#even then I think I’ll have them call me strictly by a nickname cause it might help with my dysphoria

[sideflorfauna]

Seriously considering legally changing my middle name this time since I have to update my license again. I’ve been considering it for the past two years, and I think it’d make things a lot easier

[seongsangi]

your girl calls me daddy too

pairing: johnny x reader

summary: the story of getting involved with your professor/classmate's dad 👀

word count: 4.5k

warnings: professor!johnny, dilf!johnny, daddy/sir kink, age gap bc johnny is older in this fic (reader is 21+, we dont do that barely legal just turned 18 shit) straight up smut, that's all we do on this blog

author's note: this took me from 8 pm to 4 am to write. idk if that's fast or not compared to some people but bitch... that's a record for me!

another note: idk if anyone's wondering but johnny is a single dad in this, no cheating or infidelity involved!

No one knows about your relationship with Johnny Suh, certainly not your family or friends, and certainly not his son who is in the same biology course as you this semester. The secret is kept strictly between the two of you, the thrill of hiding it making it that much more exciting.

The relationship began with him being your chemistry professor. The brief glances, lingering touches, and frequent visits during office hours became too much for either of you to deny the attraction. It felt so wrong, the professor-student affair being too much of a cliché that you were hesitant to follow through with it. But after a particular session discussing the assigned homework, you both realized it was now too late to go back.

***********************************************

“Professor, why are you looking at me like that?” you fiddle with your pen in your hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little distracted.” Mr. Suh lets his eyes trail down your figure, eyeing the neckline of your dress that reveals just enough to get his imagination going. He’s thinking about the way you waltzed in here with that damn sundress on, the way you bite your lip when you’re confused on a reaction mechanism, the way your innocent eyes look up at him when he’s explaining the concept. He feels foolish, unable to focus on your question when you’re sitting across from him looking like that, the dress hugging your figure in all the right ways.

“Should I come back another time?”

Mr. Suh clears his throat, giving you another glance up and down before collecting himself. “No, no, I promise I’m fine. Let me check your work right quick.” You hand him the paper, watching as he leans back in his chair examining the mechanism you drew. You let your eyes do the same thing to him as he did to you, taking in the long sleeve black shirt he wore today that hugs his biceps almost too well. It has your hands itching to feel them under your fingers, to take the shirt off and see him in all his glory. Your eyes roam his face, the sharp features drawing you in. You imagine his plump lips doing things to your body that are sure to take your breath away.

He does not fail to notice your lingering stare, or the way you’re fidgeting in your chair. He pulls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearm and grabs his pen, leaning in to show you where you went wrong. As he’s explaining, you lean in too, your perfume filling his senses. You can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying, too busy tracing the veins along his arms and hands. Oh, how they would feel wrapped around your – okay, bitch you have got to chill.

“Miss Y/N, is something the matter?” The way your name rolls off his tongue has you swooning, the added ‘miss’ making your tummy flutter.

You feel your body temperature rising with each second, fiddling with your hands in your lap, your mind going crazy with impure thoughts. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “Uh, I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Mr. Suh notices your attention is elsewhere, setting his pen down and looking you directly in the eye, making you feel tiny under his intense gaze.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

The statement catches you off guard, your cheeks immediately getting hot. “I- I don’t know, wha- what do you mean?” you stutter, which he finds endearing seeing you all flushed.

“Let’s not act like we don’t know where your mind is at,” he sees right through you. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m right there with you.” His voice drops a couple octaves, sending a wave of arousal through you at the sound of it. Oh fuck, is this really happening right now?

Your breath gets caught in your throat, unable to respond. What the fuck do you even say to that? Mr. Suh gets out of his chair, his long legs coming around the desk and standing in front of you. He leans down real close to your face, bracing himself on the arm rests of the chair you’re in, effectively caging you in. If you thought you were getting warm before, you’re on the verge of burning up now. He’s smirking down at you, enjoying just how riled up you’re getting.

“Are you gonna tell me you haven’t been thinking of things other than chemistry during our meeting?” He cocks his head to the side, challenging you with a tease in his words.

“Um, professor, I don’t think we should be doing this…” you trail, glancing at the closed door behind you. His face is too close for comfort, looking anywhere but at him.

“Then tell me to stop,” his lips now ghosting your neck, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. He’s watching your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Every fiber in your being is telling you this is wrong on so many levels, but it’s making your body tingle in a way you can’t ignore. You’ve been thinking about him and it’s obvious he has been too, what’s stopping you from going further? You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find any words to say, nothing to let him know you don’t want this.

“You have to tell me you want it then,” he pulls back from you slightly, waiting for your confirmation. If you don’t explicitly say yes, then he won’t push it any further.

You can’t take this any more, sitting up straight and saying “I want it” in one breath before crashing your lips against his. There’s no taking this back, you tell yourself as you let him take control. You sigh into the kiss, his lips feel so right against yours, letting the lust cloud your mind. He cups the side of your face, pulling you up by your waist to get a better angle to devour your lips. His hips push you against the desk, lifting you slightly to sit on the edge. Your hands bunch up his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, searching your face for any sign of regret. Instead, he’s met with your blown out expression, needy eyes asking for more.

Mr. Suh shakes his head in disbelief, almost chuckling. “You don’t know what you do to me, miss Y/N.” You love it when he calls you that. He steps back, turning around to lock the door. The sound of the lock only fuels your excitement, eager to see what he’ll do next. Your hands grip the edge of the desk as Mr. Suh stalks towards you, like a predator eyeing his prey. Oh, how you want him to eat you up right now. Your thighs press together at the thought, a movement he quickly notices.

His hands trail up the side of your thighs before resting on the curve of your ass. The fabric is soft to the touch but he bets your skin is softer. “What are you thinking of, you naughty girl?” His lips are back on you, letting your head fall to the side as he peppers kisses along your neck. “Just thinking about you,” you pant.

“I know that much. What do you want me to do, hmm?” he presses further.

“Anything you want,” falling further under his spell. He groans in your ear, ready and willing to take advantage of your submission. It’s more like you’ve got him under your spell. He knows this is wrong on a professional level, but fuck that right now.

“Turn around,” twisting your body before you can even do it yourself. His touch makes you so dizzy, bracing your hands on the homework assignment that has long been forgotten. He kisses your shoulder, pressing close to your backside as he admires you from behind, the dress doing wonders to accentuate your curves.

“You look so good in this dress doll,” kneading your ass in his hands. He gives it a tame slap, not wanting to be too rough since there are still other offices around his. “But I bet you’d look even better with it off.” The wetness in your panties is becoming unbearable, desperate for him to touch you where you need him.

“Touch me please,” your sweet voice begging him is more than enough for him to comply. He bunches your dress up over your waist to expose your soft skin, the thin panties you’re wearing showcasing your wet spot off clearly. His pants are getting incredibly tight, blood rushing to his member with each second. He lifts your right knee to rest it on the desk, trailing his fingers over the thin fabric.

“Right here?” he slides his fingers up and down your center, earning a shudder from you.

“Or here?” pulling your panties to the side and coating his fingers in your arousal. You let out an audible moan when he finds your clit, which prompts him to clamp his hand over your mouth. He cranes your head back to look you in your eyes, his hand still rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

“You’ll have to be quiet or else I’ll stop. Can’t have anyone around us hearing you.” You nod in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as two of his fingers slide into you with ease. You arch your back a bit more, pushing your hips further into his hand. It’s a good thing his hand is still covering your mouth because you can’t help your moans when his fingers are drilling into you so fast.

“You’re taking my fingers so well doll,” he’s gonna drive you insane with that nickname. You turn your head to get a better look at him, watching him part his lips as he watches his fingers disappear in and out of your core.

He slides a third finger in and you want to scream, the stretch makes you feel so full. You’re soaked now, the lewd sounds of your wetness making you feel self-conscious. Just then, his office phone rings. You gasp, looking at him with wide eyes. He lets go of your mouth but doesn’t pull his fingers out of you, pumping them in even as he reaches for the phone. You try to stay as quiet as you can with his fingers still working your core.

“Hello, this is Johnny Suh.” He looks you dead in the eye, telling you you better shut up without verbally saying anything.

“Ah, Jaehyun, what can I do for you?” Your legs buckle when he hits that spot, almost letting out a yelp. He shoots you another glare, pulling his fingers out and shoving them in your mouth to keep you quiet. He sets the phone down for a second, leaning in to your ear. “Play with yourself while I take this call. And shut up, I mean it.”

You can taste yourself on his fingers, the whole thing making you feel so filthy. Your hand reaches down to your core, rubbing yourself slowly as Mr. Suh picks the phone up again. You lick him clean, getting your own fingers wet now with your slick. He’s listening to the other person on the line but paying close attention to your hand in between your thighs. He likes watching you play with yourself, getting off on the thought of him.

“Okay, all that sounds great. Send me an email of the template and I’ll check it out. I’m with a student right now, so can I call you back later?”

When he finally gets off the phone, he shoves his fingers further into your mouth, almost making you choke on them. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? You couldn’t even do that?” You’re so worked up, you can feel your high approaching and you just want him to help you reach it.

You grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “I’m so close,” bringing his hand back to your core.

“You want to cum? Beg for it,” he doesn’t make a move to touch you.

“Please sir, I wanna cum on your fingers, please please.” You stroke his arm gently, pleading with your eyes, anything for him to touch you again. How could he say no when you’re looking at him like that?

He tells you to turn around to face him, holding your leg against his waist. He watches your face contort in pleasure as he gives you what you want, rubbing yourself at the same time to chase your high. You try to keep your voice to a minimum, your sweet moans fueling him on. If his fingers feel this good in you, you can’t even imagine what else he’s got in store for you.

“Fuuuck, sir I’m cumming,” you cry weakly, closing your eyes and clenching around his fingers as you finally get that release. The sight of you coming undone on his hand is almost enough to take you right then and there, but he holds himself back. Your hand grips his wrist tightly, but he doesn’t stop pumping in and out of you until you open your eyes, worried he’s gonna try to get another one out of you so soon.

He finally stops, taking the chance to taste yourself by licking his own fingers clean. God, you thought sucking his fingers was hot, this is even better. He loves the taste of you, already craving more. Mr. Suh runs his hand along your inner thighs, taking a mental image of the sight of you spread open for him on his desk.

“Miss Y/N, I think it’s safe to say that we should keep this a secret between us.”

***********************************************

And that’s how your intimate relationship with your professor began. You’ve been in his office so many times after that, you’ve lost count, letting him take you on every inch of that desk. Before, during, and after office hours, you both crave each other’s touch. You know to keep your time together to a minimum though. You can’t be coming into his office whenever you want, or else it would start to get suspicious. Sometimes you catch yourself stealing glances at his son in biology class, wondering if he has even the slightest idea of what’s going on between you and Mr. Suh.

One day, when he’s at the front of the class teaching, all you can think about is his lips on you as he takes you from behind, whispering in your ear how dirty you are for letting him fuck you before class started. By the end of class, he passes the homework back out. You see a note written in red at the bottom of your paper.

127 Paradise Lane tomorrow 7 pm

It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means or what it entails. You quickly put your homework in your backpack before any curious eyes can see what’s written on it. You look up to see him steal a glance at you, making sure you got his note. Neither of you say anything as you walk out of class.

***********************************************

When you get to his house the next night, he welcomes you in with a warm smile, which quickly turns devious as he shoves you against the door immediately after closing it, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You grab hold of his shirt as his hands roam your body, pulling him as close as you can. His hard bulge presses against your stomach, thoughts already wandering to how mind blowing his impressive length will feel in you. You want him, but one questions prods at your mind, pulling away from his lips slightly.

“Sir, what about your son? Is he gonna be home tonight?” You feel weird in your classmate’s house, but the fact that you’re about to fuck his dad as you’ve done plenty of times before is more overwhelming than your qualms about being here.

“He’s out of town with his friends,” running his hand up your back before grabbing your hair, pulling your head back so fast it surprises you. His breath is warm against your lips, “And when you’re in my house, it’s daddy.” You’re so used to calling him sir, knowing it turns him on but the new name in this new setting makes your insides tingle. You can’t hold back your smile, giving him your best “yes, daddy” to appease him.

Mr. Suh leads you to his bedroom, the king sized bed hitting your back as he throws you down. He towers over you, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. You sit up on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together as you eat up the man before you with your eyes. With each button that comes undone, you get more and more excited. He’s watching you intently, thinking of all the ways he’s going to ruin you tonight. He looks delectable with his shirt off, licking your lips at the sight of his well built figure.

“You’re gonna start drooling soon,” he teases, walking to his closet and pulling out one of his many ties. Whatever he’s thinking of doing with that, you have absolutely no complaints. You bite your lip in anticipation as he kneels on the bed, securing the tie around your neck into a makeshift collar. “Is this okay with you?”

You nod your head, but he pulls on the tie quickly, taking your breath away. “Use your words.”

“Yes, it’s ok,” you choke out. He doesn’t let up, asking instead, “Yes what?”

You’re gushing already, the control he has over you making your head spin. “Yes daddy,” you can barely get the two words out. He lets the tie go slack, coughing a bit at the sudden attack. His hand cups your face, “Sorry was that too much?” You nuzzle your cheek into his hand, telling him you loved it.

And that’s what he loves about you, that you take anything he gives you and enjoy every bit of it. You’re too much for him. He sits with his back against the headboard, tugging your arm to straddle him. “Did you wear this little dress for me?” his hands are sliding up and down your thighs, bringing out the goosebumps on your skin. You brace your hands on his chest, moving your hips against his jeans. The friction against your clit is oh so good and feels even better when he flexes his thigh after seeing your movements.

“You should see what I’m wearing underneath,” tugging the hem of your dress over your body, revealing your choice in white lingerie underneath, the color making you look angelic but is a stark contrast to the sinful things that are about to happen.

“Miss Y/N, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks as you pick up the pace of your hips, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. He lets you do what you want to him, encouraging your hips to move faster. Your small whimpers in his ear tell him you’re enjoying yourself, using his thigh to get off. You know not to leave any visible marks, opting for further down his chest to leave hickeys. His jeans feel so good against your core, finding more pleasure in riding his thigh than you thought, but it’s still not enough. “Want you to fuck me,” you moan breathlessly, pushing your chest into his face as you find that perfect spot to keep grinding against.

He hungrily pulls your bra down, attaching his lips to your hard nipple as he rolls the other one between his fingers. Your skin is so soft, he could bury his face in your tits all night. He leaves his own hickeys on your chest, admiring his work as he puts your bra back in place.

“Keep the lingerie on.” He pulls you down by the tie again, kissing you fervently as you fumble with his jeans. You get down on your knees, taking his clothes off so that he’s naked before you. His rock-hard member slaps against his stomach when you pull his pants off. You flatten your tongue against his member, locking eyes with him as you lick him from the base to the tip. You take him in your mouth, using your hands to fondle his balls to add to his pleasure. Using your tongue as much as you can to get him wet, you take him as far as your throat allows.

“You look so good with my dick in your mouth,” grabbing your hair and bobbing your head up and down on him. You let him use your mouth, parting his lips at the feeling of your warm tongue. When he lets go of your hair, you release him with a pop, sliding your hand along his length. “I bet I look even better with it in m—” you can’t even finish your sentence as he grabs you by the chin, shutting you up.

“I knew you’d say some shit like that. Why don’t you be a good girl and come ride this dick then?” He shoves your face away, but the roughness only turns you on even more. You straddle his hips, his hand pulling your lace panties to the side as you position him at your entrance. Both of you gasp as you sink down on him, the stretch quickly filling you up, your tight walls clamping against him.

“Fuck daddy, feels so good,” you whine. When he’s all the way in, you lean back on your hands in the cowgirl position, giving him the best view of where your bodies are connected. You feel so exposed in this position, but he can’t keep his eyes off your core as you move your hips, which makes you feel powerful under his glare. You know he loves it just as much as you do, giving him a show as you ride him.

A thought comes into your head, pulling out but quickly turning around so that your backside is facing him. You slide down on him again, his hands gripping your waist. You can move your hips faster in this position, setting a quick pace and slamming your hips against his. He’s lost in the way your ass bounces on top him. You let out a loud whine when his hand lands a hard slap on your ass cheek.

“I can’t do that when we’re in my office,” he lands another one to the same cheek, “but now I can.” He wants to see you red with his handprints, enjoying your little yelps at the sting. You clench around him each time he spanks you, doing so particularly hard but you can’t deny that you like the pain. By the last spank, your ass is on fire, but his large hands smoothing over them soon makes you forget about the pain.

Suddenly, you’re being yanked back by your hair, thrown on your side as he spoons you. Lifting one of your legs up, he slides into you from behind. The new position introduces a new angle for him to fuck you. “Oh shit, fuck, oh my god,” you can only curse as he abuses your core deliciously. Instead of using the tie, he wraps his hand around your throat to choke you. You grip his forearm, letting him use your body to his content.

“Your pussy is so good baby,” he growls in your ear. “So tight, so wet, I could fuck you all night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You mumble incoherently as a response, too gone in the pleasure he’s sending throughout your body. You let out a choked scream as his hand that’s holding your leg up finds your sensitive nub, bringing you closer to the edge as he tells you how much he loves fucking you. Your legs shake as the pleasure overwhelms you, but he holds you close to keep you from going too far.

“Don’t run away, I know you can take it doll.”

“Daddy please,” you beg shamelessly but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. You want him to keep ravaging you, but you physically don’t know if you can keep up.

Mr. Suh makes the decision for you, pulling out of you to stand at the edge of the bed. He grabs your ankles, dragging your body towards him. He holds your legs together, pushing them towards your chest. He slides right back in, wasting no time in fucking you again. He loves watching his dick slide in and out of you, loves hearing you moan his name, loves how tight you get for him. You let your legs fall open, sitting up on your elbows to watch him fuck you. There’s something insanely hot about watching you take every inch of him, you can see why he enjoys it so much.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, which makes him grab handfuls of your tits, pinching your nipples. “Baby, can I take a video of you? I won’t get your face in it, you just look so good in this lingerie right now.” You nod, feeling a surge of confidence at his words. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, opening the camera and pressing record. He slows his thrusts, sliding into you slowly to show off how wet you are. The camera pans to your bra, giving them a squeeze for the video. He shoves your hand away, pulling your breasts out of your bra. He tugs on the tie, making sure not to get your face but still showing your makeshift collar off.

Without warning, he speeds his hips up again, earning a cry from you before ending the video and throwing his phone on the bed. He’s so riled up, he just wants to use you to finish. “You gonna cum for me daddy?” God, he loves hearing you beg for him. You sound so sweet saying the dirtiest things. “Cum for me please, I want it so bad, want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Oh shit baby,” he pulls out quickly, grabbing your hair and shoving himself in your mouth, his warm release all on your tongue. You swallow every last drop, sucking him off as he groans at the slight overstimulation.

He takes a second to catch his breath, noticing your not so innocent eyes looking up at him eagerly. A playful smile spreads across your face and he knows that look all too well.

You’re insatiable.

***********************************************

The next semester, you’re moving into a new dorm. Your parents are here to help you move everything in. You notice Mr. Suh’s son moving into the same dorm, looking around for a glimpse of him. He’s carrying a box of things from the car to the front entrance, stopping you for a quick “hello Miss Y/N, how was your break?”

He looks behind you, asking if those are your parents. “Maybe I should say something to them.”

“What are you gonna say?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe something like: your girl calls me daddy too,” he jokes as you storm off, cheeks flushing red.

[sunlightwoo]

Five Day Confessions

pairing: baseball player!eric x g.n reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers trope with like some slow burn?? in a way??? but also they’re like lowkey pining over each other cause why not with your usual fluff, humor and angst

wc: 4.7k

plot: you think that it’s amusing to see the star baseball player of your school pining over your heart, seeing as though your winter break was coming around the corner. maybe it was the holiday season that was coming, or the unspoken feelings that you might’ve had for your flirtatious best friend that was clueless about your own thoughts to him. let’s hope that maybe these five days that you both confess to each other indirectly finally go unnoticed.

a/n: this lowkey ended up being the longest oneshot that i have written on this blog, and i’m really shocked HOUEHGOEA of course it’d be eric sohn.. bUT ANYWAYSS :)) i hope you enjoy this piece that i’ve been working on these days for @timextoxhajima​‘s collab cause the pain i felt while writing this... yeah hehe anyways happy new yearrr

COLLAB MASTERLIST | MY TBZ MASTERLIST

Day One

It was five days before you were finally let out onto the winter break that you had been longing for since Thanksgiving weekend. An entire semester that was filled with endless assignments, stress and exams that definitely would’ve been the end of your existence, had it not been spent with your best friend along the way.

You were surprised that the star baseball player that was too close to your heart for your liking was passing, considering you never saw him come back to your shared apartment until the late hours of eight at night. Whether it was during the spring, or like now in the winter where he was conditioning for months before the season could even start, he was always focused on excelling in both baseball, but also securing a career in entrepreneurship if baseball happened to be a setback.

You argued the latter, that he was far too good to not be let into the major leagues, but he always found a way to downplay it and rather change the subject.

That was how Eric Sohn was, you concluded as you lived everyday being best friends with him.

The afternoon sun was already beaming down on you through the window as you sat at the seat closest to it in your last class of the day. Words that would’ve left your professor’s mouth sounded like complete gibberish as you were struggling to concentrate on whatever lesson he was trying to teach until you locked eyes with the said best friend, his eyes already scheming with mischief in them.

A smile crosses his lips as you watch him mouth something incoherent to you, making you distracted momentarily as you giggled to yourself quietly and shook your head. Turning away from the latter, the bell rings just in time for you to finally leave from your class as you hear the yells that were slowly growing louder come closer to your own ears.

“We’re free for the rest of the week!” He cheers as he tosses both yours and his bags over his shoulders, a habit that he picked up over the past few years even after you argued with him numerous times to not do so because of how bad you felt from the heaviness of your own bag combined with his sports gear.

That never seemed to stop him, however, since it was an everyday thing that he seemed to pick up to this day.

“Sounds like fun. Any plans for today?” You ask him curiously, walking out of the room together with him as the two of you were already heading out of the building to head back to your shared apartment, ready to start feeling the stress-free vacation that you needed for a while and for Christmas to arrive.

There was a beat of silence as you could tell that he was thinking about what to do for today, making you look at him momentarily and take in the tiny details that painted his face carefully. You knew that your best friend was handsome, there was no argument against that.

“Quit staring at me, I know you’re in love with me,” He chuckles slightly and you blink back to reality to see that he was already staring back at you, making heat rush up to your cheeks as you pulled away from his gaze to stare at the clear sky above you.

“There was just something on your face, that’s all stupid.” You retort, hoping that maybe he would’ve bought the excuse and it seems as though that he did as he lets another beat of silence pass by.

What was he thinking about?

“Hey, do you want to get some ramen?” He nudged you gently, making you look up at him with widened eyes as he broke you from your thoughts when you smiled in response, nodding as the two of you began to head towards the convenience store that was just down the street.

“Last one to get there has to pay.” You grin, already breaking out for a sprint as the latter decides that maybe giving you a five second head start wasn’t too bad, hiding the amused smile on his face from the fact that you were too cute when you were excited about the thought of ramen.

Up until he feels the emptiness of his back pocket, making him realize that you had stolen his wallet to buy your own stuff before he could even notice it.

“Oh shit wait- they have my wallet. Y/N, you can't just call that and then take my wallet!”

Luckily for you, he wanted to pay for your meal anyways just to keep the smile on your face aligned with the stars that always seemed to twinkle in your eyes.

Day Two

“Hey, are you busy?”

You turn your head to see Eric standing at your door frame, seeing that he seemed to be in distress as you paused the drama that was on your television for a moment. Patting the empty beside you on the bed, he immediately rushes over to where you sat in which he steals the opportunity to cuddle you in his arms as he wraps them around your waist tightly while laying on top of you.

A breath escapes your lips from his sudden weight and you shifted over so that you were no longer on one end of the bed but rather the middle, so that neither of you would fall off of the mattress as a result of his antics. This particular position was one that you were all too familiar with considering these cuddle sessions would only happen when one of you had problems to spill to the other, and you could only assume that in this situation, it was Eric that had something to say.

However, the only thing you were confused about was the reason as to why he was like this when there wasn’t anything that he has told you about these days, whether it was about relationships, baseball or even himself.

“Everything okay, bubs?” You mumbled quietly, staring at the blonde in question as his nickname that you gave him easily slipped past your lips when he let out a soft hum in response.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come into your room to talk about whatever was on his mind in which he found it comforting that he was able to confide in you for such things. He knew that if he told any of his friends, they might not be able to emphasize his emotions with him, which was why he was grateful that you were both best friends but also comfortable enough with one another where anything that was said would only be kept between the two of you and only you two.

A special thing that you two had.

“I think I’m overthinking things again.” He bluntly whispers and moves his head so that he is now looking out the window as your hands found their way to gently play with the soft strands that were tickling your stomach slightly.

It was silent as you continued to play with his hair as you listened to him talk about whatever was randomly on his mind, in which he talked about how he missed visiting his family since they weren’t around this time of year because they went on vacation assuming Eric was conditioning again this year not knowing he took time off to spend time with them.

It made you think about how you must’ve been the only other person that he could spend the upcoming holidays with, since you knew that your close mutual friends were also heading home as well to spend time with their families. However, your plan was to stay at the apartment alone since you didn’t have anything to look forward to until now.

“”I’ll make sure that you have the best Christmas ever, Eric, I swear,” You softly smiled, holding out your pinky down towards his face and you felt him hook his pinky around yours, sending the familiar sensations of warmth down your spine at your wordless promise, “That’s all that was on your mind?”

You wonder if this was what it must’ve been like to fall in love with someone, seeing as though your heart was still pounding in your chest at how close he was to you. His soft breathing on top of yours was making you feel warmer in your heart, and you could only hope that he didn’t feel how fast your heart was beating underneath his ear.

“I think I like someone too, but I don’t know what it’s like to fall in love with someone.” He says and you look at him in confusion just as he looks back at you in pure curiosity.

You didn’t think that he actually liked someone at the moment, considering he wasn’t really good at keeping secrets from you regardless of how hard that he tries. However, you could feel the slight sting of jealousy in your heart, paining you at the fact that he was indeed too out of your league, and also your best friend.

It was too risky, you knew, to even date your best friend and also the star baseball player of your university as everybody loved Eric. No matter how flirtatious or friendly he was towards everyone, it was all strictly platonic on your end.

“Falling in love with someone can be the most beautiful, but also the most painful feeling in the world, bubs. Have you ever felt like that with someone these days?” You reply and suddenly feel him get up from where he was lying on you, the emptiness from his warmth leaving your own making you frown invisibly, but you knew that there was something going on in his head.

He really did like someone else.

“I think so… Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, I’m not that serious about it, okay?” He chuckles while ruffling your hair slightly as you could feel the loud shatters in your heart resonate in your chest, and you could only smile as you hope that he never catches onto the feelings you buried in your heart.

“Have you ever felt like that though, Y/N? It’s like you’re the one who has been in a long relationship like that, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about one since freshman year?” Eric mumbles, slightly facing you as you let out a quietly chuckle, sitting up against your bed frame to stare between him and the golden sun that is slowly setting outside your window.

It’s a painful feeling because it’s you, You think to yourself as the thoughts of possibly confessing to him would be minimal because you knew that he was only being friendly as your best friend, and nothing more than that.

“Not everyone is worthy of my time and kindness, like you sometimes are buddy.” You smiled, feeling the bitter feeling of guilt crawl up the back of your throat as you swallowed the lump once again, hoping that these feelings for your best friend would possibly leave you alone.

Hopefully.

Day Three

You envied all the couples that were able to show off their relationships that they were in as you were at the mall with your close friends, Kevin and Hyunjae. The three of you were out buying Christmas gifts for your loved ones and friends and you were in distress considering you haven’t bought anything for Eric yet that would count as both a birthday and a Christmas gift.

It would’ve been harder if he had tagged along like he originally planned on doing so, until he got a text from his coach for conditioning this afternoon after school. You were grateful for the fact that you didn’t really have to worry about hiding what his gift was in plain sight, however you decided that maybe you should catch up with some mutual friends rather than going to the mall alone, hence the reason for Kevin and Hyunjae tagging along with you.

The three of you walked around the mall and goofed around, as if you didn’t have a care in the world since they seemed to have noticed your sour mood from looking at the couples in the mall. However, it wasn’t until you had pointed out that you needed to buy a gift for Eric that they finally pulled themselves together to help you come up with something to give to your best friend.

Eric was simple.

He wasn't exactly all that big on expressing what he wanted as he was happy with whatever was given to him, which was why it was almost a challenge for you every year to be attentive of his words and things that he’s had eyes on for a while. Because of this, you made it your goal every Christmas that was spent together to be sure that it was a gift that he would’ve mentioned unintentionally but would’ve hinted that he wanted it.

You suddenly end up at a shelter that was right beside the mall and look at the little animals that were looking for new homes to belong to, remembering all the times that you and Eric had visited a dog cafe this year. For all the times that he mentioned about wanting a dog to keep in your apartment to keep one another company when the other wasn’t there, you had the idea to adopt a golden retriever that had eyes that reminded you of his bright ones.

After signing the adoption papers and looking over papers for immunizations, you agreed to come back tomorrow to pick up your new furry friend as you decided to finally go for a quick coffee break at a nearby cafe. The three of you sat by the window in peace, feeling as though today had already gone by so quick when the events of yesterday in your bedroom started to cloud your thoughts.

It wasn’t likely for him to hide something from you when it came to relationships, and you wondered why he didn’t come to you sooner about it. You also then felt selfish as you didn’t like the idea of him liking someone else because of your own mixed emotions towards him and his flirtatious actions.

There was never any established words between the two of you whenever you exchanged cheesy lines or words of endearment that wouldn’t be seen as normal between best friends, but you wanted to believe that you two were more than that because you shared an apartment together. However, you began to ponder on the idea longer than you had wanted to, because now you were wondering who he might’ve been talking about the other day in your bedroom as you were pitying yourself over the unrequited feelings that you held for your best friend.

“Hey, do you know if Eric has told you guys who he likes?” You ask the two boys that were now looking at you in confusion, giving each other looks before turning to you with their drinks back onto the table.

“I thought that you guys were dating? Are you guys not?” Hyunjae mumbles and his words sent heat up to your cheeks as you were the one that was now flustered at the very thought of your friends assuming that you both had been going out.

Did that go for the rest of them?

Shaking your head slowly in response, you watch as their eyes widen into saucers and it seemed as though lightbulbs had been going off in their heads once you clarified the situation between both you and Eric, making the atmosphere quieter than it already was. Luckily it didn’t last long considering Kevin was the one that broke the silence that was filling up and invading your thoughts of why nobody asked about it.

“It makes sense now, for all the times that he talks about you and Hayoung from calculus.” Kevin says answering your thoughts and you feel your heart sink into your chest at his words, realizing that it was true that he liked someone else.

Maybe it was too selfish of you to bribe for his love with a dog, you think to yourself as a frown was now drawn at the corner of your lips at the thought of the dreadful rejection that you would inevitably face. You wondered how badly you’d be heartbroken after his rejection for your feelings, in which you thought that maybe this was a bad timing to tell him and not go home for the holidays.

It’d be better to ignore him than to face him at all.

“So he likes Hayoung?” You speak up quietly, looking at them while trying to not let your emotions falter the atmosphere, however you could tell that from the looks that they were giving you, one that you knew too well as empathy and pity, that you were in too deep into your own heart.

“I wouldn’t blame him anyways. Good for him.” You whisper and take a sip of the drink that was now bitter on your taste buds, trying to bite back the tears that were threatening to spill from your own eyes at your own selfishness.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, guys. I’ll be okay.” You reply and give them a weak smile that doesn’t meet your eyes, because you know that eventually you should tell him the thoughts that cloud your mind more than it should’ve.

You were in love with your best friend, and you hated yourself for never telling him in the first place.

Day Four

“Thank you, I hope that you have a good rest of your afternoon!” You grinned and waved to the shelter owner before taking your new golden retriever friend into your arms to bring into your car.

It was the afternoon before Eric’s birthday that you were finally bringing your gift for him back to your apartment as you were giggling at the excited pup that was trying to give you kisses on your cheek. You let her down onto snow and watched as she took some time exploring the cold snow that was beneath her paws before happily skipping back to where you stood as you crouched down to scratch behind her ears.

“Today is going to be fun huh, Byeol?” You whisper, looking at the way that her golden fur resonated the bright stars that you were so used to seeing at night whenever you couldn’t sleep.

Your plan for today was ideally to surprise him with Byeol, hoping that maybe he would love her as much as you already did in the short span she got familiarized with you. The only change in your plan was that you had forgotten he was conditioning today at the batting place, making you want to give Byeol to him earlier than you had planned.

Maybe this time you’d be able to find the guts to tell him with Byeol there with you.

Already driving to where you knew that he would be conditioning near your campus, you hummed to yourself while pretending to make a conversation with Byeol, hoping that the golden retriever’s presence could ease your nerves at the moment. There were a million scenarios that were already playing out in your head as you were scared for what was yet to come when you would by then arrive. However, all you were scared of was his reaction for when you would tell him, since he was your best friend overall before anything else.

You make it to the nearby gymnasium with Byeol in your arms, shushing her quietly as you wanted for her to be a surprise for when you had found Eric by the batting cages, but for some reason you felt a bit breathless.

He was easily recognizable as you could tell who your best friend was immediately by his amazing skills considering he was the ace, but there was something that felt off. You were most definitely feeling the familiar butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, but there was someone that approached him first when he went on a short breather before you could even make yourself visible.

“Youngjae! You did really great!” A girl squeals and based on her tone and appearance from where you stood, you knew that it was Hayoung.

Oh.

“What are you doing here, Hayoung? I didn’t expect for you to be here, since I thought you did student council?” He had asked her with his hands on his hips when she gave him a small shrug before moving closer to him so that they were now only inches apart.

You felt like someone had stuck something into your heart and twisted it tight enough for the dulling ache to appear in it. Of course Hayoung would be here, you think to yourself, as you think that he must’ve invited her to watch him practice and condition to win her over that way, making you feel even more hurt from the thoughts that were now reentering your mind.

“I have heard from the grapevine that you had liked me, and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go on a date since I liked you too?” You hear Hayoung ask him slowly and watch as she walks up to him with a smile on her face as she looks at him with a soft smile on her face, making your heart strings pull at the sight of it in agony.

Deciding to head back to your apartment, you left the scene as Byeol continues to walk with you back home in the chilly air. You think to yourself in that moment that you were right about your thoughts, about how you never would have stood a chance considering he had only seen you as a best friend and nothing more.

And it hurt knowing that there was nothing you could do to possibly change his mind.

Eric, on the other hand, was looking at Hayoung in confusion as she was still looking at him with a smile, when he had suddenly let out a quiet no. Her face scrunched up at the response as she was confused as to why he would say it, but there was something in him that knew it didn’t feel right, even if he had told his friends that he liked Hayoung.

The only reason why he had told them that he liked her in the first place was to lie about his feelings towards you, knowing that they wouldn’t be reciprocated with the miscommunication you both had about unrequited love.

“Hayoung, I don’t like you in the way that you think I do,” He says slowly and watches as her face then contorts to one of sadness until she gives him a weak smile as he thinks that maybe she knew why.

“You’re in love with Y/N, aren’t you?” She whispers in a quiet tone, making Eric feel guilty about the way that he was rejecting her when he was admitting in that moment that he actually did fall in love with you more than he should’ve been.

It was as though a flip as switched as he suddenly had the urge to go find you and leave the indoor batting range, wanting to talk to you instead before it was too late to even say it.

“Yes, yes I do love Y/N.”

Day Five

Eric is sprinting his way past the cold December night back to your apartment as he was tightly clutching onto his baseball gear from conditioning. He knows that although it was less than forty degrees outside while it was beginning to sprinkle light specks of snow, he shouldn’t be running this late in this weather.

However, the events of earlier had finally clicked as he was still running to your shared place with his heart beating loudly in his chest.

The apple watch that he adorned on his wrist had shown that it was already five minutes before midnight, making him think that you could possibly still be awake doing something if you were watching a drama like you usually would on a Friday night. He began to wish that maybe it wasn’t too late for him to tell you everything that was going on in his mind while his thoughts were running at half a million miles per hour.

It doesn’t take him much longer to finally arrive at your apartment complex as he had darted up the stairs to rush and find you as quickly as he can. Although he might’ve been slightly shivering, he couldn’t help but continue to think about what you could say when he tells you that he had loved you.

Would you hate him for it, or would you actually reciprocate those same emotions?

When he unlocks the door to a dark apartment, he notices the dimly lit kitchen where there was a small cake waiting for him, a candle that was unlit as a note was visibly seen beside all of it. He checks the clock in your living room to realize that it was a little past midnight, the date underneath it illuminating that it was now the twenty second of December.

“Happy birthday, Sohn.”

He turns around almost immediately, nearly giving himself a whiplash because of it, to face you who was holding Byeol in your arms. There was a long beat of silence that passed by between you both, him being in shock that you had a new puppy in your arms and you noticing how he looked tired even in the darkness as the two of you continued to look at one another. It wasn’t until you noticed that he was slightly shivering where he had stood that made you snap out of it and blink back to reality.

“Eric, did you actually just run when it started snowing? You’re going to get sick, you idiot.” You say, almost bursting into shouts and put Byeol back onto the floor to grab him some warm blankets when you suddenly feel him grab your wrist gently.

Without another word, he goes in for a soft kiss on your lips and you hesitate for a moment as you realize what was going on. It didn’t take long for you to pull him back in for another kiss when you felt him slightly pull away, wanting to let him know with the kiss that your thoughts were exactly in line with his.

Even if these past five days of indirectly confessing to him were painful.

When you both finally pull away to collect your thoughts and breaths, he holds you close as his forehead rests on yours as you look up at him in curiosity, wondering where the sudden boldness of his actions had blossomed from. However, it was the sounds of Byeol barking that made you look down and giggle at the small golden retriever before picking her up into your arms again.

“I don’t think I’ll get sick, if I have you with me,” He whispers quietly, a small smile painting his lips as he looks into your eyes before looking down at Byeol, “Is this little puppy ours to keep?”

“She’s technically your birthday and Christmas gift, so yes,” You grinned as he carefully takes her away from your arms to hold into his, cooing softly at the beautiful fur coat when you realized what had just happened in the past few minutes, “Hey, why did you kiss me? What if I get sick too?”

“Then I guess we’ll both spend our Christmas sick, but with cuddles, kisses and our new baby as a couple. How does that sound sweetheart?” He muses, making heat rush up to your cheeks as his lips were now somewhat hovering right over yours when you quickly pecked his lips cheekily before grinning to yourself while crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea, since my best friend will finally be my boyfriend this year.”

[torielectra83]

Garak and the Jack Pack

Want to thank

@volixia669

for giving me the idea and motivation; this is the first fic I've posted and finished in quite a while. Also gonna tag

@unicorn-and-bluebells

and

@tirlaeyn

since their DS9-related posts are what helped lead me to this (if there's a DS9-related Discord I should join, let me know); note that I'm not much of a shipper (and I'm ace), so I wasn't quite sure how to approach the Bashir/Garak relationship; I just left it in the background (and the lizard man t-shirt).

“Oh, Doctor. There you are, and I….see you’ve brought company!” As he could see, Dr. Bashir was heading for the Replimat for his typical luncheon with him, only four other people were crowded around him. A skinny man with a mustache, a stocky older man with a timid expression, a rather gregarious-looking woman, and another woman who looked rather distant. “Oh, hello Garak. I’d like to apologize for being a bit late.”

“Oh, don’t worry, given what I’m seeing it’s very much a valid excuse.” Garak had heard about the other genetically-engineered people who’d been sent to DS9 to meet Dr. Bashir, but he’d been busy with orders at his shop; he’d been thinking about hiring someone to help out, actually. “Well, that’s Jack, Patrick, Lauren and Sarina. This is my...friend Garak, he runs a tailoring shop here on the Promenade.” “Oh, hi there, Hi. Uh, I gotta go over to the replicator, I’m starving over here.” Jack promptly excused himself, while Lauren made her way to Garak next. “Well, hello, Mr. Garak.” She promptly began her flirtatious attitude. “If you’re trying to seduce me...it won’t work. I am sorry, but I do not generally do one night stands.” Surprised and somewhat disappointed, Lauren backed away.

Patrick then approached Garak. “Do you make clothes?” “Yes, I do.” Patrick then grinned eagerly. “Good, because the clothes the institute gives us are too...itchy and things like that. Do you have softer clothes?” “Well, I can certainly make some? I believe Dr. Bashir said you need “sensory-friendly” clothing?” Bashir nodded; the term was an old term from pre-warp Earth. “I’ll do it at no charge; anyone who’s a friend of Dr. Bashir is a friend of mine.” He sipped his Tarkalean tea as Jack argued with the replicator over not being able to make something, while Lauren used the other one to replicate a bowl of Vulcan plomeek soup.

“And… Sarina, is it? I’ve noticed you haven’t said anything yet.” Garak simply saw the young woman turn, before holding up a PADD, with words written on it -- “I can’t speak, If you want to have a conversation with me, use this.” She promptly set the PADD down and continued to watch Jack’s tussle with the computer. “Sarina’s unable to speak, I can explain the whole thing later Garak.” Julian felt the need to pre-emptlively apologize for their behavior. “Oh, you don’t need to. I’m seeing people with a lot of potential here.” Bashir nodded. “So do I. And not many others do. That’s why I brought them here. I want to try and help them.”

“They seem to be helping themselves.” As Garak watched, Jack had finally managed to get something from the replicator that agreed with his standards -- a ham sandwich with Bajoran mapa bread. “So, this is the irrefutable Elim Garak, huh?” Jack asked. “Yes, and I see my reputation precedes me.” Garak said politely. “That’s right. Former intelligence agent for the now-defunct Obsidian Order, exiled and now working as a tailor here on DS9.” He said hastily before ripping into his sandwich. Garak raised an eyebrow. “And how did you find that out?” He asked, a tone of interest in his voice. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can dig up on the extranet. There’s all sorts of unsavory rumors about you, like you causing a Cardassian doctor to break down by staring at them for four hours straight.” He promptly chugged from his cup of targ milk, before continuing. “And that your father was the head of the Obsidian Order, Enabrian Tain, and he got wiped out by the Dominion when the Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar teamed up, yeah, but they didn’t know the second-in-command of the Tal Shiar was actually a Changeling leading them right into a trap!”

“I...think we will have to pick up this conversation sometime later, Doctor.” Garak was getting rather uncomfortable at all this private information being practically shouted in the Promenade. “Oh, and I’ll see what I can do about those new clothes you requested, Patrick.” As Garak walked back to his shop, getting his mind off old events, he began pondering about what to do in the present. My orders are backlogged. I simply need help. As he opened his shop doors to see the current state -- half-finished orders, bolts of fabric all over and supplies in crates he hadn’t unpacked. “I must find someone to help me. I would get Julian but he’s too busy with being in Starfleet.” Garak sighed, and began getting back to working on an order.

Some time later...

Having returned from the Defiant, Dr. Bashir went into Garak’s shop, expecting to see it as it had been for some time -- cluttered and filled with things Garak was working on. He instead found it a hive of activity. Customers were entering and exiting, some waiting for their orders, others were looking at holographic models of new clothes to order. Bashir looked around in confusion. “What the…'' Suddenly, a figure blocked by their holding of several bolts of fabric maneuvered into view. “Look out, everyone!” Bashir knew that voice. “Patrick?!” “Oh, hi, Dr. Bashir.” Patrick didn’t even turn back as he carried the bolts into the back of the shop. “Patrick, how did you get here?” Bashir followed him, and realized the entire “Jack Pack” (as someone, most likely Quark, had nicknamed them) was working there. Patrick set the bolts down for Jack, who proceeded to start measuring what exactly was needed for that order. Lauren was busy inputting data of some kind into a PADD, while Sarina was sewing an order up. “Ah, Doctor, good to see you’ve returned home safe and sound!” Garak greeted him cheerily from behind his desk.

“Garak, what is going on here? How did they…” “Well, Julian. I saw their potential and I needed help. And so far, they have been excelling at everything they’ve been doing. I haven’t been this efficient, ever!” Garak looked positively delighted at this. It was rare to see him like this, and Julian was a noted expert on Garak’s emotions. “But...what about the Institute? And Dr. Loews?” “Well, she needed a vacation, and my offer to give them steady employment was something she couldn’t pass up.”

“Oh, well then. But...how are you so busy now?” Julian wondered. “Well, their brightness led them to not only help clear my backorders, but also introduce whole new product lines based on pre-warp Earth stylings. I will admit I knew little about it, but they have brought in several new kinds of clothing. Like this ‘tee shirt’.” Garak promptly held one up, the front reading “WWCKD?” with a small line underneath reading “What Would Captain Kirk Do?” “They’ve come up with several of these things. Like this one for the USS Voyager.” The shirt had a fictional flyer on the front with a picture of Voyager, underneath a “Missing: Reward” banner as if it were a lost dog. “We’ve also re-created other Earth fashions, from “bell-bottoms” to “zoot suits”. I must admit, they make most current styles of clothing look downright boring!”

“Yeah, Dr. Bashir! Here’s one we made especially for you!” Jack promptly handed him a T-shirt and headed into the front of the shop. Julian simply looked at Garak with an expression of disbelief. “Garak, we caught them trying to pass on classified information to the Dominion, and now, they’re recommending I wear a t-shirt that says ‘If lost, return to lizard man for reward’!” He said angrily, shaking the shirt in his hand for added emphasis.

“Doctor...these people needed another chance. One that nobody else was willing to give them. And another thing...they are still very useful analysts. They can predict trends, root out information and generally think far ahead of the game. To be quite honest, they’re the best analysts I’ve ever seen. “ Garak admitted. “Yeah, where else can you get a nice new pair of pants and information of Dominion troop movements?” Lauren commented.

“So...you’re basically running your own intelligence service out of this shop.” Bashir muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Well, there has to be a third-party intel service somewhere. With the Obsidian Order gone, there’s a market for it; we used to take on clients for analysis as a method for extra revenue. Strictly off the books, of course. So that’s what I’m doing now.” Garak reasoned. “And we aren’t just doing war intelligence either; we’ve got multiple projects for the Ferengi Alliance, the First Federation and the Gorn Hegemony for analyzing things like market trends, population censuses and whatnot.” Patrick nodded. “Yeah, Grand Nagus Zek and Ishka appreciate it! We got in touch with them thanks to the Ferengi maintenance guy, oh, what was his name…”

“Rom, that’s him. Real friendly guy. Came up with the self-replicating mines around the wormhole and keeps the holosuites running, real good guy.” Jack said at his normal speedy pace, before returning to his fabric measuring. Sarina promptly passed a PADD to Bashir, with a message reading “This is the best we’ve been treated in years. We’re working for ourselves, we’re constantly kept active, and we’re being paid 5 strips of latinum an hour.”

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Doctor. We’ve got a lot to do before closing time today. After that we can meet at Quark’s, perhaps? Jack came up with this astounding holo-program based on another pre-warp Earth cultural thing, a “game show” called...Wipeout, yes. It involved picking the right answers and avoiding the wrong ones, it’s fascinating. But we have work to do and I’m sure you have work in the infirmary.”

Garak promptly ushered Dr. Bashir out of the store and back onto the Promenade. “...what just happened?”

[dragonsareourfuture]

Yoosung/GN!Reader — Muse

AHHHH WHY ARE ALL THE FANDOMS I GET INTO DEAD OR DYING??? Anyway here’s some Yoosung fluff with an artist reader who made a work of art with him as the subject. Begins with headcanons, ends with a lil oneshot. Enjoy!!!

- Yoosung would absolutely go nuts if you were to paint or draw or even just sketch him! As soon as he saw the image you sent of it through the chat room he nearly let out a yelp of joy.

- He’s internally freaking out, he can’t figure out what to tell you that would perfectly encompass how he feels. Just anything he types he’ll have to backtrack because no, it’s not good enough!

- Because of how long he takes though, you might get worried that he didn’t like it and is trying to find a way to let you down easy. In regular Yoosung fashion, he would never just outright say he hated it.

- But after a while, he still can’t think of anything to say, so he sends a picture instead — in it, he’s smiling like a goof, eyes turned to crescents and partially filled with tears. He’s using a hand to hold half of his face in astonishment (and definitely not to cover at least some of the blush he’s sporting). As he’s said before, no one’s ever loved him romantically before, let alone decided to use their talents to create art with him as the subject.

- Along with the picture he sends a little message that reads “I...I’m speechless...! In a good way of course! It looks too good for me to say with words!”

- He feels super sad that he can’t see the painting in person yet and probably calls you about it, asking you to send him more pictures of it until he can get his hands on it.

- He’d just be so grateful and want you to know that, the sweet baby <3

- Count on him asking for a fanart of his favorite LOLOL characters or his avatar after he discovers the true extent to your talent. “Only if you want to of course!”

. . .

Grand doors swung open, giving way to the chilled air outside. The sun was lower in the sky than it had been when the party first began, now brushing against the trees that dotted the skyline. Soft, golden light shone in your face, leaving you to blink away the slight discomfort it caused and keep your gaze angled to the pavement. You almost couldn’t believe you had been there for so long, still filled with energy and partying with your previously strictly virtual friends as all the guests you had managed to rope in left one by one.

By now, there were only a few cars in the lot, all of them belonging to you and your fellow RFA members. You tugged a soft hand along with you as you made your way down the walkway of the party hall and to your car.

A soft chuckle caused you to look behind you, acknowledging the person you could officially call your boyfriend as he asked you, “(Name), where are we going? The other members will worry, y’know.”

“Aw, but you want your present, don’t you?” You responded, a smirk playing on your lips as you turned back around. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your car keys, clicking the button that made your lights blink and the passenger’s side door unlock.

“Present? You didn’t have to— oh! The portrait!” Though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear the bright smile accompanying his words. You knew he wouldn’t forget. He had been asking when he could finally get his pretty hands on your artwork since you sent him a picture over chat. He didn’t include that part about his hands being pretty, but you thought it was necessary.

You popped open the car door, hiding the contents from his single-eyed gaze with your back. “Now, I made sure it didn’t get too roughed up on the drive here, hence the wrapping—“ a canvas wrapped in a sheet was presented to Yoosung. He brought his hands together in anticipation. “—plus this makes for a cool reveal, don’t you think?”

“Yes! I wanna see it!”

“Okay, okay! Ready?” You inquired teasingly, merely fingering the drapes covering the canvas and pulling it down agonizingly slow.

Yoosung pouted childishly and reached forward with too much speed for you to stop him, tearing the sheet from your work.

You stomped your foot jokingly. “You’re no fun, Yoo.” Your smile faded when he didn’t respond. “Yoosung?”

You inspected his expression for any sign of anger, despair, annoyance — really anything that would have pointed to him being unhappy with your work in any way. But what you were met with was more confusing than anything. His expression was quite unreadable, and with one eye being covered by ivory bandages it was even more difficult to get a read on what he was currently feeling.

But the eye that you could see was transfixed on your work. His mouth opened and closed, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t for an unknown reason. Perhaps it was the same reaction that he displayed over text when you showed him for the first time — just speechlessness. You hoped to the gods that was the case. You didn’t know what you would do if he suddenly hated it.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” The nickname seemed to snap him from his stupor. Up until now it had mainly been him that used nicknames like that.

“Oh! It’s nothing it’s...wow....I mean no one’s ever really done this for me before!” Yoosung reached out to brush his fingers against the canvas, feeling each individual stroke of your brush, each bump and dent in the paint in what you swore was disbelief.

“I’m sure Rika’s done something similar.” You shrugged.

The blonde college student smiled sadly. He nodded. “Rika has done a lot for me, that’s true. But this...it’s so you! It’s so unique in a way that can only be you and I don’t want you to ever think that isn’t good enough. Okay?” His expression had grown progressively more serious, more determined to convince you of the value of your efforts. You felt the slight burn of tears meeting your eyelids, pushing them back down with a couple of blinks.

“Okay...I won’t. I promise,” You assured. You looked down at your hands, remembering you still held the portrait. You thrusted it towards him. “Here, it’s yours anyway.”

“Wh...mine? (Name), you know I love it but I couldn’t...! You worked too hard on it for me to just take it!”

“Yoosung, don’t do that self deprecation thing, ‘kay? I made this for you. I worked hard on it because I wanted to give you something I’m proud of.” You paused, waiting for any sort of reaction. All you got was Yoosung’s hands drawing themselves closer to his chest, twitching with uncertainty. So, you pushed your bottom lip out and pouted with obvious exaggeration. “Please? If you don’t I’ll be sad...”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes playfully, finally reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the canvas and lifting it out of your grasp. He smiled down at the image of himself. It looked just like him, but your unique style influenced the way you painted his features in the best possible way. He could tell exactly which photo you used as a reference. He was looking straight at the camera, or viewer in this case, with a side-eyed gaze. In the left corner was the bouquet of red roses he had bought specifically for that picture. Specifically to ask you to be his.

“Why are you so mesmerized?” You asked, chuckling at how Yoosung stared at the painting in awe. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Yeah but this is different! Seeing it in person is so much better!” He defended quickly.

“I got it, it’s okay, sweetheart.” You shut and locked your car door, arm finding its way around Yoosung’s back as your hand found purchase on his waist. You pressed a delicate kiss onto his temple. “I’m really glad you like it.”

“Of course I did! Oh! And I bet the other members will too! Can I show them?”

A laugh broke through your lips. “Obviously. But if any of them ask for a portrait too they have to pay me first.”

“Oooh so I get special privileges?”

“The boyfriend of the artist always gets special privileges. It helps that you’re too damn beautiful not to paint. You’re like my muse.”

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t got to see Yoosung flustered in person before now. And it was glorious, if you did say so yourself. The classic tinge of pink dusted his squeezable cheeks and ears and he let out a small whine of indignation.

“If you keep saying things like that I’ll combust from embarrassment!”

“Better make sure I say more things like that, then.”

Yoosung whacked you with the canvas.

[avnkin]

The Pogues - Prologue

Pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: toxic relationship, swearing

Word count: 2k

Summary: You were a kook, born and raised but when a messy breakup with your boyfriend takes place you find comfort in the people who you’d been taught to despise and keep away from your entire life, the Pogues.

(A/N): Soooo here it is the prologue to my upcoming series i’ve literally been working on this for the last couple of days and the first chapters are almost finished but I just wanted to post this as a kind of introduction to the story and the life around Y/N,, and pleaseee don’t be afraid to give me any feedback I love when y’all come in my inbox (not my gif creds to the owner) 

series masterlist

You were seated out on your patio opposite your mom and dad enjoying the nice weather, your tanned skin practically glistening in the sun rays “so Y/N, is Rafe going to be escorting you to Midsummers?” Your father asked, you groaned at the idea of even having to go there mostly at the part about Rafe being your escort “do I have to go” you frowned playing with the salad blades that lay untouched on the plate before you “we’ve already talked about this Y/N you’re going” he replied sternly, annoyance evident in his tone. Most of the time you could talk your way out of almost every single one of these events but since Ward was your fathers best friend and the event was practically being held in his honor you had to go otherwise it would ‘reflect badly on your father’s image’.

You and Rafe had been an on and off thing for about a year now, maybe even longer since it was hard to keep count of all the breakups, currently you guys were on another off stage after you’d found him and another girl going at it in his bedroom when you had planned to surprise him on his birthday but instead ended up crying yourself to sleep in Sarah’s room who held you as you sobbed and being the loyal friend she is she ended barging into her brothers room to yell at him as soon as you fell asleep.

You and Sarah were the same age and had been best friends long before you and Rafe got together, considering your fathers were close friends you spent almost everyday over at the Camerons when you were younger and now you two were glued at the hip, you didn’t know what you’d do without her since you’d done everything and anything together since the age of 3.

“Yeah well I don’t think Rafe’s gonna be my escort, we broke up” you stated blatantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked back up at your displeased father “come on Y/N can’t you fix it just for that night and then you never talk to him again I don’t care but it’ll look really bad for me if my daughter ditches my best friends son at an event that’s being held in his honor” you looked over at your mom hoping she would back you up since there was no way you were going to get out of this without her help, but instead she just sat there pretending not to notice your lingering glare.

“Fine i’ll fix it” you mumbled knowing that there was no point in arguing with your father “thank you sweetie” he smiled “whatever” you rolled your eyes pushing the chair out from behind you and making your way back inside and up to your room. Closing the door behind you, you sat down at the edge of your bed dreading dialing Rafe’s phone number since you really didn’t want to be the one crawling back after he cheated, you had some respect for yourself.

It’s for dad you thought as you pressed call on his contact your back colliding with your mattress as you felt your heart sink more and more with every ring. Just as you were about to hang up he answered “hey baby” the nickname made you sick to your stomach, did he have no recollection of your break up “can we talk?” you asked getting annoyed as you heard nothing but silence on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah uh i’ll be home in like ten minutes want me to pick you up or something?” he asked, it was obvious in the way he spoke that he had no interest in going out of his way to come get you, you rolled your eyes “no Rafe i’m perfectly capable of getting myself to your house by myself thank you very much” you spoke before hanging up groaning as you went and got dressed pulling a black hoodie over the white crop top you’d been wearing and struggling to get into your converse attempting to squeeze your heel into them as you trudged down the spiral staircase in your house.

You grabbed the keys to one of your dad’s cars, opening the front door you slammed it shut behind you making your anger evident to your mom and dad.

Walking out into the cool summer air you quickly unlocked the car and pulled the handle, opening the door and placing your self down into the drivers seat. You turned the engine on dreading the soon to be conversation with your ex boyfriend as you slowly backed out of your driveway and out onto the main road.

As you stood outside of the Cameron house you contemplated driving away and never looking back but knowing you’d have to face the wrath of your father if you did that was enough to make your knuckle connect with the door and slowly but surely tap onto it, seconds later Rafe’s deranged figure stood before you moving out of the way allowing you to walk in, you put on a fake smile as you followed him up to his room.

It was silent between the two of you when he closed the door behind him neither one of you knowing what to say as you both stood facing each other “Y/N i’m really sorry for what happened the other day I-I was drunk” he stumbled over his words the lie evident as sweat started to form at the top of his forehead “I don’t care, I don’t want to get back together” he looked puzzled at your words “then why are you here?” he questioned sitting down onto the bed that was placed in the middle of the room.

“We’re going to go to Midsummers together and then we’re over and you’ll never hear from me again” he simply sat there not giving you any reaction whatsoever, so you turned to walk out but before your hand could reach the door handle he grabbed you and pulled you back to him “so we’re over just like that?” he practically barked down at you fingers tightening around your wrist clearly not pleased with your words “yes, my dad just wants me to go to this stupid thing with you and I know you want to impress your dad just as much as I do mine so it’s a win win for both of us” ripping your hand out of his grasp you tried to read his facial expression but it was blank the part about his dad clearly striking a nerve within him “whatever” he stated coldly turning away from you. You had to admit it hurt after almost a year of being with him that he didn’t even try to stop you or fight for you, but what were you expecting it’s Rafe.

You exited his room tears profusely falling from your eyes, you weren’t crying because you guys we’re no longer together but because you had just now realized how toxic the entire relationship had been and you were more then disappointed in yourself for letting anyone treat you that way for that long.

You made your way down the stairs towards the front door but before you could reach it an arm grabbed you stopping you from moving any further, thinking it was Rafe you turned around prepared to cuss him out but immediately calmed down once you noticed Sarah standing before you, it was obvious by her facial expression that she knew something was up with you and Rafe.

“What happened?” She frowned as she pulled you into a tight hug, you quietly cried into her shoulder as your arms rested weakly on her waist. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him” you sniffled pulling away from the hug so you could look back up at her “you know what I don’t either” she smiled wiping away the few tears that continued making their way down your cheeks.

“Come on lets go do something” she smiled intertwining her hands with yours dragging you out of the house behind her “like what?” you asked opening the passenger side door of her car and stepping into it not to worried about leaving yours behind, you’d come and get it later. Sarah got into the drivers seat shortly after you “first we go eat, can’t do anything on an empty stomach” she replied putting the key in the ignition and turning the car on “there’s this place that I absolutely love it’s called The Wreck” she spoke as she exited the driveway “isn’t that the restaurant that Kiara’s parents own?” you questioned raising an eyebrow at her since Sarah had told you about their previous feud multiple times. “Yeah but i’m pretty sure she’s not working right now and either way it doesn’t matter if she is i’m a customer so i’m sure we’ll both keep things strictly professional” she huffed causing you to chuckle your mind quickly forgetting all about Rafe and his stupid antics.

As Sarah parked in front of the wreck she involuntarily groaned noticing Kiara and the rest of her Pogue friends all sitting in front of the entrance enjoying their fries and hamburgers some you recognized, some you didn’t. “Shit” Sarah mumbled “strictly professional” you joked copying her words from before, she lightly hit you in the shoulder before grabbing her purse and getting out of the car you following behind shortly after.

As you walked past the Pogues and toward the entrance all you received were dirty looks and glares especially from Kiara, the only one who wasn’t glaring was JJ who not so subtly let his eyes wander up and down your body, Kiara clearly noticed as she hit him in the back of the head scolding him, “what the hell” you heard him mumble as he rubbed the back of his head causing you to let out a small chuckle.

The only reason you knew who JJ was, was because of the multiple fights you had to break up between him and Rafe, you could never understand how two people could hate each other that much.

Turning away from them you followed Sarah inside the restaurant and just your luck you were seated right next to the window that was facing them, “Oh god” Sarah groaned hiding her face behind the menu that had been placed in front of her “she’s still staring” you looked over your shoulder, and sure enough you got a perfect look of Kiara’s face and oh boy if looks could kill you’d both be dead by now.

“Is this all seriously because you didn’t invite her to your birthday party?” you questioned turning back around “yup” Sarah replied resting her chin in her palm “I kind of miss her though she was fun to hang out with, you’d like her” Sarah smiled causing you to look back one more time making direct eye contact with JJ who subtly winked at you, you felt heat rising to your cheeks and quickly turned away eyes diverting to the menu in front of you.

“So what do you wanna do when we finish eating?” you asked looking up at Sarah who only gave a shrug in response “you wanna go buy some dresses for Midsummers, I literally have nothing to wear?” she groaned taking a sip of her water giving you a hopeful look “sure” you chuckled looking out the window once more only to see the Pogues were no longer there, you felt slightly disappointed at the lost sight of the Maybank boy.

I’m gonna make a tag list for this series so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!! xx

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 07

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was excited, too excited even. If she had to choose a place to live for the rest of her live it had to be Paris. As a child, she used to read about it constantly, learning French when Gwen went through a phase of wanting to go to boarding school in France after watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, a decision which quickly went downhill as she lost interest which Y/N remembered being very sad about. However, now, she finally got to go to Paris in her own terms, or at least Sebastian’s terms which were slightly more freeing than those normally put out by Gwen and her need to stay inside whatever resort or hotel she was staying in, drinking and eating everything on the room service menu along with some flirting on the side. No, this time if Y/N wanted to go out, maybe she could as the bodyguards probably did a better job at defending Gwen from danger than she could ever do. In all honesty, if someone had them both at gunpoint, Y/N wouldn’t know exactly what to do. Her role was always mostly to be a company to Gwen, a company approved by Mr. Forrest and one that wouldn’t falter. 

After warning Gwen about the plans to go to Paris, the heiress, still very much suffering from a headache caused by the hangover, simply ordered one of the maids to prepare her suitcase before returning to drinking yet another cup of coffee. Y/N clapped her hands like an excited child, returning to her room and going through her clothing to put in a suitcase. You’d think that living with an heiress who travelled more than once a year would’ve lost interest, but not Y/N. Y/N loved travelling, loved packing and going to the airport, awaiting her flight in the lounge area drinking a very fancy mocktail and guessing where other people were flying too.

She was sat down on her bed, French travel guide she had gotten as a teenager in hand as she brushed up on her unused French, thinking about the things she could do once she landed. What she didn’t know was that Sebastian was observing her from her bedroom door. He had passed by to ensure she was alright and to warn her about the time they were leaving and had stayed once he noticed her mumble to herself in French, sentences normally used by tourists. Sebastian had to admit he found her rather intriguing, mostly her unwavering positivity and curiosity about the world she had been in since she was younger. It was refreshing to see someone like her not trying to climb up to the top of the chart by betraying, lying, and cheating. She was just there, living life as it came to her.

    - Y/N. - he called out for her attention before she could catch him stare at her from outside her bedroom. She raised her head from her book, hair messily wrapped around a periwinkle scrunchy. - We’re leaving at 6 PM, ensure Genevieve is ready for it. 

    - She is. She got the maids to pack her bag and is probably recovering from last night at this moment. - she put her book on top of her suitcase which was neatly placed on top of her white cotton duvet. - We shan’t be late, don’t worry. 

    - Hope you’re not afraid of heights, angel. 

    - Why do you call me angel? - she furrowed her brows, noticing how frequently he addressed her by the nickname. Was it coming from any other man she probably would have some sort of hatred toward it but coming from him ... she didn’t know, it just felt absolutely perfect, meant to be even. Even so, if Y/N had to describe herself it wouldn’t be as an angel, god never one, if she had to describe herself she would describe herself the way Mr. Forrest second wife had described her to one of her friends one late afternoon when Y/N was 5, a gullible little fool. In all honesty, everything but an angel. 

   - It’s a rather good fit, don’t you agree? - he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. She shifted glances all around the room, staring at every single thing near her while shifting her weight from side to side. Sebastian merely stared at that behaviour, smirking at the effect he had caused on her and in little to no time, the lip biting was back. He cleared his throat, hands going back into his trousers’ pockets. - If you want you can grab any book from the library. 

   - No, I ... They’re really priceless copies, I might damage them. - she stuttered through her words, almost unable to accept another one of Sebastian’s offers. 

   - Pick whatever you want, angel. I’ll see you in a few hours. 

God, that man. She sighed once he left her room as if she had been holding her breathe. Had she? She did not know, all she knew is that being around him made her forget all the politeness and all her etiquette she had learned during her early childhood. He was just a magnetic, a sort of magnetism that Y/N herself couldn’t explain despite him belonging to a group  she had grown up within. No, there was absolutely something that differed Sebastian from Mr. Forrest. What it was? She didn’t exactly know and something told her not to protrude too much into that question.

Y/N just shook her head, deviating from those treacherous questions and took to pick one of Sebastian’s library’s thousands of books. She had to admit, he had quite the collection, just entering the library itself you could see piles and piles of shelfs stocked full with various book and as you ventured further into the room more would show up. However, it wasn’t the amount of books that made Y/N happy and warm inside. Although the amount helped, it was the smell. Old books in libraries had that sort of smell that was sweet and musky, warm like a blanket on a winter night. However, Y/N knew she had limited time to discover which books she would bring on her journey so with great sorrow she stopped her basking in the atmosphere of the library to pick two old favourites of her - Jane Eyre and Dangerous Liaisons.

With the two books on her hands, she paced down the halls onto Gwen’s bedroom, slowly and gently pushing the door open. To no surprise, the heiress was already dressed however she was sleeping, sprawled on her bed, head buried in her mountain of pillows. Y/N smiled amiably, edging over to her friend’s bedside and placing a soft hand over her arm, lightly shaking her awake. 

    - We have to leave for the airport, Gwen. - Y/N spoke in a silvery tone, returning to her standing position. Gwen rubbed the sleep off her eyes, not moving any other part of her body. - I’ll take your bags outside, please don’t go back to sleep.

    - Yeah, okay. - she moved her hand, gesturing for Y/N to exit her room which she did after ensuring the bodyguard who was constantly outside her door would make sure Gwen did not return to sleep. After placing both their suitcases at the top of the staircase, she returned to her room to grab her jacket and phone alone, ensuring everything was sin good condition.

As she closed the door of her bedroom, her head swivel vaguely to the right side of the hall and to the slightly open office door. She could see Sebastian walking from side to side, left hand griping his phone as he spat some very passive aggressive French to whomever poor soul was on the other side of the line. He wasn’t wearing his typical blazer, instead his perfect polished white dress shirt was slightly opened, sleeves pulled up to his elbows showing the definition of his forearms and a lee way into his chest. 

Y/N bite her lip, eyes slowly blinking as she took in the sight of him. Of course she was not gonna deny that he was an handsome man, he was, probably the most handsome man she had ever met despite everything. Her mind, however, scolded her for this behaviour, telling her not to go and play Acteon. She knew exactly how untrustworthy people were dealt with in the mob. 

   - I better return with two more suitcases for this to be worth it. - Y/N was removed off her “teenage dream” like thoughts by Gwen who had a pair of sunglasses firmly pressed against the bridge of her nose. - You must be excited, you’ve always liked Paris. 

   - Well, you did never leave the resort last time we went. - Y/N followed one of the employees who was holding their bags,  and the bodyguards down the stairs, the laid back image of Sebastian still tattooed on her mind.

The two women were accompanied into one of the cars by by driver and the bodyguards. Y/N had quickly learned that, almost as if they were some deviant version of the royal family, Gwen and Sebastian barely travelled together in cars, unless strictly necessary. She would guess it meant someone would survive and carry on the legacy if an accident was lethal, however, it still felt very much wrong. 

After quite a few minutes in the car, she could make out the airport yet instead of seeing it drive through departures, the car instead took onto a very controlled track on the landing area of the airport which made her eyes widen with enthusiasm. The young woman couldn’t help but remove her sunglasses, placing them on top of her head, as she saw the planes up close from the car’s.

The car came to a halt and like a child on Christmas’ morning, she was the first one out of the car, observing the rather smaller plane in front of her when in comparison to commercial planes. Sebastian was still on the phone as he climbed the stairs inside the plane which made a switch turn on into Y/N’s head, this was his jet. He had his own personal jet and the idea of being able to travel everywhere and anywhere at any personal time. 

Gwen, unlike her friend, didn’t seem that bothered with the fact he had his own plane, despite the fact her family did not own one. Tired, the heiress was the second one inside the plane while Y/N still stood outside, watching the light hit the material of the plane’s outside. Her mind could not wrap around both of them not being totally stunned.

   - Miss Y/N? - one of the bodyguards by the staircase extended his hand to her, wondering if she were scared. Y/N merely joyously smiled, taking his hand as she climbed up the stairs inside the jet. 

Once again she was wondered by the sheer luxury of the planes’ inside. It was painted a soothingly beige with accents of a dark coloured wood, possibly rosewood. The chairs were in a white leather material and unlike commercial airlines, there was plenty space for her to sprawl her legs. 

Gwen was already sleeping on one of the chairs and Sebastian was still on the phone, speaking in very menacing French. Y/N decided not to interrupt either of them and took a sit on a window side seat, putting her earbuds on and opening Dangerous Liasons. The flight attendants had placed some appetisers by her side and as the plane was about to take off, a very annoyed Sebastian took a place near Y/N. 

Y/N closed her book as she noticed his lips mashed into a fine line, forehead tense. Removing her earbuds, she slightly moved her body so it could face him and lifted the arm rest.

  - You seem awfully sad. - she commented, earning his attention. 

  - I’m not sad, angel. I’m just surrounded by a bunch of fucking idiots. - he rubbed his hand against his face, stopping at his temples to massage that spot.

  - You can’t control everyone, Sebastian. - she pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. - It’s not worth worrying about it. 

  - Everyone is controllable, angel, you just need to know their price. You, of all people, should know that. 

  - You did say I’m incredibly sheltered from this sort of lifestyle. Maybe I’ll learn it someday, but until I don’t, I’ll stick with my opinion. - she opened her book again, leaning against the comfortable leather. Sebastian, however, was not done with their conversation.

   - Dangerous Liasons, loving Paris ... One would think you have a lover there awaiting you. - it was mostly a detective-like question, the type of question his father had taught him to ask. This was the sort of common talk, innocent question that most of the times gave him the information he so preciously kept for his own personal and professional use. Y/N felt a flush of heat travelling up to her cheeks, she really was not one for lovers, or at least did not have the time. She had had fun with a boy back in university whom she had kissed and felt none of that special thing they spoke about in books but other than that she just stood on the shade of the much more appealing Gwen. 

   - It’s not a lover. 

   - What is it then? It cannot simply be because you’re an English student that you hold Paris in such high regard. It’s just a city. 

   - When I was younger, Mr. Forrest was in France for almost a full year. Me and Gwen stood with her first step-mother, Eliza ... She was a horrid woman and I think I wrote postcards to Mr. Forrest every single day writing him to come back. - she smiled in recollection of her childhood self, the bad almost unreadable calligraphy of the postcards and how she and Gwen would hide in the kitchen from Eliza until she screamed her head off in frustration. - He couldn’t come back, that was business, but when he did he brought me this stunning music box. I still remember it, it was white with golden accents and when you opened it, it had a little crystal dove in the background of a hand painted Paris scenery. It used to play ‘La Vie en Rose’. I always promised myself that one day, I would sit down in a balcony looking at the same scenery listening to it.  

  - You’ll probably only hear the sounds of loud shops and cars. You would be better with your little music box.

  - It broke during my teens. I tried glueing it back with stick glue ... - she giggled at her own childish mistakes. - But that’s the thing of dreams, isn’t it? You can’t always make them come true. 

tag list: @sideeffectsofyou​ @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea​

[krustywhore]

a language in itself // moreid

inspired by this doodle by @owlpip / @owlpipscribbles and i just had the cutest idea when i saw it so naturally i wrote this little one-shot<3 fig i hope you like it

Spencer, who was arguably not-so easily frazzled, was currently debating whether or not to lose his shit in front of all of his new coworkers. It was his first day at the BAU, for Christ’s sake, and he was seconds away from making a complete fool of himself in the middle of the bullpen.

With nearly a dozen books in his arms, the arm of his glasses held firmly between his teeth, and a to-go cup of black coffee balanced precariously on top of the stack, he was an accident waiting to happen. He passed interns and desk agents coming and going as he headed to where he was told to meet his new boss, but it was only a matter of time before his adamancy in taking only one trip from his car came back to bite him.

If he had known there was a thick bundle of computer cables wired under the carpeted bullpen floor, he would’ve made it to his new desk without a single problem, but his scuffed Chuck Taylor’s immediately caught the bump of wires and before he knew it books were tumbling to the ground and his full cup of coffee had emptied itself all over…a very attractive man.

Fuck.

His glasses were in his lap, thankfully unbroken, but he hastily put them on only for the blurry man above him to get somehow more handsome.

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating, his face went bright red and he fumbled trying to collect everything off the floor.

“Hey, hey, slow down kid,” the man spoke, making Spencer freeze on his knees, looking back up. “You okay?”

He was certain his heart was seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Me? I…I’m the one that just spilled hot coffee all over your shirt,” he laughed nervously, wanting to melt into the floor and disappear forever. “I’m so sorry-“

The man laughed and somehow even his teeth were perfect when he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy. One of the benefits of this job is carrying spare clothes around in case we end up skipping town,” the man smirked, picking up some of the scattered books and stacking them up on a nearby desk. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Spencer shook his head, still blushing as he felt multiple sets of eyes on him from around the room. He just hoped none of them belonged to his new boss.

“Good, well, I’ll take these for you if you’ll show me where your desk is,” he offered, a dark coffee stain still clear as day in the middle of his navy blue shirt.

Spencer followed uncomfortably behind him before pointing to an empty desk in the corner of the bullpen opposite another desk with a fair spread of files and picture frames adorning it.

“No kidding,” the man chuckled, dropping the stack of books on the desk. “I guess we’re desk neighbors, pretty boy.”

Spencer choked, coughing until he regained his composure as his handsome apparent-coworker pounded on his back to help him.

“Thank you,” he choked out, his throat still groggy. “I…I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

The man’s casual smile dropped and he took on a serious look.

“What do you mean?”

Spencer fiddled with the buttons on his cuffs, thoroughly embarrassed enough for one lifetime.

“I mean that I just spilled coffee all over you and humiliated myself on my first day and…and I clearly don’t belong here if I can’t even make it an hour before causing a disaster, but you’re just so…so nice and historically, guys like you are never nice to guys like me, but you are! And…and I can’t possibly fit in here, I don’t know what Gideon was thinking-”

“Hold up, Jason Gideon? Holy shit, you’re the one he’s been telling us about!” He looked like he was completely gobsmacked, looking Spencer up and down multiple times to the point where the younger man was getting concerned.

“I guess so…?” He explained shyly. “Why, did he not tell you I was twenty-two?”

The other man rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at his shoes.

“No, no it’s not that it’s...,” he paused, smiling as if he was nervous. “It’s just that I was going to ask you out before I knew we were would be working together.”

Spencer did a double-take and just…stared.

“You…w-what?”

His older counterpart smiled.

“I know it’s technically against the rules but…I would love to take you to get a replacement coffee sometime,” he smirked, leaning up against Spencer’s desk. “What do ya’ say, pretty boy?”

Reid definitely wasn’t any more prepared for the nickname than he was before, but somehow when it followed an invitation for a date, it felt more genuine.

Not that he had ever been asked out before, and especially not by anyone as attractive as the man in front of him.

“I-I don’t even know your name,” he mumbled, desperate for any excuse.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, at your service,” he grinned, reaching forward to grip the short length of necktie that poked out from underneath Spencer’s sweater vest. “And you are?”

His heart was beating so fast and his head was spinning so dizzyingly that he almost didn’t register the response until it hit him hard.

Derek Morgan.

Fuck, even his name was sexy.

He flushed bright red at the even closer contact and how closely their faces were. Surely Derek wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the office but…but something told him the other man didn’t much care.

“D-Dr. Spencer Reid,” he stumbled, barely getting the words out of his mouth in what was more of a breathy whisper. He nearly blocked out everyone else in the room as his eyes just latched onto Derek’s and refused to look away. “And…I would love to get coffee with you, but I’m paying. Since, you know, I probably just gave you at least a second-degree burn from the last one.”

The beautiful man—Derek, his brain supplied—laughed heartily, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he reluctantly let go of Spencer’s tie.

“You drive a hard bargain, Doc,” he teased, circling around to his desk only to pull out a small duffel bag from which he produced a light gray henley shirt. “How’s lunch today sound?”

Spencer smiled as the older man began walking backwards slowly, not looking away until he got his answer.

“You know where I’ll be,” he answered, pleasantly surprising himself with his own ability to be coy.

Derek shot him one last smirk before disappearing down the hallway and Spencer was left absolutely dumbfounded by the conversation he’d just had.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath, sliding off his satchel and depositing it on his desk chair before following the signs to where Agent Gideon’s office was located, as he had been instructed to stop by upon arrival.

His hands were shaking and his heart was still pounding and he was sure that Gideon was going to comment on how red he knew his face would still be, but he was practically floating on cloud nine as he sat down with his pseudo-mentor.

“Spencer, did something happen? You look…stressed,” the older profiler spoke as he stepped into the room. He shrugged in an attempt to be casual, not really wanting to discuss his romantic life with Gideon of all people. Especially when it involved someone they both worked with.

“No, nothing, I guess I’m just excited,” he lied through his teeth, hoping the man who studied behavior for a living and knew him like his own son couldn’t tell he was definitely blowing smoke.

“Right, well, if you’re ready now I can have JJ call the team in for the briefing and you can meet everyone,” Gideon explained and Spencer followed him out of the room and down the hall. He pulled out a chair around the large round table for the younger man to sit down and he moved to stand by a large screen to talk to a blonde woman who didn’t look too much older than he was. She smiled at him as she began pressing buttons on a remote and he gave a quick wave before the room filled with, what he assumed was the rest of the team. As he stood he immediately locked eyes with Derek again, who smirked and set down his files in front of the seat right beside Spencer’s.

“Alright, well as I told you all, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and he’ll be joining our team from now on. Spencer, this is Agent Hotchner, our unit chief, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, our technical analyst Penelope Garcia, and our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau,” Gideon listed, despite the fact that they all could’ve introduced themselves, but he was met with a tight hug from Penelope before he could protest and awkwardly adjusted his clothing afterwards.

He smiled nonetheless and explained that he didn’t do handshakes to the rest of the team before they all filled up the seats around the table with Derek sitting so close that he couldn’t help but notice him in the corner of his eye.

“So, no handshakes?” The other man whispered in his ear as JJ passed around the folders of new case files to the team.

Spencer huffed a laugh under his breath.

“Well, I have a bit of an issue with germs. Did you know shaking hands can transfer over three thousand bacteria between parties? Scientifically speaking, it would be safer to kiss,” he rambled before freezing as he realized the implications of what he had just said.

“Oh, really? Strictly scientifically?” Derek teased, knocking their knees together under the table.

He knew Derek was looking at him but he felt a smirk creep onto his lips as he refused to give in and kept his eyes on the slides JJ was presenting.

“Strictly,” he smirked coyly.

As they all collected their things and took off on the jet, Spencer couldn’t help glancing up from his work every few minutes to sneak glances at Derek from across the plane. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Derek was almost always staring back. Seemingly none of the other team members noticed anything going on between them, or if they did, they graciously didn’t mention it.

It wasn’t long until they landed and made their way to the local police station, all expressing concern that the station’s coffee machine was broken until Derek spoke up before anyone could move on.

“Reid and I will go pick up some coffee and lunch for everyone, I think we passed a cafe just down the street. You go ahead and start here, we’ll be back in no time,” he offered, nudging Spencer with his elbow until the younger man followed him out the door and into one of the parked SUV’s. “So, does now work for you to take a quick coffee date?”

Spencer laughed, relaxing already as Derek pulled out of the parking lot.

“Now sounds perfect.”

[timbertumbr]

Boneafide Gamer (A Reverse Harem Fic)

Chapter 1, Signing In

Quotev Link

Welp- Guess who’s joining the skeleton train?!

Note: When it's in your perspective, it's more than likely going to use the boys Usernames instead of their Nicknames since they legit just met so… here's a list of the usernames I've come up with-

Blue (Underswap Sans): Magnificent Blueberry

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus): Carrot

I'll add more as the boys are introduced. (Also for the horror bros I'm using ratsoh-writes nicknames.)

Finally, after a year of waiting, you have it!  Basic MMORPG VR edition! You squeal before thanking the delivery person and closing the door.

You tear open the packaging as you enter the room, open the case and put the disc into your computer. You gently place the case onto the desk before setting up your V.R set. The game boots up as you put on the VR goggles and you begin the intro. 

"Welcome to Basic MMORPG VR edition. A world that was heavily inspired by Sword Art Online, but our game is much better in so many ways! Would you like a list?" Snorting, you select yes.

"You do not have to fight any creatures in this game.

There are many skill sets to choose from like cooking, fishing, farming, bounty hunting and many many more!

A world that gets updated throughout the seasons.

Create, craft, or find many items the world or players around you provide.

You are not strictly assigned to a specific class, want to be a mage that wields a sword? You can BE a mage that wields a sword!

There are-" Holy crap, this list is long… you'd review it later, you wanted to get to the good stuff! Gameplay!

You enter the character customization screen and make your persona. Then came the most difficult part of making a character, giving it a name!

You tapped your foot as you thought of what to name them… do you want something funny? Something normal? Or something stupid? Man, this is hard…

You go for the grandest name of all "fart." You snicker as you accept the name, knowing you could change it whenever.

Hitting "confirm," you wait as the game loads on a public server. And when it loads in, there aren't a lot of people on… Wasn't there a lot of hype for this game?

You shrugged and went to the infamous Quest Master to receive your class, first weapon, and first quest. 

After all was said and done, you were "fart," jack of all trades (because you couldn't choose just ONE of all these cool classes!) And off you went to the fields to complete your first quest, kill/befriend/collect 5 slimes. 

Holding your multiweapon tight, (Again, you were VERY indecisive and basically created a multitool for weapons.) You venture into the fields to see a lot of slime and very few people.

Legit, there were only two people here. Skeletons, one named "Magnificent Blueberry" and the other named "Carrot." Very fitting considering their choice of armor/robes.

Intrigued, you decide to focus on your quest conveniently close to the skeletons, waiting for the chance to jump in their conversation and make friends! Haha! Genius!

While you slashed more than the acquired amount of slimes with your sword, the short skeleton was reading all the features this game held while the tall one was trying to figure out the controls.

"OH WOW! PAPY, DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE CREATURES?!" Blueberry exclaimed using voice chat, turning to his struggling younger brother.

"Really? I think we both know who'd like that," Stretch says amused, Blueberry huffing before helping Stretch with the controls.

"INDEED! OKA WOULD LOVE TO MAKE A SLIME FARM! (THE TRIGGER IS TO ACTIVATE STUFF LIKE GRABBING AND DROPPING ITEMS) AND I THINK EDGE WOULD BE MORE THAT HAPPY TO HAVE A CAT 'ARMY,'" Blueberry exclaims, happy that there's so much to do in this game! (Even if it is a waste of time according to Edge.) 

Stretch nods, finally getting used to the controls and thanking Blueberry, who enthusiastically welcomes him.

"What other features are there?" Stretch asks curiously, peering at the cybernetic screen on Blue's arm.

"OH LOT'S! THERE'S HUNDREDS OF FEATURES IN THIS!" Blue exclaims before scanning the list to look for one Stretch may like.

"Oh wow," Stretch comments amazed, he knew there was a lot but HUNDREDS?! It's every gamer's dream! (Red may enjoy that.) 

"LIKE THIS ONE! IF YOU HOVER OVER A PLAYER, YOU CAN ADD THEM TO A PARTY! LET'S DO IT!" Stretch shrugs.

"Sure, why not?" With stars in his sockets, he hovers his disembodied hand over Stretch and adds him to a party which Stretch accepted the request for. Blue then renames the party to "THE AMAZING DUO!" Stretch raises a bone brow with an amused smile.

"Really?"

"REALLY! OH LOOK, A POTENTIAL FRIEND!" Blue exclaims, finally noticing you. However you were focused on the slimes.

"They've been there forever though," Stretch points out.

"WHA? PAPY, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" Blue says sadly, Stretch shrugs again.

"They seemed busy," Blueberry looked at you again and you were still focused on the slimes.

"WELL, MAYBE THEY NEED A BREAK!" Blueberry exclaims before approaching you. Stretch sighs before hesitantly following his brother. 

"GREETINGS FART!" He exclaims, causing you to burst out laughing.

"Ahaha! I knew that name was a great choice!" You say before turning to the smiling short skeleton.

"[Insert pun here] MWHEHE!" You hear a groan come from the taller skeleton that just arrived.

"Hehe! That was a good one! As you know, I'm Fart. And you're…?"

"I'M THE MAGNIFICENT BLUEBERRY, MWHEHE! BUT YOU MAY JUST CALL ME BLUEBERRY OR BLUE!" Blue exclaims.

"I'm Carrot," Stretch says afterwards, causing you to snicker.

"Those are great names! Say, what are your classes?" 

"WARRIOR OF PEACE!"

"Mage, You?" You chuckle sheepishly at the question.

"I… chose all of them…" You admit, making Carrot snort.

"Couldn't settle for one huh?" Stretch asks amused, you cross your arms and huff.

"Hey! It's not my fault there's so many choices!" You exclaim.

"I THINK IT'S NEAT!" Blue chimes in making you smile.

"Thank you Blue. Hey, are you guys new to the game?" You ask and they both nod.

"Well, so am I! How about we explore together?" You suggest, Blue lit up like a Christmas tree.

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! LET'S GO NEW FRIEND FART!" Blue exclaims before leading the way, you and Carrot snicker and follow after.

So you spent the entire day exploring the HUGE town made for beginners and it's also a hangout/meetup area for experienced players. You got witty remarks from Carrot, puns and fun little facts and features from Sans as you explored. Before you all knew it, night had arrived and you had to log off.

"Oh shoot! It's 8 already?! I gotta go guys, thanks for exploring with me!" You announce making Blue jump.

"IT'S 8?!" Blue yelled before quickly logging off, leaving you with Carrot.

"He… doesn't play games a lot. He usually works hard," Carrot explains, you nod.

"Makes sense," You say before you go to log off.

"Wait a minute," Carrot says before you press the logout button.

"Could I get your discord? I have some… cousins that could use some social interaction from someone like you," You smile.

"Is this your way of telling me you want to hang out more?" You ask in a teasing tone, Carrot snorts.

"Yes and no," He answers simply with a smirk. You exchange discord usernames and codes (Cheesepuff ####) before saying your final goodbyes and logging off. 

You take off the VR headset and wince from the lack of light and strain on your eyes. You shut off everything and begin your nightly routine. Once done, you scoop up your phone and check your messages on discord. 

Cheesepuff: Yo, it's Carrot. I came to wish the jack of all trades goodnight. And to tell you Blueberry says he's sorry he left so suddenly.

You snicker before replying.

(Username): Thank you Carrot. Tell Blue I said it's okay. Goodnight to both of you!

You then go to message your friend hoping they weren't asleep already.

(Username): Dude! I made friends! :D

Totally not the writer: Oh? Do tell.

And so you do, telling them EVERYTHING! 

Totally not the writer: Woah. I gotta get that game. And they sound nice but keep on your toes okay? Not everyone is who they seem.

(Username): Don't worry, I will! Good night you night owl. (You better go to sleep once you send YOUR good night.)

Totally not the writer: No promises. Night.

Sighing, you shut off your phone and head to sleep and dream of Slimes, Carrots and Blueberries.

Holy shit! That took a while to write. One pair of boys down, 4 to go… Will the other chapters be as long as this one? It honestly depends but let's hope not for both our sakes.

So we got ourselves a new series! Huzzah! I’ll try and post the chapters here with links to the next as the series goes on but I could also post it onto quotev or something if you guys prefer that.

Next Chapter

[kylo-hen]

The Milk Man

A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely  plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.

Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.

Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.

    Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.

     With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.

     It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.

    Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.

     “Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.

    “What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.

    “Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.

     “Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!

    “Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.

    “Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.

    “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.

    “Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.

    “No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.

    “Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.

    “I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?

   “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.

    My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.

    “Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.

    “Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.

     He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.

    “Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”

    After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.

    By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.

    “Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.

   “Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.

    “You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man.     “Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.

    “Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.

    So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.

    Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.

    “Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.

    “Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.

     “I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.

    “Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.

    “It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.

    “Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.

    “Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.

     “Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.

    “What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features.  He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.

      “Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.

    “What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.

    “Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.

    “Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.

    “They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.

    The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?

    When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.

    “I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.

    “I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.

     “Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.

    “I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.

    From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.

    Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.

    Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.  

     Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.

    Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.

    Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.

     Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam’s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.

    “Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.

    His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.

    “If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.

     As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.

     Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.

    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.

    “I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.

    “Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.

    “I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.

    “You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.

    “Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.

    He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.

     With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.

    “Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.

     “Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.

    “Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.

    Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.

    “You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.

    “Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.

    “I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.

    He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.

    “Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.

    “Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.

    “Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.

    “Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.

    “Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.

    “Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.

    As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.

     “Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.

     He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!

[captain-yeet]

Seeking Sanctuary (Demetri Volturi x Reader One-Shot)

Request by @like-rain-or-confetti

Summary: Life had been going right down the gutter for Y/N - even more so now that a crazed vampire had taken an interest in her. Her home is no longer safe. So she turned to the one she knew she could trust with her life.

Prompt: “I didn't know where else to go.”

Word Count: 1.36k

Warnings: Mentions of being stalked, anxiety, angst.

Author Notes: THIS WAS FUN AS HECK and the prompt request made my day! I don’t get those often so I’m hyped for this one in particular. Bless you for requesting this prompt because I’m a sucker for this exact thing.

When life gives you lemons they say you can make lemonade from it. You doubted that you could make any light of the situation you were in or something of use that could bring you joy when life threw an insane vampire who thought you were a reincarnation of their long lost mate at you.

In fact, life had been very hectic for you lately. Work life wasn’t going so great, and you found yourself feeling demotivated and losing interest in things you typically enjoyed.

You had become rather depressed, and the insane vampire stalker was your tipping point.

With red puffy eyes from crying your heart out, you packed what you could into a large suitcase and backpack; clothes, things you used daily, things you didn’t want to dare part with. Looking around your home, you held back a sob as you gingerly closed and locked the door, and proceeded to leave the place you once thought was your safe haven.

With dumb luck and a one-way flight to Italy booked, you hoped that he wouldn’t turn you away. If anyone was capable of helping you, it was him. 

After all, it was either this or let yourself get killed or turned into an immortal being against your will. And you didn’t want to die. Not yet. And certainly not by some crazy asshole’s hand.

Once you arrived in Italy, you made way for Volterra, armed with a cell phone and a teeny little Italian translation book at your disposal. You called ahead to the Volturi’s receptionist line that Demetri had once given you, in case you needed to contact him, to alert them of your impending arrival.

Ah, Demetri. The man in question. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic but you felt some underlying tension between the two of you. No anger or negative feelings... just, something else. You could feel the two of you had chemistry together but you chalked it up to you being wooed by the supernatural good looks.

You’d met him through a mutual friend of a friend who happened to be a doctor at some hospital in Forks, Washington and from the first moment you saw him you found him captivating. He was kind to you, he spoke to you like you were on equal footing, and there was something about him that you just couldn’t put your finger on that made you feel connected to him.

You hoped he would be able to help you. 

You were out of options at this point.

The stalking had escalated to a frightening point to where you realized that no cop - no human - could help you. You’d wake up in the night and windows would be open that you swore you shut. At first, you thought you were simply forgetful and forgot to shut them yourself... until one night where once again, they were open only instead this time, you found a bouquet of roses and a lengthy love letter going into explicit detail of your stalker’s intentions.

How he planned to “court you”, how you reminded him so much of his long lost love from so long ago, and most importantly, how he planned to “whisk you away to live in bliss for eternity.”

Fuck. That.

You checked into a hotel nearby and dropped off your belongings there before setting out to find Demetri. It was the dead of night and you found yourself in some kind of plaza, looking around you trying to get your bearings. A slight drizzle of rain gently falling on your head. “Okay, I need to think. Tower in the Palazzo dei Priori. Is this it?”

You came to a stop in front of said tower, hand hovering over the old wooden doors. Were you supposed to knock? What was the protocol for visiting the literal vampire government?

While you dilly-dallied on what to do the door opened, and the face you came to see was before you. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Demetri asked with a mix of concern and surprise on his face.

 “I um,” you paused to swallow back the emotions bubbling to the surface in your throat, “I need your help. I - I’m sorry for appearing like this.”

Concern won over his surprise, and Demetri took off his jacket and wrapped it around your wet frame. “You’re alright,” he soothed you, ushering you indoors and out of the rain. 

If not for his arm firmly around you, you felt as if you would completely disassociate from reality. His presence was what you needed and it grounded you enough to be able to move your legs forward as Demetri lead you somewhere in the castle.

 “It really is like a castle in here,” you murmured quietly to yourself, taking in your surroundings as the two of you walked, missing him shoot you a frightened look as you continued to stare blankly ahead.

Finally coming to a stop, Demetri opened a door and brought you into a large, spacious bedroom that could pass for a condo. Leading you to a couch, he sat you down and then sat next to you, taking your hands in his gloved ones. “Tell me what’s happened, love.”

It all came out in a rush. “Just - everything has gone wrong,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic. “Things at my workplace have been chaotic and causing me a lot of stress, more so than usual. Now there’s some vampire who’s been stalking me and won’t leave me alone -”

 “Hold on, you’re being stalked by a vampire?” Demetri’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and you swore his eye color darkened.

You weakly nodded. “He thinks I’m some reincarnation of his dead ex or something. I knew you would probably be the only one able to help me... you’re a vampire too, so I thought...” Trailing off, you closed your heavy lids and sighed as your worn out emotions and the travel caught up to you. God I am so tired.

 “You did the right thing coming here. Your human police aren’t equipped to stop someone like us - especially a mad vampire. Here’s what we’re going to do; I’m going to ask a friend of mine to collect your things from whichever hotel you’ve checked into and have them brought here to my room. You will stay here until this menace has been dealt with.”

Your eyes fluttered open, anxiety filling your mind and your stomach. “But your - the leaders of this place, they’d be upset if a human -”

Demetri shushed you, reaching out to stroke your hair gently. “I’ll deal with that. Do not worry about it.”

 “I’m sorry if I cause you any trouble, Dem,” you sighed, letting slip the nickname you’d affectionately bestowed on the centuries-old vampire, eyes closing once more as the exhaustion began to take hold of you, “I just wanted to feel even a little bit safe. My own home wasn’t safe anymore and honestly? I didn’t know where else to go.”

No response from Demetri. Instead, you felt the couch you were sitting on disappear from beneath you briefly as sturdy arms wrapped themselves around your body, before being laid out carefully onto something soft and comfortable. As you nestled in more you clicked Demetri had probably put you into his bed.

And boy was it the comfiest bed you’d ever laid down in. It was what you imagined a cloud to feel like.

 “No one is going to lay a hand on you Y/N,” you heard Demetri say to you with conviction, his fingers finding their way into your hair once more to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. “Not on my watch.”

You hummed in reply, a small tiny smile on your face. “You’re a good man, Demetri,” you breathed, “I’m very lucky.”

His quiet laughter was the last thing you heard as your consciousness faded, along with what you swore was, “It’s me that’s the lucky one, cara mia.”

And as your consciousness left you, you felt a little safer knowing that you had someone in your life who would protect you from this insane vampire no matter what. A little piece of sanctuary in this scary time of your life.

[samwrights]

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side. 

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

[yeojaa]

didn’t know me.

pairing.  jhs x reader.  rating.  general!  we are family friendly.  tags.  this is just... cute.  there’s a bit of swearing, teasing, mentions of beer, etc. but nothing bad.  wc.  2k.  beta reader.  my beloved @hobi-gif​ and my wofe @periminkle​!  💖

You’ve always been one to take the things you want, pursuing them with a ferocity your mother calls intense.  You have no qualms about decorum or bashfulness.  To you, if you’re not the first - you’re the last. 

You’d done it all your life.  First, in kindergarten, when you’d taken the orange blocks because they were your favourite colour.  Then, in high school when you’d tried out for three varsity teams and made it onto all of them.  More recently, at work, where you’d demanded (read:  gently requested) a raise after you’d consistently been covering for your less-than-reliable manager. 

If you wanted something, you went for it.  There was seldom anything that could stop you - including your soft-spoken best friend. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

It being asking the cute guy waiting in line for his number.  It being embarrassing your poor best friend who’s got her face hidden behind your shoulder, soft blonde bangs brushing your cheek as she shakes her head in a poor attempt to deter you. 

“Don’t make it weird,”  she whispers into the collar of your coat, denim rough against your neck. 

“You’re the one making it weird!”  The hiss is quiet, gentle.  More coaxing than reprimand or displeasure.  This is a usual occurrence for the two of you. 

Whereas you were relentless, unrepentant - rays of sunlight on the hottest day of summer - she was the softest breeze, barely a ruffle of leaves.  You complemented and completed each other and had for the better part of your lives.  Exactly why you’d opted to take this trip with her and only her;  she was the one person who didn’t drive you absolutely insane after a certain number of days together.  She filled all the empty spaces of your puzzle, rather than smothered you with her own shape. 

Still, you sometimes had disagreements.  Now was one of those times. 

“What if he doesn’t speak English?”  

She’s being far too realistic, of course, in her patented Ivy way.  You have to admit - she has a point.  The likelihood of this random stranger even understanding you is slim but you figure it doesn’t hurt to ask.  When in Rome Okinawa, right? 

“Then I’ll use Google translate,”  you retort around a mouthful of laughter, the sound buzzing around your teeth.  You’d think they’d stung her by how Ivy recoils, grimacing at you in the same instance you advance a step.  “Wish me luck!”

She doesn’t.  You don’t care.  

A hand reaches out, two fingers poised. 

And then he - the cute fellow customer with jet black hair and expensive sneakers on - faces you, but not because you’ve spoken.  He turns because his companion has caught his attention, jerking his platinum blond head toward you.  At least, you think it’s blond.  You really can’t tell with how his bucket hat is pulled so low over his ears, the bottom half of his face obscured by a plain black mask. 

The words die on your tongue, suddenly stolen by the sheer beauty of cute guy’s face.  He’s disarmingly handsome, with high cheekbones and a perfectly upturned nose.  His mouth splits - heart-shaped around bright white teeth - and you can’t help the little tumble your heart takes when he smiles.  It brushes itself off before falling all over again, nearly launching itself out of your chest and at his feet. 

“Hi?”  There’s something lyrical about his voice, like summertime and riding in the car with the windows down.  It’s also accented - peculiar in a way that’s strangely familiar.  You can’t quite place it. 

“Hi!”  You all but chirp, probably with the dumbest look on your face.  You hope your smile offsets it.  “Could I have your number?” 

Sunshine - because that’s his nickname for now and it feels terribly fitting - blinks at you, head tilting in a way you can only describe as adorable. 

“My number?”  It’s an echo, in less of a what the fuck way and more of a did-I-hear-you-right way. 

You nod once, twice, a hopeful laugh rolling off your tongue.  It slots into the spaces between you and settles, strangely nervous.  You’re not used to the anxiety that’s thrumming through your veins and causing a ruckus in your ears. 

There’s just something about him. 

“Yeah, your number?”  As if to illustrate your point better, you raise your phone and wave it about, tapping against the back of your fluorescent pink case.  “To text you?”

Realisation dawns, passing in pretty rays over his face.  “Oh!”  For a moment, he seems ready to give it, every inch of his expression wide open. 

Then, all at once, it falls - blinds dropping across a window.  He seems deep in thought, his gaze jumping to the blond that’s now made himself comfortable at a table a few feet away, back hunched and attention focused solely on the screen of his Samsung.  Your stare follows, traipsing the narrow ridge of the other’s shoulders before swivelling back to the ball of light before you.  

God, you can’t get over how good looking he is.  It’s almost hard to look at him, yet somehow harder to look away. 

“You want… my number?”  

“If that’s okay,”  you murmur, with your most disarming smile.  You know it’s a solid effort - you’ve won parents and bosses over with it.  Three years of braces had done you good.

He’s seemingly stuck, torn between giving into the strange girl in front of him and something else you have no idea about.  You can practically feel Ivy burning a hole into the back of your skull with each moment that passes.  She’s definitely going to hold this against you for at least an hour. 

“I can have yours?”  A sleek iPhone - no case, to your horror - is fished out of his pocket and offered to you.  You can’t help but admire his hands, the way his knuckles wrap around the slim device.  “I’ll take your, um, number?” 

It’s not what you’d expected.  Truthfully, a part of you wonders whether this means he’ll take it and never use it.  You hope not.  

“Sure,” you agree readily, nodding with a delight that feels a little much for a chance meeting in a random mochi donut shop.  You try not to dwell on it as you enter your contact details, passing the phone back over with two hands. “Don’t forget to use it!”  It’s meant to be flirtatious, friendly without being too forward.  You’re unsure if it’s lost on him.  You think it might be by how he beams at you, offering nothing in return. 

“Gaja.”  

The interruption breaks the stillness between you, spoken so quietly you almost miss it.  It comes low and swift from the blond that’s joined Sunshine’s side, stealing his attention from you.  You try to hide your disappointment, though it’s quickly replaced by wide-eyed wonder. 

You don’t mean to stare - you probably look like a fish out of water - but realisation brings with it unflattering expressions.  It’s a simple fact of life.  

“Kamsahamnida.”  Your Korean is rusty - clearly without practice and uncomfortable on your tongue. For not the first time, you wish you’d been more receptive to your parents’ insistence that you learn.  

Surprise flips across Sunshine’s face, thrusting his eyebrows to disappear behind his fringe.  Then he grins, so big and unreserved that it really is blinding - like staring directly into the sky on a day without clouds.  He looks on the edge of speaking - as if all the words are balanced right behind his teeth, ready to spill out with the same abandon as his joy - before Blondie repeats himself, this time with more urgency.

You’re holding them up.  Oh god. 

With a swiftness usually reserved for the volleyball court, you sidestep, nearly knocking a lurking best friend over in your haste.  Your head is bowed - a decidedly strange gesture for you - and you glance up through a curtain of swept bangs and thick lashes.  “Mianhaeyo.”  You want to say more but you’re fumbling, trying to find the words you’ve never taken the time to properly study.  “I… um...”  

There’s a hand in yours, squeezing in reassurance. Or maybe frustration.  It isn’t always easy to tell with Ivy.

“It was nice to meet you” is what you settle on. 

“You too,”  Sunshine returns, far too kindly, with that same brilliant smile that has your jaw aching with the intensity of your own.  He’s all but ushered out the door, though he turns at the last minute to wave - a sweet thing that makes you laugh.  “I will call!”

Waiting isn’t something you do well.  As evidenced by your go-getter attitude, your patience tends to run thin.  You want things and you want them now - but it seems that isn’t in your cards.  Shit hand, you think.

So you sit and you wait and well, you’re not really sitting and waiting.  You’re still living your life and enjoying your vacation.  You’ve been to the beach - there’s a neat underground tower Ivy had dragged you to that had you gaping at the fish swimming by at eye level - and you’ve had probably too much taco rice than is strictly speaking necessary.

But you haven’t been able to get him out of your head and it’s driving you more than a little crazy on the third day that you haven’t heard from him.

“Are you listening to me?”  It’s Ivy, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with two intricately woven bracelets held aloft.  They’re both pretty and hardly discernible in their differences.  One’s blue and the other is… a slightly darker shade of blue?

“Huh?”  Your thoughts are a million miles away, focused solely on the memory of a certain Sunshine boy.  

“Which one!”  She’s exasperated, flailing her wrists just enough that one trinket whacks you right between the eyes.  Okay, so you deserved that.

You’re rubbing at the red mark, turning away in the same instant you speak.  “That one.”  

“That one?” 

“The one on the right!”

She grumbles something that sounds awfully like I hate you but you’re too busy checking your phone to really call her on it.  No new messages, save for the three group chats you’re in that absolutely refuse to shut up.  You don’t count those.

“A watched pot never boils,”  she hums from somewhere behind you, before lapsing into stilted Japanese with the kindly old woman behind the counter. 

You know she’s right but that doesn’t change a thing.  You check your phone twelve more times between exiting the small jewellery shop and stepping into the karaoke bar.  It’s not really that often, you tell yourself.  Most millennials sit on their phones for hours!  You’re a step above, truly.

Until Airi’s husband is grilling you, poking fun at the fact that you can’t seem to tear yourself away from the device in your hands.

“Don’t forget you’re out,”  he teases around the rim of his beer, arm slung comfortably across his wife’s shoulders.  “Live in the moment, y’know?”  

If you weren’t so close - if they weren’t hosting you at their apartment for this leg of your trip - you’d probably ignore him.  As it stands, he’s like an annoying older brother and receives a swift kick to his shin.  You grin just as he grimaces, nearly spilling his glass of Sapporo all over his front.

“Hey— you brat!”

“Takes one to know one,”  you retort, tongue out and mischief wrapped into every syllable.  “Don’t know how you’re married.  Didn’t think kids were allowed to.”  

Across from you, Airi stifles a snicker and the rest of your group breaks into laughter.  You’re in the middle of throwing middle fingers at Sunny when a hand clasps your forearm with an aggression you can’t ignore. 

Ivy’s staring at you with eyes the size of saucers, mouth curled into a perfectly shaped ‘O’.  A part of you wants to shove a limp fry into it - until you follow the line of her arm, the length of her finger. 

Because on the screen - serenading your ragtag group of friends in the terrible voice of Airi’s little brother - is cute-guy-from-donuts.  Sunshine. 

What the hell?

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​​

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 12

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Little angst, lot of fluff. A curse word or two.

Word Count: 5,542

A/N: I know nothing about the lives of the Evans family and mean no harm. This is purely fiction and for fun. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! The tag list is now closed. Each chapter tends to get reblogged from me a few times, so if you’re following me, you can’t miss it.  

*Italics are internal thoughts

Catch up with Chapter 11

**

A less drunk person would be more concerned that her old friend, kind of ex flame, and now kind of friend is sitting comfortably in her favorite chair in the middle of her living room.  As if this is how one normally spends a Saturday night. But not you. Those last few shots really took the edge off. You were happily munching on tacos with the boys. Albeit making a mess, but you would have to worry about that tomorrow.

“I want mouse ears!” Chris fake pouted.

“Ya can’t! It’s a Sassy and Grumpy exclusive,” Scott stated.

“’Sides, you don’t have a nickname. Oh! Dork! Dork is your nickname,” you shouted.

“Dork is not my nickname,” Chris said.

“Yeah, even I think that’s bad,” Scott said, earning a shove from you.

“Should we watch a movie?” you asked.

You were tucked closely next to Scott and Zach on the couch while Chris sat in the upholstered chair on the far end of the couch from you.

“Princess Bride?” Chris asked, eyes hopeful.

“Nooooo. That makes me sleepy,” you whined much to Scott’s enjoyment.

He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Does someone not want to go sleepy?”

“I just ate a bunch of tacos,” you sighed out, patting your stomach. “We should go swimming!”

“I don’t think so sweetheart,” Chris quickly said.

You stuck your tongue out at him. No one said you were mature.

“Buzz kill!” Scott yelled.

“Party pooper!” Zach added.

Chris apparently would be babysitting the drunks tonight. He did not see that coming when he booked his ticket late Thursday night.

With most of the taco mess cleaned up, you grabbed a few of throw blankets from your bedroom closet and passed them out. Zach was already out with his head laying against the back of the couch.

Chris queued up the Hangover. Poetic Justice? Maybe.

Scott had gone to the kitchen, mixing you a random cocktail of whatever he could find in your refrigerator. It wasn’t a good idea, but neither of you were thinking.

“Heeeey. What’s that?” Chris asked pointing at the two glasses in Scott’s hand as he takes a seat and passes one to you.

“Mind ya business,” Scott answers firmly.

“Do you both need to still be drinkin’?”

“Yes,” you answered simply enough, taking a long drink from the glass, promptly coughing at the burn. “Is this that raspberry shit?” you questioned Scott.

“We have to use it up,” he said with a shrug.

You closed your eyes and took another big sip, promptly sticking your tongue to the taste. Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

“You guys are idiots,” he said.

“Takes one to be one! Wait. Takes to be one to know one! Damnit!” you shouted.

“Takes one to know one!” Scott shouted.

“Thank you,” you said, laying your head on Scott.

“I got you girl,” Scott said.

“Can always count on you,” you said pointedly to Scott.

“Heeeey,” Chris chided.

Surprisingly Zach slept through all the shouting.

The movie played on with the three of you contently watching. Twenty minutes in, Scott zonked out, his head resting on Zach’s stomach. Both of them lightly snoring in tandem much to your amusement. The two allies had suddenly left you defenseless against the eldest Evans. You were in no state to talk to Chris and you really hoped he didn’t bring up the two of you dating again in your weakened brain capacity.

Maybe I should go to sleep.

Deciding to chug the rest of Scott’s specialty concoction, you quickly got up to rinse your glass in the sink before briskly walking into your room. You realized quickly that you were not staying in your own room, so you quickly backed out the door and into the guestroom.

“Night, Y/N,” Chris called out. You waved your hand, but didn’t bother to turn around.

**

You weren’t sure what time it was, having left your phone in the living room and not bothering to install an alarm clock in the guestroom. All you knew is you were sick. You woke in a cold sweat, body shaking, slightly disoriented as to where you were. You needed to get up and get to a bathroom before you made a mess on the bed. You cursed yourself for drinking so much just because Chris had shown up. This was mostly Scott’s fault by feeding you shots earlier in the day. The tacos and chugging that last drink were strictly the fault of your own.

On shaky legs, you got up from the bed, and slowly moved to the door, opening it with what little strength you had. You made it to the hallway but then your stomach started to turn. You quickly dashed across the hall to the bathroom, well, dash was a strong word. One foot was able to push off the ground with some semblance of agility before you other knee started to drop. You practically slid across the hardwood floor, scrambling on hands and knees to the toilet, promptly emptying your stomach into the bowl. You started to cry, always hating the way your stomach convulsed as if it was no longer connected to your body. A second wave of nausea hit when you felt a hand on your shoulder. The person kneeled beside you, brushing back the damp pieces of hair from forehead as you held onto the bowl for dear life.

It wasn’t until he spoke, did you know that it was Chris that was rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I got you sweetheart,” he said softly.

The tears continued to flow as you dry heaved a few more times into the toilet bowl.

“Do you feel like you’re done?” he asked gently.

You nodded your head yes slightly. You were afraid too much movement would cause another wave of sickness.

Chris got to his feet, gently placing his hands under your armpits to slowly lift you up. Once you were off the ground, he held onto you with one arm and lowered the toilet seat with the other.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment and I’ll clean you up.”

He helped you lower yourself to the closed lid before moving to the linen closet to grab a washcloth. He turned on the hot water and let it run for bit before soaking the cloth then ringing it out. Chris wiped gently around your mouth before bringing it back under the water again and ringing it out a second time. He ran the cloth over your forehead and then along your cheeks.

“Do you think you’re going to throw up again?”

“No, I think I’m done.”

Chris nodded his head. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I need to,” you point at your mouth and scrunched your face. Chris chuckled, moving back into the closet pulling out a bottle of mouth wash.

You got up gingerly, holding on to the vanity for support. Chris place an arm around your waist to keep you steady while you rinsed your mouth.

Although you were weak, you probably could have managed to get back to bed by this point, but Chris wasn’t letting you go. The two of you walked across the hall with one of his arms wrapped around your back before gently helping you settle on the edge of the bed.

“I really think we should get you changed; you’ve soaked through your t-shirt. You nodded in agreement.

Chris turned to the closest opening the accordion style doors before turning around to face you.

“S’not my room. The dresser in my room,” you said, pointing out the door.

Chris gave you a gentle smile before exiting the room. You heard him knock lightly before hearing the sound of muffled voices. You were still pretty drunk and still unaware of the time. In the morning you would be embarrassed, right now you just wanted to lay down and go back to sleep.

Chris came back in the room a short while later carrying another t-shirt and gym shorts.

“Let’s get you out of this sweetheart,” he said, setting down the change of clothes next to you.

He pulled at the hem of your shirt as you lifted your arms for him to pull it over your head. Chris kept his eyes on yours and you frankly couldn’t look away. Once the new shirt was situated, you stood up on unsteady legs and slid your sleep shorts down. Chris grasped your hands as you stepped out of the shorts. He knelt down to help put the new pair on as you rested your hands on his shoulders for support.

“You’re all set.”

You dropped to your butt, scooting up the bed to get to the pillow. Chris pulled the sheet and blanket over your legs and then brushed the palm of his hand over your forehead.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“I’m going to grab the trashcan just in case you need it,” he said while leaving the room. He was back a second later, setting it on the floor near your head. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“No room,” you said slight shrugging a shoulder.

Chris grinned, lowering his head and shaking it. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” you replied sleepily.

Chris came back in the room carrying two pillows and a blanket, setting them on the ground before leaving the room again. He entered again this time carrying two couch cushions, placing them on the floor on the other side of the bed before retrieving the pillows and blanket and laying down.

“Now remember, your trashcan is on that side, I’m on this side,” he said. You hummed in response. “Night sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond as your senses were coming back to you slightly with your emotions on the brink of escape.

“Y/N, are you still with me?” he whispered.

Tears started to sprout for the corners of your eyes. You held your breath, trying to pretend you were asleep, but it came out like a whimper in your drunk state.

Chris sat up, placing a hand on the mattress. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick again?”

It was dark, but your eyes had adjusted and you could almost make out his face. You attempted to hold back the tears once more but it was of no use.

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-I’m sad at you,” you whimpered out, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

It was the best way to describe how you felt about the two of you. You weren’t mad, although you had been mad when you first saw the photos, you were generally just sad at the situation. Sad that the last two times you were supposed to get together hadn’t turned out.

“You’re sad? At me?” he asked. You nodded your head yes and closed your eyes. Chris got to his feet, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Baby, I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

You opened your eyes, seeing that his face was much closer to your own. “It’s not all you. I’m just sad that this didn’t work out. It’s too hard,” you said between soft sobs.

Chris leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. One hand wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Can we please talk tomorrow? I promise there’ll be coffee.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. The two of you really needed to talk about your relationship. In the middle of the night when you’re still drunk is definitely not the right time.

“Okay.” He stroked your cheek again before pulling up the blanket to your chin. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you said softly.

“Night,” he said, going back to the floor.

**

It was morning, but you were still unaware of the actual time. The room was bright with the shades doing nothing to block the sun’s rays. You stirred slowly as the massive headache did not aide your motivation to get out of bed. Zach and Scott weren’t set to fly out until late afternoon, so at least you knew that you had not missed their exit. You were sure Scott would wake you anyway.

You remembered a lot of the night, well, mostly what had occurred when you woke up and found yourself sick with Chris taking care of you. The rest you remembered bits and pieces. Starting now, you were officially giving up drinking shots. You were much too old to drink all day, especially shots.

Leaning over the side of the bed you saw that Chris as well as the cushions, pillows, and blanket were gone. It was probably for the better as you didn’t want to have that conversation right this minute.

When is he flying out anyway?

After taking a few more minutes for yourself, you crawled out of bed and walked across the hall to the guest bathroom you found yourself very acquainted with last night. You brushed out your hair, washed your face, and then brushed your teeth. Showering could wait until later.

Taking a big breath, you opened the bathroom door and shuffled down the hallway to your living room and kitchen. Scott and Zach sat at the kitchen island eating pancakes while Chris maned the stove making more.

“Hi,” you said shyly. This was your house, but it felt odd to have other people living in it while you slept.

“Good morning, princess,” Scott said, getting up from his barstool. He pulled you into a hug and rocked you back and forth. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit. How about you?”

“Better now that I ate something.”

You hummed in response, leaving his embrace to place a hand on Zach’s shoulder before walking up to Chris at the stove. You placed a hand on his upper back while you went to stand beside him.

“Hey sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Massive headache, but otherwise I’ll live.”

“How many do you want? You gotta eat,” Chris added when you didn’t immediately respond.

“Just two.” He nodded, flipping over the pancakes that were in the pan. “Listen, thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“Of course,” he said, turning to face you. “I’m sorry you got sick, but I’m glad you were able to get some more sleep after.”

You gave his arm a squeeze before turning back and taking a seat next to Zach at the island.

**

Scott and Zach left your place at two in the afternoon. Scott whispering “good luck” in your ear after hugging you goodbye.

Chris and you walked back in the house, both heading into the living room sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

“So,” he started

“Thank you again for taking care of me last night. I drank way too much, though Scott is most to blame for that.”

“Why were you guys day drinking anyway?”

You chuckled softly to yourself. “Okay, um. Hmm. I’m pretty sure Scott was trying to get me nice and drunk because he knew you were coming.

Chris wiped a hand down his face but his lips were turned up in a smile. “Suppose I deserve that.”

“No one deserved that. Especially my liver. I still feel like dying.” You gave him a soft smile, grabbing a throw pillow and wrapping your arms around it. “So, why did you come out here anyway?”

It was an honest question. You had called off whatever the two of you were a week ago and then he shows up at your door.

“I wanted to see you and spend time with you. I know you want to go back to being friends and I will respect that, for the time being,” he said.

“Such a brat,” you said.

“Me? Me?”

You took the pillow in your hand and wacked him with it.

“Well, I am happy to see you. How long are you staying?”

“A few days?” he asked. “Didn’t exactly book a return flight.”

You shook your head and scrunched up your lips at him.

“Well,” you said, clapping your hands together. “We need groceries. And you do realize I have to work.”

“It’s fine. Told you, I’m your pool boy,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. “Besides, I get you for breakfast and dinner. And I’m just realizing how dirty that sounds.” He said chuckling.

“Oh my god! Such a brat,” you said shaking your head once again. “I’m visiting Boston in October.”

“You are?! Staying with me?”

“Scott.”

Chris pouted his lips.

“Don’t give me that look. He offered and you told me your house is having work done,” you reasoned.

“Still livable. Just can’t use like half of it,” he shrugged. “Maybe a third by October.”

There was a beat of silence before Chris’ smiling face turned serious.

“I don’t like that you’re sad about us. I want us to get back to what we were, before a dating relationship even began. You are one of my closest friends. You mean so much to me, Y/N.”

You grabbed his hand and scooted closer to him.

“You’re one of my closest friends too. When we first started talking regularly, I never thought it would be anything more than that. Then you got a little flirty with me and I flirted right back. Then one day you surprised me and said you were coming out here and we had a good day together. Well, a good second day together,” you said, earning a smile from him. “Then you kissed me and it changed everything. I just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be. The distance. You live an entirely different lifestyle from me and I’m not used to that. Don’t think I’ll ever be used to other women throwing themselves at you. I mean, I can’t blame them, but it’s not something I want to see. I need more than seeing you once every few months, even once a month. If you’re filming, that’s one thing. But in the beginning of our relationship, not to be able to see you and plans getting canceled last second. It’s just not helping.”

Chris takes your joined hands in his other hand. “You’re right. We weren’t being fair to us. I wasn’t being fair. Let me show you what we can be. Please let me show you how great we can be together. I should’ve said.” He licks his lips. “I should have said from the moment we kissed that I wanted to give this an honest try. There’s shit I have to think about more. Need to think about the stuff I don’t normally have to when I’m seeing someone from the industry, or someone who lives in the same city as I do. That’s on me and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have canceled on you this last time.”

You shake your head at that. “This is your job Chris and you got that role. You had to go.”

“I coulda pressed to reschedule. Shoulda called you after because of course, you’re important to me. But I was stupid and got drunk.”

You shake you’re head again. “I’m not trying to change you. You’re allowed to celebrate with friends. Just maybe think about me during those moments. Send me a text. I think it bothered me more because we were supposed to be spending that time together. But I should have spoken up and said, ‘hey, can we Facetime when I get home?’ so it would have been like we were still together like we planned.”

“You’re right. I think we both need to be a little more honest with what we want. I’m willing to take this slow if that’s what you want, but I’m not trying to spend time with anyone else. I’m not going to do that to you.”

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly out your nose. The idea of trying again was scary. Would it be much of the same? Only seeing each other every few months wasn’t something you wanted.

“How would this work?” you asked.

“Well, much like yesterday, I’d fly in more often. You have to work every week, so it’s easier for me to come to you. I won’t take any last-minute meetings when I have plans to be with you. We’ll…”

“I want to go on dates,” you interrupted. “Like actual dates. Nothing that’ll draw unwanted attention to you, but I think jumping right into semi living together isn’t going to do us any favors. Not that I don’t want you here. I want you here. But people go on dates.”

Chris chuckled. “Dates.” He nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, people go on dates. We can do that. Every time I’m here, I owe you a date.” His eyes crinkled and you couldn’t help but stare.

Do his eyes always crinkle like that?

“Oh! Okay. Good,” you said with a nod. “Good.”

“I promised you coffee today. I know it’s already way past morning, but do you want to go to that place you love?”

“Um, nah, we can skip it today.” you said nervously.

Chris gave you a questioning look. “You sure?”

“Well, uh.” You licked at your lips. “Me and Ethan, my ex, we used to go there every Sunday. Don’t want to run into him by chance,” you said with a shrug. “We’re not on bad terms or anything. Would just be kind of awkward to run into him there.”

“Then we find our own place. A place that we go to every time I’m in town.”

You smiled widely at that. Our own place. Suddenly you had the urge to kiss him, so you do. It was fast and chaste but it felt right. You pulled back to see a large grin on Chris’ face.

“We are still going slow,” you reminded him.

“Of course. Didn’t even think otherwise. I do have a question though.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“Do you only get to decide when we kiss?”

Smartass.

“Well, I suppose you get to decide on the half the kisses. It’s only fair after all.” Chris started to lean in. “But! We are going slow,” you reminded him again.

“Right, right. I’m taking you on a date tomorrow anyway. So, maybe I’ll get that kiss.”

“Maybe.”

**

There was something so domestic and familiar about coming home from work to find Chris on your couch watching TV.

“Honey, I’m home.”

“Cute,” he said, getting up. “You need to get changed into something casual. I’m taking you out.”

Oh! Right. We have a date.

Despite you being the local, Chris had taken it upon himself to look places to go nearby.

Dressed in jeans, a short sleeved pink blouse, and flats, the two of you were out the door twenty minutes later. Chris insisted on driving you in his rental, something about it being the date he planned so he was going to drive.

Thirty minutes later, Chris pulled into a nearly empty parking lot of a brewery you hadn’t been to.

“They have a food truck here that’s supposed to be really good,” he said.

“Sounds good to me!”

The two of you decided to grab a table outside rather than going inside where it was a bit more crowded. The patio had an overhang with a few ceiling fans as well as white twinkle lights that ran the length of the cement slab. There were over thirty brews and ciders on the menu, so Chris spent a good amount of time going over the menu, sending the server away more than once. You couldn’t help but laugh each time he told her we needed more time. You decided on a pineapple cider within minutes of arriving. After much deliberation, Christmas ultimately decided on a plain old lager.  

“That was an amazing thing to experience,” you said with an amused tone.

“What was?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“That whole taking a long time with the menu thing,” you said gesturing one hand down the drink menu in the middle of the table.

“Hey! I have a particular set of taste buds that need to be thoroughly pleased. One does not simply pick a beer at random Miss cider. What’s up with that? Cider…”

“It’s got pineapple! It’s yummy,” you said sticking out your tongue at him.

“M’sure. What do you say we go take a look at that food truck?”

**

Chris pulled in your driveway at ten minutes to nine. The two of you walking hand in hand to the front door. You tempted to let go of Chris’ hand to grab the keys from your purse, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled you until you spun around and into his arms as if he were a salsa dancer.

“Whoa,” you said, your arms resting on his shoulders for stability.

He grinned at your response, one arm going around your waist while his other hand rested on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“Kissing you goodnight.”

And he did. It was slow, almost torturously slow. You peeked your tongue out of your mouth, but he wasn’t playing fair as continued to mold his lips to yours. It was all soft lips and gentle caresses that you let yourself melt into. He slowly removed his lips from yours but kept his face close, time almost standing still.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime,” he said softly.

Heat instantly filled your cheeks. He was a such a dork, but he was your dork.

“M’hmm,” you replied. “I think I’d like that too.”

He kissed you again, but this time you pulled back first. “Okay, bye!” you said, turning away from him, unlocking the door and closing it in his face. Really, this was a date and he already kissed you goodnight, it was only fair to toy with him a bit.

You counted to ten and then slowly opened the door. Both palms of his hands were resting on the door frame as he leaned forward, head bowed down.

“Are you coming in or what?”

“Sassy, livin’ up to that nickname,” he said walking through the door and closing it behind him.

When you were ready to turn in for the night, you kissed softly outside your bedroom door before sending him to the guestroom for the night.  

Chris left two days later with promises to return soon. You felt a lot better about your relationship this time than when it first began. Having a serious talk about your feelings really was needed. He really wanted to give your relationship a go even if it meant going slow.

**

Two and a half weeks later, Chris was warming your front door with a big smile and a small suitcase. He cooked you pesto eggs before work the next morning and took you to the cinema for a late night showing. He didn’t press when you set the guestroom up for him again this trip. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t want to jump right back into bed together.

The next day you were supposed to be at work, but instead, you were in your favorite coffee shop, in the back corner away from the noise of the afternoon coffee breakers. A little bit of guilt plagued you because Chris was in your home while you were supposed to be in the newsroom.

Asia Williams’ business card sat snug in your grip with your cell phone’s keypad waiting for you to simply type in her digits. You needed to do this. Chris was making all this effort to come see you. Despite your plans to be in Boston next month, he had already made plans to come see you in another two weeks. Even though Chris was an experienced traveler, he would eventual run himself ragged.

Taking a deep breath, you dialed Asia’s number and crossed your fingers.

“Asia Williams,” she answered.

“Hi Asia. This is Y/N Y/L/N. We met at the conference last month. Brooks Cole’s friend.

“Yes, hi Y/N. It’s nice to hear from you. Have you thought more about my offer?”

“I have actually. I’m looking for a change, but I have something I’d like to propose,” you said.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“I’d like to stay on as a freelancer with the Orlando Sentinel. I’d only cover Disney for them. Ride openings, hotel openings, major anniversaries. It’s the Magic Kingdom’s 50th next year. But otherwise I’m exclusively yours.”

“And the Sentinel’s okay with this arrangement?” she asked.

“I believe they will be, but I wanted to run it by you first. If they’re not, it will be tough to part ways, but I believe you organization is the next step for me.”

“I believe it is as well. Why don’t I send over a contract, you speak with the Sentinel, and call me if you have any questions.”

“Thank you, Asia. I’m very excited to come aboard.”

“I’m excited to have you. Do you think you’re going to stick with your home base of Florida like Brooks did?” she asked.

“I’m not entirely sure yet, but a big move is on my mind.”

“We’ll chat soon then.”

“Sounds great. Talk to you soon.”

You took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as a large grin eased itself on your face. This was going to be a big change, but you were ready for a challenge.

You grabbed a coffee on your way out the door. You needed to meet with you boss James before he left for the day, a surge of caffeine is exactly what you needed.

**

“Honey I’m home!”

“Is that ever going to get old to you?” Chris asked from your kitchen.

“Nope.”

“What do you think of chicken parm for dinner?” he asked.

“I think that sounds delicious, but I’m taking you out to dinner instead,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Not that I don’t like this whole you treating me to dinner thing, but what’s the occasion?” he asked.

“We are celebrating. I got a new job,” you grinned.

“You did?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you were looking for something different!” He threw his arms around you hugging you tight.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about a change for the last two years, but I was scared to make a move. I still have to look over the contract a second time, Jana’s already looking it over for me too, but it’s pretty much good to go. It’s going to be a lot different. I actually met with my boss at the Sentinel and they are going to keep me on as freelance. Basically, I get to cover what I want when it comes to Disney.”

“That’s great sweetheart! Where will you be working?”

“News Now. It’s an online news source.”

“I’ve heard of it. Actually, I use it quite frequently. That’s amazing. Since it’s online, do you get to work from home?”

“That’s actually one of the benefits. I can work from anywhere. Visit my family, visit you, and still work. I get to take on stories I care about. They want a lot of opinion pieces from me too. I’m nervous as hell, but also really excited.”

“This is amazing,” he said, giving you a quick kiss and then pulling you into another hug.

**

With happy and full stomachs, the two of you went to bed after watching a few episodes of The Office.

It was such an exciting day that you were finding it hard to sleep. First, the guy you were seeing was in town, not only in town, but in your house. Secondly, you got a new job. Not only was it something new, it was a change that would fulfill that part of your life completely. Thirdly, you were able to stay on with the paper, keeping your credentials to attend media events of your choosing. It was like you won the happy life lottery today.

After tossing and turning for another hour, you got out of bed, threw open your door, and walked with determination down the hall. Stopping in front of Chris’ room, you knocked on the door quietly. If he didn’t answer, you’d just go back to bed and watch TV.

Maybe Scott’s still awake.

Before you could turn around and go back to your room, the door opened.

“Sweetheart, everything alright?”

“Ye-yeah. It’s just. Okay, you know.” You let out a breath as Chris looked on, arms folded across his chest. “This is silly. Will you come sleep with me?’

He chuckled light, sleepy grin on his face. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Just because you weren’t ready to jump back into an intimate relationship, it didn’t mean you couldn’t snuggle and sleep in the same bed.

“Let’s go to bed sweetheart,” Chris said, gesturing toward your bedroom door.

Chris pulled the covers back on the side you didn’t sleep on and laid down on the bed. This was the first time Chris had slept in your bed, and you couldn’t deny you liked the look of it. Crawling in next to him, you turned off the lamp on your nightstand and snuggled up on his chest.

“Goodnight babe,” you said softly.

“Goodnight beautiful.”

Chapter 13

**

Tag list: @mustangshelby04​ @bellaireland1981​ @carolina-thiell​ @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj​ @trynnabemultifandom​ @chrisevansforever​ @kelbabyblue​ @broadwayandnetflix​ @kyjey​ @thevelvetseries​                       @i-just-feel-like​ @daddieslittlefangirl​ @hista-girl​ @stankface​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​@whymalu​ @the-doctors-fallen-angel​ @mariswritingforfun​ @tessabb7​ @chrisevansfanfic​ @lakamaa12​ @thinkxlovexloud​ @deidrashouseofpain @nea90sweetie​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @ripvandrinkle​ @bitterstar88​ @andymi3ntus​ @zestygingergirl​ @xstudiosslytherinx @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @cocomel0613​ @onceuponathreetwoone​ @supraveng​ @michelehansel​ @fanfictionaffair​ @genesgoingtohamslam​ @agirlcanstilldream​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @jessyballet​ @capstopavenger​ @wiczer​ @titty-teetee​ @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @linki-locks11​ @mywinterwolf​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989​ @impalaimages​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @rainbowkisses31​ @xostephanie​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @xxloki81xx​ @thenormreedus​ @firstangeldragonranch​ @soitmightgetweird​ @maeleeme​ @denisemarieangelina​ @rvgrsbrns​ @icanfeelastormbrewing​ @velvetwonderbucky​ @kitkat1690​ @smilexcaptainx​ @suppu97​

[joonsdiary]

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst  word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution. 

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards. 

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!” 

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.” 

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his. 

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.  

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest. 

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.” 

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.” 

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen. 

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?” 

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.” 

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”   

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.” 

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.” 

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin. 

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with. 

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.” 

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck. 

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra. 

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off. 

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg. 

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.” 

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself. 

“Tell her, Jin.” 

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.” 

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?” 

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message. 

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.” 

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.” 

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.” 

“Oh? I should stick around, then.” 

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

                                      *  *  *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

                                      *  *  *

“Birthday?” 

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?” 

“Seriously?” 

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight. 

“1992.” 

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.” 

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.” 

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number. 

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?” 

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you. 

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face. 

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree. 

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?” 

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second. 

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.” 

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted. 

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.” 

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

[heavenlymisa]

The New King (pt. I)

Pairing: Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader (Any body type! <3)

Warnings: cursing, the nickname ‘lil mama’ being repeated over and over and over and over an-, soft!erik (kinda.), you playin’ hard to get (cause you are giirrllaaa)

Summary: During a business trip you best friend since say one, T’Challa (’Challa), put you on, you get a text from shuri explaining what happened. When you get there, you’re face to face with the outsider king, who has taken an interest to you.

AN; hey guys! thank you thank you thank you! for loving ‘the cook-out” yall dont know how much i’ve been jumping in my room because of that! and as a lil thank you, i present to you.. my newest erik killmonger series <3 enjoy!

shuri babe <3; ‘ t’challa has been murdered in a challenge by an outsider’

Those ten words made your stomach drop. You were on a business trip that T’Challa strictly sent you on. He was planning on buying a discrete building for when they have missions in America.

For you to receive that text from Shuri, you were heartbroken. You and T’Challa were like siblings and have been since Day one (literally, since the womb-).

me; ‘ i’m on my way, shuri. stay safe <3’

You wiped your tears and hurried to the hotel T’Challa brought for you.

As you were packing, tears flowed from your eyes. you were angry at the fact that T’Challa accepted his challenge, sad at the fact that you lost the only person who truly knew you, and understood you like a child’s book.

after you were done packing, you pressed a button on you kimoyo beads and called one of the Dora Milaje to pick you up ( since you and T’Challa were so close, he requested the Doras to look out for you too).

After an hour, someone knocked on your door. You sniffled, wiped away your tears and walked up to the door. you took a deep breath and opened it. You were greeted with a Dora at your door.

“Let’s go, Y/N.”

“Alright.” You sniffled. “Uhm.. my stuff is on my bed..”

The Dora nodded, took your stuff and went to the aircraft. you grabbed your phone, unlocked it, and texted Shuri.

me; ‘ on my way right now. are you alright?’

It took a while before she responded.

shuri babe <3; ‘no, but please hurry.’

me; ‘i will. promise.’

You took off, not remembering if the door was closed or not. Shuri needed you right now, and that’s what you plan on doing.

  ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 “Y/N…”

You turned around to see Shuri with tears in her eyes.

“Shuri…” You ran up to her and enveloped her into a hug as she sobbed onto your shoulder. She hung unto you like she was bound to die if she wasn’t holding as tight as she is right now. You rubbed her back soothingly until her cries died down.

“How are you holding on?” you asked her softly.

“It just.. happened so fast. He threw him off the cliff, Y/N…” she choked out.

“Shuri… Listen to me, and listen to me carefully.” you grabbed her shoulders. “Take Ma, Nakia, whoever else, and go to M’Baku-”

“But, M’Baku doesn’t li-“

“ ‘Challa saved his life, Shuri. It’s only fair that he will return the favor. Make sure you get a Heart-Shaped Herb from the Elders and present it to him. He’s the only one who will dethrone him.”

Shuri nodded. “But, what about you?”

“I‘ll stay here.”

“But Y/N, the new king is-”

“I’ll be fine, Shuri. Now go, hurry!” You hugged her before she took off to find her Mother, Nakia, and whoever else she wanted to take to M’Baku. 

You sighed a broken sigh and started heading to Shuri’s lab. A couple of seconds later, you heard footsteps behind you, but you didn’t pay no attention to it.

“Ayo, ma!” You heard the voice of the man, but didn’t bother to stop and turn around. You then heard the footsteps speed up a little, until you hear them right beside you.

“I know you heard me, lil’ mama.”

You looked beside you to be greeted with a tall, muscular man with his twists in a manly ponytail to the back, and a million-dollar smile with some grills. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were talking to me.” By now, you two were walking at an even pace, side by side.

“Haven’t seen you around here ye-”

“My King…” 

Your world stopped. You looked back at the man that you just met, who was talking to Zuri, and it finally dawned on you.

He killed T’Challa.

He murdered your Best Friend.

You looked up at him, surprised as he looked back down at you.

“What’s up lil’ mama? Didn’t know I was King?”

‘think fast think fast think fast’

“It’s not that, my king. i-i just need to put my stuff up. I just got back from a trip from America a-and missed a lot of s-stuff..”

You knew he didn’t eat the bullshit that you brought him. His face said it all. He looked you up and down and licked his lips before replying.

“Aight. I won’t hold you back, ma.” And he left with Zuri talking to him about god knows what.

you sighed a broken sign before speed walking to Shuri’s lab. You held back a sob when you made it to the entrance way. 

Right now, ‘Challa would be “jealous” because you would be spending time with Shuri instead of him. You laughed off the memory and entered her lab.

Even to this day, you were still at awe for what Shuri is capable of. You looked around at all of the models, drawings, and technology that's around the lab. You noticed that there was some new stuff that she has made since you had left, but, as always, they were amazing.

you kept on looking around until you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, lil mama.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

taglist: @mccrps​ @dr-haze​ @imadreamysoul​ @teehjayy​ @pastelastronomy24​ @regulartuan​ @enigmaticaphrodite​ @srirachibi​ @queen-with-the-queen-shirt​ @disorganized-mess-xxx​ @fd-writes​ @iamrheaspeaks​ 

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! <3