone's eyes widened as people began to make a move towards him, by the boy was quick and already had the door open.

"Joel!" Kala yelled.

"They need help. My best friend needs help. I'm going," Joel insisted before running out the door and slamming in shut behind him.

Joel spun around quickly, crossbow in the air while he nervously looked around the bunker. It was like he was walking into a foreign place, the usual warm feeling of the bunker being replaced with nothing but an eerie feeling and a coldness that shook him to his very core.

His breathing was shaky as he began to walk forward, his eyes flickering around his surroundings while Joel tried to keep himself calm. The only thing keeping him from collapsing in fear was the knowledge that Y/N was out there possibly hurt. He had to get to her. He had to.

The lights flickered as he slowly made his way back towards the tunnels where he knew he had his best access to the others. It was a deafening silent as he walked into the room, so quiet in fact that his ears were ringing.

He nervously looked around and adjusted his hands on the crossbow. As he grew closer to the curtain Tim had pulled out earlier, a new sound filled his ears while his feet slowly stepped in the new puddles of water and blood that were on the ground. The sight made him feel sick to his stomach, so Joel did his best to keep his eyes staring straight ahead.

A lightbulb exploding behind him made the boy jump and spin around, his eyes wide in fear before he realized what had happened and turned back around. He could hear Tim and Connor's words replaying over and over in his head.

We all get scared, Joel, but you get really scared.

You're unsafe.

You're a liability.

Joel walked forward and took in a shaky breath as he attempted to push the voices from his head. His eyes continued to survey the area and he hesitated at the sight of a figure on the other side of the curtain. It almost looked like—

"Connor?" Joel questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. When there was no response, Joel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and lowered his crossbow just a bit. "Connor?"

It was at that moment that a loud hissing sound came from the other side of the curtain and Connor's body limply flew across the room before being shoved into the mouth of whatever creature was over there with him. Lights from the other side shinned their shadows against the curtain and Joel's eyes widened in fear as he slowly took a step back.

Joel's whole body was shaking, his eyes tearing up a little as he feared for not only his life, but Y/N’s as well. If the creature had done what it did to Connor with Y/N. . .well, Joel didn't even want to think about what he would do.

It seemed he wouldn't have to because at that moment the monster finished up eating Connor and turned its attention towards the curtain. It made a noise that Joel swore was able to rattle his bones. The crossbow was back up in position once again, but his hands were shaking so badly that he knew if he didn't get his fear together he was going to be the monster's dessert to the meal it just ate.

The monster began to stand up on the other side of the curtain, its shadow growing bigger and making Joel gulp. He shakily got the crossbow ready to fire before freezing at the sight of the monster appearing over the top of the curtain.

There were tears in his eyes at this point and Joel couldn't even move as he watched the monster tear the curtain down before moving towards him. A few tears slid down his face and Joel felt the fear and panic coursing through his veins.

He closed his eyes as the monster grew nearer, his face confronting in pain and fear as he felt the monster's breath fanning his face and heard the growls rattling in his head.

Then before he knew what had happened, he heard the sound of something flying through the air and then the monster cried out in agony. He felt someone rush by him and opened his eyes to find Y/N standing above the monster's dead body, one katana dripping with blood in one hand while the other protruded from the center of the monster's face.

"D-Did I kill it, or did you?" Joel whispered, her eyes flickering between Y/N who still had yet to turn around and look at him, Tim, and Anna Lucia.

"What do you think?" Anna Lucia asked.

"Robin," he muttered for he knew she had been the one to save him, his eyes flickering back over to his best friend. It was then that she turned to look at him, her whole body shaking as she breathed heavily and attempted to calm herself down. Joel inhaled sharply at the sight of her, her face covered in dirt and blood while a scratch ran down the length of her arm from where the monster had no doubt tried to grab ahold of her.

Joel began to break at that, tears rolling down his face even more while Y/N pulled the other katana out of the monster's head before shoving them both into their sheaths. She moved forward in an instant, her hands grabbing ahold of Joel's arms while she looked to him with a worried gaze.

"Joel, are you okay? Are you hurt?" she asked earning a slow shake of his head in response. "What were you doing? What were you thinking? You could've gotten killed!"

Joel slowly lifted his gaze to her, his whole body still shaking as he whispered, "You-You were in trouble, Robin. I—"

Joel was unable to finish what he was saying, his words being cut off as he closed his eyes and more tears fell. It was obvious he was holding back a sob due to the fact they were in front of other people and Y/N felt herself soften almost immediately.

She was wrapping her arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him in for a hug which Joel quickly accepted. His arms were around her waist and he held onto her tightly while he shook, his tear filled eyes flickering to the ground where the monster that had been seconds away from killing him laid dead on the ground.

- - -

Oh, and I have a pretty severe freezing problem.

But I am working on it.

- - -

Tag List

@simplybarnes

@spideysimpossiblegirl

@bookdorkfangirl

@katemusic

@eternallyvenus

@juliebean247

@trustfundparker

[soliverse]

sugar, sugar - z.cl

reader x chenle

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: a kiss in the cheek, cuss words, pessimism (I think that’s about it? Let me know if I missed something.

word count: 6.2k

part of the Candy Hearts Collab by @127-mile (click the link if you want to read the rest of the collab)

synopsis: Your whole life, especially working for your boss, is a living nightmare. That was until you got some sugar in your life.

inspiration:

Isn’t It Romantic (The film from Netflix by Rebel Wilson),

Sugar, Sugar by the Archies

networks

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet

February 13,202x / 8:00 AM

It was a quiet and peaceful morning. Which is too bad since that’s not what you’re aiming for.

Your alarm should’ve sounded at 6:00AM. Instead, it woke you up an hour late despite how much fumbling and crying that you did make it work last night.

You have completely ditched breakfast, running as fast as you can to the bus stop that never comes and leave as scheduled.

Already half an hour late, you still sat down that bus seat, fidgeting as if not staying calm on your seat will make the bus ride shorter. Right now, the only thing that you’re still holding on to is that small, sliver of hope that you get there before your boss does.

After climbing down the vehicle, you ran like you’re in a marathon and looked for that one window that your coworker always leaves open whenever you’re late like today. You ungracefully climbed up the window of the storage room and met Jisung, who’s already getting himself ready before opening.

“Is he here yet?”

You whispered as you tried to dust your red shirt and smoothened out your wrinkled uniform. The goal is to make yourself look decent, an attempt that you barely managed to accomplish

“He just came in. Hurry up before he notices.”

You mouthed “Thanks” to Jisung before leaving the storage room and sneak into the main entrance to log yourself in for today.

Your eyes scanned the candy-themed decorations for any signs of life (or danger, in your boss’ case) but he is nowhere to be found. You walked casually towards the main entrance, breathing only a sigh of relief as soon as you get to the front door.

Finally feeling at ease, you pressed your thumb on the device that records your time and gave yourself a mental pat in the back for actually pulling it off. At least, before a hand pops out of nowhere and touched you by shoulder.

You yelped at the surprise appearance of your ever-so-stealthy boss right behind you.

“You’re late again.”

He was staring at you with those black intense eyes and his resting bitch face. His expression always made you worry because there’s no way to actually now if he’s mad or not. You kept your head down and tried to avoid as much eye contact as possible.

“Surprised? I saw your little stunt by the window. You know that it’s right in front of my office, right?”

He patted your shoulder before placing his hands back to his pockets.

“You also know that I’ll be deducting that on your payroll, right?”

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t even let you finish and just turned his back at you, walking towards his office.

“That reminds me. We should bolt that window down before someone else tries to sneak in and steal. Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.”

As soon as he’s out the way, you rolled your eyes and went back to straightening the wrinkles off of your uniform.

“Tell Jisung to work on that as soon as possible.” You said, mimicking him made faces behind his back.

As if Jisung knows how to shut that window properly.

 After that delightful conversation, you helped Jisung in refilling the candy containers, tidied the shop by little bit, and breathe for one final time today before you opened the shop.

Some people may have imagined working on a candy store to be a dream. You get to bask in all of the aesthetics, you get to interact with children every day, and there’s that perk that you get to enjoy an unlimited supply of sweet treats during your shift.

Oh boy, some people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your location is near an amusement park, which is already hectic as it is, but you also need to deal with stuff that all retail staff goes through.

If you were to make an entire list of the stressful situations that you have to deal with every single shift, it would take you all day.

There are children throwing temper tantrums because their parents refused to buy the candy that the wanted, entitled Karens demanding free candy because you made her baby cry, teenagers who thinks they’re so smart by stealing handful of candies from their containers while you’re distracted. It’s a mess.

And that’s beside your main source of stress. That one is sitting on his office at the back of the store, probably playing some game on his phone while you act as both staff and manager, is the best boss in the world, Mr. Zhong Chenle.

Note the sarcasm.

That guy deserves a whole separate list by himself.

///

So far, the first few hours of your shift went smoothly. There were a few customers here and there but nothing that you and Jisung can’t handle.

All is well. But if you’ve worked retail before, you would know that those words are cursed.

You’ve always had this thing where you’d get a stomachache whenever something bad is about to happen. Ever since that one nice lady earlier told you to keep the change with a very kind smile, your stomach has been grumbling like crazy.

You sneaked into the counter and sat there for a moment to rest. The pain is bearable, but it makes it very hard for you to breathe properly. After taking a few deep breaths, the pain subsided a little bit.

Until, someone wrapped their arms around you, startling you off the chair and had you freefalling straight into your butt.

“I’m not paying you to slack off Y/N. Do something. I don’t know… rearrange the Valentines display. Just don’t sit around while there’s so much stuff to do.”

He dusted his overprized outfit that probably cost more than your wage, even grabbing the hand sanitizer from his pocket, completely acting like you had a contagious virus that.

Fighting the urge to talk back, you just turned around and went back to work.

Someday, I’m going to punch that resting bitch face off his face.

Someday.

You went back and found Jisung painstakingly arranging the M&M piece by piece, arranged by color, size and filling.

The kid makes you worry sometimes.

He’s a good kid but sometimes he can be a bit… clueless?

You remembered the first time that your boss bought a cotton candy machine and asked you and Jisung to figure out how to operate it. He almost left work with nine fingers that day.

“Hey kid. Bossman wants us to change the Valentines display.” You explained as you walk over to the center of the room where the display case is placed.

“Not again. What does he want this time?”

“I don’t know. His only instruction is do something.”

He whined for a bit, but he followed your lead shortly after and started removing all of the candy jars on display one by one.

You started working on it as well, hoping that he (aka the owner) won’t notice that you just switched the glass containers of the candy displays with each other and then placed them back in their original place.

You realized that he probably didn’t know what the display looked like in the first place. It’s just more unnecessary work just to keep you moving.

To pass the boredom, you decided to dote on the kid that is busy making a bouquet of out of rose-shaped lollipops right beside you.

“Sooo…”

You said in a high-pitched voice and tried to lighten up the mood a little.

“Any plans for the V-day?”

He stops for a moment, bowing his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“I’m taking this girl out bowling.”

You squealed and poked his side to tease him. He used to be a little highschool kid that you were told to keep an eye on just in case he accidentally kills himself. It was a headache at first, but he grew on you and now he feels like your honorary little brother.

“Awww. My Jisungie is grown up. It felt like it was just yesterday when I was to trying to teach you to tie your own shoelaces. And now, you’ve got a girlfriend”

“Uhm Y/N. That was yesterday.”

You were about to pinch his cheeks once again when Chenle squeezed himself in between you and Jisung.

“And now you’re flirting. Geez. Do I have to do everything around here?”

Why does this guy keep popping out of nowhere?

He stared you and Jisung down before he slithered back to his office once again. You just stood there in disbelief, shaking your head as you went back to work.

///

The end of the day went by smoothly, which made you worry even more. As you return some of the candy displays back to the stock room, you can’t help but think that today was just the calm before the storm.

Take last year’s Valentines for example.

The shop was stuffed with that a customer fainted because of suffocation. Jisung was bleeding because some guy punched him for flirting with his girlfriend (even though the poor kid is just being nice and gave her one of the extra candy flowers.)

And oh, no dates. While everyone is busy celebrating the love that they will share together you celebrated at the fact that the day is all over.

Ever since you’ve started working at that shop, you’ve never really tried to meet new people. You keep explaining that you’re tired all day. That your job is very demanding time-wise and physically. But in reality, no one just asked you out.

You could’ve quit, but who would take in a highschool graduate without work experience? You’ve barely saved up for a whole college semester, let alone the curriculum. There’s nothing to do besides suck it up.

It’s just one of those things that you stop celebrating as you get older.

Valentine’s day, your birthday, your birthday which is the same day as Valentine’s day.

Sighing, you picked up the stack of empty boxes that you needed to take outside for the garbage truck. Once again, Chenle pops out of nowhere, hitting some of the boxes that tumbled back on the floor. His are arms folded at his chest, sneering because of the mess that he created.

“Will you clean up this mess? It’s almost closing.”

You just pursed your lips, nodding as you stacked the boxes once again, trying very hard not to lose your composure.

“And will you please close the lights outside this time? I doubt that can pay for the damages if this shop burns down.”

Back turned against your employer, you picked up the boxes from the floor. You’re just glad that it is tall enough to cover most of your face. If someone could see your face right now, they would say that it is the face of someone that is about to murder somebody. Which is getting closer and closer to reality every single time Chenle opens his mouth.

Besides, you left one of the lights open one time. His petty ass just can’t seem to live it down.

“I’ll make sure to double check before leaving, sir.”

“Good. Make it quick.”

Holding out the boxes, you figured that he’d at least hold the door out for you. You had that one tiny glimmer of hope that he’s nice after all and you judged him too hastily.

Nope.

He slams the door right behind him and closed the lights from outside.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You slammed the boxes down to search for the lights and open the door for yourself.

Just one punch. I need just one punch and that’s it. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

Scrambling in the dark, you almost faceplanted as you tripped one of the boxes in your way. With your arms stretched out as you feel up your surroundings, it took you a few minutes before you’ve finally managed to open the switch and see the mass that you made while stumbling.

You just facepalmed and stood there for a while, reminding yourself to take deep breaths and calm yourself before you actually burn this place down.

One by one, you stacked the boxes once again in one corner, making sure secure them this time. Keeping the door open, you’ve successfully placed them inside the bins.

One box in particular fell down to the ground. You picked it up to stuff it back to the garbage can but the motion made a rattling noise.

I must’ve missed a piece.

You dusted off the nearby pavement and sat down so you can open the box.

Inside was a few bags of candy, adorned with the usual red and white swirls with the text “Sweet Escape” taking over most of the packaging.

This one must be new.

You stuffed the box back to the garbage can, looked around for signs of a snooping, grumpy adult and placed candy on one of your back pockets.

If your boss found out that you messed up the inventory again, he will not hesitate to fire you. You’re just gonna have to sneak it inside before he gets there tomorrow. Well, assuming that your alarm clock works this time.

///

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You closed the door behind you and took off your shoes as entered your living room.

Throwing your keys and jacket aside, you’ve just noticed that the lights are all off and the house is eerily quiet.

You grunted as your sore feet walked itself to the kitchen, only to find a single note on the counter.

Me and your sister went out to eat tonight. Just order something for dinner

Love Mom,

All you ever wanted that night that you just to a nice, warm dinner and go straight to the bed and shut yourself from the world.

Great. No breakfast and dinner.

Fuck my life.

You threw the note in the garbage bin and just stomped your way to your room. You felt like breaking down at that moment but you didn’t have the strength to make cry and make a fuss. Maybe you can just sleep all the frustrations off and feel a lot better tomorrow.

Maybe it doesn’t get much worse than this.

You scoffed.

Sike.

As if.

You slammed yourself to bed but soon realized that it wasn’t a very good idea.

You felt something in your pocket popped and it made a huge mess in your bed. You took it out of the pocket and realized that it was the bag of candy from earlier. The seams popped out and tore open from being squished by a tired, underpaid employee.

At this point, you just glared and cursed yourself once as you cleaned the candy off of your bed. Some of the candy is inside the box, so you cupped your hands and poured the remaining contents to your palms. It was filled with tiny colorful candy hearts, which looked appetizing despite the tiny bits of disfiguration and the fact that it was in your pockets the whole time.

Well, I guess this is dinner then.

You popped the candy in your mouth, letting it sit as it oozes a strong citrusy flavor. It had a texture similar to those fever tablets for kids. In fact, it tasted like medicine a bit, too.

The citrus taste kept on spreading in your mouth and your face now contorted to a grimace. It felt like all moisture is getting sucked out of your body.

They sell this to kids?

You ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to water the taste down. It didn’t do anything, so, you kept on chugging more and more water until you’ve finished an entire gallon of liquids.

You sat down at the kitchen floor and breathe a sigh of relief. The taste finally left your tastebuds, but you can still feel your body feeling repulsed by the extreme sour sugary candies that you just consumed.

Drinking one more glass of water, you went back to your room and changed into your comfortable clothes, finally ready to leave this day behind.

Let’s just hope that those candy bits won’t get you sued tomorrow.

///

February 14,202x / 8:00 AM

The alarm started blaring off from its place, scaring you shitless and making you jump out of bed in panic.

 You could've have been happier and more annoyed at the same time.

You leaned against your bedroom wall, giving yourself a few minutes to calm yourself down before you decided to turn off the alarm.

Once your heartbeat has cooled down, you stepped back to the bedside table and pressed the alarm button to check the time.

8:00AM

"Dammit!”

Your heart started to race once again. This time, it’s the adrenaline rush that’s making you move faster than normal. You even contemplated about getting a shower. However, you're already screwed as it is, you're not going to work without breakfast and shower again.

You stepped back to your room, wrapped on a bathrobe and panting like you just ran a marathon. Digging into your own closet, you noticed that your uniform, a red polo shirt and matching star white pants, is missing from your closet.

"Mom! Have you seen my uniform?"

You shouted from your room but you heard no answer. It seems like they didn't stay the night either.

Great.

Seeing as how your day started, you've deemed the rest of the day unsalvageable and just grabbed the closest thing to red that you have on your closet, which is a red frilly blouse and a white paneled skirt that you've never worn before. It's right at the bottom of your closet, so you've figured you or your mother bought this before and just forgot all about it.

You also grabbed one of your newer shoes to match and bolted to the front door as fast as possible.

You locked the door behind you, only to be spooked as you turned around to see a car parked in your driveway.

It was one of those fancy ones too. The ones that have their doors open at the side like an alien spaceship.

You only know one person in the world that's flashu enough to ride one. And he's just came out of the car.

"Happy birthday! You're pretty early..."

Chenle smiled as jogs over to you, keys jingling on his fingers, and gave you a small peck on the cheek.

You stood there in your porch, frozen.

Zhong Chenle knows how to smile. And he knows about your birthday

"I was about to call you but I didn't want to wake you up. So, I came over instead. Did you eat your breakfast yet?"

You shook your head hesitantly, still unable to speak and process the situation.

"No good, young lady. Go back inside. We're not leaving with an empty stomach."

 ///

 Here's something that you never encounter every day. Your spawn-of-the-devil employer is making you pancakes in the kitchen. And you finally have fresh milk in your fridge.

What happened to the world while you were sleeping?

"I'm not a professional chef but at least it's edible."

He said as he placed a perfectly fine plate full of fluffy pancakes right in front of you. Is this him being cocky?

He sets the apron aside and sat down right in front you, grabbing a plate and a piece of pancake for himself.

"Go on... Tell me if it's good."

You hesitantly took a bite, and then chewed in silence as Chenle expectantly watched you from the side. You set the fork down, speechless.

They're as good on the inside as they looked on the outside.

 "You don't like it?"

He sounded upset. It wasn't like "I can't believe you forgot to do this thing that I told you" upset either. He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes and a bit of a pout.

You froze. What if all of this is trick? And this is just is way of firing you, like letting you down gently in case you formed a vendetta and burn the shop down in your anger.

Which, for the record, is partly true.

"Uhm. It's nice. It's very niceee"

In your panic, you might've overdone the compliment. It sounded like you're on gunpoint and you had to say it to live. Nevertheless, he still smiled to himself and took the compliment well, even pouring you another glass of milk so "it would go down better".

The interaction alone gave you the chills. It felt like you're walking on thin ice and the former Chenle will come out and bury you alive. But even that would've sound more real than what's about to happen next. 

Like the gentleman that he is, he opened the car door for you. You never even got the chance to question where the two of you are going. After sitting down, just when you're about you're about to ask, he held your hand and gave it a kiss.

"You buckled up?"

"Uhm. Yes..."

Still holding your hand, he pressed some buttons on the dashboard and then music started playing. You recognized that it was that song, Sugar Sugar by The Archies. It’s one of the songs that you ironically played in the candy shop. There was also Sugar by Maroon 5, Sugar by Florida.

Well, you get the point.

“Sugar Ah, honey, honey You are my candy girl And you got me wanting you…”

He proceeds to sing along to the song merrily as he backed up your driveway. Meanwhile you sat there quietly as you tried to assess your situation. 

Is this kidnapping? Would it be considered kidnapping if I willingly went inside the vehicle?

Once you’ve realized how ridiculous you sounded in your head, you relaxed for a bit and started humming along to the song. It was at this point that you realized that Chenle had a beautiful voice. The song didn’t have high notes, but it was hard to make your voice pop up with the middle register. It sounded stable, like he’s a recording artist.

The atmosphere at the shop would be much better if he sang like this all the time.

…which reminded you of something that Chenle might be neglecting to think.

Panic washed over you and soon, you can’t keep still and moved around your seat a lot.

“Are you comfortable?

He kept on glancing on your direction, keeping you in check for a few moments while he still kept an eye on the road,

“We can make a quick stop if you need something.”

Trying your best to keep yourself still, you finally sat down and placed both of your hands on your lap, like the kids at school when their parents ask them to behave.

“Where are we going again?”

The question finally popped out and you pursed your lips while trying to wait for the answer.

“I don’t know. It’s your day. We can go wherever you want to.”

“Oh.”

It’s not like him to be away from the shop at this time of the day, let alone the whole day. No matter how sucky he is, he did what is best for the shop. It was his baby.

And if the both of you aren’t going, then it only means one thing. His baby is screwed at the hands of someone.

"By the way, who's taking care of the candy shop?"

You tried to ask nonchalantly, but it only came out sounding more inconspicuous.

"Oh yeah. I left Jisung in charge."

He wistfully replied. Suddenly, you feel your head spinning from your seat from the sheer realization that he left the kid alone, in his shop, with no adult/proper supervision.

"You left Jisung alone... In charge... On Valentine's Day"

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to hide your internal panic. You'll be lucky if the guy made it alive until lunch by himself.

"Relax. He'll be fine. He's with the trainees. Figured it might teach them a thing or two in getting the actual job done."

“And with trainees too… oh my god.”

Great. More casualties.

“You don’t mind if we stopped by the shop first, do you?”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

///

In a few minutes, he pulls over to the parking lot and you’re glad to see the shop in piece. On the outside at least.

You stepped inside the car and practically ran over to the inside of the shop, leaving Chenle behind.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I help you?”

Two unknown faces greeted you at the door. They must be the trainees that Chenle talked about earlier.

“Would you happen to know where Jisung is?”

They both nodded and pointed to the direction of the left side of the shop, which was supposed to be all the supplies were. Instead, there was Jisung on the register, which by the way looked different from what you can remember.

In fact, the whole shop looked nothing like it was yesterday. The colors seemed more vibrant and festive and the whole thing looked like a candy wonderland. To be honest, it reminded you of that one Katy Perry music video.

Jisung bowed at you formally and wore his usually customer service smile.

“Welcome to Sweet Escape, how may I—”

“How many fingers do you have now?”

You replayed the question in your head and it sounded just as crazy when it came out of your mouth. At this point, you decided to continue on with the question. For obvious safety reasons.

“Uh ma’am. What do you mean?”

“Hold your fingers up. How many do you have?”

He was hesitant to do as you say. Chenle just facepalmed and gestured him to do as you said, putting up all of his tall fingers in the air.

“Ten?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, almost rushing over to hug the confused Jisung when Chenle pulls you from behind.

“Please excuse her for the moment. She’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

He smiled and bowed to Jisung as an apology, another gesture that you haven’t seen him do before, pulling you outside the store to give you some air. Once you’ve reached the parking lot, he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you still.

“Okay. Since when is hugging my staff became a thing?”

He stares you down with a genuine concerned look on his face.

He placed one of his hands on your forehead.

“It’s not like you’re sick either…”

Chenle sighs, finally releasing you from his grasp

“Tell me. What’s the problem?”

He sat you down at the pavement and gave you enough space to reflect on your actions.

You had the choice to say that you have absolutely no idea what’s happening to you right now, but you thought that he ought to know why you’re acting that way. Now, you just have to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like a crazy person.

“I…”

You started slow, working your way into explaining that you woke up into this insane dream about how her boss is suddenly so nice to her that morning.

And then it hit you.

“I had a dream about you...”

Ideas started pouring down to your head, starting to piece together a story that actually made sense.

“And in that dream, you’re this mean guy that never cared about me and other people’s feelings. You just made everyone around you miserable. The dream felt so real so I’m very uncomfortable that you’re acting nice to me now.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head as an answer. Chenle pulls you over to a side hug, relief washing over him knowing that it wasn’t that bad as he made it up to be.

“I’m sorry if that mean version of me hurt you.”

He rested his head on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

“If I decided to be mean to you in a dream again, feel free to punch me or whatever. I promise to make up for all of it once you wake up.”

It was probably the nicest thing that anyone has said to you in a while. Even though it wasn’t actually him who’s hugging you and making you feel all warm inside, you’re not going to see your boss the same way again.

“You know what, why don’t we start now. There’s plenty of time today to make it up to you.”

He stood up from his seat and brushed himself, helping you do the same right after.

“Where does my y/n want to go right now?”

Your lips formed a mischievous smile.

You knew just where you wanted to go at that moment, but he’s probably not going to like it

///

“Would it hurt you to rest for one second?”

You’ve been running around the theme park for the whole day and Chenle just barely kept up to you and your antics. He gave you a small opportunity for a payback and you’re not going to let it slide. Even if it’s with nice Chenle.

You were about to run off again somewhere when he tugs you by the hem of your shirt.

“Y/N-ah, don’t you feel sick at all?”

Chenle’s eyes droop down as he tried to compose himself. As someone that doesn’t like heights and gets dizzy easily, it seems like he’s about to faint any minute now.

“But I want to ride the Ferris wheel.”

He went sheet white, if that is humanly possible. Chenle had barely enough time to recover from the roller coaster ride a few minutes ago and now you’re already on your way to hop in to another one.”

“Fine. We can rest. I don’t think my ears can handle any more of your screaming.”

You can hear Chenle complaining under his breath. The two of you went to the horror house a while ago and there was a high-pitched screaming the whole time. You’ve been teasing him with it ever since.

“I told you, that wasn’t me!”

“The only person inside is you and me. And I don’t remember screaming my own name for fifteen minutes.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he stopped midway and just took your hand to drag you at the nearest bench. He sat you down first before he took the seat right next to you, both palms on his face and trying to give himself a moment to breathe.

As much as you wished to torment that guy to death, he really looked sick to his stomach. He can barely lift his head up without taking deep breaths.

“You alright?”

You said as you patted his back gently, giving some time to relax and a moment to breathe.

“I’m fine. I did say that I’ll do anything for you today.”

He takes one last breathe before getting up the bench, only to lean on one side too much and almost toppling over.

“Yeah. I think were done for the day. You can barely stand up.”

You sat him back at the bench and caressed his back to get him to relax. Not even a minute after sitting back down, he did a thumbs up to let you know that he’s doing fine already.

“What time is it?”

“4:30. Why?”

He tried his best to stand up and keep himself still. This time, his attempt was successful.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can barely stand up. What makes you think that you can drive?”

“Just trust me.”

///

Sure enough, you both got to your house unscathed.

He told you to step out of the car, which you did, and he smoothly backed the car to your garage.

“How was that?”

He said smugly just as he came out of the car, keys jingling on his fingers once again. You can joke about his motion sickness but you can’t comment on his driving.

Chenle was then about to enter your house, but you stopped him just before he turned the doorknob.

“You know what, I had a lot of fun today. It’s probably the best birthday slash Valentine’s Day that I’ve had a whole life. I think you deserve this…”

You held up your fist into a ball and pretended to land a punch to his face. He winced, which gave you and opportunity to tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He stood there frozen for a few seconds, but it was replaced by a cheeky, boyish smile that he’s been hiding from you the whole time that you know him.

You twisted the doorknob and stepped inside your house first, when a popping sound greeted you from inside.

Turns out, those were party poppers.

“Surprise!”

Your whole family is there, alongside all of your friends from way back highschool.

“Sorry for missing you this morning sweetie, we needed some time for the party preparations. Chenle did a good job of distracting you the whole day.”

An arm wrapped itself on your shoulders and gave it a tight squeeze. It didn’t take long for you to find out who it was.

“She made me ride the roller coaster, twice.”

“Stop being a baby. I asked you the second time but you refused to come with me.”

Laughter fills the room and it went for the rest of the night. The celebration wasn’t fancy but it was enough for you to realize what life you’re missing in the real world. And as much you want to make it longer, sooner or later you’re going to have to come back to your old life.

That time was the next day.

///

February 14,202x again / 6:00 AM

The shrill sounds of the alarm clock woke you up, but you were smiling ear to ear. Something about your dream have placed you in a very good mood. Too bad you can’t remember the specific details. All you know is that there’s a car, the shop, the theme park… Zhong Chenle.

Why would it be a nice dream if your boss was in it?

Before you started conspiring some theories, you shook it off and started to get ready for today. To your surprise, the alarm woke you up on time. This means that you can take your sweet time in getting ready, possibly even make yourself an English breakfast for a change.

Your plans are foiled, however, when you realized that the kitchen wasn’t empty.

“Happy birthday…”

Your mom came from the living room to give you the tightest hug. She hasn’t hugged you like this for a long time, so you reciprocated and pulled her in a tighter embrace.

“I’m sorry that this is all we can afford for now…”

She sits you down the table and pushed the small bento cake right in front you. It is not bigger as your hands, but the pink icing and the decorations looked so delicate and beautiful.

“I promise to make you a better cake next year.”

“This is all I need Mom, thank you for doing this.”

///

Everything is going smoothly today. The bus is on time and the driver even gave you a small Valentine’s card as you went inside. For the first time in your life, you looked at the streets painted different shades of red and you’re perfectly fine with it.

You even got to work early. Doors are still shut down when you got there, so you decided to climb up the storage window so you don’t have to wait outside. As instructed, you finally locked it behind you and made it a point to be on time so you’ll never have to use it again.

You started with work right away, cleaning up as much as you can before everyone gets there. While you were mopping the main shop, you can hear keys jingling from outside, meaning that your boss already got there. The door swings forward and upon turning around, he opened the lights, only to see you standing in the middle of the shop.

He screamed at an ungodly pitch and almost fell down at his place.

“Oh, it’s just you. That wasn’t me, alright? ”

He dusted himself off tried his act together and be as cold as before, only to be embarrassed because you kept laughing at his face.

You tried to keep a straight face and bowed at him to excuse yourself. If your tardiness won’t get you fired today, it would probably be your excessive laughing.

“This is the horror house all over again.”

You swear that you heard him mumble something else, but you weren’t sure if you heard it right.

What are the odds that he dreamt about a horror house too, right?

Before you got the chance to go though, he said something that made your heart race for the rest of the day.

“You were there too, right? I just want you to know that that was really me.”

You turned around to see if he’s joking, but instead found a smiling Chenle at the other end of the shop.

“I actually liked you for a while now. So forgive me for always lashing out on you.”

He placed his hands on his pockets and walked slowly towards you, his head down while he tried to hide his shy smile.

“Happy birthday Y/N. I don’t mind repeating that day again... just don’t make me ride the roller coaster twice this time.”

///

[gloryofluv]

Outfoxed Chapter 7

A little RAD anyone? I think so. Might be fun considering Rena is now ACTUALLY a demon!

Previous Chapter

Rena’s tail was swiping back and forth as her ears flattened. Asmodeus was putting makeup on her face, which was a huge irritation. Considering that they needed to be out the door for RAD in ten minutes.

“See, darling, this is part of the problem. You wear eyeshadow for green eyes, but you clearly have a blue hue as well. Shading, shading, shading!” Asmo sighed as he brushed more color onto her lids.

“Asmo, we have to go. Are you almost done?” Rena questioned.

“Nearly,” Asmo nodded. “If you hold still, I’ll get done faster.” She resigned to allow him to do his work. The artistic demon painted on eyeliner and lipgloss before finishing with a nod. “Excellent! You almost look as good as me.”

Rena beamed and breathed. “Thank you. Now, we better get going, or Lucifer might get frustrated.”

“There is no might,” Lucifer hummed as he walked by her open door. “I expect your first day as a demon to be perfect, Rena. That includes impeccable attendance. Get going.”

She definitely didn’t need to be told twice. Rena swiped up her bag and climbed to her feet. She paced by his looming form, and he scowled before stopping her at the doorway. The hint of curiosity breached his energy.

“Asmo thought it might make me look less cute and a bit more formidable as a demon,” Rena sighed.

Lucifer was evaluating her makeup. His eyes gathered the information and his face remained stoic otherwise. “It’s made your face quite nymphish.”

“Um, thank you,” she murmured, and her ears flickered.

Asmo waved at Lucifer. “Okay, bye! We have places to be!” he laughed and dragged Rena toward the entrance with him.

Rena glanced back once to see Lucifer following at a slower pace. Well, off to RAD. She fell into step with Asmodeus and paid attention to his rambling about her social platform as a demon. She didn’t really care to be popular, but odds were that he cared if she was. As confusing as that was, he’s now made it his mission to propel her.

They parted at her classroom door, and she breathed, watching Asmo walk-off, flirting with some tall demon on the Fangol team. Well, he was easily amused, that was for certain. Hopefully, skipping class was worth it for him.

“Vixen.”

Rena glanced back and smiled. “I would have thought you’d be sitting in class by now.”

Solomon walked over and shrugged. “I went to chat with Barbatos before class. How are you feeling today,” he voiced while they entered the room for Speechcraft.

“I’m doing alright. Asmo wanted to do my makeup today, so I wasn’t here earlier.”

Solomon sat down and bobbed his head. “I can see that. It looks excellent. I would have never noticed that you actually have more blue in your eyes than green without his application.”

She smirked and rolled her shoulders. “Well, now I know.”

The pair walked into the classroom, and the demons that were not Satan all looked at her. She was pelted with curiosity. As nervous as she was on the first day of RAD as a human, she was even more anxious as a demon.

Solomon sat her down at the table with Satan, and the conversation was light and airy until the instructor began their lesson. It was definitely not a walk in the park as far as new material. This wasn’t about seducing a human into corruption. This was the next tier. The material in this class was about tempting humans with what they desire most.

As much as that seemed like a demon’s MO, Rena actually never realized that there was a science to that. Demons had to hone their frequencies to the subject of their corruption and find the one thing that would bend them. The intricacies were altogether a severe skill. Advanced. Well, that explains why Mammon and Levi weren’t in this bracket this year.

“Partner up,” the instructor declared after the summary of the lesson.

“We’re the only table with three,” Solomon started.

Asmo slid next to Solomon and smirked. “No, there’s four here, Solomon. How about you and Satan work together, and Rena and I can!”

Satan scowled over at Asmo. “When did you sneak into class?”

“Oh, five minutes in, but I was sitting in the back working on a post in my Devilgram,” Asmo giggled and waved his phone.

“How do humans do this, Sol?” Rena asked.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Solomon hummed and set down a dark-looking mirror. “Divination.”

Rena smirked and caressed the flat polished obsidian. “Clever.”

“I had one for you, but apparently, you don’t need it yet,” Solomon teased.

“Rena, we should see if you can do this skill with each of us. It will give you the practice that we already have,” Satan declared.

“Oh, Satan! What a great idea!” Asmo gasped.

Rena’s ears sank on either side of her hair. “Satan, we have fifteen minutes left in class. I don’t think I can do that.”

“Just try it. Start with Asmodeus. He’s probably easiest for this lesson,” Satan nodded.

Rena stood up as Asmo skipped over while clapping his hands. “Alright, my darling sweet Rena! Tell me what I desire most.”

She licked her lips and took his hand, gazing into his eyes. They shimmered in the light, and at first, all she felt was the giddy excitement of him being first. However, as she breathed and focused, there was something there. It had the texture of cinnamon and the burning wick of a candle. Soft petals caressing skin, but not from lust. It was heart-swelling feelings of closeness and silk on the skin—sleep, comfort, and laughter.

“You want,” she scowled and swallowed. “A romantic night without the world, Asmo? No sex. I honestly thought there was going to be sex.”

He blinked as his cheeks darkened. “Darling!” he gasped and took his hand from her. “You’re not supposed to share those secrets,” he hissed with a stifled smile.

“Wait, that was way too fast,” Satan puffed. “How did you do that? That’s advanced seduction speechcraft.”

Rena shrugged her shoulders as she glanced back at him. “I’m not sure. I could describe what I visualized if you need more detail.”

“I do,” Satan scowled.

Rena relayed the experience and described it with the clarity it was delivered. Asmo covered his mouth as his pink cheeks were now closer to mulberry. “That’s beautiful,” he whispered when she finished.

“Interesting. I would like to see if you can read me,” Solomon said and stood up.

Was this something akin to her talent? It sounded fun and a bit cunning, actually. Reading people and what they want could make her adaptable. Hm.

Rena smiled as she took Solomon’s hand and stared into his eyes. Nothing. She was only receiving a wall. The more she searched for clarity in his eyes, the more she felt the heat build in her face. “What are you wearing to stop me?” she asked.

Solomon’s smile grew playful. “Rena, you know for a fact it’s an item?”

“I see a wall. A large silver wall,” she scowled.

He took his hand from hers and dug under his uniform collar. Solomon produced a silver amulet with runes embossed on it. “A warding trinket. How interesting that you knew there was a barrier keeping you from reading my desires. Maybe a natural affinity for reading others?”

“This is so exciting! Rena, you have a skill like Lucifer,” Asmo gasped.

“Lucifer?” Rena arched an eyebrow.

Asmo rocked his head and waved his hand. “Lucifer can see what someone is prideful about or disgusted within themselves. Why do you think he wears gloves all the time?”

“True,” Satan hummed and held out his hand. “I want to see if you can read me.” The warning bell for the next class went off, and other students were packing up and leaving. Rena frowned at the hand and went to grip Satan’s. However, he pulled it away with a small smirk. “Later, we have our next class.”

“Such a tease,” Rena rolled her eyes and smiled.

Solomon raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Rena placing her items in her bag. “I find this an interesting evolution. You spoke about empathy plenty, and now you’re able to read someone’s desires like common literature. What else could that tap into?”

“How about we don’t get too curious yet, Sol. I’m not your new science project,” Rena smiled while patting his shoulder.

“Rena, let’s go, we’re going to be late for Art. It’s the beginning of painting with elemental magic,” Satan hummed as he shouldered his messenger bag.

Asmo kissed her cheek and took a selfie with Rena before bidding them goodbye. Solomon fell into pace with Satan and Rena when they all left the classroom.

“So, how did you sleep last night?” Solomon asked.

She rocked her head and waved her hand. “Not bad. I had a dream about a forest, and I was chasing a rabbit. Not sure the significance of either.”

“Did you catch the rabbit, and what color was it?” Solomon asked.

“It was white, and I did catch it. When I sprang on it, I had paws,” Rena laughed and shook her head. “Vulpine demon on the hunt.”

“That’s actually quite positive. White rabbits are of loyalty, love, and prosperity. Did you kill it?”

She shook her head. “I woke up before I did.”

“Excellent. A chase is victorious. A killing is a problem. I do enjoy dream symbolism,” Solomon smiled.

Rena nudged him with a smirk, and her tail flicked at his ear. “You’re just enjoying my little evolution, aren’t you?”

Satan cleared his throat. “Rena, would you like to do some studying after RAD today?”

“Oh, yes, of course, Satan. I have so much I need to catch up on now. Barbatos sent me over some basic lessons for demons. He told me if I could finish them in a couple of weeks that I could do my first evaluation as a demon,” Rena voiced as she waved her right hand.

Solomon snagged it and scowled. “That’s the royal seal. I didn’t see the detailing earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, Lord Diavolo and I agreed a pledge of fealty might be a bit of overkill due to the circumstances. We made binding promises to each other instead,” Rena explained.

Solomon dropped her hand and took a step away from her. “I see.”

“Wait, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“It means Solomon can’t ask you for a pact without Lord Diavolo’s permission,” Satan snickered.

Solomon pressed a fist to his chin as they paused outside the classroom. “Rena, what was in this promise?”

“Oh, well, it’s like a temporary pledge, I suppose. He told me I was under his protection so long as I’m a demon,” Rena said as she waved her hand. “I thought it was an excellent idea considering the nature of my incident.”

Solomon’s brow sank further toward his eyes. “Protection. He used the word protection?”

“Wait, why does that matter?” Rena asked.

Solomon shook his head and cleared his throat. “It doesn’t. Let’s enjoy our class,” he said as his expression eased and he opened the door.

Odd. The trio entered the room and sat down. Beelzebub waved his hand, and the conversation took a lighter turn. However, that reaction did bother Rena quite a bit. Why was Solomon clearly upset about the seal? She glanced down at it several times through the lesson to map out different reasons. None of them made much sense.

That was a lie. One of them did. Solomon could be upset at the idea that he couldn’t investigate and experiment as freely if she weren’t under his protection. Not that the sorcerer would ever do anything remotely wrong, but now he would be watched. Maybe Solomon wasn’t as much of a joiner with others as he was with her? An interesting thought to ponder about the sorcerer who has been teaching her the secrets of the arcane.

[thatgirlwritingficsatnight]

Odi et Amo II

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior  

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and  accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5764

A/N: It was supposed to be published last week, but I was unhappy with it and ended up rewriting it/adding some things. Sorry! (*_ _)人 P.S Sorry for my grammatical errors! Enjoy!

Chapter I

***

Currently sitting in front of your manager you eyed him. He seemed tired and you felt a pang of conscience it was probably because of your tweets last night and you wouldn’t even think of meeting him if you weren’t in dire need of getaway from the uncomfortable conversation with your neighbor. You didn’t meet in your agency’s building since both of you despised the place even though it was a new and flashy building made out of something that looked like a white marble. Both of you agreed on meeting outside it, so you were sitting in the café nearby while wondering how did your shitty boss manage to rent it. Last time you’ve been here, it was a few rooms in shabby, old building. You shivered while imagining going in, that place had an evil aura even from across the street.

"Where did you get all that money to rent it?" you asked.

"We actually bought it." 

"Well, business goes well then."

"Actually we are only able thanks to your movies. Don’t tell Kim Pd-nim I told you, he thinks you'll become arrogant."

"I already am." You smiled coldly.

"That's what I told him."

Your manager had a sarcastic smirk on. Both of you and hated your CEO and even mentioning him would bring up unpleasant memories. Kim Sanghoon was one of those bosses who wouldn't even think about trying to help idols and stars that were bringing him money. No matter what it was — crazy fans destroying your life, death threats, your collapsing mental health he didn’t care. Once you were attacked by media and netizens you were on your own and if it was too much for the company your contract was terminated. You often wondered when would you become too much for them to handle.

"How do you feel?" Your manager caught you off guard, even though you had known each other for a long time there was an unspoken rule between you not to talk about other things than work.

"Honesty..I'm fine I don't understand why everyone asks me that." You huffed a bit irritated and run fingers through your hair. 

"Well it's just.. I know it was important to you and you worked hard to earn the hearts of your Korean fa..."

"I'm fine." you didn't manage to hide irritation in your voice. You were not used to talking about it and you didn't like it one bit. Besides what were you supposed to say anyway? No one else was as hated as you. Of course there were idols and stars that were occasionally criticized but not one of them was constantly a target of such hatred. Even when you left there were still death threats send from your motherland to you, nothing changed. Not to mention no one else got such welcoming on the day of return to their home. It was unfair, stupid, infuriating and saddening. And yet you couldn’t understand what people were expecting of you? Both Mark and your manager knew you, or so you thought. What were you supposed to do? Cry? You wouldn't cry, that was what weak people do, that would show you actually care about what those assholes think about you. You were just fine. Ok. Neither sad nor happy. You'd endure whatever you had to but you won't conform to their image of idol and woman nor will you show any sign of weakness. You'd rather stay hated than do that. Your manager sighed and it pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Well then. If you're okay then I'm glad. So just as I told you I have this drama for you if you're interested." You weren't the slightest bit. Frankly you'd rather stay in bed for the next three months jobless than play some crazy villain or villainous second female lead. Then again you felt bad about the amount of work he probably had because of you. You looked him in the eyes and answered with a sigh.

"I can't promise anything but I can at least listen what it’s about.." Your manager seemed surprised, but he didn't wait long, perhaps in case you'd change your mind. He took out some papers and handed them to you. You cringed on the sole title "Love is your destiny" — it sounded sappy. 

"So it's a love story between fallen angel and this human..." he started.

"Angels...so who do they want me to play? Satan? Devil? Succubus?" You browsed through pages to find the villain.

"You'd know if you'd let me finish." You sent him a small apologetic smile. "They want you to play the main role." You stared at him confused before you burst with laughter.

"They want me to play cute girl in love with the angel?" The idea of you playing the sweet female lead was absurd, not that you weren’t able to do it, you were a good actress it wouldn’t be a problem for you, if anything it would most likely be a challenge for the audience.

"No, no! You'd play the angel. See this is drama with strong female lead. The origin of your character is fascinating. You had to watch the mistreatment of a woman extremely devoted to god. The lady prayed, but she still got beaten, almost killed even. Moreover, you had to be the guardian angel of her torturer — the aggressive husband. You pleaded to god, you asked him to let you guard her instead, but he didn’t agree and forbade you from intervening. One night when the husband got drunk, he beat her unconscious and you were sure he’d kill her. You decided to save her, you kill her husband and this is the moment when you fell. That's when you became deviant and promised yourself you'd help those who were denied it. You’d protect them and avenge them. Fast-forward a thousand years, and we are in Seoul and you meet a man, a painter..." He was so excited you almost didn't understand some words because of the speed. He was waiting for your response but you were too occupied with reading what he handed you. Once you finished it you looked at him with a mix of surprise and excitement.

"It's like it was made for me.." you said with bewildered tone.

"That's because it was made for you. The screenwriter wrote it with you in mind." You looked like a cartoon character, eyes wide, mouth in a shape of letter "o", once you heard him.

"Me?"

"Yes. She is apparently a big fan."

"And tvN is ok with that?" You furrowed your brows confused.

"Perhaps they aren't. But it is co-production with Netflix, and they pushed for you since you’re popular worldwide." 

Your heart fluttered and the tips of your fingers tingled from excitement as you rummaged through the pages once again, not only it would be showed in TV during the prime-time but also streamed on Netflix weekly.

"The screenwriter and producer kept calling me since yesterday as soon as it was known you came back. They almost cast someone else. They were sure you're staying in the USA. Isn't it amazing?" He was as excited as you were and you felt some remorse for being so rude to him before. You gave him your warmest smile, one you usually used only around Mark and your family.

"It really is. Thank you and I'm sorry for being rude earlier." He was clearly uncomfortable with your apology, red spreading on his cheeks as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah don't mention it. Does that mean I can call them and say you are interested." You looked at the pages in front of you once again and smiled broadly before simply saying.

"Yes!"

Jinyoung was still amused you threatened him in his own café. He couldn't focus on the book he had in his hands anymore as he chuckled replying your angered and irritated expressions in his head. It was fun to tease you because you reacted so well. He could tell you could be great friends if you'd let him. He smiled to himself mouthing your own words "bloody Y/N". He was truly shocked that he met you here of all places and found it rather amusing when you yelled in English and caught his attention. He felt some disappointment upon seeing a half naked man talking to you from the screen of your phone but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came up once your friend ended the call. Jinyoung wouldn't call himself a noisy person, but he found you interesting, and he wanted to know who it was and what kind of relationship you had although he rarely cared for stuff like this... His thoughts were interrupted by his ring-tone, BamBam's face illuminated the screen. He sighed but answered it anyway.

"Skrrrt, skrrt!"

"Ah yes, good morning to you to Bam." Jinyoung said in amused tone.

"Oh, hyung you seem in good mood. What you're up to?"

"Reading, thinking."

"Sounds boring wanna hang out?"

"Actually I wanted to ask you about something." Jinyoung ignored his question once he remembered how obsessed with celebrities and their styles Bam was.

"Shoot."

"Do you know any celebrities under the name Y/N." BamBam laughed wholeheartedly.

"That's very funny hyung."

"What do you mean?"

"OMG you're not joking! Are you living under a rock, hyung? Y/N is like the hottest actress ever. Her style is chic and comfy and artsy it's really cool, and she actually doesn't have a stylist, she does it on her ow..."

"She is an actress?"

"She is the actress! She played the White Fox in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lol, you call yourself an actor and you don't know the most popular Korean actress abroad."

"You know I don't like those superheroes movies. Besides why didn't I hear about her Korean career if she's so good?"

"You are so old it scares me sometimes. Well you should know her from internet. I think it's national sport to hate her or something. She just came back, and they're already frying her online not to mention the media and dating rumors."

"Dating rumors?"

"Yeah she dated few actors. I think Seojoon hyung dated her and Changwook hyung even almost proposed. The media made her to look like heartless vixen though. I mean they never liked her but her last ex gave a very unfavorable interview to dispatch and after that she became villain number one. She left shortly after."

"Mmmm... I see." Jinyoung only started his career four years ago so it shouldn't be weird you've never met before. He was also the type of person who couldn't care less about internet gossip and gutter press or dispatch. He sighed. Suddenly your angry reaction made much more sense and Jinyoung didn't feel as good about it as he did before. He scolded himself for being too frivolous and selfish. He just wanted to see your reactions - it was cute and funny...

"Why did you ask? OMG you've met her didn't you. I'm so jealous. What was she wearing? Was it Gucci? I heard she likes it."

"Ok Bam. I have to go. Thanks for the talk."

"Wait, so you wanna hang out?"

"Last time when you asked me to hang out I had to shop for 4 hours with you."

"Well... I am your stylist. Besides, it was fun, come on." 

"I think we have different definitions of "fun""

You woke up to no noise pleasantly surprised. It seems that Sunday's were free from renovation and thanks to that you could sleep in. You stretched out and grabbed the phone to check the time. It was already past eleven. You smiled to yourself and fell to bed lazily. Soon you wouldn't have time for lazy days like this as the production team was supposed to finish up casting for the drama by the end of the next week. You thought about picking some groceries, maybe cooking yourself some food and enjoying the day with a book or perhaps some video games. You took shower and put on some comfortable clothes — beige cardigan you stole from Mark clearly too big for you and some black trousers pairing it up with brown coat. You left the apartment and as soon as you did the irritating voice in your head reminded you about your debt. Hesitant at first you shook off the feeling quickly and knocked on the door. This time you were prepared for teasing, you were expecting it even so you wouldn't be caught off guard. At least that's what you were telling yourself. Your neighbor, however, didn't act the way you expected him to. Instead of smirking at you and teasing you or straight up mocking you, he seemed nervous. He had deep purple bags under his usually sparkling eyes. Perhaps he didn’t feel well... you wondered whether you should ask him if he needed some help. You decided it would be extremely awkward and so you cleared your throat and spoke up — softness now somewhere in your voice.

"Is that bad time? I can come later I just wanted to give you back your money.."

"N-No." He started nervously "I mean no. It's fine. I'm actually glad you're here. Would you come in?"

You didn't want to come in and it must have shown on your face since he continued.

"Come on. I don't bite." He smiled warmly and it seemed much more normal than the timid self he showed you seconds ago. And so you came in curiously looking around his own apartment. It was a mirror image of your own in terms of room placements — a hallway leading to living room with opened kitchen. You came into the living room and Jinyoung rushed after you quickly turning the TV off. You didn't pay it any mind since you were looking around and taking in how different was his home compared to yours. It was very modern and yet it kept the homey feeling. Yours on the other hand, well it was raw yet full of stuff? Mark would probably call it unfinished and cluttered. Your neighbor sat on the other side of the couch leaving quite a lot of space between the two of you and run a hand through his hair. He wore a cardigan very similar to yours both in color and style in fact it could be the very same brand and style it’s just neither of you noticed it.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize." He responded quickly and gained a surprised look from you.

"Apologize?"

"Yes about yesterday…I shouldn't have said those things in public I could say I just didn't know about your situation but it’s no excuse. I’m truly sorry." he paused. "You don't have to be stressed about press or rumors though. It is my café and my staff, so they won't talk about it with anyone I took care of it." You took back everything you said, you weren’t prepared for meeting him, especially not getting apologies from him. On top of that he was the owner of your favorite café...

"I… it's fine." You said confused and tried to act as normal as possible while being very aware of your palms spread on your thighs. They were unnaturally clammy. It was a surprise to you, you rarely got any apologies and you were expecting some more teasing not something like that. Your eyes were everywhere except on him and you were screaming at yourself internally to say something, anything, but nothing was coming to your mind. Once again you lost your ability for forming witty sentences around him or in that case any sentences. There was awkward silence between you and you immensely regretted coming to see him today. You weren’t used to this. Somewhere in your belly you could feel as if butterflies - or rather moths — yes, moths of anxiety were fluttering their wings desperately trying to get into your chest. You never felt like this before. You tried to avoid looking at him but your own eyes betrayed you and fell on Jinyoung only to find out he was enjoying your anguish. His brown eyes were glimmering and his lips formed half smirk that he tried to cover with his left hand in a gesture of propping his head up. Immediately irritation came to you burning all the fluttering wings in the pits of your stomach. A frown formed on your face and you send him a glare. Wondering how could you be so stupid and fall for his act.

"You're really cute when you're shy or embarrassed." He chuckled now mocking you openly.

"I can't believe I took your apologies as sincere." He chuckled again clearly pleased with how you responded.

"They were sincere. I just enjoy teasing you."

"Could you stop? That's inappropriate you don't even know me."

"What do you mean we are neighbors and soon to be friends." He smiled broadly and for a second your mind travelled somewhere else simply admiring his beauty. You cursed his handsome face it could blind and charm everyone really. You wanted to leave, no you needed to leave. It was stuffy in here.

"I'm here for a reason." You reminded him, he was watching you with amusement. It felt almost as if a cat was observing you.

"Ah right... money." his tone seemed inattentive somehow. "I don't need it. Let's say it was a part of my apology."

"Just give me your account number and take the money."

"I don't remember it." You were getting more irritated every minute you talked to him.

"You don't remember your account number?" This man was unbelievable. He shrugged.

"You can send it to me through KakaoTalk if you really want." He smiled and took out the phone from the pocket of his pants. 

"Fine. Just give it." Not wanting to spend any second longer here with him, you scanned his qr to add him quickly and transferred the money.

"Done. Now if you excuse me."

"Of course." He smiled again and you felt mocked by the sole action of his lips shooting upwards. He walked you to the door and watched as you slipped on your shoes. You tried to look as cold and dignified as possible but still tripped over the doorstep. He caught your arm firmly and straightened you. Your heart was beating so fast and hard all you could hear was blood pumping in your ears in fact you were sure he could hear it as well. On the other hand whose heart wouldn't when you almost fell face first, right…? Right? It surely wasn't because of his warm breath now tickling the crown of your head, nor the dangerously beautiful eyes... you absolutely regretted coming here today. It was foolish of you to think your cursed neighbor wouldn't shake you up today. And he was still holding you — how awkward is that; and you felt fine with being hold like that — what on earth was wrong with you? You started to think that maybe it would be better if you'd actually fell and hit that stupid head of yours.

Jinyoung was having very dangerous thoughts. The kind he didn't have in a very long time. He wasn't prepared for this kind of proximity. He was already shaken up yesterday by your touch and closeness he only held your hand for a second or two. Maybe he didn't show it but he was. Honestly he wasn't even into PDA or flirting with someone or even thinking of flirting with someone. Yes, he liked teasing, and he teased you but it was in a FRIENDLY manner. Well it was safe to say he didn't have friendshippy type of thoughts right now. Jinyoung reacted automatically upon seeing you fall he just grabbed your arm and pulled you his way. He was still holding your now tensed muscles, but he couldn't let go of you. He was in trance. Your warmth radiating onto him, the way the smell of your shampoo was tingling his nose, your huge doe-like shocked eyes, parted lips, soft pink on the apples of your cheeks. He was wondering how badly would you kill him if he asked to kiss you right now. He was seriously considering it worthy asking even if you were to pull out his tongue like you threatened yesterday. He didn't ask though, the rational part of his brain finally letting go of you. His own feeling were mess, but he did what he knew best — he masked his emotional disarray with some more teasing hoping you wouldn’t notice.

"Falling for me already?" He smirked even though internally he was screaming and already thinking of confiding in Jackson to get himself calmed. He was clearly the one falling and he was panicked. You rolled your eyes on him seemingly gaining the composure while he was getting stunned even by such simple gesture like this.

"You're way below my standards." You seemed annoyed. He smiled again although he wanted you to leave quickly and leave him alone with his feelings, so he can sort this out. Your eyes narrowed at him even more.

"I need to go now."

"Well, have a great day."

"Right, you too." You were so cold Jinyoung almost chuckled at it because it almost wounded him, and yet he liked it. He enjoyed teasing you too much. You were already walking to the elevator, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, and try not to fall when I'm not around to catch you, Y/N." He laughed and you were already frowning at him absolutely mad which made his heart skip a beat, you were really too cute when you frowned. Jinyoung closed the door before you could say anything or worse before he did. He realized he was in deep shit. He tried to think reasonably. He probably just had a crush because he spent a whole night watching movies and dramas you were starring in, he might have also accidentally watched all of your interviews and went to sleep at 6 still smiling to himself from that interview where you had to answer questions about your body in preparation for your role in that Marvel movie. The reporter wouldn't stop asking about your body and making comments on it even though you were clearly uninterested in the topic which you finally cut with your own questions. "Are you looking for some weight loss tips? You look great. Seriously what is it about? Are you trying to fit in my suit?" The last question was asked with whole whisper theatrics and Jinyoung laughed at loud at five am hoping he didn't wake you up through the wall. The suit in question was extremely fitting white leather catsuit. It wasn't the only interview in which you showed off your wits, eloquence and badassness, or how Bam would call it "swag". You were also the most attractive actress he had seen. Of course, you were also attractive when you weren't acting but on the screen... you were amazing. So Jinyoung tried to calm himself down rationalizing his earlier thoughts as simply being starstrucked. That’s what fans felt towards their idols, he was simply charmed by his own new idol. Yes that was it — that’s exactly the type of thoughts some fanboys or fangirls would have. He called Jackson anyway, he knew the designer was the right person to talk to in situations like this. 

Twenty minutes later Jinyoung regretted ever calling his best friend.

"OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO IN LOVE WITH HER!" Jackson basically yelled to the phone. Jinyoung groaned and massaged the space between his brows. 

"Were you even listening? I'm just a big fan."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night man. I’m a big fan of Christian Dior and all I can think of is making out with him." 

"Don’t compare it, he is dead!" Jinyoung yelled and his friend filled his ear in response.

 You were regretting not taking the car for shopping. The walk did help with your racing heart, and helped ease off your mind but it turned out the supermarket isn't that close any more when you have to drag home ten bags of food and products. Thankfully a convenience store was on your way so you could make a stop there maybe you'd be lucky enough to see Seoyun, buy her coffee and have a chat. You knew it was stupid, because she could've just feel obliged to say she is your fan but you still wanted to tell her about your new upcoming role. Sadly she wasn't there and so you just made a stop and sat on one of nearby benches. Massaging your palms that had those harsh red lines imprinted in them now thanks to the bags. You could swear you heard the sound of released shutter and so now alarmed you looked around but it seemed you were the only person here. You sighed, how paranoid have you become that you started hearing the cameras when there was none. Then again you were extremely lucky dispatch and paparazzi haven't found you yet. Just before you left to the USA, your ex gave this interview and your life became hell. You didn't have a day without paparazzi running after you or spying on you. The memories came to you not without acrimony and hurt. Your ex, an actor just like you, used you to create scandal and gain some popularity. You could remember how enraged and morose it made you. You didn't date anyone since then even when Mark tried to introduce you to some people. You intended on staying that way. You didn't need anyone, you had Mark, and he was enough for you. Just you and your best friend. You weren't sure how long you stayed like this, deep in your thoughts. You moved only after you fingers became stiff from cold. Somehow you managed to carry the groceries back home. You were so tired that you just counted it as your training today. You checked the time and it was one PM, perfect time to call your bestie.

"Markiee!!" You whined as soon as his face appeared on your screen.

"Y/N-ah. I miss you." He was wearing some blue hoodie this time.

"That's my line. Do you have time to talk?"

"Bruh, for you? Always. What's up?" 

"I am going to star in a drama!"

"What? I thought you hate those." He was genuinely shocked.

"I know, I do. But this one is different. I'm not playing the villain I got female lead, and she isn't some damsel in distress she is a badass character!" You almost screamed and he chuckled.

"Woah. Someone's excited. I'm so proud of you. So who is getting the privilege to be cast with you?"

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet the cast next week." He nodded his head and smiled. "Anyway what are you up to?"

"I was actually thinking of playing Among Us and streaming wanna join?" He grinned.

"Absolutely, prepare to get wrecked Tuan." You used to play together at least once a week when you were in the USA, his fans loved you and shipped you even though you both told them you were just friends — it is some rule in the internet though, to ship close friends.

Few hours later you were once again killed as the first person, this time by Mark.

"YOU GONNA REGRET IT WHEN WE’LL MEET TUAN. I SWEAR I’M GONNA WHOOP YO ASS..." You screamed on top of your lungs and Mark laughed wholeheartedly, while his chat filled up with hundreds of LOL’s and LUL’s.

"You guys she threatens me. Someone make a clip and send it to the police once they find my dead body." He kept laughing and you couldn’t help but laugh as well. His smile and laugh were just too contagious.

"You really put our friendship to test lately Tuan, here I was foolishly trusting you when you killed me in cold blood. " You stretched and your stomach rumbled reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet and it was already around four pm.

" Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game. "   He shrugged and winked, while you rolled your eyes.

"Okay Mark, I gotta go and eat. It’s already afternoon here."

"Sure, chat say bye to Y/N." They did as he asked and it was soon filled with many hearts and goodbyes. "Love you Y/N! Call me soon." He grinned and you smiled warmly.

"Love you too Mark. Bye guys!" With that you logged off the discord, and switched off his stream. You make your way to the kitchen and took out the ingredients for kimchi jjigae you bought before. You carefully read the recipe opened on your phone and began cooking. You had to make anchovy stock first so you grabbed some dried anchovies, kelp and slashed the daikon in cubicles — it looked quite awkward as each cubicle was different size but hey it was you eating it not some kind of culinary critic. You added water and left it to boil deciding to take care of the rest of ingredients. You cut some kimchi and ate some as a snack and reward for not ordering food today, sliced some green onions, cut the pork and the tofu as well. By the time you were done it was time to strain the broth and add the rest of ingredients. It had to cook so you decided to watch some TV in the meantime. You turned it on, it was some kind of reality show where idols were supposed to camp in the wild for a few days. The idols clearly didn’t feel like being there and the fact you knew neither of them didn’t help. You dozed off before you noticed, your eyelids getting as heavy as iron. The smell of burning woke you up. You shot upwards from your couch and rushed to the kitchen, bumping into a coffee table on your way there.

"FFFFFF-UUCK." you hissed, when your shin pulsed with pain. You quickly grabbed the pot with stew to get it off the fire, forgetting it would be hot as well. You hissed in pain and let id drop on your marble floor which was now covered in burned kimchi and some other things. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking shit." You cursed as you tried to navigate to the sink to ease off the burn with some cold water. The cold water did help and you sighed with relief only to later follow it with a sigh of resignation. You had to clean up this mess. It was when your phone barked — a new message. You checked it.

From Unknown number: Are you trying to burn down the whole building?

You furrowed your brows confused, wondering if it was one of those jokes or spam messages you heard about.

To Unknown number: Who’s this?

From Unknown number: Guess.

You huffed in disbelief.

To Unknown number: Ok, enjoy being blocked.

From Unknown number: Wait!

From Unknown number: It’s Jinyoung.

To Unknown number: How did you get my number? Never mind I’m blocking you I’m too busy to deal with you.

With that you put the phone back in your pocket and began cleaning up. You finished in no time now tired out by scrubbing. You sat on the floor and took out your phone to check it out. From Unknown number: Don’t block me what if you need my help one day.

To Unknown number: With what exactly?

From Unknown number: What if you get stuck in your bathroom and need someone to let you out?

You rolled your eyes and saved his contact

To Devil: There is at least 7 billion more people I’d rather ask to help me

From Devil: Ok then what if I get stuck in the bathroom and need your help.

To Devil: I’d leave you there

From Devil: Heartless

To Devil: Better tell me how did you get my phone number

From Devil: You gave it to me when you scanned my kakao code

You were bewildered, was that his plan from the very beginning or were you just paranoid? You were either prejudiced or he was in fact the devil with angel's face.

To Devil: Did you lie about not remembering your account number?

From Devil: Maybe

You couldn’t believe it, the audacity, the smugness. You could feel irritation building inside you but you decide to let it go when your stomach rumbled at you aggressively. After eating you took shower, read a few chapters of The Vegetarian and fell asleep.

Next week passed quickly but in the feeling of anticipation as you were supposed to meet the rest of the cast as well as the scriptwriter and director at the meeting on Friday. You kept calling your manager throughout the week trying to find out who could they be, but he didn’t know anything or didn’t want to tell you. And so you spent the week on training, running, reading and occasionally calling Mark to express your impatience and excitement. You didn’t meet your irritating neighbor even once this week — something you counted as blessing or perhaps a sign that the universe finally turned your karma around. It was finally Friday and you were already sitting in the meeting room waiting for everyone to come in. You smiled at the young man sitting next to you, he was really cute and had this mole under his right eye it added to his charm. He was about to introduce himself, when someone came through the door and greeted everyone cheerfully. You couldn’t believe it. You were cursed, actually cursed.

"YOU?!" was all that left your mouth upon seeing him entering the room.

[armywriter2605]

Theirs - Chapter 6 - OT7 x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU! BTS; Yandere AU! BTS; Angst; Fluff; Smut; OT7 x Reader

Warnings: Cursing; Mature Content ; Mentions of abuse and bullying; Yandere BTS; Gore; Oral sex (female and male receiving)  Stalking; more to be added throughout the series

Words: 4.7k +

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Tag List :

@themisses777 @snowythellama @i-am-canada-13 @honeycutelove @im-a-space-child @minhyunie-lovely @kawaiimusiccollection @perfectlyfangirling @technicolor-blues @karissassirak @decafe-jeonseagull @cherryicy123 @blackpanther4550 @ahslde @bangtanlove16 @joyful-jimin @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @sjt-kpoplover @letmebefreeblr@kaykay-loves @someslightobsessions @ttimeawayy @snowythellama @taerifficocean @bts-edits-bitch @saywheaaat @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @aretha170 @moxxie84 @hypophrenium @ruth619 @teenykoo @risefallrise-blog @lustremyg @3dmegamorea @alphajevie @theclosetedkpopper @livingbubbles-blog @kpopgirlbtssvt @kaoelle @dankcuddles @beetea-s @jinxxminxx @miinoongi @lizzy-min-bish @vi-hoshi @xcharlottemikaelsonx @m0chilattae @nomimits7 @amazedforjjk@tearsqueen @multifandomgirl29 @namjooniewifeu99 @jianing2603

GIF NOT MINE

Three days had passed since you found out what your best friends’ job was. The seven of them were acting like it never happened. Like they didn’t work for a mafia and didn’t hurt people, yet you couldn’t let it go. It was stuck in your mind. The sweet guys you fell in love with had revealed a side you didn’t know existed. Although that had happened, they were still your best friends, at least, you wanted to believe that. They were still the guys you met years ago, the same ones who were there for you through all your ups and downs.

You woke up with a headache, uncommon for you since you rarely had headaches at all. None of the boys had been coming to your room and sleep with you, which unconsciously was a stress reliever for you. You had known these 7 guys for so long, being close to them every single day. It was weird for you not to. Of course, they acted like nothing much had happened yet there was still some tension. Especially between you and Taehyung. You had barely directed any words to them, and now the feeling of guilt was starting to hit you right across the face. Had you overreacted? Was the tension between you and not only Taehyung, but all of the boys on you? Like they said themselves, they were still the boys you met at the arcade. They were the same boys who promised to take care of you and protect you at all costs. Was it you fault they were doing these things and went down this path?

You stood up from your bed and put a hoodie on, which belonged to one of the guys. That was one of the many advantages of always being so close to them during high school years. The endless number of possible hoodies you could borrow and use. You put socks on and walked to the bathroom, leaving for the kitchen once you were done. You sighted all of the boys eating in silence. Some were looking at their phones while others simply stared at the white painted walls, lost in their own world.

You let out a sigh, the headache making it almost impossible to talk. The brightness coming through the windows was making it even worse. It almost felt like you were hangover, the only difference was that you had not drunken a thing last night.

“Angel, good morning.” You heard Hoseok say as he looked up from his phone, putting it to the side as his attention was now on you. He noticed how Jungkook’s hoodie covered your upper body till your midthighs. You gave him a weak smile as you made your way to the member sitting closest to you, who was Jimin. You looked at him and hugged him tightly from behind, surprising all of the other six boys. Were you finally accepting them and putting the whole talk from the other day behind?

“Hey munchkin, good morning.” His voice was raspy which made it sound like he had just woken up yet there was still the same sweetness you knew. You missed the intimacy you had with them. Only then you noticed how dependent on them you were.

“Minnie, I don’t feel good.” You mumbled into his back, closing your eyes.

All the seven guys looked up once they heard you small voice. You looked so tiny hugging Jimin like your life depended on it. If you weren’t feeling bad, they would find this situation the cutest ever.

“My head hurts so bad. I never wake up with headaches…” Your voice was low and with your face buried in Jimin’s clothes, you couldn’t see the smile the boys had on their faces. You were coming to them in such a vulnerable state which meant you trusted them. In their minds, you clearly wanted them to take care of you and that warmed their hearts. How adorable you were. Although in your head, you simply needed comforting. Your head was killing you and it could be anyone right now, you just simply wanted to feel better soon.

“Come here, princess.” You heard Jin say, opening his arms for you. That made you smile. Jin was always the one who took care of you whenever you were sick. You loved how he made your favorite soup and bought your favorite bread. He always made sure you got better in an instant. As you walked into his arms, Jin rested his palm on your forehead which instantly made you relax.

“You don’t have a fever. I’m sure it’s just stress that’s giving you the headache, princess. How about Namjoon and Yoongi take you to bed while I get you some pain relievers and cook you a good breakfast? You’ll feel better immediately.”

You nodded before turning to Namjoon who carefully picked you up in bridal style. You rested your head against his chest as Yoongi walked in front of you both, opening the door to your bedroom. Yoongi was the first one that laid on your bed, taking the left side of the bed. Namjoon carefully laid you down next to his hyung as he took his hoodie off and made himself comfortable, laying next to you on the right side of the bed. You smiled as you felt Yoongi wrap his arms around your waist and at the same time, Namjoon intertwined his legs with yours. Their warmth immediately comforted you, your headache already getting better.

Namjoon brushed a strand of your hair away from your face, caressing your cheek afterwards. “Rest, baby girl. We’ll wake you up once Jin – hyung is here. Plus, looks like Yoongi-hyung is already ready to sleep although he woke just 30 minutes ago.”

“Shut it, Joon.” You heard the older male say, knowing he was smiling against your back. With that, your eyes closed, Namjoon being the last one you saw before you left for the land of dreams.

3rd person POV ON

As Jin and Hoseok were cooking a breakfast fit for their queen, the three younger members sat around the island in the kitchen. Jimin had a smile on his face as he drank down his juice, remembering how tightly Y/N hugged him.

“She’s still mad at me… she didn’t even look at me.” Taehyung said as he ate his scrambled eggs. He was mad at himself for yelling at her, yet it wasn’t his fault. He needed Y/N to understand how much all of them cared for her, doesn’t matter how. Y/N was their everything, yet it was annoying him how she smiled at Hoseok and Jin but not at him. He wanted her close to.

“Hyung, she wasn’t feeling good. Once she feels better, she’ll come to you. You know she loves you as much as she loves all of us.”

“Jungkookie, she was wearing your hoodie, she hugged Jiminie, smiled at Hoseok-hyung and Jin-hyung and is now with Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung. I also want some affection.”

“And you will get it soon enough, Taehyungie. How about you ask Jin-hyung if you can take the breakfast to her? I’m sure she’ll appreciate it a lot.”Taehyung nodded and turn to the older males that were talking to each other while cutting up some fruit.

“Jin-hyung, do you think I can take the breakfast to Y/N’s room? Or at least help?”

“Of course. I’ll need to clean up anyways. Why don’t you and Jungkook take the breakfast together instead? You’ll need another pair of hands if you wish to take everything without spilling.”

“Thanks!”

Taehyung had now his square smile as he grabbed his phone, staring at his lock screen. It was a picture of Y/N and him at an amusement park, both wearing matching hats. He remembered that day so well. It was three years ago, the day after Y/N got to know she passed her exams. He still remembered the huge smile she had on her face. All the boys had helped her studying till early in the morning even though Namjoon was the one that truly explained most of things to her. Taehyung needed her to understand that their love for her was endless and they weren’t going to let a small detail of what their job was get in their way. Nothing was getting in their way of claiming you as theirs.

About half an hour later, Jin and Hoseok had successfully finished plating everything. They were both extremely happy with it, as it was maybe one of the best breakfasts that had been cooked in this house.

“Okay one of you takes the tray with the food, while he other takes the glass of juice and the medicine. Do not let anything fall or you’ll ruin our whole work.” Hoseok said as he eyed the younger boys who nodded excitedly at their hyung.

“Jimin, you can actually help them. Just open the bedroom door for them so Taehyungie doesn’t try anything funny.”

“Sure, hyung. Let’s go.”

With that, Taehyung took the tray of food that had pancakes, fruit, eggs and much more in it while Jungkook took the fresh orange juice and the pills bottle. Once Jimin opened the bedroom door, Namjoon carefully looked at it, seeing his younger brothers walking in. He smiled as he now carefully started running his fingers through Y/N’s hair.

3rd person POV OFF

You woke up as you heard the clicking of a phone camera going off and long fingers ran through your hair. You carefully opened your eyes, seeing Jimin pointing his phone at you. You let out a quiet chuckle before seeing both Taehyung and Jungkook with what you deduced was your breakfast. It looked extremely good and you were starving. Namjoon kissed your cheek before he stood up. You looked at him questioningly, wondering why he wouldn’t stay right where he was, warming you.

“We have work today, baby girl. We stayed at home these last three days, but we need to do some stuff now, okay? Jungkookie and Taehyungie will stay with you, don’t worry.”

You frowned and simply nodded your head at him before he left the room with Jimin following close behind. You turned to Taehyung and Jungkook before looking at Yoongi, who slept next to you.

“Yoonie, you need to wake up.” You said as you ran your fingers through his hair exactly how Namjoon did for you just minutes earlier.

“Mm…”

“You have work, Yoonie. You need to get up.”

You heard the older male let out a deep grumble before he opened his eyes. He looked at you and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “We’ll be back later, love. Eat your breakfast and stay at home. I love you.”

Yoongi gave the younger boys a look before he yawned and got up before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Bye love. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss all of you too. Be careful, please…” You mumbled as you saw him smile and nod, waving his hand and leaving the room, closing the door after him.

You sat up on the bed as Taehyung now placed the food in front of you, smiling widely. He sat next to you where Namjoon once found himself as Jungkook put the juice glass on your nightstand with the pills before he got into the bed, getting under the covers where Yoongi slept soundly just minutes earlier.

“Eat up, sweetheart! Jin-hyung made many things and you need to eat a bit of everything if you want to get better.”

“I’m already feeling better Tae. Sleeping next to Joonie and Yoonie really helped.”

“Still, you need to eat and take the medicine. Just to make sure that headache doesn’t come back. Me and Taehyung-hyung will keep you company all day. We can play games, sleep, watch something together. We’ll have tons of fun.”

You simply nodded your head at Jungkook’s words, before grabbing the fork and knife and eating a bit of the pancakes. “Please help me eat this okay. I can’t possibly eat all of this by myself plus we don’t want to throw any of this away, so start eating Kookie, Taetae.”

Both of them nodded happily as they heard you use their nicknames. As the three of you ate, you heard the front door close signalizing the other boys had left the apartment. About an hour after, you, Jungkook and Taehyung were done eating and making small talk. Your headache was now much better which was good. You were the first one to get up from the bed as you looked at the boys who laid on your bed. “I want to go out! Maybe to the mall or something. It’s such a nice day out too.”

Jungkook was the first one to shake his head, ripping away the smile off of your face. Taehyung soon followed as he gave you a sad smile.

“No can do, sweetheart. You heard Yoongi-hyung. We should stay at home today. Maybe another day, okay? We can have tons of fun inside. There’s this new game that I bought and maybe I could teach y-”

“I want to go out, Tae. Not play some games inside. I want to go out because the weather is nice, and I feel like it. I was inviting you two, but if you don’t want to come, I’ll go by myself.”  

By now, Jungkook was standing next to you. He wasn’t going to let you leave that room until the three of you were on good terms. These three days had been hell for him, he wasn’t going to go three more days with you not talking to them.

“You won’t leave this house, Y/N-ah. It’s for your best plus, you just had a headache. What if you get a headache while you’re out? No. We’re staying.” Taehyung said as he stood up now, looking at you in the eyes

“Stop fucking controlling me. If I want to go, I’ll go!” You slightly raised your voice at him, the bottled-up anger from the previous argument coming out. You were done with them telling how things were going to be instead of consulting you first. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re ours. And you’re not fucking leaving this house, understood? Yoongi-hyung say for you stay inside and you are going to stay inside. Stop making things so damn hard.” Taehyung replied to you in the same tone of voice you gave him, Jungkook simply staring at the both of you bickering back and forth.

“Fuck the both of you!” You yelled as you made your way to the door. Jungkook noticed that and stood tall in front of you, not letting you grab the door handle.

“Oh, you wish, sweetheart. Having the both of us may even be a dream of yours, hm?” You heard Taehyung say from behind you, his breath hitting your neck. At the sound of his voice, you swallowed hard. The anger inside of you had now completely vanished, as your thoughts were now clouded with the sight of Jungkook looking down at you. His pupils were dilated, filled with an emotion you had never seen before on him, lust.

“Right, Y/N? Was this your way of perking our attention? If that is what you wanted you could’ve just told us, right Kookie?” Taehyung’s hands now made their way to your waist, pulling you into him, yet you still faced Jungkook who nodded at his hyung’s words.

You weren’t sure of what say, yet your body knew exactly what it wanted. You rested your head against Taehyung’s shoulder, your neck now completely visible and exposed to the older male. You let out a deep sigh when you felt Taehyung’s warm lips connect to your neck. He carefully placed small kisses on your neck, his tongue brushing your skin every now and then, giving you goosebumps.

“T-Tae…ah…Kookie please…” You unconsciously moaned as you stared into Jungkook’s lust filled eyes. That was enough to drive him crazy, closing the space between you two connecting his lips to yours. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You immediately closed your eyes, focusing on the hungry kiss Jungkook was delivering. It was like he had been wanting this for God knows how long. His force slightly pushed you even closer to Taehyung, who was now leaving red marks on your neck. Jungkook’s tongue asked for permission to enter your mouth and you happily gave it access as your arms were now wrapped around his neck, your fingers on the back of head carefully pulling his hair which caused him to let out low groans from time to time.

“Were you this desperate for us, baby? What would you the others think if they saw you this hungry for us, hm? Such a naughty girl you are.” Taehyung’s voice filled the bedroom, yet your and Jungkook’s heavy breath was right behind once you two broke the kiss.

“Y/N, please stay home with us.” You heard Jungkook say as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, Taehyung’s breath still hitting your neck. You knew you should put up a fight, giving them this win would only make things worse later, yet you couldn’t help it. Jungkook’s eyes were staring at you as Taehyung’s hands held you tightly in place.

“Of course, Kookie.” You mumbled out as Taehyung started planting more kisses on your neck. That made you smile and giggle yet soon after, those giggles turned into quiet moans as Jungkook now pulled you closer to him into a more passionate kiss. You could hear Taehyung chuckle and a shirt being removed from behind you. This was the first time you had ever made out with someone and you had this weird feeling in your stomach. It was like you were nervous yet at the same time you weren’t. You wondered how many times both of them had done this before but at the same time you didn’t want to know. Were you any good at this? What if you’d disappoint them throughout any of this? As you got lost in your thoughts, Jungkook had stopped and stared at you. In his mind he wondered if you didn’t like it as much as he was liking it.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s voice held concern and at the sound of that, Taehyung stopped the magic he was doing on your neck.

“Sweetheart?”

With the both of them echoing their concern, you looked at them. Should you tell them? Or should you just hide it away? You usually never hid anything from them, so it shouldn’t start now, right?

“I…I’m scared. I can clearly see you’ve done this before, and I haven’t. What if you don’t like it? What if the others don’t like it? What if you I disappoint you or disgust you or something like that? What if you stop liking me? I’m just thinking of that. That’s it.” You said all in one breath, looking down at the ground after sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“Wow sweetheart calm down. You said what? Stop liking you? That’s impossible. You are perfect for us; all we’ve ever wanted. You don’t see how much Jungkookie there was enjoying it? I swear to God he was about to cum in his pants.” Taehyung said, laughing. At the sight, you smiled. Was Jungkook really liking it?

“I was not about to cum in my pants, Tae. Anyways, we love you cutie. How could we stop liking you after this? If anything, we like you even more now. Yes, we’ve done this before a couple of times. Not tag teaming a girl together, but even so you are the best of the best. You’re everything we want and whenever we did anything, you were the one in our minds.”

“Jungkookie is right. Whenever I did anything, you were the only one in my mind. And the others will love to know that you’re opening up to us in this way. They’ll be mad that it was with us and not them, but believe me, you will never disgust us or disappoint us. Never.”

You smiled at their words and got up. With your newfound confidence, you slammed your lips on Taehyung’s. His hands were quick to pull you close to him as he kissed you back. You smiled against his lips as you noticed Jungkook taking his shirt off as well. Jungkook took Taehyung’s early place behind you, pulling you down to sit on his lap on the bed as Taehyung towered the both of you now.

“God baby. You’re so beautiful. So so beautiful and all ours, right? Ours to keep forever.” Taehyung’s voice was low as he went down on his knees in front of you and started placing kisses on your bare legs.

“You see what you’ve done to Tae, cutie? You have him on his knees. Do you understand how much we love you now? We love you more than anything. When I saw you walk out of your bedroom today in my hoodie, you had me so weak. I just wanted to take you right there in front of the hyungs. I had to control myself so much.”

“Ah…you have me here now, Kookie.” You let out a moan as you felt Taehyung now kissing your thighs. Jungkook turned your face to the side, planting his lips on yours once again. The both males fought for your attention in different ways and your mind was going crazy with the amount of pleasure you could feel with just kisses. At the same time, you tensed up a bit as Taehyung started pulling the hoodie up. What was he going to do?

“May I, baby?” You heard Taehyung’s voice deep voice ask as he looked up to you. As both your tongue and Jungkook’s fought for dominance, you gave him a quick nod. You trusted these boys with everything. They’d been there for you since you were young. You couldn’t feel more comfortable than you already felt.

At your nod, Taehyung pushed your hoodie up and he now kissed your inner thighs. At each kiss, you shivered. Your thighs were at a room temperature, yet Taehyung’s mouth was warm. His wet kisses only made you crave for more. Jungkook noticed how his hoodie was now revealing more of your skin which only drove him crazier. He smirked as one of his hands found its way inside the hoodie, covering one of your breasts.

“Tae, her nipples are hard. She’s loving this.” He mumbled our before he attacked the other side of your neck, placing kisses of his own as he fondled your breast.

“Is that true, baby? You enjoying our attention? You have no idea how hard you have me. Let me pleasure you even more, baby. Let me and Jungkookie take care of you, okay?” Taehyung asked as he carefully removed your underwear and tossed it aside.

“Okay, Tae.” You said in between breaths as you kept your eyes closed, your head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. Taehyung smirked and looked at your face before he eyed and Jungkook and nodded his head.

In a quick moment, Jungkook’s hands held your thighs, opening your legs as Taehyung now brought his tongue to your slit. At the warm feeling, you gasped as you looked down at the older male who now licked your slit while the younger male kept your legs wide open.

“Oh my god, Tae…”

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Look at how Tae is eating you out, Y/N. Look at how is tongue is hungrily licking your opening. Keep your legs open for us, cutie.” You heard Jungkook say as on of his hands now moved towards your pussy, his middle and index finger now connected to your clit, carefully rubbing it.

“Kookie!” You let out a louder moan as now Taehyung pushed his tongue inside of you. You couldn’t believe how good it actually felt, having both of them do their wonders on your body. Your mind was completely blank as you focused on the pleasure you were feeling. You knew you wouldn’t last long while both males had their hands on you so just five minutes later you could feel your body reaching its limit.

“Ah…It feels so…Tae, Kookie I’m close.”

You heard Jungkook’s low chuckle before he moved his fingers faster while Taehyung moved his tongue in and out of you even faster. It was your first time ever letting anyone touch you, but it was probably the best you’d ever felt. It wasn’t long until you arched your back and let out a loud moan.

“You taste so sweet, Y/N. I could have you to breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day, sweetheart.” You barely heard Taehyung as your heavy breathing as the feeling of climax clouded you.

Jungkook soon stopped his fingers, bringing them into his mouth. “You’re right, Tae. So damn sweet.”

You rested your whole body on Jungkook’s as you opened your eyes, a smile curling your lips. At the sight, both boys smiled widely. Not only were they happy that they made you feel so good, they smiled at the thought of how they’d tell their hyungs how they’d been the first ones to make your orgasm. That was a clear win for the maknae line. On the other hand, you were smiling because they’d been the first ones to touch you. You were happy it had been one of the seven guys you held so dearly. You wondered how things would be between all of you, but they promised you they wouldn’t stop liking you and that was enough for you. Or was it?

You were so lost in your world you didn’t realize you were now laying on the bed, Taehyung and Jungkook removing their pants and underwear. “Take care of us too, Y/N-ah.” You heard Jungkook say as he brought into your view his cock. It wasn’t crazy big, or crazy thick. Both his and Taehyung’s were what you’d say was average, yet the sight of them had your legs tremble. You carefully nodded your head as Jungkook brought his member now closer to your mouth and Taehyung held one of your hands and guided it to his own cock, wrapping it around it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, sweetheart. How many times I imagined your hands around it instead of my own…” You heard Taehyung roughly as you opened your mouth, carefully taking Jungkook’s own cock into your mouth. You closed your eyes and carefully started bobbing your head up and down, moving your hand at the same rhythm. It wasn’t long until both Taehyung and Jungkook moaned and groaned, only making you want to do it more and better. You wanted to drive them over edge just like they did with you and it wasn’t long until the youngest male was moaning louder, rocking his hips against your mouth making you gag each time.

“Y/N-ah…ah…I’m going to cum if you don’t stop…” At the sound of that, you tried your best to keep going as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You weren’t going to stop now.

“Baby…fuck…keep going…” Taehyung groaned closing his eyes. You knew both were close and your suspicions were proved right when, without a warning, Jungkook shot inside your mouth, followed by Taehyung cumming allover your hand. You tried your best to swallow every last drop that tinted your mouth, yet the taste was more bitter than you were expecting.

“You swallowed it? Fuck baby…I was going to apologize but now I can’t. That was so hot.” Jungkook said from behind you, kissing your forehead before heading to the bathroom to grab a towel.

“Sweetheart, you just gave me the best orgasm ever. It was so fucking good. Thank you so much.” Taehyung smiled at you before pulling his underwear up. “I’ll go grab you a new hoodie, yeah? Or do you want to take a bath? Maybe eat? Drink something?” As Taehyung numbered all things he could do for you and Jungkook walked into the bedroom with a towel and fully clothed, you heard the front door opening.

“Angel, we’re back!”

 Preview Chapter 7

“We were gone for 3 hours”

“Is that cum dripping down her hand?”

“If this is going to work, then no more secrets.”

“I love you all so much.”

“My parents are calling…”

“Are you done whoring around?”

“You’re trying to take her from us? She’s fucking our so you two better fucking lay low. We won’t have any problems getting rid of you.”