#he also dresses like this almost 100% of the time??? and I hate it????? SO much????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jensthwa · 1 month ago

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mountebank chem pt. two (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 14k (i'm so sorry).

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drunk behavior, mature language, petty behavior, insults, hwang hyunjin and hwang yeji cameos omg, yunho being a misunderstood puppy i fear, yunho and reader really hate each other but not so much anymore, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, mention of panic attacks/panic disorder, no smut on this part but so, so, so much tension oh god these two idiots.

NOTES: hi everyone! so, sorry for almost taking a month to finish the next part of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! i also forgot to mention before that gunho is older in this universe bc i think he's younger than yunho irl?? i'm not sure bc i don't look into their families like that lmao. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: october 12th 2024.

masterlist - part one - part three.

Yunho has never been more stressed in his entire life.

It's easy to tell and it's an issue for you. When it's evident someone is not comfortable, that's when the vipers get together and organize their attacks.

And right now, he's your date for the night, so you can't really let that happen.

The gala is breathtaking, as expected. The room is lit with fairy lights all around the roof and they mimic stars. It's the theme of the night and the beautiful dresses and suits everyone is wearing it's enough to let you know both your mother and Yunho’s mom kindly threaten everyone to follow their delusions as well.

It looks like a very expensive prom and it's pretty but you hate it. Maybe because of the overall situation you went through today or your lack of sleep but you hate it.

Or maybe it's the amount of eyes you have on you tonight. Twice the usual amount, if the warmth on the back of your neck is any indication of how much people are gossiping about you and Yunho right now.

When you walked in half an hour ago, Yunho on your arm, everyone went silent as you said your hellos and went to your assigned seats.

And then the murmurs started to fill the room slowly until they became unbearable and, eventually, you started to acclimate to them, like you always do.

Yunho is a completely different story. It shows that he's not used to this, the fidgeting of his feet and his leg going up and down and bouncing the table cloth on both his and your leg triggers something that only causes further annoyance.

You're seated (just the two of you, because your brother and his are at a completely different table for some reason) at one of the main tables, near the stage where a talented kid who, you're sure, is the son of one of your father's friends, is playing the violin beautifully and you can't even focus on that because Yunho keeps sighing like he doesn't want to be here.

Now, you know he must definitely would rather be doing anything else but, like you told him before, he agreed to this so he has to start fucking owning it.

Leaning in, you curl your lips up in feign sweetness and discreetly place your hand over his leg “You need to stop that before someone notices it.”

Head snapping back at you, he leans in as well and blinks a few times “How would anyone not—”

“They will,” you assure him, smile never leaving your lips and you hear as the people around you start to clap their hands for the end of the performance “Now clap and hold your breath because my mother has been itching to get on that stage.”

Leaning back, you get to clap for a few seconds before the commotion dies down and then, just as you predicted, your mom gets on the stage.

You don't even turn to see Yunho’s reaction at all but you do hear him clapping for your mom once everyone starts clapping too.

“What an spectacular opening act that was,” she points to the various musicians that filled that half hour of snobbery and you try to repress how much you want to cringe at that. Your mother never really cared for the arts at all “I want to thank you all for attending…”

Her voice fades into the background as you zone out, like you always do. The way of coping with the long, long events you're forced to attend to has always been zoning out and letting your body do the work for you.

You clap, you smile, you bow and react accordingly like a robot that has been programmed to do so. Like an extra in a movie who gains the attention of the audience because someone always comments on your appearance, your posture or a specific expression you made at a random moment of the evening.

Magazines, papers and social media users who don't have anything better to do are always that audience you strike to appeal to. That has always been your job, that's why your mom is using you to try and restore the image of Jeong Tech, too.

The people outside of the tinsel circle love you, the people inside of it pretend to love you and everyone gets their end of the deal at your expense.

You feel kind of bad that Yunho got to experience life outside of it and now it's being dragged by his mother to the eye of the hurricane, where everything it's mostly silent until it's not. There’s this question on the tip of your tongue, this curiosity nagging at you since earlier today.

After witnessing the hurt on his face and the indifference to his feelings displayed by his mother, you can only come to the conclusion you got their relationship wrong all these years.

The safe detachment you felt for him is suddenly teetering the dangerous line of interest you’ve always drawn in between you and it’s enough for you to feel bad when you turn to see him and catch him forcing a soft smile that, to everyone else, might seem genuine.

But you know him better than that. At least, you know his mannerisms well enough to not be fooled by it. Even if you didn’t know his true feelings about tonight, about what’s about to happen now that you hear your mother utter your dad’s name to introduce him and bring him to the podium, you wouldn’t be fooled by it.

There’s another round of applause for your father that you barely follow because, you suddenly notice, you’ve been a little too entranced by Yunho for a few seconds too long. Turning to the man who’s partly responsible for your headache tonight, you catch his speech exactly where you’re supposed to.

“... And thanks to them, we’re positioned in a place where we can help new companies navigate and grow in a market that’s typically eager to chew and spit them out. When I first came up with the idea of Kim Innovation, there was one man who stood beside me as I presented it to the board. My best friend and someone who, barely a few years later, came up with the idea of revolutionizing the tech industry as a whole, please welcome…”

Sometimes, you wonder if your dad loves Yunho’s dad more than he ever loved you, your brother or your mom. Turning to Soohyun, he sends you a smile and a look that hints to you that he’s probably thinking the same thing. It takes a lot for you to not giggle but the smile that curves the corners of your lips is somewhat genuine for the first time since you sat down.

Hell, for the first time today.

There’s cheers on a closeby table and you don’t have to turn to know it’s Yunho’s mom. She might truly love that man, which is a lot considering they did to her what she’s doing to her son.

Arranged and married off. You never considered actually falling in love before but falling in love with the man who was cherry picked for you sounds like an actual nightmare.

Thank God that’s not a possibility when it comes to Yunho.

Again, your selective hearing works wonders because you are able to straighten your spine and prepare for the part of the speech that actually matters to you: “... And now we’re even blessed with the chances of our family remaining bonded forever. I’m sure you all noticed our youngest walking in together, huh?” The room makes an amused noise and you shake your head at your dad, pretending to be playfully ashamed by the call out ��It’s impossible not to when they look so good together. We wanted to let everyone know tonight instead of announcing it through a notice or the press. But I'm blessed to call Jeong Yunho, the future of blockchain engineering and cybersecurity at Jeong Tech, my son in law. Yunho, you have always been like a son to me, so I trust you to take care of my dear daughter’s heart long enough to see my dreams of officially bringing our families together come to life.”

You want to gag at the thought. You want to cry and scream and beg everyone to see right through this lie but everyone erupts in cheers for the fake relationship you’re officially in so the only thing you can do is force yourself to think about something that makes you blush and turn to Yunho to pretend you’re moved by your father’s words.

Only to find him already staring at you with the same artificial emotion. There’s an understanding in his eyes that you think might show on yours as well and he hesitates a little before grabbing your hand in his hand over the table, visible for everyone.

Your heart doesn’t skip a beat, your stomach doesn’t flutter with butterflies but instead drops at the oh’s, ah’s and aw’s you hear around you. When his father takes the microphone from your father’s hands and you’re sure the image of you both is no longer on the screen placed above the stage, you lower your hands under the cloth.

He squeezes yours before harshly letting go and you open and close your palm to get a grip on yourself so you can endure the rest of the speeches with a smile.

Your brother and Yunho’s brother take the stage for what it feels like another fifteen minutes and after that they announce that dinner is about to be served in five and to enjoy the rest of the gala and the music and the acts for the rest of the night as they step down, so you take the opportunity to get up.

Looking at you like a child that’s about to be abandoned at the grocery store line, Yunho gets up as well “Where are you going?”

“To get a drink,” you return immediately with a kind smile that’s far from honest and lean in a little for only him to hear you “Notice how the only thing they’ve been bringing us is water? That’s my mom’s doing,” taking a few steps into the drink table, you turn to him over your shoulder and speak a little louder this time “Want anything, babe?”

It looks like it takes a lot from him to not grimace at the nickname and you internally laugh but your fun dies as soon as he takes your hand and pulls you to the table himself “I’m coming with you, there’s an old lady that has been staring at me for the past twenty minutes and I’m scared.”

Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden physical intimacy you both are displaying, it takes a few bits for you to answer. At the table, you grab a champagne flute and try to have some self control but end up downing half in one gulp “Ah, grandma Park. You might know her granddaughter Sooyoung,” looking at him, he stops sipping at the own flute he got ahold of and shakes his head. You sigh in disappointment, now that no one is close enough to hear you “Of course you don’t. She’s pretty and one of the only genuine girls I know. I can get you her number after this whole sham is done.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you to play cupid for me. In fact, I don’t want to hear from you once we break up,” he nudges you softly with his arm and the look you send in his direction makes him groan a little. You both know there’s not a chance in hell of that happening but wishful thinking never hurt anyone “You know, I—”

A voice behind you both interrupts him and you close your eyes tightly when you recognize it right away.

“Well if it isn’t the it couple of the month,” as you turn, the Hwang siblings smile at you with what you can only recognize as mischievous delight. Yeji is exclusively staring at Yunho and Hyunjin’s eyes move from your date to you before he chuckles like he knows something no one else does “I couldn’t say I saw it coming but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless, wasn’t it, Yeji?”

His sister ignores him.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I know Y/N, of course, who doesn’t,” she giggles and your smile tenses a bit, so you hide it behind your glass and gulp the other half of the flute down “But we’ve been missing each other a lot, mister Jeong.”

“It seems like you know him well enough,” you half-heartedly joke and her brother smiles at you with a complicity you don’t really want “Yunho, this is Hwang Yeji and this is her brother, Hwang Hyunjin. I am sure you know their father, he owns HW Records.”

“Yes, of course. Huge fan of his artists,” he says with such kindness you might actually start to believe him and then he bows a little “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine!” Yeji returns brightly and batting her fake lashes. She’s so pretty, you think, but that doesn’t really work in your favor when it’s blatantly obvious she’s flirting with who is supposed to be your boyfriend.

Yunho notices it too, because his hand moves to your back and he takes a step closer to you.

Hyunjin’s brow arches a bit as he takes his actions in and then there’s that glint in his eyes, the one you see on mean people when they secure a target to bother for the day. Because that’s exactly what he intends to do “I have to say, Y/N, I didn’t think you had a taste for… Humble men.”

Without outright saying it, you know he’s challenging you. He’s testing whatever you have with Yunho because he’s a smart, privileged and cunning little shit and, as soon as he sees a crack on the foundation of your lie, he’s going to run his mouth.

You can’t let that happen. Knowing he suspects something else is going on pisses you off because it means you’re not doing something right and you hate losing.

Pretending you're confused, you furrow your brows a bit before chuckling “Is that not something to look for in a partner?”

“I was never expecting you to come public with a relationship in the first place,” he says, hands behind his back and not-so-innocent smile on his lips. Then, he looks Yunho up and down with squinted eyes “But I was certainly not expecting you to come forward with someone who chooses public education over private, for example. Should I take this as a hint that you're furthering your education in a private school, Yunho?”

He's trying to strike a nerve and you pray Yunho is smart enough to catch him in the act. Turning to him, your smile doesn't waver as you wait for his answer.

Taking a deep breath, he lets it out while he answers, forcing himself to smile “It’s not in my plans, no.”

“But Y/N did… It just doesn't really make any sense, does it, Yeji?”

Snapping out of whatever spell Yunho's presence got her in, she shrugs “No, it doesn't. Private schools are better and you don't mingle with people whose connections are useless for your future.”

Immediately, you can tell that's what their parents told her. An easy way to fool the dummy into perpetuating their status. It's pitiful and, quite honestly, infuriating.

“Useless for your future,” her brother repeats with a nod “That's an interesting way of putting it, isn't it? Kind, even,” they both nod and you swear your eye twitches a little “Really, Y/N, I have to give it to you. You always end up surprising me one way or another.”

Yeji joins right after “You have a lot of status, girl! It's really inspiring that you can overlook such a big difference in your relationship,” she says, like she's not trying to jump Yunho’s bones “I'm cheering for you guys!”

That does it. Is not the blatant classism or the fact that they are deliberately trying to get under your skin but it is the fact that neither of them has any actual indication your relationship with Yunho is fake. Meaning, they're trying to mess with your family intentionally.

Because you might hate Yunho as much as he hates you but he's still, somewhat, family.

“The last time I checked Yunho is the son of the owner of one—If not! The best cyber security company in the country,” you start, kind tone slipping right through the cracks and you hope they take it as a I had enough of you making fun of my man instead of what it truly is “A company he's going to work for if he wants to because you got, what?” you turn to Yunho, who's staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face “Two, three badges and one trailblazer award already? For that program you helped develop your second year?” he nods and your smile comes back when you turn to the siblings “And he hasn't even graduated yet! But I'm sure you didn't know that, did you?”

Yeji blinks like you just spoke in a foreign language and Hyunjin’s smugness has disappeared completely.

“You didn't know it because he's humble enough to not parade around like he owns the place, which… He kind of does,” it's your turn to shrug before turning around and placing the flute down back on the table “Oh! By the way, Hyunjin, I heard you placed second on that competition last month,” pouting you make a show of truly pretending you're sorry for him “That really shows us that it doesn't really matter if you go to a private music school or that your dad is a great producer, we can't always come on top, hm?”

It's a petty and middle-schooled argument but you simply don't care. If people target Yunho, they're now targeting you as well.

And you can't stand when people like them try to stomp you to the ground.

Hyunjin is about to retaliate but you turn to Yunho quickly, a different glint in his eyes now “Dinner is late, isn't it? Well, we better take the opportunity and go for that dance you promised me, babe,” seemingly tongue-tied, he only manages to nod “It was lovely to talk to you two, as usual.”

When you drag Yunho to the dancefloor, where there's only a few old couples you recognize and he probably doesn't, it feels like you can breathe a little bit more.

If you're being honest with yourself, you would really like to scream and pierce a hole through a wall with your fist. Your chest isn't heaving but the sensation it normally brings spreads around your body and it takes over as you secure your arms around Yunho’s neck and start swaying to the sound of an… Ed Sheeran cover? You're not really sure, you're not paying that much attention either.

“I swear I could kill them,” you mutter under your breath and that finally jolts your dance partner back to reality, because he looks at you like he can't believe you defended him and holds your waist softly, at a safe distance, a little unsure on why you brought him to dance “They're so useless, living off their daddy’s money and gloating.”

Yunho chuckles “I think you might hate them more than me.”

Squinting your eyes at him, his joke does little to quiet down your anger “Don't be jealous, Yunho, you still hold the first place for most annoying human being in my heart.”

He doesn't seem to mind the insult “You didn't have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Go off on them because they were trying to bring me down,” he whispers “Or bring me to the dancefloor, either, we could've just walked off, I mean… You're not good at this.”

“We went to the same ballroom classes, Yunho, we've danced before,” you remind him, rolling your eyes a bit “And I had to defend you because you weren't saying anything back.”

“Because I don't really care what they think, Y/N,” he explains softly and you gulp as your eyes roam around his face. You prefer when he's screaming at you, insulting you even. This soft, fake mask he puts on whenever he's in public makes you forget who he truly is: the annoying kid who played with worms on your first playdate “And you shouldn't, either. They were clearly trying to pick up a fight.”

“No, they weren't,” you hate that your experience in these types of situations is shining so much but Yunho seems clueless even if he just firsthand experienced what you tend to experience with the circle you move in “They weren't picking a fight, they were trying to catch us in a lie.”

“How would they know we're lying, Y/N?” he sounds a little exasperated as he steps softly to the beat, moving you with him.

“Because they know how this world works. Not your world, not your friends' world, but my world.”

“Your world it's the same exact one as mine,” he counters quickly, getting a little annoyed judging by his tone “There's truly not much of a difference—”

“I'm glad that at least you got to experience what ninety nine percent of the world's population experiences, Yunho, but you got away from it and forgot everything about what goes on in here,” moving your head carefully, you signal to the gala and the attendees “I need you to remember highschool and everything that you lived there: The falseness, the appearances and the cliques. The importance of money and grades and education, of connections… It all matters here.”

You shouldn't be instructing him. That's not really part of the deal and, at first, you thought he was faking aloofness out of spite. Now that he seems as confused as a free spirit being trapped in a glass bottle and put out for display, you feel the need to.

So he doesn't drown you both.

“Think of it as one big highschool where the wrong decision, the wrong response can get not only you but me and our families into great trouble.”

As the song ends and everyone claps for the performer, he lets out a sigh “I hate this.”

“It's your life now,” you remind him and that sorry feeling stirs up inside you as well. You're not one to regret decisions but it does sting a little that you didn't fight more for your stance on this fake relationship. It makes you dizzy and so you take a step away from his barely there embrace as you see the food trays start to make an appearance through the doors “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll go with you.”

“To the bathroom?”

“I don't want to—”

Sighing, you step closer again and bring your hand to his cheek, thumb caressing the skin there roughly and plastic smile on your lips “Go and bother our brothers. I'm not fucking babysitting you, Yunho, you were born first so you're technically older than me.”

He pouts for a second and you pinch the skin on his cheek condescendingly. When he notices, his jaw clenches and you smile in victory.

“Witch.”

“Grown ass baby.”

You hear him mumble a whatever under his breath when you turn around and head to the bathroom to get yourself together and hopefully get through the rest of the night without any newfound and unnecessary drama.

Locked in a stall, you make sure to delete all social media apps. With the speech your dad gave tonight, there will be more speculation now than ever. You can already see the headlines and it draws a sigh out of you because, well, you hate the press as much as the next nepotism baby out there but, most importantly, you hate that the media reads your character wrong.

No, not wrong. The press usually gets the manufactured part of your personality, one that has become a part of you after all these years of perfecting it. People on social media, though? They read you wrong.

You hate being misinterpreted. Your mom once said that it was a blessing because then the people who actually know who you are will be the ones closest to you.

And that's yet to be seen.

If the earlier encounter with the Hwangs gives away anything, is the fact that you don't actually get to be yourself around anyone ever.

Except your brother.

And Yunho.

The thought of Yunho being one of the few people who know you the best brings a shiver down your spine for the second time today.

Yunho?!

You should consider making actual friends. That's so sad.

Not sadder than the way you freeze when you stand up and try to reach for the stall lock. Voices echo through the bathroom and it only takes you a quick second to realize who it is.

“Yeah, I genuinely don't know who the fuck she think she is,” Yeji’s voice is not the sweet, dumb and whiny tone you are unfortunately forced to hear everytime you speak with her and it would startle you more if it weren't for the fact that she's talking shit about you on the phone “And she probably gets to kiss him tonight and every night from here on out. They were dancing together… In matching outfits! Girl, I know,” she complains, groaning a bit “Like I haven't been thirsting over Yunho’s fine ass for years.”

Wanting to smack some sense into her again, you move your hand on the lock but she goes on with her babbling and that makes you stop again.

“There’s absolutely no way they'll last. Not privately, at least. Have you seen her lately?” she scoffs and you hear something move, like makeup in a bag and you assume she's reapplying her lip gloss or something because you can barely hear what she says next.

And you really, really wish you hadn't.

“She can barely fit in that tight dress, the hair is getting old too. She's bo-ring,” breath getting caught in your throat, you look down on your dress and suddenly you can see on yourself what you normally see on the mirror “I don't know how but I'm totally getting his number tonight and when he gets to know me that's when he'll realize she's nothing but a kind-of-pretty face and money,” she giggles “I have to go back… Yup, love you, bye!”

Heels clacking against the polished tiles of this pristine bathroom, you listen carefully until the door closes again and let out the shaky breath you've been holding in.

What's sadder than Hwang fucking Yeji having a friend she can call to gossip in the middle of a function while you don't?

Hwang fucking Yeji being able to cut through you with her words.

Getting out of the stall, you make quick work of washing your hands and avoiding the mirror while you do it. You get out, the sound of cutlery softly hitting plates and fine conversation leaking through the main door that leads you back to the gala it's enough to make you gag a little.

Like actually gag, the smell of food on top of passing by trays makes you gag. There's a waiter to your left with a tray full of champagne flutes, so you stop her with a genuine kind smile and take two from her. Thanking her, you turn to the door again and make sure nobody is looking in your direction.

You need to get yourself together, so you make your run for it. Passing the main door in a dash, you walk up the stairs that surely would lead you to a room.

You've been in this venue many times so the halls are familiar and the room you're aiming to is unlocked and with its lights on, like it's been waiting for you to find comfort in the mild emptiness of it.

There's a big floor to ceiling arched window with white curtains drawn and a sill wide enough to be converted into a reading nook if someone from your circle actually cared to read and not gossip at an event like this.

There's a table in the middle with a lovely white cloth covering the surface and a vase in the center of it. You never had a favorite flower, but foxtail orchids are beautiful and the pop of color they bring to every space usually brings you some sort of joy before you remember the significance of them.

Love, beauty and strength.

Three things you ardently wish you had but seem to lack.

Luxury is usually attached to the meaning, fertility as well but the main significance of it does nothing but replay Yeji’s words in your head and you can't even enjoy the fucking flowers as you should right now.

Moving to sit by the window, on its sill and with your back against the white fabric and the glass, you let your eyes close as you try and remind yourself the reason this event took place. Who you are, what you mean to the people downstairs and the duty you have to fulfill tonight all blend together into a big mush of junk inside your head and all you can see it's the flashes of the paparazzis and how awful you're going to look on those goddamn photos.

Being mugged down by Jeong Yunho of all people. Fucking great.

Circling back to him, your mind lands on the same thought you had before Yeji barged into the bathroom. Yunho knows you.

Hell, he might've been your only actual friend. Even for a day, that first playdate in his backyard, but he probably was your first and only friend even if it ended before you two could make proper good memories together.

That's so sad.

Again, you should consider making actual friends. But yet again, you have to admit to yourself that there's no one that can understand you better than him and even then…

He would never get it. He has a solid foundation, a bed he can fall onto at the end of the day, full with love, comprehension and genuine laughter, probably.

You've been giving him shit all day for forgetting the world he was born into but now, as you take in a wannabe calming breath and then sip the sorrows away, you kind of wish you two would get along.

Would he introduce you to his friends if you two actually liked each other? Not romantically, of course (because that's never going to happen), but would he, if you two were friends to begin with? Would you be accepted into their group? Would they make you feel an ounce loved and supported? Is that what Yunho feels when he's with them?

What do they make him feel, exactly?

“Ugh.”

The alcohol is making you sappy instead of angrier. You should be angry. That's the only way of facing things here, in the real world, in the one you actually belong to. Instead, you just feel sad.

You take a second to wonder again how he must be feeling right now. Leaving him all alone, you hope he at least got the sense in him to attach himself to his brother's hip or yours so someone can stop the vipers from getting to him and his pride.

You know how easy it is to get his ego hurt by something so silly as insulting his choice of lifestyle, his detachment from this (to them) superior whirlwind of falseness and money.

But, yet again, he didn't even attempt to defend himself earlier. It's conflicting and it confuses you a bit because… Why didn't that side of Yunho come out? The one who's so eager to back his choices up, the one who yelled at his mother back in your living room?

Does he really don't care at all what people think of him?

Must be a blessing, to have that side of you quiet and locked away. You don't have the same luck as him because, even now, as you chug the first flute down in an attempt to silence Yeji’s voice and drown out her words in your head, you know you care.

You care, you care, you care.

You care so much you try to hide the champagne behind the curtain when you hear footsteps approaching and the doorknob turns, heartbeat picking up because you definitely don't want to see your mother, your father, your brother or anyone right now.

Only to reveal the current subject of your obsessive mind, with a plate on his hand and his eyebrows furrowed before his eyes focus on your form hiding behind the table. He's tall enough to see you all the way from the door (of course he is) and your shoulders deflate as you pull your drinks from behind their white haven.

“Ah, it's just you.”

He closes the door behind him, scoffing and pointing at the second glass next to you “Were you expecting someone?”

“The grim reaper, maybe.”

“My mom? Your mom?” He asks and it's funny but you don't laugh “Well, she's looking for you.”

You straighten your back at that and take a gulp out of your flute “I've been gone ten minutes, what could possibly be so important for her to be looking for me?”

“Something about a picture with the governor's grandson?” he shrugs “I didn't pay attention to her, I was fixing you a plate.”

He offers the food and you sigh, shaking your head to reject his seemingly nice action.

“And why would you do that?” He looks annoyed when your eyes scan his form and then he uses his chin to point towards the cup next to you and then the one that you elegantly raise to your lips before emptying it.

“Is that your second or third? I don't remember how many you had at the main table earlier.”

“I can handle my alcohol pretty well, Jeong.”

Walking towards you, you take the hint and put the empty flute down on the floor, taking the second one and creating some space for him on the sill “Still, you should eat something.”

“I’m not particularly hungry right now.”

“Still…” He offers the plate again and you glance at the food in it. It’s some brown rice and chicken with steamed vegetables. It smells delicious but instead of desiring it, your physical reaction is to swallow a gag.

“I'm good.”

Scooting a little more to create more space in between you, you close your eyes again and gather some patience because the sigh he lets out tells you you're going to need it.

Nothing happens. He doesn't say anything but you do hear the clanking on the fork against the plate and peel your eyes open so you can catch him eating the food that was supposed to be for you through the corner of your eye.

It's always entertaining seeing how much of a foodie he is.

Instead, he's extending the utensil towards you with some food in it.

“I'm going to ram that piece of asparagus so far up your—”

“Okay, I give up,” the fork clanks against the plate again and he gets up momentarily to leave the plate on the table “Didn't really want to deal with your drunk ass tonight, but that's alright.”

“You've never dealt with my drunk ass because I don't get drunk around you,” you turn to him, crossing your arms. Your back is against the window frame, the way it uncomfortably digs into your spine keeps you grounded “In fact, I don't even get drunk. Ever.”

He imitates your movements “You're such a liar.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, yes you are. Do I have to remind you of our graduation party?”

“Do I have to remind you of our graduation party? I think you're projecting again.”

Especially when it was filled with drunken babbling and awkward energy, the one you can only tell is in the room by being kind-of-sober.

Yunho was definitely gone and faded, texting with someone (a friend, you remember him saying) on his phone for most of the night and then something happened with said friend (again, his words not yours) so he took your drink from your hand and a bottle from the table and made out with three boys and two girls that night.

Right in front of you.

It was traumatic, really, because you never wondered how kissing him would feel until that night.

And never again since then.

Your special power, you want to tell him, is remembering every single time Jeong Yunho looked and felt like an actual human being around you.

Like just now, for example. Getting you food and trying to feed it to you is not really something he Yunho you know would do. So…

“What's gotten into you? Pity?” cutting right to the chase, your eyes move around his face to catch any movement that might give away that you're right “Because of what you saw this afternoon?”

“Guilt. Because of what I did this afternoon,” he corrects and your eyebrow raises, his lips go into a thin line before a pout sets on it and you fix your stare on it before looking at his eyes again “You were asking me to stop yelling at you and I didn't listen.”

You hate that. This. The sudden vulnerability and the thread it's starting to knit between the two of you.

“That was going to happen regardless of you yelling or not,” you assure him, chugging the drink down and resting the flute next to the other one, on the floor “You don't have to worry about that or me.”

“Of course I worry,” the softness in his tone is sickening. The way it tugs at your icy heart strings and threatens to break your walls down it's disgusting, so you turn to him with a scowl “I worry about you running your mouth about this… relationship.”

You scoff out a chuckle “Oh, of course you suddenly worry about that,” nodding, your eyes shut closed again while a bitter and sarcastic smile curves your lips “The dirty little secret will always be safe with me, Yunho, don't pretend you don't know that. Even if you don't want to tell me the reason you came here tonight or the thing that made you not curse your mother for involving you in it, it's safe with me.”

Yunho’s voice is stern and yet it sounds like a whisper away when he speaks again “Why are you doing it?”

“Because it's my duty and I owe it to them,” you answer without missing a bit, a little matter of factly and all “What kind of question is that?”

“No, it's not—”

“Yunho, it was clearly a question—”

“No, dumbass, shut up for a second,” he lets out an exasperated breath and you look at him, very annoyed. “I'm saying that it's not really your duty.”

��Yes, it is.”

He makes a face “Not really.”

“Yes, really,” you push him with your hand on his shoulder and he barely moves “I know you're not familiar with gratefulness or anything close to that feeling but they really gave me everything I own and made me everything I am, Yunho.”

Clicking his tongue, your fake boyfriend looks disappointed at your reply “They didn't give you your brain, that's for sure,” he murmurs, shrugging “Your intelligence is all yours.”

“Well, they put me through the best schools and paid for my tuitions and tutors and programs and—”

“Acquired knowledge and connections are meaningless when you're not smart enough to know what to do with them,” he says like he can't believe you would say that out loud “And you know what to do with them, Y/N.”

Rendering you completely speechless, the only thing you manage to do is stare at him while your chest vaguely heaves and your mind twists and turns at his words. It strangely warms your heart that he thinks you can give yourself credit for your brains and, in normal circumstances, you would agree with him.

But this is Yunho and you have to say something to antagonize him, right?

“W-well, I—”

“Oh, there you are!”

Great, the grim reaper.

It's a little pathetic how quick you stand up and try to cover up the flutes on the floor. Yunho gets up as well and your mother looks delighted to find you both in a room together but you're sure it's because it serves some kind of purpose in her agenda of delusions.

“Good, you're here too. Yunho, dear, you've been splendid tonight. Did you like the suit?” your fake date nods and smiles a little and she looks satisfied with that “Good, good. I'm glad it fits you just right, not like…” her eyes land on you briefly and then go back to him “Well, not everyone has that privilege, hm?”

“I'm sorry?” he asks and his tone lets you know he's actually a little taken aback by the sudden jab (you are too, not being used to your mother doing it in front of everyone else).

It's also a little pathetic how quick you recoil when her eyes locate the plate on the table, untouched, but a plate of food is worse than ten bottles of alcohol in her eyes.

“Oh, that's why the dress looks a little tight!” she says, condescendingly “Y/N, dear, have you been eating?”

You feel it again. The stillness before the chaos, the way your body locks up in place and your mouth trembles with fury but it's unable to speak up, to tell her everything she needs to hear.

Monster. Wench of a woman masquerading as a sadistic piece of—

“I-I haven't, mother.”

“You're already wearing a somewhat tight dress, Y/N!”

“Auntie—” Yunho’s voice cuts through but she takes a few steps in his direction and ignores you completely, even if you have started to shake a little.

Feeling small, useless, helpless and humiliated, you turn to the white wall and start counting the imperfections on it. If you distract yourself, you won't have to fix your makeup later.

If you distract yourself, you won't have to hear her calling you out for “overreacting” to her words.

If you distract yourself, you save Yunho from feeling any pity towards you again. It doesn't matter if he said that's not the motivation behind his behavior tonight, you know there has to be some part of him that pities you.

Like there's some part of you that pities him, just a bit.

“Now that you are going to have to spend some time together, dear, you have to stop her from doing these sorts of things. The editors work overtime trying to hide it and even then…”

Her words, Yeji’s words, your own words that you whispered to yourself earlier today in front of the mirror, they all feel heavy on your neck, threatening to crush it under the weight.

Under your own weight.

Oh, you feel sick.

“Auntie, you can't speak to her like that.”

Yunho is not raising his voice by any means, but the tone is stern and firm and leaves no space for mistaking it as other than a warning.

Whatever that means for your mother.

“Now that you're going to have to spend some time together,” she repeats, dismissing Yunho’s warning “You're going to learn that this is the only way you can shut her up when she gets going, dear. She's a very grumpy human being, aren't you, Y/N?” you don't answer or turn and she sighs “See?”

Closing your eyes, a heavy sigh leaves you before another one follows it and soon your chest is heaving and your hyperventilating while trying to blink away the tears that gather on your eyes.

Back connecting to the wall, you look up to find Yunho staring at your mother like he discovered some part of her that's new, like he's disappointed and somehow never saw this coming but he says nothing. You also find your mother staring at you and after assessing you quickly again, she rolls her eyes and steps away.

“She’s also, apparently, very sensitive and can't take constructive criticism well,” she says and when she reaches the door, she looks at you both over her shoulder “Compose yourselves and come out. We have some pictures to take in five minutes.”

When she closes the door behind her, you release another trembling breath and Yunho practically runs towards you.

“I've never heard her talking like that to anyone, does she… Y/N, is she—” you shake your head, clearly not having the energy to explain or defend your own mother and he takes the hint immediately “I just never heard her saying anything like that.”

“You're really lucky, then.”

He quickly scans your face for something you're not sure he's going to find. You're trying to steady your breath and scare the tears away with the breathing techniques you were given in therapy.

Yunho finds whatever he's looking for anyway.

“Don’t listen to her,” he starts and, just like in the afternoon, he looks unsure of what to do with his hands, so he just raises them and lowers them before swallowing hard “You can eat everything you want and this dress would still look beautiful on you,” and his words do nothing but to raise your panic levels a little bit more. Why the hell is he complimenting you? You chest raises and falls a little harder now, your heart beats a little quicker and you whimper a little “Oh, fuck, no, I'm sorry I didn't mean… I did mean it, actually.”

“Huh?!”

“To tell you that you look beautiful! Because you do and— Fuck, princess, please don't cry, it's not worth it” he whispers the last bit when cover your eyes with your hands softly and you nod, trying to assure him you won't without saying a word “Did you bring the—”

Did you promise you were going to bring them? You don't even remember. If you did, you wonder what makes him think you would follow through with that silly promise, considering you're trying to cover your issues up in the first place.

“No, I didn't. I can't just pop them whenever I feel like crying, Yunho, they're only p-preventative,” you mumble but the question is enough to distract you, to ground you. The only thought passing through you being: don’t let them know. Don't let it show. Don't become carnage for them to pick apart and consume even more “I've been drinking, too, it's not safe to take them.”

The stillness of the room when you both shut up is what allows you to come up to the surface after almost drowning in your panic. Your breathing steadies, your heart only pounds a little faster when you feel hands on top of yours and soft fingertips caressing the skin of them when they bring them down.

Opening your eyes to find Yunho staring at you it's not unexpected, the cautious way he regards you is. You can't even bring yourself to break eye contact with him because he did, after all, just tried to help you.

Again.

And God knows you don't own Jeong Yunho absolutely anything but you can try and not bark at him when he slowly inspects your face, pupils coming and going like he's trying to read you even more.

He seems to ignore that this, and the way he saw you earlier today, is as vulnerable as you can get.

“You know what? Fuck this.”

“What?”

“Fuck this. We're leaving.”

Next thing you know, your mind catches onto your body's movements when he already dragged you to the hallway and to the top of the stairs “Yunho, we can't.”

He takes a few steps down and you follow, a little irritated.

“Fuck this and what they want from us, Y/N.”

“I can't.”

He pauses and turns to you, you take the opportunity to release yourself from his grasp and raise your chin a little. From this position, you're taller than him but not for much, especially not when he climbs up a step back.

“You're seriously going back out there after all the shit your mother just gave you?”

“Yes,” you answer right away and you can visibly tell that he's pissed at you. Only this time, it comes with zero gratification for your pride. “You're free to leave and do whatever you want but I have a responsibility with my family that I can't just walk out of.”

“But—”

“But what, Yunho?” shoulders deflating and arms dropping to your sides, it feels like you're never going to get yourself, your reasons, through his thick skull “What are we going to do if we get out of here now, hm? Get in a car, go for some fast food? End up on a rooftop somewhere or a park or whatever spot you think is cool and calm to reflect on our shitty families, Yunho?”

He doesn't say anything but the tick of his jaw it's indicative of how your words are hitting him. You're glad and not out if pure pettiness or spite, for once.

“And then you expect me to magically renounce everything I have, everything I am, because you have a little revolutionary anti chaebol spirit inside of you?” you scoff, leaning in a fraction “This is not a movie, Yunho. I'm not a damsel in distress, I don't need you to tell me how awful my mother is or to save me from her. Now,” you lean back and then take the steps down “I'm going in there, I'm taking the stupid pictures she wants me to take and, if you're planning on staying, I'll leave with you when all of our parent's friends are drunk enough that they don't notice us leaving.”

You look back up at him and he closes his eyes, indecisiveness written all over his expression.

And that's, probably, the biggest difference between you both.

But you feel some sort of safety when he opens them up again: There, pissed and all, is the image of the Yunho you know.

And that’s exactly who you need tonight.

“Please don't leave that plate of food up there,” you mumble and he's about to say something else when you interrupt him “I don't want to eat it, I just want you to go back up there so I can go inside first. The last thing I want is for people to think that I'm so in love that I lost all of my decorum in a staff closet or something.”

It takes him a second, but words come out of his mouth and under his breath “Ew.”

Your eyes almost meet the back of your head at that.

“You wish, Jeong.”

You take the rest of the steps down and then take a huge breath before stepping back into the gala.

The first thing you do is look for another drink.

And drink you do.

You only notice Yunho didn't leave after his brief debauchery of anarchy when you feel his presence next to you, his hand on yours or your arm or your hip the rest of the night (as fake as it feels, it’s a good facade for everyone who’s playing close attention so you welcome the fact that he’s not pissed enough to blown your cover off with a tiny bit of gratefulness), especially when Yeji gets too close or attempts to initiate a conversation.

You hate that your chest swells with victory when you see her face fall after the last attempt to steal your fake boyfriend.

But you don't really notice if she puts more effort into doing it. After a particular coctel, you're left dizzy enough that the rest of the night passes in a blur and you're operating in autopilot by the time Yunho leans in and whispers that he's taking you home.

Why is Yunho taking you home out of all people?

Well he's not, not really. He’s not driving you anywhere. In fact, he’s making you freeze as he waits for something, hands on his hips and everything.

“Where's your driver?”

He looks around the empty street, waiting for the car that brought you two to the gala to appear and you drunkenly giggle, back against the brick wall “Home with his family, I hope.”

“So who's driving us?”

“The helicopter, it's parked on the roof.”

He turns to you “The what?”

“I'm getting an uber, Yunho. Get yours.”

“I said, I'm taking you home.”

“Did you?” you frown as you look through the apps on your phone until you find the one you need. Quickly typing the name of the place hosting the event, it takes a few clicks till it lets you know they're finding a driver for you “I don't remember you saying that. I remember you stuttering in front of grandma Park when she called you handsome,” you lock your phone and look back up at him “Oh and you blushed just like that, too. You look so dumb.”

Defensively, he stutters out “I'm not blushing.”

You giggle again and point at his silly, stupid, concerned face “Yes, you are,” a notification makes your phone light up “My car is a minute away.”

“Our car.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, “you're a pain in the ass.”

“And you're drunk!” He points out and you roll your eyes “I despise you princess, truly, now more than ever, but it's against my principles.”

You scoff, loudly and then laugh at him, at his words, at his mask “You can stop pretending now, Jeong. I don't buy it like everyone else does- Oh, the car.”

As the uber comes to a stop, you manage to not stumble your way to it and to ignore Yunho’s hands (open and willing to catch you in case you fall) because you certainly don’t need his help. He should know it by now. He shouldn’t even open the door for you, but here he is, ever the gentleman in front of everyone else and a total ass behind closed doors.

Although today…

No. Pushing the thought aside, you ironically bow to “thank him” for his kindness.

“Buy what exactly?” He asks before you can get in.

The door is open now, yellow light on both yours and Yunho’s faces, and the driver is trying to conceal (very badly) the fact that he’s paying attention to your conversation, so you put on a smile and shrug to dismiss his question “I’ll tell you later, dear. Thanks for walking me to the car,” his confused expression makes you want to giggle again, but you save it “Text me when you get home, hm?”

Before he can argue with you some more, you get into the car and welcome the warmth radiating from the leather seat before attempting to close the door.

Only for it to be pulled open again “Move,” he says a little harshly and then looks at the drive “m-my love.”

Oh, he’s so bad at this.

But he doesn’t really leave room to kick him out of your uber when he forces his way in “Good evening.” He says to the driver and smiles at the man behind the steering wheel as well before the door closes and the car is surrounded by darkness again.

Hands grasping the seat and Yunho’s arm, you think maybe you should've listened to him when he told you to eat something. The world spins a little when the car starts moving and it really takes everything in you, for the first time ever, to pull away from Yunho’s firm arm and make space in between you like you always do.

There’s silence at last. Until there isn’t.

Your mind it’s never truly quiet, is it?

Dizzy and everything, you start planning the rest of your night and your next day. You don’t have to go into the office, so you can take care of everything at home. Okay, cool. There’s this thing you need to talk to HR about and also you need to schedule the lunches you’re bringing to the orphanage. What day is it? Ah, right, you still have a few more days to make everything pretty for the children. Is Yunho on your schedule for the week? You forgot to check, you forgot to ask. The calendar should be updated by now, considering your mom’s main assistant was not at the event tonight and that means she’s working overtime tonight. Probably making sure there’s no wrong headlines on the immediate news outlets and curating the comments on the instagram posts and—

“Whatcha' thinkin' about?”

Silence again.

Only this time, it’s because you notice Yunho’s fingers on your arm and your head snaps towards him so fast it makes you dizzier.

Nothing you care about, you want to tell him. Nothing important, nothing that would make an actual impact and close the bridge between you and him enough for him to be handling you with some much care for the umphtenth time today.

“I’m just really tired,” you say instead and, for once, you’re not lying or deflecting. You’re so fucking tired “I didn’t sleep last night. I was working on something.” Again, not a lie, even though you were working on ways of preventing this entire day from happening.

“Well, we’re a few minutes away.”

“I’m a few minutes away.” You correct in a whisper which makes him giggle under his breath and that prompts you to stare bitterly at him.

You don’t ask him what the fuck is so funny but you find out once you reach the gate of your house. Not waiting for him to get down and open the door for you (because you don’t expect him to get down with you at all), you bid your goodbye to the driver -not Yunho- and get out of the car so fast it feels like someone pressed the fast forward button on you. You’re more sober now than what you were at the start of the car ride but it still proves difficult to slide the panel of your front door up and let it read your thumb print to gain access.

“Stupid fucking thing.” You say in a distracted murmur when it wont read the print and almost let out a scream when someone grabs your opposite thumb and raises it to the panel.

It reads right away and you turn to Yunho with a scowl on your face “I hate you.”

“My brother designed this thing before Jeong Tech moved on to cybersecurity exclusively,” he reminds you “Careful with what you say about it.”

Looking at the street, you find it empty again “Walking home or what?”

“Stop pretending to not know I’m going to help you in, Y/N.”

“I don’t need your help!”

He looks at the thumb he’s still grabbing and the back at you before raising a brow “Sure.”

Groaning, you take your thumb back to open the gate. You don’t even attempt to close it on his face but you don’t wait for him as you speedrun your front garden and, when you get up the stairs to your front door, it opens on its own.

Well, not on its own. There’s a staff member smiling kindly at you. She’s one of the new ones, the young ones (younger than you, even) who won’t even tell you their names at your mothers petition, so you usually don’t insist on it because it causes them stress. You shake your head “Did she make you stay up late tonight?”

“Yes, miss Kim. She instructed me to stay the night in case either you, mister Kim or her needed some help.”

“Help with what?” you say with a tint of annoyance in your tone and you see her bow instinctively at Yunho, who you presume is right behind you now and she offers her hands immediately to take his coat from him but you wave yours so she can stop “Please, go to your room and sleep. If she gets angry because she doesn’t find anyone to help her undress tonight, I’ll deal with it.”

“But… Miss Kim, your guest—”

“Mister Jeong Yunho,” you don’t turn to him but you guess he bowed to her again because she hurriedly does the same “He’s not staying for long,” you hope. “Please go and get some sleep, dear.”

She hesitates and your face softens at the slight panic you recognize in her eyes very, very well.

“I’ll deal with her,” you promise with a genuine smile tugging at your lips “Now, go.”

Obeying, she bows deeply at both of you before smiling back at you for a split second before disappearing through the staff aisle. There’s not many staff who stay in the property after hours and the ones that do usually stay when your parents need them but you find it quite annoying.

Not for you but because you’re grown people. There’s not many things the staff do for you besides your breakfast every morning and your clothes -because you couldn’t convince your mom to let you do it yourself- but for her? For your dad? They do almost everything.

At their grown age. Ugh.

Getting into the house, you slip your high heels off and you hear the door closing and some shuffling, letting you know Yunho is doing the same.

“You’re not welcomed here, Jeong, please go away.”

“Shut up and look at your phone, will you?”

“Hm?”

Unlocking it, it’s immediately floated with messages from a new group chat that consists of Yunho, his brother, your brother and you.

The texts are very clearly written by two drunk idiots (your brothers) and one sober idiot (Yunho) and there’s even a selfie taken in the very same room Yunho found you in earlier today. Frowning, you move to the last texts.

kim soohyun: mjom and dad 4nd mom and dad are going home to have a little after party in like an horu hbtw gunho oppa ♡︎: so wer’e going otoo! hehe. stay in your room y/n if u don’t eant to deal with yaunti she’s a lil hdrunkies kim soohyun: mhm but n o funnhy business kim soohyun: oh wait kim soohyun: you’re anot actually ua thing hahahahaha @yn u loser

Oh you’re going to kill him. Both of them. The three of them, actually, now that Yunho takes the opportunity to send a laughing emoji at what your brother said and when you look up at him, he’s giggling again.

“What the actual fuck.”

“He’s funny!” He defends himself right away and you groan before heading for the stairs. The texts and the fact there’s going to be some sort of movement on the house when it’s supposed to be cold, empty and, most importantly, in total silence, it’s enough to sober you up.

“This is the worst day of my life.”

Yunho does not follow you. But this house, at this point and with him disregarding your wishes of exiling him out of your life, is as much his as it is yours, so you just let him be downstairs while the darkness of your room engulfs you. You move like that, with the street lights and the moonlight leaking through the big balcony window and toss your purse and phone on the bed.

Getting your accessories off, they clink and clank on your vanity by door and breathe a little more calmly now that the weight of them is not on you. Slowly, but surely, the stress and sensory overstimulation of the night makes it way off you as well.

It’s not only until you get to the zipper of your dress that you remember why you needed someone to get you into the dress in the first place. It’s stuck, per se, but you can’t really reach it no matter how much you bend and twist and there’s some noise downstairs that it’s making your eye twitch a little bit. Maybe what’s making it is the ice machine built in on the fridge but you also hear some pans and you find it hilarious that Yunho, out of everyone, is the first non-contractually obligated person to touch the kitchen in years.

Losing the battle against the zipper and sweating a little bit, the last wave of dizziness from all the drinks you had comes in and so you lower yourself to the floor, near the balcony door and just close your eyes.

Now that you're home, the lack of sleep really gets to you. It feels like ten minutes or ten hours simultaneously when someone turns on the light in your room and the sudden intrusion of it burns you a bit when you open your eyes and stare at the ceiling.

Yunho scoffs from your door and you hear your foodsteps approach until he’s on your line of vision, eyebrows creasing at the sight of him “You’re so fucking weird, I swear.”

You mumble your jab out “Yeah, laying on the floor in the dark after an exhausting day of dealing with your presence it’s not as weird as it sounds, buddy.”

He ignores you.

“Made you some food.”

Suspicious. Slowly, you sit up. There’s a tray on your vanity with bowls and glasses of water and you want to yell at him for putting it there in the first place but the smell of buldak invades your nostrils and your stomach grumbles in response.

You didn't even know you had buldak anywhere in this house. Weird.

“Is it poisoned?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs “why don’t you find out?”

Your stomach grumbles again, begging. Your heart races as you glance at the tray again, anxious. Your rotten mind makes you delay your words, already telling you you’re going to regret it.

But you’re so hungry.

“Did you put cheese on it?”

Yunho is sitting at the edge of your bed now, manspreading and with his elbows on his legs, his hands in between them. This coat is off now, you don’t really know where he left it at but it’s gone and his hair it’s not perfect anymore, like he ran his hand through it a couple of times. He smiles a little at you when he answers, low and teasing, like he can’t believe you asked him that “Obviously.”

You wish you could convince yourself that the gulp you just did it’s due to your sudden appetite. And it kind of is. But the truth of the matter is that the ramen had nothing to do with it.

He looks good like this. He doesn’t necessarily looks like the manchild you know and even if it irks you a little that he insists of taking care of you with this little, insignificant detail (after all, he��s going to get out of your life and your complicated relationship with food will endure till the end of times), you can’t really deny the sudden blush it brings to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat and reaching behind you to open the balcony door, you point to the tray with your chin “Alright, bring it here.”

It’s truly a shame you can read it in his face that he’s counting this as some sort of victory and, if it were anyone else, you would hate to disappoint them when they inevitably notice further on that this effort of correcting your nasty habits are futile as long as your living with the source of the issue under the same roof. But since it’s Yunho, you don’t really care.

You don't care, you don’t care, you don’t care.

The way your heart squeezes and you feel like crying when he intently watches the first bite you take out of the noodles it’s nothing, it’s just your emotions getting mixed in with the spicy taste of them and the cheese and the way your stomach finally gets some sort of relief after being partially empty the entire day.

You don’t care that he made a little bowl for himself as well. And you definitely don’t care that he’s sitting beside you, eating his food and occasionally glancing at you to check your reaction and you hate him for it.

It triggers the part of you that doesn’t really know how to behave, the same part who thought of him fondly this afternoon when he wiped your tears away and calmed your nerves. When brought you food upstairs at the gala, when he brushed his fingers against your arm in the car, when he helped you in.

When you saw his expression after his mom yelled at him. When he got upset after your mom yelled at you.

It's like you can see it: the knitting needle moving faster than ever, interspersing your lives even more and in the worst way possible, the only way you don't want it to happen is because it's unexpected and you haven’t prepared for it, because it's unnecessary.

The way your heart is beating for him right now is totally unnecessary.

“What?” He asks when he notices you staring “I know it’s not that bad, princess, I live in a dorm most days of the week,” he adds, laughing a little and you look down at your noodles again, halfway done “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s ramen.”

“We had this or did you bring it with you?” Stupid question but right now you need to distract yourself from your sudden burst of feelings and vulnerability.

He looks at you like you’re a weirdo, again “And kept it where?”

“In that birdnest you call hair, for example.”

“Okay, you know what—” he stops when he hears you laugh and drops his argument alongside his chopsticks, only to laugh a little as well “Smartass.”

“I’m just hilarious, dude,” you say, shrugging it off like you’re humble or something “Where do you think Soohyun got it from?”

“Definitely not you.”

“Tsk,” you shake your head “you have no humor. I don’t know how mister Park stands you.”

That seems to bring the memory back. Assuming he forgot because you both had better things to focus on, he brings his palm to his head rather harshly and you cringe at the sound it makes.

“Right! How do you fucking know him, Y/N? I thought you only knew Yeo.”

“Who?”

“Yeosang,” at your furrowed brow, he turns a little in your direction and sighs “The guy I was with that one time you saw me at the bowling alley, like a year or so ago I think.”

Oh, that guy you totally didn’t remember existed until now. Barely remembering that day, you recall it was one of those days you went along with the plans your classmates had at the time. A bowling alley? A public bowling alley? It seemed like such a normal endeavor until you spotted Yunho at the entryway talking with, you assumed at the time and confirmed now, his friend.

When he saw you and barely raised his hand to wave at you, you remember the feeling of embarrassment washing over your and your cheeks turning red and then excusing yourself and leaving the scene immediately, like you were caught red-handed enjoying shit you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying.

“Ah,” you tilt your head “I forgot about that,” you obviously didn’t, but you pretend you did “I didn’t know his name, though, I didn’t say hi to you or anything.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” he shrugs it off “He asked me if you liked me that day and I asked him what gave him the impression you did,” that takes you off guard and you the noodles get caught up on your throat a little before you force them pass it and mumble out a tiny what? “Mhm, I didn’t understand either and he told me to forget it but I remember it because he didn’t even see you that well that night.”

“Maybe he’s fucking crazy,” you offer and he gives you a look “It would suit you if you friends were crazy, I’m just saying.”

“Suit me? That's crazy.”

“Did I stutter?”

“How do you know Hwa, Y/N?”

You almost ask him who that is when it clicks on his head that he’s talking about Park Seonghwa. Thinking about him, about your tiny hiccup early this morning and the acute possibility there was of him saying yes to your proposal makes you scrunch your nose in momentary resentment. Because, really, you’re glad he said no.

Yunho might not be used to this world of tinsel and fakeness anymore but he’s cut for it. Seonghwa? He didn’t look like he would last a second actually involved in it.

Good for him.

“He’s working for my brother,” you finally answer after a few seconds of staring at your noodles and sipping a bit of water and Yunho open his eyes at the new information “He’s working on his spaces and aligning his chakras or whatever Soohyun is into these days,” sighing, you think about that dumb tree he made you paint on his wall and then stare at the half finished canvas that’s facing the wall next to your vanity for a few seconds “Probably going to renovate his apartment, too. Soohyun said he’s tired of minimalism or something?”

“That definitely sounds like Hwa,” he nods and you wonder what he means by that but don’t pry “And his girlfriend?”

“The mechanic?” you ask and Yunho shrugs “He told me she was his mechanic,” you clarify before continuing “He brought his motorcycle to the building because something was wrong with it, I guess. They’re together together now?”

“I’m not sure.”

“She’s really cool,” you smile at the memory of the girl “She looks really cool, at least.”

“Yeah but he just met her.”

“And?”

“Isn’t a little too early to call her his girlfriend?”

“How the hell would I know that?” you ask and you don’t mean to sound defensive… But you do a little bit so you clear your throat and shrug one more time and decide to joke your way out of it “Should he wait like fifteen years so that his mom forces him to be in a fake relationship with her or something?”

Yunho doesn’t laugh.

You finish your noodles in silence until he groans and you turn to him.

He stares at his phone and then closes his eyes, regretfully “God, they’ve been calling me for a few hours now.”

“They found out?”

“I don’t know.” He whines, resting his forehead on his palm as he looks through some messages.

You take the opportunity to distract him, tease him a little bit if that’s able to get him off his phone “Do you know anything ever?”

“I know you’re annoying as fuck even when I make you food and all.”

It works because he locks his phone and stares at you with a pout that feigns innocence and hurt.

“Oh, wow,” you gulp the rest of the water down and wipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers before propping yourself up on your knees and then all the way up “And just when I thought we were finally getting along.”

He gets up as well “Is that a thing?” he asks, taking the tray from the floor and leaving it on top of your vanity again, which gains him a look that he ignores “Us being friends?”

“Well, no,” you turn to him on your way to your walk-in closet “We were born to hate each other and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“We should at least try, Y/N. I have a schedule with you now.”

You don’t hear him follow you but when you turn after finding your pajamas for the night, he’s resting his shoulder on the door frame and the same thought as before crosses your mind.

Why is he attractive like this? Under the soft light of your walk-in closet and with his tie loose and messy?

You don’t if that is what possesses you to walk towards him, slowly, like a lioness towards her prey and stop just before your chest touches his middle “Is that why you want to get along? Or is it because you’re still pitying me, Jeong?”

He says nothing, eyes lidded and breath picking up along yours.

“Is that why you brought me food at the gala? Why you suggested us leaving, defy our parents' wishes only after you saw the way she treated me? Is that it?”

You want him to tell you yes, that’s exactly what it is. Because that alone can effectively kill the desire that suddenly rushes through you, unbidden and foreign. If you lean a little, if you grab his tie and pull him down towards you… Maybe he’ll reject you, maybe his rejection will kill the feeling down too.

So you lean in just a fraction.

And Yunho stays put.

What the hell is going on?

“I don’t pity you, Y/N,” he lets you know for the second time tonight “I understand you,” he says, his eyes scanning your face and looking for something. He seems to find it, he seems to be satisfied with it as well “I finally understand you and I think you understand me too. Do you?”

It takes you a bit, but you nod and he tilts his head just a little bit, like saying see?

“And because of that, you want us to be friends?”

He breathes out and it hits your cheek. Your chest heaves a little at that “Don’t you think we could at least try to get along, princess?” He asks in a whisper.

You take your time pretending to think about it like the proposal isn’t tempting, like you didn’t already answer yourself inside your head. Truly, you’re a little lost at the closeness and a little dizzy at the way his pupils seem to be committing you to his memory.

There’s this sudden tension you never let yourself feel before and your mouth hangs open a little when he leans in another tiny, molecular fraction into your space.

And then common sense takes over. Pushing him away and into your room just to move past him, you shrug “Truce until we break up, it is.”

“Truce, then.” You don’t need to turn to him to know he’s smiling.

“They updated it?” you don’t have your phone with you but you can already foresee the amount of activities you have together just to put up with the charade. He looks at you, confused after whatever that was “The calendar?”

“O-oh, yeah, uhm… I don’t see you for the rest of the week except on saturday morning and afternoon, here it says, um…” at the day mentioned, you freeze “It says: Ask her to take you with her to her saturday activities?”

“You don’t need to, I’ll tell them you were with me.” You dismiss the idea right away, pretending it’s not a big deal and moving to your big mirror to try and unzip the dress one more time.

“Why? What do you do on saturdays?”

Giving him a look, he puts his palms up defensively.

“I thought we were friends now!”

“Having friends means sharing your personal agenda with them?” You ask, beyond confused.

“It’s technically my agenda too, so…”

“I don’t know why it’s your agenda too because what I do on saturdays it’s not necessarily public information and… Oh, stupid zipper,” you look around your vanity for something that can help you get it down “And,” you continue, failing at the task in hand “It’s not really something for everyone. So I’m guessing it’s some sort of way your mom or my mom are punishing you for lashing out this afternoon.”

“Ok, but what is it?” He murmurs and you stop your movements. Yunho is suddenly behind you. Entranced with finding something that could help you out, you didn’t even notice him closing the distance in the background on the reflection on the mirror. But when you look up he’s there and your poor, poor heart picks up again.

“I volunteer at an orphanage that’s not really… Well, it’s not the best at taking care of the kids but I’m working on that,” you answer, cautiously, catching his surprised expression in the mirror “I bring them some food and toys and since it’s nearing halloween we wanted to decorate the space a little bit but the kids they’re not… Sweet and innocent,” you try to explain, gulping when Yunho raises his hands and his fingers start fidgeting with the zipper “They’ve been through some shit so they cause a little bit of trouble when people go and visit them. They’re used to seeing me but not you, so…”

“They’re going to bully me?” he asks, regarding you through the reflection with a tiny smile “I can help you this saturday if you like… It’s stuck,” the pout returns to his lips and you can only hope he’s not able to hear your heartbeats the way you hear them of your ears, the way you feel them on your throat, especially when the zipper gives in and it slides easily down the length of your body. He leaves it at an appropriate distance, where it doesn’t show too much skin and it doesn’t feel impossible to pull it down yourself, either “There.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter out fast, wondering why he’s not pulling away and time stops ticking when you catch him taking a look at your exposed skin, his cheeks darkening a bit or so you think “I t-thought you had that thing this weekend?”

“Honjoong’s gig,” he nods “that’s at eight that day. So I can go with you on— I want to go with you.”

What is this? What’s this sudden change of heart? What’s this tension, this mutual understanding, this sudden feeling of wanting to have him around for that?

Your walls are falling down and that’s dangerous.

Your clothes might fall down too, if he keeps staring at you like that.

“Sure,” you mumble out and, for the first time in forever, you welcome with a hug and a kiss on the forehead the sound of the garage door opening and signaling that your parents and his are finally home “Y-you should—”

He pulls away, awkwardly and almost tripping with the carpet.

“Y-yeah, no, definitely—”

“I’m going to t-take a shower, so…”

“Oh, yeah, you stink again, um—”

He almost makes it through the door when he turns around and takes the tray “Thank you, by the way.”

It catches him off guard, you can tell.

“Thank you for today. For showing up, for making me food and everything else.”

His smile brings that fluttery softness emotion back and you point to the door before he can say anything back.

“Tell them I’m asleep, please.”

“Yeah, okay, hm… See you saturday?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” he smiles again and you walk to the door so you can see him out of your room and lock it like his brother suggested over text “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jeong.” You whisper and, finally, you breathe in the normalcy of your room again.

Only this time, you look around and see the image of Yunho at the edge of your bed. And again, sitting by your balcony with you. And again, when you move through the walk-in closet to get to your bathroom behind it, you turn and the memory of him leaning on the door frame plagues your mind like a virus.

You’re in so much trouble.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part two of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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inkedinshadows · 15 days ago

Text

A Sensual Silver Lining

Day 29: Sound kink — Rhysand x f!reader

Warnings: none, I guess? There's just a brief mention of p in v but that's it

Word count: 1.187

A/N: this is another one that I felt like I could scrap and rewrite but didn't have the time. But I actually like how it turned out (more or less). I also debated a lot about who to write this for, but I think that Rhys has the sexiest and most sensual voice out of them all, and I would 100% be soaked even if he was yapping about idk economics or something

You had always hated the Court of Nightmares. Not only was it unsettling and made you nervous, but you absolutely despised the way your mate had to behave when you were down there. You knew, of course, that it wasn’t the real him, that it was all a mask he put on to keep the Hewn City under control, but you still hated it.

But there was a bright side to everything. Even the Court of Nightmares.

Rhys lowered his voice so that it would sound cold and cruel, but there was something in the timbre he took on that reminded you so much of what you called his “bedroom voice”.

Which was why, despite the situation, it was hard not to squirm on his lap. His hand rested on your thigh, near the slit in your dress that revealed your leg, and his fingers traced idle circles on your bare skin while he conversed with Keir about some trade-related issues. His mouth was so close to your ear that you could almost feel his breath brush against it every time he spoke.

You did your best to keep a neutral expression and at least try to look like you were listening—though from Keir’s disdainful glances, you weren’t sure it was working.

But as soon as the Steward left, your head fell back on your mate’s shoulder and you slumped against his chest.

Rhys’s soft chuckle shot straight down to your core. “What is it, darling?” he murmured. His voice was back to his usual tone now. “Does trading turn you on, by chance?”

“Not normally,” you mumbled, nuzzling his neck.

He lifted an eyebrow. “But it does now?”

“It does when you use that voice.”

He paused for a moment. You had told him before that you loved his voice, and since then, he had made a point of being more vocal while you were having sex, praising you and talking you through it even more than he already used to do before. You had never told him just how far it could affect you, though.

“What voice?” he asked in your ear, and you shivered slightly as it went back to that deep tone of earlier. “This one?”

When you nodded, he hummed contemplatively and gods be damned, you felt the sound reverberate through your body all the way down to your toes. Your thighs clenched together, and Rhys marked the subtle movement, cocking his head with a smirk.

“This night just took an interesting turn, darling, don’t you think?” he purred as his hand slipped under your dress, just for a few inches before it halted on your inner thigh.

Your breath caught and you couldn’t stop the wetness that was starting to pool between your legs. He wasn’t even touching you, hadn’t even said a single word that might turn you on… but that quiet, sensual voice of his was enough for heat to bloom in your whole body.

A slight shift in the air told you that Rhys had put up an invisible shield around his throne, probably to mask the growing scent of your arousal.

“Now, now, my love,” he cooed teasingly, fingertips brushing against your soft skin. “We can’t let everyone know you get so wet just by hearing me talk, can we?”

“Rhys…” you whined. You were still trying to at least look as though nothing unusual was happening. People could turn their heads at any moment. “You’re not helping if you do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re talking.”

He laughed, soft and low. “Would you rather I stopped?”

Yes. You knew that was the right answer, given the circumstances. This was not the privacy of your home—this was the Court of Nightmares. You were already indulging yourself by being sprawled on your mate’s lap. You didn’t need him to get you all hot and bothered as well.

You opened your mouth to tell him, but Rhys moaned quietly in your ear, and you almost choked. It was the same sound he would make when you were riding him and his cock was buried deep inside you, except that now it was low enough for you alone to hear.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, sitting up straighter. Or at least you tried, because his arm slid around you to keep you against his chest.

“I know how much you hate this place.” His lips were on your neck, brushing feather-light kisses from your shoulder to your ear. “And I hate it too. But you love my voice, and I love to know you’ll be ready when I finally fuck you, once we get home.”

Gods, his sensual tone felt like a caress that traveled all the way down to your core and left goosebumps in its wake.

“And you have to moan to do that?” you replied, but your tone wasn’t as clipped as you intended and instead came out rather weakly.

“No, but it’s more fun this way.”

And so, the torture began. It lasted hours.

Rhys kept whispering softly to you, but only two or three times did he actually mention all the things he wanted to do to you once you were alone, all the different ways he wanted to take you. The rest of the time he talked about his plans and schedule for the next few days, or he made idle conversation as he normally would, but you were too lost hearing him purr to pay attention to the actual words. He didn’t seem to mind, and instead took the chance to let out a quiet moan just to get your focus back to him every time you zoned out, as if that didn’t have the exact opposite effect.

Whenever someone approached the dais—whether it was Keir, or some other member of the Hewn City that wished to speak with their High Lord—, he made sure your head rested on his shoulder, close enough for his breath to brush your ear. You didn’t even care what people might think of your fluttering eyes and your longing sighs.

His hand would sometimes caress your inner thigh, but without ever getting close to your now soaked underwear where you wanted him to touch you. Whenever you squirmed a bit too much, he gripped the soft flesh of thigh almost possessively. “Patience, love,” he purred. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll use my mouth for something other than talking.” It didn’t do much to help you sit still.

At long last, the guests gathered in front of the throne once more. Despite everything Rhys had murmured throughout the evening, you had never heard a more beautiful sound than when he announced, “You can all go now.”

People began turning to leave, and though court protocol required the High Lord to stay until all his subjects were out of the room, Rhys didn’t wait. He immediately winnowed you out of the Hewn City and straight into your bedroom.

“Get on the bed, darling,” he ordered, but still with that low timbre that made you shiver. “It’s time to fuck you properly.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

had to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

summary: And then, he says, “It’s nice.” “You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.” “It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

an: eventual smut. angst with happy ending. will-they-won't-they, but they do. smut. he loves you 100%. word count: 5.7k || there’s a part two to this here

simon ghost riley masterlist

You love the rain.

Not so much when you’re away. When you’re strapped up, weighed down by all your gear. The additional weight of being wet makes for an uncomfortable experience, with hair clinging to foreheads and mud sticking to your skin. It also forces things to rub more, chaff. Your skin is often raw from where the buckles and belts sit.

But, at home, it’s refreshing.

It’s why you never hated your nickname, the one given to you in jest—to remind you that you are a female, soft, emotional. Only for it to grow more fitting. Because Rain comes from above, sharp, falling where needed—catching people by surprise, and leaving traces behind, but never enough to know where you’ll land next.

Rain is also one word. One syllable. Short, sharp and easy.

It can be spat, it can be sweetly said and affectionately called.

On good days, it reminds you of long car rides, staring out of windows at passing traffic as you watch beads of its travel down—racing. On bad days, it reminds you of more unpleasant memories, ones born in moments you’d sooner forget, an emptiness in your chest from betrayal, loss and bad choices.

At home, rain itself keeps you rooted. The scent, for one, not allowing your mind to whisk you off too old memories of war and enemy territories. The sound, for another, hits your windows and dulls the silence. All three senses are busied by it. It all blends perfectly together with the crackling of your candles and the low-light vibe you have going off in your flat.

Plus, there’s nothing more British than bad weather.

Each time you’re able to come home, you hope it’s raining. Landing back, greeted with cold and horrid rain. Preferably the kind which looks misty through windows and soaks you in seconds when you step into it. The kind which makes it hard to know which speed to put your car wipers on, and socks get drenched as puddles form quicker than people can account for.

You didn’t care that you looked like a drowned rat when you unlocked your flat door. Or that your wet clothes were difficult to remove as steam filled your bathroom because you were always going to have a shower. A routine—a tradition of sorts.

Hands desperate to wash the months away, let your expensive soaps and scents soak into neglected skin and smother old scars and newly gained ones. Plus, the water was hotter at home, almost scolding your skin as you stood under it, letting each droplet massage a part of your neck and upper back as your living room music drifted through the cracked door.

You dress before you really prune, sliding on silk PJs—the ones which you buy as a treat and wear once, maybe twice a year. Your skin sighs in relief, thankful to forget sand, bullets and bruises, the same as your mind. Busying your hands with preparing a lavish dinner, a large dish too ridiculous for one person—but again, you’d missed it. Home.

The scent of gravy, potatoes and meat.

When asked, you’d been quiet about your plans with the others. Them only having a slight idea of which city you call home. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them—not even sure you’d be able to fall asleep without Soap’s snores, Ghost’s huffs and Gaz’s odd bedtime stories. But, you’d gained new nightmares on the last job—ones which you needed to make peace with before they stole another fraction of your soul.

That’s what it did, eventually. Even to the best of them.

Bad choices, untested intel and wrong moves left little marks before they claimed a piece of innocence, kindness and happiness.

It’s a little different with the 141. Without realising it, you’re sure you all help smother each other's struggles away. But it’s only temporary. You know it, you can feel it in the muscles in your back and in the knots in your stomach. So, if you saw them now when you needed to heal—if you relied on them—you’d go back weaker than when you left. And they needed you; you needed them. A team where you could only trust one another—having been betrayed so often, you were all each other had.

It’s why you were taken back by a firm knock.

Short. Deliberate.

Pausing, allowing whoever they were to realise their mistake. Even if the sound didn’t appear as though they’d chosen the wrong flat or someone who was cherry-knocking. It was purposeful, direct, and your hands quickly dried on the kitchen towel as your feet crossed the tiles and laminate to your front door.

When you’d left, you’d asked a friend to check in on the flat—fix the peephole. Something having forced it to get stuck, leaving you blind to whoever was on the other side. Your friend is good, kind, and sweet but forgetful. Something which also reminds you of home as you snort, undoing the chain, and unlocking the door, half expecting them.

Only to see him.

“Ghost?”

He has a hood up, and a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face.

His eyes fall over you, taking you in centimetre by centimetre, digging into you as if he’d not expected to see you.

You find it just as odd to see the skin around his eyes not tainted in grey or black and that his frame is still as ridiculously large, even in plain clothes, as he holds a duffel bag in his hand.

Suddenly aware of the thin layer covering your body from him. Especially as his eyes drop from your face to the silk shirt with its three buttons undone and then to your legs, where silk shorts did their best but were futile in hiding thighs, knees or legs from him.

“You lettin’ me in?”

Instinctively, you move, not even questioning it.

Even if he didn’t say it like an order, he was still your lieutenant. Even on home ground, you slipped into your sergeant role too quickly. Watching him pass you, turning to face the direction he moves in before pressing your back against the inside of your door. Fingers sliding to the side of you, turning the lock, the sound filling the small space as you watch him stop at your key hook, slowly sliding his feet from his boots—finding him wearing thick, bobbly socks.

He turns to face you, eyes washing over you again as his hood remains up as he undoes the scarf. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen his face a handful of times, each time, it still renders you silent, if only for a second.

Clearing your throat, you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t mean this to come out as rude, but why are you—“

“Someone broke into my place.”

You move, almost too quickly, from the door. Your hand brushing his shoulder, wanting—needing—to comfort him, soothe him like you would a friend. Before you remembered who this was.

Almost surprised he doesn’t flinch. Even if he does shoot you a surprised look before you wrench your hand back.

“S-sorry. Habit.” He frowns, and you wish the floor would swallow you whole. “Not with y—when I’m home, I’m… well, I—did they take anything?”

“Not sure.”

Right. “Do you need somewhere to stay?”

He looks at you briefly before his eyes flick away, the tell-tale signs of him processing and thinking. You’ve seen him do it often, especially when Price is talking and when he reads files. As if he’s choosing where to store it in the filing cabinet, he calls his brain.

“Please,” he says, the word almost coming out as a whisper.

As if it’s so rarely ever said.

You’re unsure what to say, even if there’s so much swirling around your brain. So many questions you want to pepper him with, but he’s not Soap, who’ll answer them all or Gaz, who’ll have already told you everything.

He’s Ghost.

Silent. Quiet, Ghost.

Your oven beeps, his head turning to the sound.

Sighing, you rub your arms, suddenly aware of how cold your hallway feels, as you cover your chest with your elbows. “You hungry?”

Silence.

A beat or two blossoming, your eyes unable to move from his face, even if you know you should, before he licks his lips, saying, “Starving.”

You smile, “Good. It's not a lot, just some chicken, potatoes… a bit of veg. Nothing huge. And, not quite a typical Sunday roast, but enough to ease me back in.”

He doesn’t laugh, not that you expect him to.

“Bathroom is there, to your right. If you need it,” you say quickly, almost stepping past him to answer your beeping oven. “I just need to dish up, and… yeah.”

You expect to feel calmer by the time he’s back. Especially with your dressing gown on, loosely knotted at your waist, covering more of you from him.

But you’re more nervous.

Doubting the food you’ve plated, the scent of the candles, whether the low lights make it romantic and whether you should turn up the acoustic songs playing or let the rain be the soundtrack of the evening. Suddenly aware of how fucking odd this is.

Him being here.

And yet, not that odd at all.

“Hope it’s okay…” you mumble nervously as you place the plate down.

He looks like he belongs at your table, even if your table is small and usually for one-person. He’d helped, in as much of a way as a stranger can in someone’s home, grabbing glasses from cupboards you direct him to, making squash for you and water for him.

His hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie as he waited for further instruction, catching sight of the hood still being up, having noticed he’d swapped jeans for dark joggers before you told him to sit.

“There’s more gravy… just wasn’t sure how you liked it,” you add.

Ghost doesn’t answer, not even as you slide into the chair opposite. Your hands have a slight tremble to them as you pick up your cutlery, trying not to watch him take a bite—suddenly feeling like a contestant on a judging show.

And then, he says, “It’s nice.”

“You can tell me if it isn’t, I promise I won’t be offended—it’s not as though I cook often.”

“It is nice,” he repeats, giving you a look which tells you to stop worrying as if you have any control over your feelings.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the occasional sound of a fork grazing the plate and the knife slicing through food. It’s almost normal—as though this happens regularly.

“Your place is nice, too,” he mumbles.

Lifting your head, you find he’s looking at you already. “You don’t have to lie, Simon. You can still stay even if you think my decor is odd.”

His eyes widen a fraction before it vanishes like it never existed. A brief moment of you wondering why, until you realise the slip—the way you used his name and not his alias. Making it feel personal. More so than the two of your knees occasionally butting under the table.

“It’s not what I expected.”

“You’ve thought about my place?”

Ghost says nothing, hovering his fork over his dinner as he keeps his eyes down.

You smile if only to yourself, pushing some meat and vegetables onto your fork, continuing—wondering if he’s hoping you would. That silence would settle over the two of you, the storm outside being enough background noise to keep it from being awkward.

“I have to ask,” you say suddenly, keeping your gaze down, trying to still your pulse as you manoeuvre food around the sauce. “Why me? I mean… I don’t mind you being here, but I thought, well, I assumed you’d pick Soap—if you needed a place to stay.”

You try not to look, even when you hear a faint snort, seeing his plate—empty, only traces of broccoli stalks remaining—slide closer as the chair creaks in his movement.

“You were closer.”

Oh.

Your stomach drops, suddenly feeling foolish for thinking there could be any other reason.

Almost wanting to kick yourself for allowing yourself to consider another option, one which you’ve been stuffing down for weeks, months…

It isn’t as though you were meant to fall for him. The man who originally kept his face a higher guarded secret than his own name. But, it stemmed naturally and out of nowhere. He made you laugh as you moved into an enemy building—nerves humming in your bones. He made it worse when he flung himself in front of you before a car exploded, gripping you tightly against him, not letting go for minutes later before his hand cupped your cheek, mouthing words you couldn’t hear as ears rang and rang.

Smiling, you nod, not sure what else to say as you take his plate and yours, turning your back to him as you hear him clear his throat.

“I had to see if you were okay.”

You don’t place the plates down, not immediately.

Eyes trying to peer at him through the corner of your vision, slowly lowering the porcelain to the counter—too afraid to break the moment with a single sound, even as your heart hammered in your ears, in your chest, and throat.

He had said it so softly, you have to wonder how long it’s been churning on his tongue.

Slowly turning, you face him, finding his eyes already on you with an awkwardness in his shoulders as he looks up at you.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Had to be sure.”

You smile, pulling your dressing gown around you tighter. “Well, that’s because you’re a good lieutenant.”

His brows knit, lips spreading into a thin light before you notice the subtle shift in his nostrils as though he’s sighed before Ghost nods with his usual professionalism. That’s when your stomach drops, fluttering ridiculously near your feet as you feel you’ve made a mistake.

“Tea?” you ask.

Ghost’s face shifts and you’re almost sure there’s a faint smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry, I know how you like it,” you add, pulling open a cupboard as you retrieve two mugs and flick the kettle on. “I’ve heard you berate Soap for his piss-poor tea skills.”

You make him snort.

And it does nothing to stifle the fluttering.

If anything, it adds to it.

Shit.

Even though it’ll be his bed for the night, Ghost refuses to sit on the sofa and doesn’t allow you to sit in the armchair. Practically insisting you sit how you would if he wasn’t here. Even if you’re worried he won’t be comfortable, the ridiculous chair was bought as a filler—an accessory, rather than something people actually used.

“Fine,” you mumbled, grabbing your blanket and curling up across both seats as he clutched the mug in his hand.

You put something crap on the TV, the volume low—just in case he doesn’t feel like talking. Your eyes flick to it occasionally, half-listening as you softly wiggle your toes under the blanket—needing something to focus on. Because you couldn’t keep looking at him.

Not with how your mind was running away from you, imagining ifs and buts and everything else in between.

He fits here. Your home rarely feels warm and comforting, but with his presence, it does. As though your place has always wanted to be enjoyed by two people, not one person who rarely ever visited it.

It doesn’t feel weird, even if it should. It makes you feel unsteady, and dizzy. Suddenly unable to stop focusing on the fact there’s a six-foot-something amount of feelings in your chest, twisting and tightening, trying to unlock everything you stuffed down.

That same instinct and set of emotions which made you try to rip yourself from Soap’s grip when Ghost had entered a blazing building just for a stupid USB; how you’d been so angry, feral—as Soap called it—not able to think, how it had filled you, consuming you. How you’d even told Price you needed benching, unable to even look at your lieutenant, never mind be in the same room.

He eventually cornered you on the base, pushing you, mixing between berating and taunting you until you slammed your small fist into his shoulder as you called him an idiot, a fucking cunt, a liability, a heartless cunt. How your tiny fist hammered into him with each array of insults until he grasped it tenderly, staring at you until tears bubbled in your eyes.

You cannot die.

Why?

But, he had to know. His eyes followed a single tear down your cheek as he released your wrist, allowing you to walk away from him and begin the process of stuffing everything down again.

Then you’d been shot. Through and through. Fire, gasp and fucking pain, your mind rendered uselessly, but he was still the person you called for. Not Soap, who was closer, not Gaz, who could actually stitch you. But Ghost.

Ghost who came in a flash, telling you what you needed to hear—ordering you to do things like look at him, gripping his arm.

“What?”

Blinking, you didn’t even realise you’d been looking at him. Your mind blanking excuses tumbling from your grasp as you offer the quickest smile and a ‘nothing’.

You forget how good he is at reading people.

Especially you. Almost sure you make it easy for him, even if everyone else says they struggle.

Ghost always knows, as though he’s in your head, digging his way through each time he stares at you. You wonder how much you let him in, whether he finds it easy before you want him in there—in your mind, in your heart.

Now, he’s giving you a stern look, one which makes the truth rattle in your chest and snakes up your throat.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine, I was thinking about how weirdly normal it is that you’re here. That it doesn’t feel weird, alright? That was it.”

Anyone else, you’d think they’d smirk.

But with him, it’s the slightest movement of his lip which tells you he has heard you.

Ghost takes a sip, purposefully holding your gaze as he does so before filling the silence with, “You thought about it, then? Me being here.”

“Of course I have,” you answer too quickly, wanting to kick yourself as the words hit the air, his brows raising as he sips his tea. “Not… Not like that.”

“How then?”

Shit. Swallowing, you sigh, trying to buy yourself time. Shit, bollocks, shit.

“Should tell you, lying to your lieutenant isn’t smart.”

You give him a sharp look of your own, and he snorts—actually snorts. Your eyes are all set to roll until he says your name.

Your real name.

Not your nickname. Not sergeant or soldier.

“Fine. I’ve thought about it.”

“It?”

You groan, pulling the blanket up further—not that it’ll hide the obvious warming of your cheeks or embarrassment. You’re sure that’s painted across the room, likely even doing a jig at your expense.

“Us. You, me. In a bed,” you mumble. “Happy?”

Wanting to hide your face, almost about to when the sound of his mug meeting your coaster makes you freeze. Your armchair—the one his frame has somehow fit into comfortably—groans as he moves, and you let yourself see him from the corner of your eye. His forearms leaning on his knees, his hand sliding his hood down as he watches you.

He’s silent.

So silent it almost kills you. The adverts in the background do nothing to stop it; the rain, now hammering against the windows, was not stifling it.

Slowly breathing as you place your mug down, standing before you can even consider the options. “I didn’t realise how late it is,” you say, forcing a yawn. “I should… go to bed. Let you make your bed.”

You fold the blanket, throwing it over the arm as you try to shrug, and play it off, but he’s quicker at recognising you—he knows you better than that. His hand comes to touch your wrist, like he did months ago, eyes scanning yours.

For what you’re not sure.

Not wanting to get your hopes up. Not wanting to lose yourself in dreams and imagination.

So, you smile. As sweetly and as believable as you can as you point to the coffee table chest. “Blankets, pillows, the lot are in there,” you say, almost breathlessly, as he releases you. “Have a nice sleep, Gh—Simon.”

He swallows, his face remains unreadable as he chokes out, “You too.”

But you’re already moving, desperately seeking your room—throwing the door open and shutting it as you place your back against it. She’s closing, chest hammering so hard you’re sure it’s trying to escape.

Go back.

Go back to him.

Your eyes slowly open, catching sight of yourself in the mirror as the street lamps partially light your room.

He came to check on you. You.

Rolling your neck, your fingers flex at your side, twisting your wrists, wanting to shake it all from you. Trying, desperately to rid yourself of the tension and adrenaline. Almost doing so until you hear the floorboards outside your door creak.

It doubles your heart rate as a lump forms in your throat, suffocating you. You don’t want to give in, but wish to all at once. Your hand cupping your mouth, trying to hide the extra breaths the sound has forced you to make. Needing him. Wanting his calloused fingers to leave marks over your skin, his stubble to slice against your cheeks as his lips capture your breath, words and soul.

It’s that which makes you shift from the door. Not sure what you’re expecting, what you’re going to see, as your hand twists the doorknob, coming face to face with him all over again.

His hoodie is gone.

Expression torn—that same awkwardness in his shoulders.

Your hallway light touches his unreadable expression, highlighting all the lines and shading of his tattoo that stand out against his skin.

“Tell me to go back to your living room.”

Inhaling sharply, your hand drops from your mouth and falls limply to your side.

You are not thinking, thoughts all scattered, scrambled. Not even sure you can find words to tell him you want anything but. That you want him here, right in front of you; you want him to be rough and also kind, you want him to kiss you like he’ll never have the chance to again.

As though reading you, he moves closer, not even touching you, but your body yearns for him, muscles tensing and spasming at the endless thoughts of what could be—what he could do, what you already know he’d be good at. Suddenly wanting to rid yourself of your dressing gown, of your PJs, of the thin lace between your thighs you’ve already ruined.

“Words, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your legs almost give way, a smile wanting to bloom and spread across your lips, up your cheeks until it's radiating from you.

“Tell me. Or I’ll kiss you.”

Speechless, your lips part.

Yes. Please, yes.

Not even sure you are even breathing as you imagine his hands on you, his mouth against yours, against your neck, descending down and down—

His hand cups your cheek, pulling your eyes to his as he examines you. He studies you like he’s capturing every fucking inch of you: the curve of your cheeks, the position of your brows, the way your lips are waiting for him. The clear crisis you’re going through is rendered and broken at the mere thought of this becoming a reality.

“Simon…” you manage to whisper.

Hoping it's enough. Needing it to be enough.

He blinks once more before he lowers his head, his lips planting against yours and you’re sure you explode. Your heart furiously beating, ears buzzing and burning all at once.

Barely focusing on the way his arm snakes around you as your mouth moves to meet each one of his movements. His lips are soft, even if his tongue is rough; his grip tight, purposeful—desperate, even if yours are gentle, nervous. The pads of your fingers slide past the healed scar on his cheek, moving into his hair, his groan vibrating against your lips.

Gh—Simon is almost lifting you, moving you back as his foot kicks your bedroom door shut behind him, blocking out the light from the hallway. Only the streetlights dance shadows across your room as kisses grow messier, fingers brushing over skin as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your shorts, then sliding, freeing you, until you’re stepping out of them. Your robe next, falling with a thud as your hands slide under his t-shirt, feeling taut, hard muscle and silver scars which paint stories as your legs find your bed.

He smells different than usual.

Less sweat and fireworks, and more some combination of Ghost meeting sandalwood and amber as the two of you bend down onto your bed, the frame hissing at the weight and movement—not even aware of what’ll be expected to support soon enough.

“Shit, woman. Y’know how beautiful you are?”

His teeth nipping, sucking, leaving an answer to your prayer before you feel him unbuttoning your top, all slow and gentle, as if undoing a present he’s waited desperately for.

“Rip it,” you moan, his teeth grazing over the space between your breasts before he lifts up.

His eyes burn into yours, the smallest evidence of a smirk on his mouth as he slowly shakes his head. “I’ve waited too fuckin’ long to get here, I’m takin’ my damn time.”

If you weren’t already soaked for him, that did it.

All slick, swollen and hungry for him. Not sure if it’ll even take much, not with how precise you can imagine him being—how fucking thick his fingers are, how he’s staring at you like he wants to break you in all the ways he can before sunrise.

And you want it. Desperate for it. So much so that just the fan of his warm breath against your exposed nipples makes you rub your thighs together, needing friction—something he can tell, he must do.

“Wait.”

It’s sharp, authoritative, and he’s going to be the death of you.

Your body is so tense, you’re sure it’ll snap if you keep any more still as he undoes the last button and exposes your skin to the cool air and his breath. So focused on his eyes, you’ve forgotten all about his hand until you feel lace dig into your waist, tightening and tightening—snap.

And he smirks.

The devious bastard smirks.

Your lips part to make a remark—one you’re not even wholeheartedly sure will come out right—but it dies when he touches you, one finger, one thick calloused finger sliding between your thighs, brushing where you need him.

“Fuck…”

“Part them, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You do it like he’s said open-fucking-sésame. Two fingers sliding against you, diving between your folds. It’s intense, teasing and everything all at once. It’s making you burn and shiver, sweat building on your brow as you pant and whimper. His name falls freely, almost chanting it, like a song you’re the only one who can sing it. He captures what he can, tasting each syllable you say of his name until you’re tightening and clenching, and he whispers in your ear how good you are, how perfect you are, and you meet your orgasm with blinding lights and arched back.

The sight of him licking your want from his fingers brings you back, his mouth crashing against yours as you pull him down, knee bent against his hip as his hand comes to rest on your hip—the one you hope he’s bruising. Wanting, wishing for him to leave literal fingerprints as your hand slides between the two of you.

You knew before tonight Simon Riley would be big.

Almost too big.

The weight of him against your palm is something else, the thickness of his cock in between your fingers as you make him hiss, thumb swiping over the head as he groans.

He mixes kissing and nipping at your neck depending on what your hand does, the groans of your name making you desperate—needing him inside you, suddenly empty and desperate all over again, but not for his fingers.

You want him so deep in you you’ll forever feel empty without him. You want to feel every inch of him, want to rock against his hips as you press half-moons into his skin as nails dig into him.

The ache growing, worsening as his tongue draws a line from your neck to your earlobe, his fist clenching around your bed sheets at your side.

“Fuck… stop. Stop,” he groans, a hand smothering yours, halting you as he stares at you before pressing his forehead against yours.

Letting him go, touching his cheek—his eyes full of lust, searing into you.

“I want you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, his lips sliding up into a half-smirk—a Simon special. “I’ll go slow.”

“I hope you fucking don’t.”

His eyes harden. “I’m going slow. I’ll ruin you later,” he whispers darkly, before capturing your lips, a hand gripping the back of your thigh—shifting it just over his hip.

You're set to argue, and comment you can handle it until you feel him lineup, the head of his cock pushing against your folds.

You gasp as his hips move forward, slowly pushing himself in, your nails digging into his shoulder, into his waist as shivers run down your spine. The stretch being both too much and everything all at once, your toes curling, him slowly burying his cock all the way in as his fingers stroke your jaw.

“So fu—tight. Fuckin'-shit, sweetheart.”

“Simon…”

Your hips roll, moaning at the way it feels, having never felt so full. Never felt so stretched.

He’s slow, as he has been since he stepped over the threshold. His determination to take things slow, to take his time, not lessening now that he’s deep inside of you.

You’re sure you’ve left an array of welts and half-moon marks into his shoulders as he begins to roll his hips, his thrusts purposeful, desperately seeking that spot he already knows.

“Eyes on me,” he says, thumb against your jaw as your eyes lashes beg to flutter, but land on him all the same. “There’s my girl.”

It’s sinful the moan you let escape at his praise, your legs almost jelly as he steals it with a kiss—as though to taste it. Your mouth grasping for him when he pulls his head back, gripping your hip, helping you both to find a steady pace.

He does ruin you.

Not the first time, the second, but on the third.

Legs so sore, boneless and aching you can barely walk without his aid to the bathroom.

You’re not surprised he places you down on the side of the bath, taking a cloth you point him to as he cleans between your thighs as your hisses feel the space. You catch sight of yourself, an array of colours developing across your neck, collarbone and waist—just like you wanted.

A painting in colours of his own design.

You expect awkwardness once you shuffle back, giving him a moment. Finding underwear, sliding it over shaky legs before surrendering the idea of PJs as you slid between your duvet and sheets. When he returns, you brace for regret—for words you wish he’d swallow, face hidden in the scarf or behind a mask, but he’s in boxers and shuts your door with care.

Simon crosses the room, lifting the duvet as he slides in next to you, reaching out, tugging your back to his chest as he places a single kiss on the space below your earlobe.

You want to tell him everything. That you like him, could even love him by now. That you look for him too, that you worry, that you care. You'd tell him that he has pierced your heart, and you welcome the sting, that you'd be there, whenever he needed it. Even with knowing he likes space and distance and everything else in between.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," he grumbles against your skin.

Smiling, you fix your eyes across the darkness, finding the outline of your dresser as his hand finds your hip. Whether to soothe you or silence you, it makes your hands clammy.

Unsure if he knows that someone loves him. Someone wants him alive, wants him uninjured.

“I have feelings for you…” you whisper, fixing your eyes on your dresser as you swallow. “In case it wasn’t obvious.”

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move.

Blinking, you try to trace the shapes of your handles, keeping your mind busy, the silence building and building.

"Say that again." You turn your head, meeting his stare, watching as he raises his knuckles before he traces your cheekbone. "Please."

His touch is so gentle, so soft that it makes your heart swell—your face relaxing as you repeat it again. "I have feelings for you.

"I care about you and...I like you alive, Simon."

You don't expect a reply, a declaration of his own. The fact he hasn't moved and hasn't pulled his knuckles from stroking your cheek, is enough of a declaration. Your lips turn, meeting them, pressing the softest kiss to them as if saying I know, I don't need to hear it. I know.

Letting your eyes ensure the message lands as you hold his gaze, ever-so-slightly nodding.

“I texted him. Johnny," he says. His fingers spread, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your cheek. “But, I had to see you. Had to be sure.”

Your eyes lower briefly, feeling your heart almost stammer at his words. “Because I’m your sergeant or because I’m your girl.”

You’re my girl. Mine. Fuck, you’re mine. Mine. All mine. You hear me, sweetheart?

His thumb pauses against your cheek, likely remembering the same words he chanted over and over as he fucked you senseless. His eyes narrow ever so slightly as his lips twitch, and yours try not to smile.

“The latter.”

You nod. Feeling your body flush with warmth, turning your head back away from him, grinning as he pulls you flush against him.

Your heart thumping mine, mine, mine. Hearing him get comfortable against the pillow, a soft sigh blowing past his lips and kissing your skin.

“You make shit tea, though.”

read part two

a huge thank you to @ghostaholics for this absolutely gorgeous graphic. I can’t believe how much it encapsulates the entire piece and is just so me, and so pretty. thank you so much, I appreciate it so much 💕!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost riley #cod ghost x reader smut #simon ghost riley x reader smut #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost angst #cod ghost smut #ghost smut

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 10 days ago

Text

Happy Ending

The three times you try to convince Seokmin that you don't hate him, and the one time he gets it.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: implications of history of abuse, bad ex

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

Seokmin is sure you hate him. 100%, no, 1000% sure. It’s the only explanation for why you act the way you do. Seokmin would like to think that he’s a likable person. He thinks he’s nice and thoughtful, and when Vernon first brought you around the group, he went out of his way to be friendly with you because you seemed nervous. And he couldn’t lie, he thought you were pretty.

You have no problems cracking a few jokes with some other members. You and Vernon speak almost exclusively in memes and references from TikTok and Vine. You gang up on other members with Jeonghan to tease them. You become animated with Seungkwan when you play board games or with Wonwoo when you play video games.

But not Seokmin. When Seokmin cracks a joke, you blink at him. You must not think he’s funny and that stings at first. But then he tries to engage in conversation without goofing off so much. You don’t have much to say then either.

So he’s stopped trying because the message was received. He’s polite with you, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t understand why you hate him and he has just a bit too much pride to ask. Or to ask you directly at least. (His members are sick of the whining he does on occasion about the topic.)

It’s game night and Jeonghan’s just brutally knocked you out of the game. You sigh, standing up from the table. “I’m going to get another drink. Does anyone need anything?” There are a lot of echoes around the table saying ‘no’ and Seokmin is surprised when you notice he didn’t answer. “Seokmin, do you need anything?”

He furrows his eyebrows. You don’t often address him directly. “Oh, uh, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He misses how you deflate a little at his disinterest and he also misses how Vernon and Jeonghan roll their eyes.

Two

It’s a late night in the studio and everyone is exhausted, but they have a least a few more hours to go. Seokmin rubs his tired, irritated eyes as there’s a knock on the door. In you come with a few bags of dinner. Many members crowd around, thanking you and taking the food. Seokmin doesn’t move. He’s starving but he’s tired and is even in a little bit of a bad mood. He’s had to do so many takes of the same line because he just can’t nail it and it’s been frustrating.

He’s got his eyes closed when he hears a little cough. You look a little awkward as you place a container in front of him. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but if you don’t like this, I’ll trade with you.”

Seokmin blinks a few times. “Oh. Thank you.” He means it, even if he sounds confused. He looks inside the container and he must be wearing his thoughts all over his face. The dish isn't his favorite.You’re moving fast and before he can think to fight you on it, the container in his hand is replaced by another. “Y/N, you don’t have to do that. Eat what you ordered.” Some sense is snapping back to him and he’s stubbornly trying to hand the new container back.

But you’re shaking your head with a little smile, already walking away to find your seat next to Vernon. “Nope. Enjoy your dinner, Seokmin.”

He does, but his head is swimming with confusion. This feels like an awfully kind gesture for someone who hates him. He keeps glancing at you for the next couple hours until you leave.

Three

It’s raining when he steps out of the restaurant. He sighs. This week has been rough and he’s just left a really bad date that he arrived separately to, and this is just the cherry on top, forgetting an umbrella and jacket. He won’t melt walking in the rain, but he’s got a busy schedule in the next few weeks and can’t afford to get sick. He decides to wait it out and see if it will stop.

“Seokmin?”

He spins because he knows that voice. You’re dressed up for dinner and he can’t believe he didn’t notice you inside. “Hey, Y/N,” he says a little weakly. He doesn’t have the energy to wonder why you hate him tonight.

“Rough day?” You muse, glancing around at the street as the downpour goes on.

“How could you tell?” It’s a genuine question. He isn’t sure how you notice when you never so much as glance at him.

“You’re not your usual self.”

Seokmin doesn’t know what to say about that, so he says, “You look nice. Date tonight?”

You shake your head. “Work dinner. Very dull. What about you? You look nice too.”

He glances down to his dress pants and button up shirt. “Thanks.” The word feels lame but he’s confused again, much like he always is in your presence. “Bad date. Want to wait out the rain with me?”

You smile, digging into your bag and presenting a compact umbrella. “Or, we could walk together. What do you say?”

The invitation is too good to pass up. He grabs the umbrella from you, popping it open. You move halfway under the umbrella and he tugs you in a little tighter, sacrificing his shoulder to get wet. You both begin walking.

It’s light conversation over the rhythmic sound of raindrops on plastic, but it occurs to him that he’s never been around you alone. You still aren’t the warmest person, but you’re warmer now under the umbrella with him than you’ve ever been.

He’s actually kind of sad as you both arrive at your apartment building. “Do you want to come in? Wait for the rain to pass?”

His eyes bulge at the offer. “Oh, I shouldn’t. It’s late.”

“I don’t mind, really.” You look… nervous? “But I get it. It’s been a long week and you’re probably ready to rest.” That’s true and he’s kind of touched that you give that grace. He starts to lower the umbrella and close it to give it back to you but you push it back up over his head. “Keep it. Give it back to me another day. Get home safe, Seokmin.”

He does but he doesn’t get much rest, too confused about what you might think of him.

Four

He’s out at the bar with a few of the members. He knows you're here too, mostly because Vernon is here. You two come as a pair lately. However, he hasn’t seen you much tonight.

He excuses himself to go to the restroom and when he comes out, he finally sees you. There’s a guy crowding your space and you look anxious. His gut twists when he hears a plea to stop and leave you alone. He’s shoving the guy back before he can really think.

“Are you deaf?” Seokmin snaps. The guy is clearly drunk, wavering on his feet, but he looks pissed at the interruption.

“Back off, she’s mine.” The words come out in a slur, barely understandable.

Seokmin turns to you, where you’re cowering against the wall. He tries to be gentle in his question, but he’s angry. “Do you know him?”

“He’s my ex,” you choke out.

Seokmin turns back to the man. “The ex part makes it sound like you should leave. Go on.” Seokmin can see the swing the guy is going to throw from a mile away, so he shoves him back. As drunk as he is, he loses his balance and hits the wall behind him, sliding down onto his ass. Seokmin knows he isn’t hurt but he’s probably down for a minute, so he grabs your hand and tugs you out of the hallway and then out of the bar entirely.

You’re hyperventilating by the time you hit the sidewalk. Seokmin tugs you to the curb, making you sit. “It’s okay, Y/N. Just breathe for me.” He tries to soothe, rubbing your back but he hates the sight in front of him. He knows you aren’t the warmest person out there, least of all to him, but he never wants to see you suffer like this. He helps you wipe your tears and when you lean into his side with a sniffle, his heart lurches. “What was his deal?”

“My ex,” you start, even though he already knows that part. “Things didn’t end well. Well… things were never what I’d call good between us.”

“In what way?” He tries to ask lightly, but he saw the aggression and possessiveness in the guy’s eyes in that hallway. He also saw how you cowered and begged for him to stop, like you’d been there before and knew what was coming.

“It’s hard to talk about,” you say. It’s obvious you’re trying to dodge the question.

“Did he ever hurt you?” He sighs when you finally nod into his chest. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s terrible. You don’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I do.” You sniffle again. “I mean, I’m not the nicest person. I’ve made you think I hate you somehow.”

After only a beat, he pulls back to look at you, confusion painted on his face. “You don’t? Hate me, I mean.”

A watery laugh bubbles up your throat and you look amused by the question. “No, I never did. Your warmth is just intimidating sometimes. I’m not used to it. Vernon and Jeonghan have been trying to help me show you that I don’t hate you in little ways, but I don’t think it’s been very effective.” You sniffle again, looking down the street as traffic passes by. “Kind of stupid, isn’t it? I don’t know how to act when someone’s nice to me.”

Things are clicking into place fast for Seokmin. He laughs because he feels like an idiot for misinterpreting everything, for not observing more. “No, it’s not stupid. I’m sorry I misunderstood.” After a few beats of silence, he stands, holding out his hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

You smile up at him, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up from the curb. You even bite back a little giggle as he swings your arms when you walk. It’s nice. The warmth isn’t so scary now.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #seokmin

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strawb3rryscorpio · 1 year ago

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Saw your recent post saw a Dominic fike tag maybe dating headcannons?

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

most romantic mf on the planet. like i mean weekly date nights, flowers & gifts at random times. he insists he does all of that because he wants to make up for the time he spends in the studio so you can’t really complain with 2k hanging from your neck

pet names!!!!! and from the both of you. you will almost never call each other by your actual name. literally anything from babe, baby, love, sweetheart, honey.

backtracking to date nights. if it’s something more casual, you’ll catch a movie and then go out for dinner or you’ll walk around town and window shop. if it’s something formal though, you’ll get dressed up and eat out at a fancy restaurant and then explore the area afterwards talking about anything and everything.

he would get you to listen to his new music before anyone else. and in all honesty he only considers and trusts your opinion on what he should release.

you would be his number one supporter no matter what project he was working on. you’d attend as many shows as possible and watch from backstage or even in front of barricade, sometimes. you’d also go to visit him on set if he was filming something, which he really enjoys.

while on the topic of music, he is definitely the master of writing tacky songs and then playing them on the guitar. you both know it’s cringe and you can’t help but break into fits of laughter every time he does it but deep down you absolutely love it.

like he’ll notice you being upset and he’ll tell you to give him five minutes, and before you know it, he’s back and singing some lyrics about how beautiful you are and how he hates when you’re upset.

dumb arguments about dumb things are a given. whether it’s about a missing sweater or who has to do the dishes. no matter what though, he will be the first to apologize. (he’s for that princess treatment)

he’s also pretty jealous but not never in a toxic or harmful way. he knows his limits and he knows he can trust you but sometimes he cannot help but start imaginary beef with any man that makes conversation with you.

you’d be the IT couple at every event with your matching outfits every time!!! anytime you attend an event together the pictures end up blowing up on social media.

you’d be everyone’s favourite/comfort couple. every time you post some dumb tiktok with him, it’ll end up going viral with tons of likes and comments.

he’s very clingy and i stand by that. your doing laundry? he’s following you around. at an event? he’s trailing behind you. even to the bathroom. you’re running errands? he’s up and ready to go.

you’d assume the clinginess would get annoying at times, but you absolutely love it.

enjoying the most mundane activities together. like folding laundry, cooking, and doing your skincare.

he’s is 100% the type to say that a moment is cute out loud and ruin the moment. it makes you laugh out loud every time he does it.

you’ll be sitting out on the balcony smoking a joint and he’ll say something along the lines of, ‘this is like out of a movie’. you’ll laugh but you agree. ‘dom, when you say it out loud, it ruins it!’

while on the topic of smoking, you guys spend every saturday night out on the balcony smoking a joint or hitting a bong and just talking about random shit and giggling the entire time.

posting each other all the time. he’s always posting cute pictures of you on his story and feed and you’ll post cute pictures of you two together.

his family would absolutely adore you. you’d spend girls day with his little sister quite often. you and his mom would call each other often and catch up.

he’s really sensitive even though he might not seem like it. you always watch him closely at events or even during nights out with friends to see if anything is bothering him or if someone’s pissing him off. to you, he’s very easy to read and you know exactly what to do.

you are also so open with each other about every little thing. you’re the definitely the couple that tells each other the tiniest little details about your day. you’ll get texts from each other like ‘just ate an apple’, ‘i put chia seeds in my smoothie’. and just cute things like that.

bomb. ass. sex. do i even need to elaborate??? it’s just so good and keeps you both happy and the relationship super healthy.

super touchy too!! throughout the day he has to have a hand on your boob, thigh, over your shoulder, or on your hip. literally anywhere at all times.

being the ushy gushiest couple ever !!!

—————————————————

h speaks🪽: i am obviously speaking from experience. i hope you enjoyed and be sure to request anything you’d like!!! appreciate anyone who reads my work it means a lot 💝

#dominic fike #imagine #dominic fike x reader #fanfiction #euphoria #headcanon #sunburn #dontstareatthesun #dominic #writer #euphoria x fem!reader #elliot #elliot x y/n #elliot euphoria #elliothbo

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koolades-world · 12 days ago

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happy halloween!

hope everyone is having a great evening!! because of the upcoming festivities tonight, I decided to post this just a little earlier :) what's everyone else being this year? as i write this (october 27th) i am undecided between reusing an old alice from alice in wonderland costume, or diying a loofa costume using a dress i already have. will probably just go as alice haha. haven't worn it since i was 16 which is when it was made, but it should probably still fit!

it's up to you who you'll be matching costumes with so i made sure i left room in each character for that!

(psttttt boops welcome! if you boop me i will get you back. this is a threat)

Halloween with the om cast

Lucifer

the dadesque figure that walks around with everyone while they trick or treat

only there because mammon and diavolo begged

also only dressed up because the aforementioned two convinced him (he's wearing that stupid swimsuit of his and is calling it whatever mammon feels like introducing it as in that moment)

Mammon

100% goes as a pirate and his not so little trick or treat bag looks like a grim bag

is the dastardly, hated demon that takes the entire bowl when left with a note that says take one please

you help him curb this habit by threatening to withhold affections haha

Levi

he goes as ruri, of course. he already had it ready since he'd worn the cosplay in the past

he's insistent on being in character all night too! he loves halloween because is the one night a year where he can go out in public in cosplay and be normal

candy is a plus, but not a must. is more than willing to share with you

Satan

you once told him he'd make a cute librarian, so that's what he's dressed as this year

perhaps he's using this as an excuse to sit around all night and read

either way, he's having fun, but he could be convinced to go out with you with the promises of cuddles

Asmo

every year, he goes as a sexy something and you can't convince me otherwise. he's a sexy whatever you think is sexy this year haha

i feel like he'd usually be at a party, but since you wanted to go trick or treating, he'll go with you instead

you may have to cover the eyes of some young ones if parts of his costume start to give out as the night goes on...

Beel

he wears basically the same costume every year: a cheeseburger

now, i say 'basically' because he always ends up taking several large bites and needs to buy a new one, and they're always slightly different

the candy he collects is always gone by the time he gets back home

Belphie

he's the one that goes as himself almost every halloween

either he gets dragged along with wherever beel ends up going, or he stays back to help pass out candy

by that, i mean he naps near the candy bowl and accidently freaks out kids coming to get candy that don't see him

Diavolo

probably in a cheesy vampire costume and loving it

plastic teeth that are impossible to talk with in and all

he wanted to most authentic experience as possible, so he asked you for your experiences!

Barbatos

he's the one that hangs back at the HoL to hand out candy, since the little d's have the palace covered

however, he isn't lame enough not to be dressed up

i can't decide if he's the kind to slap on a cat ears headband and call it a day, or go all out and handmake a costume. you can pick :)

Simeon

linguini from ratatouille. i will be taking no questions at this time.

he made it himself! he also made luke and solomon's costumes

the other dadesque figure that takes his kids trick or treating, but is much happier about it then lucifer is

Luke

for some reason, he wanted to be a piece of cheese, so simeon and solomon decided to work with him so he looked less out of place

if he ends up going off with beel to trick or treat, they look like they intended to match too!

just, maybe go with the two of them to stop beel from taking a chomp out of luke's costume...

Solomon

holy shit he's in a rat costume (remy) to piss off barbatos, and when he gets grilled about it, he can just pass it off as matching with luke and simeon

and of course, barb doesn't want to ruin halloween for his son. solomon is going to have his ass handed to him tomorrow

Mephisto

thinks dressing up is stupid until his little brother begs him to dress up too

so, to make him happy, he goes as the prince to his brother's mini fire breathing salamander. not as a dragon slaying prince, a dragon friend prince (his brother's words)

to his surprise, he actually enjoys celebrating the holiday, especially with you and his brother

Thirteen

thought it would be funny to go dressed as what humans think the grim reaper is

plus, you bet she wouldn't so now she has to! it's actually quite cute on her

she doesn't hand out treats, she hands out tricks. including people who haven't asked trick or treat

Raphael

dressed as a hedgehog (if you get it, you get it)

half the people he meets asks what he's supposed to be, while the other half gets it instantly and chuckle about it

hey, at least he's trying and having fun!

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erwinsvow · 7 months ago

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i made a mood board on how i perceive your version of bitchy reader WHOM I LOVE SO MUCH. GIRL THAT WAS SO GOOD I CANT WAIT FOR MORE!! kisses for you 😋

just for fun ofc 🎀🎀

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THIS IS SO PERFECT!!!!!!!! babe how did you get the vibesssss yesssss omg the pic with the bows in the hair is exactly what I was looking at!!!! But oh my god I adore every part of this

100% has a yappy little dog who HATES rafe at first like almost bites him first time he goes to her house, cutie baddie outfits and when rafe is like “where tf u goin dressed like that?” she just rolls her eyes like wherever i want!!!! makeup on the floor of his room, he almost slips on a mascara tube not paying attention and she goes “you need glasses grandpa? watch where you’re going and gimme that back” and he’s like u almost just killed me. sarahs mean bestie 🎀 unfortunately so mean to the pogues :( if she haddddd to pick one it would be pope bc he used to tutor her and he was nice but he’s still a pogue so. rafes always maddddd as hell about it even tho it was like two years ago “why the FUCK do you have heywards number saved?” n her response is “dick appt. duh. don’t worry though not anymore now that i have urs !!” also rafe gets sooooo mad he tries to spank her to set her straight but it doesn’t work bc she likes it 🫶🏽

#I’m soooo sorry for the random paragraph I LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!#📮 asks #bitchy reader

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blade-liger-4ever · 1 month ago

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Why I'm not big into TFP Arcee

Now don't get me wrong, TFP Arcee is the only version of the character I'll ever give almost 100% respect. However, I'm really tired of all the gushing and praise she gets, and that's not counting how much I ended up hating her in S2. Now, admittedly, most of my beef with her is in her treatment of Smokescreen, but in light of @chaoticcreatorgardendean's points about her characterization in S1, I'll lightly tackle her problems there.

No worries, this - shouldn't, I hope - be as bad as my dressing down of Jack.

So, when Arcee is introduced, we're told in pretty rapid fashion that she's 1 an aft-kicker in her own right, 2 has a traumatic backstory that left her with a procupine-like exterior to everyone, and 3 that she's very much not all that caring. Yes, I clearly recall her protective streak with Jack; however, that came after she ditched housesitting duty in favor of blowing off steam on patrol. Right here, we see a couple of vices to Arcee's character: she's arrogant in how her skills are used (further emphasized with her arguing against being Jack's guardian), and that she is irresponsible. Face it, she knows better than anyone in the audience that Bulkhead's got a spine made out of chocolate when it comes to kids or pressure of any kind that's not from a Decepticon. To leave him in charge with Miko, the single most strong-willed being in this continuity after Optimus and Megatron, is so reckless and immature that it borders on stupidity. No, she didn't realize that Miko would join the battlefield, but it's pretty dang clear that Miko is a force of nature unto herself. Butter spines + Bombs of willpower = the Butter spines losing. That's just a fact, and it tells us that Arcee, while pretty and bad-butt, has many flaws.

Then comes her saga of arcs with Jack. Not only is she shown to be immature and hypocritical when the race episode comes up, but she also chafes/bites back at authority, even from Optimus. Don't forget, anytime Airachnid or Starscream/revenge was on the table, she flew off the handle and went straight for the kill, practically giving the finger to Optimus numerous times while doing so. Heck, I don't think Optimus even grounded her at base for her insubordination, and while that's kinda respectable insofar as Optimus not being harsh to his pseudo family, it's a tactical risk when letting Arcee's wrath and hatred go unchecked or even unpunished. No joke, Arcee continually almost got herself and others killed when she was greedy for revenge or offended by a bratty kid; the fact that she's not really punished (I'm not counting the race episode because she still disobeyed orders to make Jack look good for the stupid chick) at all is a writing and military failure on everyone involved. Letting her get away with this and not learning from her mistakes, when even Miko (who was also filled to the brim with rage and grief) knew after killing Hardshell that it didn't change what she felt/what happened, is - I don't even know how to categorize it.

Yeah, it's relatable that Arcee is like this, but it's stupid that she doesn't learn, not to mention dangerous for those who try acting like her. In real life, there would have been severe consequences for her actions but, since this is fantasy land where strong females can do whatever and walk away scot-free, a blind eye is turned to Arcee.

Now we come to my biggest problem.

Her treatment of Smokescreen.

I understand that his attitude/personality at first is gonna grate on her nerves, but even slow Bulkhead gave him a better wakeup call by saying what amounted to, "Look at me, kid. You really think war is easy and that you can just go in guns blazing and jump us closer to victory?"

Pits of Kaon, that was literally more thoughtful and thought provoking than Arcee's demeaning points. All she ever did was make him the butt of her own sarcastic commentary, pick on him with various condescending nicknames, and then lash out whenever he was already kicking himself for messing something up. Smokescreen held himself to high standards, an issue that Bulkhead knew and empathized with due to his own insecurities, and tried to comfort him and lift the burden from his shoulders. Smokescreen wouldn't take it because he knew he'd been the one to fail, and felt like a failure and dead weight whenever his presence didn't bring something good to the table. He never wanted it to be all about glory, or fame, or really anything superficial. He just wanted to prove his worth, carry his weight, and do his part.

But Arcee never or wouldn't see that. Instead, she just saw a kid with a supposedly inflated ego and chose to read him the riot act when he was already doing that to himself fourteen different ways from Sunday. She didn't care enough about Smokescreen to actually listen and think "Okay, that's what's going on in his head"; she just wanted someone who would "take things seriously" and was gonna verbally abuse him until he "got the message".

Sweetheart, if you want him to mature, you help him by guiding his steps, nurturing his virtues, and helping him up when he's fallen. You don't do it by telling him how much he stinks for not grasping the state of things in the time it takes to blink, or by kicking him when he's down. All that tells him is that he's a waste of time for the people he's dedicated his whole life to helping, which in turn will make him self-destruct. Now luckily, Smokescreen was of a stronger constitution, and therefore shook off the doubt and fear of ineptitude when faced with bigger problems, but if he were anyone else, who's to say he wouldn't have eaten a bullet out of despair? Arcee would've then had the blood of an innocent life on her conscience, and nothing could have made up for that.

I do, objectively, like TFP Arcee, especially compared to her alternate counterparts.

I just can't stand how she got off so easily so many times.

Well, hope y'all enjoyed this, even though I'm pretty sure I did worse to her than I anticipated.

Til next time -

"Roll out!"

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tf prime #tfp starscream #tfp megatron #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #tfp smokescreen #tfp arcee #tfp arachnid #tfp miko #tfp miko nakadai #miko nakadai #tfp jack #tfp jack darby #jack darby

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unstableforensicscientist · 5 months ago

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Okay these are the head cannons I have so far, and yes I will always add more 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Herbert West headcanonnons:

a gay or unlabeled trans man

also aroace

AuDHD

Hates loud noises or bright lights specifically

Clenches his jaw or grates his teeth when he sleeps

Rarely ever remembers to shower but also needs everything around him to be clean

Despises coffee but if he had to drink it, he would either drink it purely black and probably like the bottom of the coffee pot or so much sugar it’s insane

He secretly has a sweet tooth (PLS HEAR ME OUT ON THIS)

Literally only wears suits and will sometimes sleep in them

Doesn’t remember to take care of himself like ever

he loves compression socks (once again just hear me out)

He wears sock garters

smells like either mold/corpses or hand sanitizer, no in between.

he has two different handwriting, one that is like a mix of cursive and his normal in pen, and really shitty writing in pencil.

Rarely would ever care for music but he would occasionally go with classical

LOVES the rain/thunderstorms

Wanted to study archeology when he was younger (I’m projecting)

will go through math equations when he gets bored or stressed

Definitely stims, but specifically hand taps, leg taps, facial movements, and scrunching his hands or opening and closing his hands into a fist shape, or swaying/pacing.

He also Stims by breaking the fuck out of No.2 pencils and sometimes even pens if he’s stressed out/agitated enough

He fidgets with his tie and watch a lot, especially when he’s nervous, it’s one of the only ways you can tell he’s on edge

Either can’t sit still for hours or will be so silent/still you won’t notice he’s there.

Has a collection of encyclopedias that are really fucking old.

Will read fiction on very, and I mean VERY rare occasions. They will most likely be science fiction too.

Gruber was 100% a father figure for him.

Genuinely couldn’t give less of a fuck about your opinion on him unless you say something about his work.

did his own top surgery with perfect performance and had guidance from Gruber

Doesn’t drink much besides water or just well nothing, but will have some tea on occasion.

I also like the idea of him liking 7 up from the cut scene because it’s silly

used to wear socks with fun yet sophisticated designs on them in high school.

He definitely dressed like your average high school nerd when he was younger, suspenders and all.

Used to have glasses that would make his eyes look 10x bigger

His vision is absolute shit without his glasses, basically a male Velma.

also I think it’s silly to say he did ballet when he was younger (reference to the bride commentary)

used to have his hair a bit more shoulder length in high school

literally sleeps with one single pillow and a sheet. Also his bed feels like a rock when you lay on it. (He never fucking sleeps)

actually really enjoys nature and not just in the experimental environment way, but you would have to water board that info out of him.

Genuinely wants some kind of reptile as a pet.

he has so many random facts on the most niche things you could possibly not want know/hear about.

Genuinely likes the color green, but more of a forest green and not bright ass neon.

has gone camping ONCE.

has a specific routine for everything and will breakdown if it doesn’t go accordingly

never ever shows his meltdowns to anyone but himself

Has gone to the psych ward during his time in Switzerland after Grubers death

Doesn’t trust psychiatrists

this one I think is just funny to me but he has tried to read fiction with magic and shit and HATES IT. Read love craft and he had called that man out for his writing and bigotry so many times to Gruber and probably Dan.

Has the most manic laugh/giggle you’ve ever heard

smiles with his teeth if he’s being an asshole, almost like the Cheshire Cat, smiles with his mouth closed in a tight line when he’s sarcastic or annoyed, only has smiled genuinely like twice.

Hates showing emotions, even negative ones. He prefers to seem entirely neutral unless provoked

never looks himself in the mirror

hates going to the barber shop and prefers to cut his own hair

Literally cannot legally drive

Speed walks, he cannot walk at a normal pace ever.

Enjoys puns and jokes but only if he’s the one making them.

Death glares that could kill a man if it were possible.

thinks he’s very clever but sometimes he really is just stupid 🙁

thinks logically but not rationally

His morals are so fucking grey, like he has his lines he won’t ever cross but besides that, he does not give a fuck at all

He sits with his legs crossed or he sits like a bird perched on a branch, no in between

He either really loves or really hates small spaces

loves curling his body into himself or have his chested puffed out really proudly once again, no in between

He has SERIOUS back problems, and has kinda bad posture

He paces so much that it freaks Dan out sometimes

Talks to himself a LOT

If he lets himself relax, he often does crossword puzzles or just reads medical textbooks and highlights the misinformation in them

does actually care for Dan, just has a really hard and shitty way of showing it

Finds the realism art movement very interesting, and did a lot of research on Eakins to understand how to draw anatomy for his subjects

#jeffrey combs #reanimator #bride of reanimator #herbert west #80s horror #beyond reanimator #danbert #headcannons #headcanon

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atlafan · 1 year ago

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You fucked up again. Just when Harry thinks you've learned from your mistakes, you go and do something ten times as devious. Which is why he's giving you that same glazed over look, the one where he's concocting severe punishments. It's not anger, it's almost exhaustion. It's giving, "how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man" from Spongebob. But unlike last time when you accidentally pushed him too far, this was purposeful.

Harry has a grueling job. He works a lot of long hours, he has to deal with idiots all day long, and he cannot stand the other partners at his firm. You were his saving grace. You, who was working as a para-legal just to support yourself while you ran your online jewelry store, started assisting Harry. You'd pull the files he needed. You could type more than 100 words a minute. And you had been so innocent. Not naiive, not a prude, but you were blissfully ignorant, and Harry found that to be very cute. So, when you inevitably started hooking up after one too many long nights together, he opened your eyes to a whole new world of kinky sex. He was so serious about it, explaining that he needed someone to be rough and mean with, but also craving to take care of someone and spoil them with affection. And because he had made you come so hard you cried, you were hooked on him, so you went with it.

You've been together a year now, you live together, and you're thinking of maybe getting a dog soon. You don't report directly to Harry anymore, though. You assist another person in another department. It was the only way you two could date without it being a big deal for the firm.

Tonight is a big night. They're announcing the new junior partners, and since Harry is a senior partner, he gets to pin the two people he's been mentoring. He's actually pretty excited about it, or he was until he saw you step out of the bathroom and back into your shared walk-in closet. He's standing there, half dressed, frozen with fury as he watches you pick out which rings and bracelets you're planning to wear. You double take after seeing the look on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked innocently.

"I told you not to wear that dress." He responded lowly.

"You asked me not to wear it, and I never agreed or disagreed. You can't tell me what I can and can't put on my body, Harry."

"You're making me sound controlling, that's not what this is about. You know you look stunning and sexy in that goddamn red dress, and you know it drives me insane because I know for a fact that you're not wearing anything underneath it. That's why I asked you not to wear it. I saw you eyeing it the other day, I should have known."

"I can't wear underwear with this, the fabric is too clingy and I hate having panty lines. It's just a dress. Show some self control."

And that's when the look changed. You swallowed hard and tried not to falter under his gaze. He slowly stalks toward you, still half naked, his abs and other chiseled features fully on display.

"I have plenty of self control." He said as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "And you know better than anyone else that I love showing you off and letting everyone around us know that you're mine and mine alone and that they'll never know you or have you the way that I do." He brings his fingers up to squish the sides of your cheeks. "You have plenty of other dresses. I'd like you to go put a different one, and save this one for my eyes only."

"No." You say through your puckered lips.

"No?"

"No."

"That's final answer?"

"It took me forty-five minutes to get ready, I'm not starting over. The hair and the makeup go with the dress. I'm not changing."

He looked you up and down, smirked, then let you go. You watched him carefully as he pulled his shirt and suit jacket on. You weren't sure what he was going to do, but you're standing your ground on this.

"Babe?" He calls to you from the bedroom, so you leave the closet with your ruby clutch in hand and meet him by his dresser.

"Do you need help with your tie, sweetheart?" You ask ignorantly.

"No, I'm not wearing a tie tonight. I'm doing the open button thing, but thank you for offering. Pull up the skirt of your dress for me."

You furrow your brows but does as he says. He gets down on one knee and starts kissing up your leg. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and your stomach drops. He hears you gasp, and he looks up at you wickedly.

"I'm going to put this inside you."

"Harry, please, this is a work event, I can't have my come dripping down my legs."

"It won't be come because you won't be coming. I'm going to do as I please with this tonight." He turns the little egg-shaped vibrator on and holds his phone up next to it to pair to the Bluetooth. "Perfect. Alright, spread 'em." He looks up at you, his features turning softer. "Do you need your safe word? It's okay if you'd rather wait until we get home to be punished. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"No." You smile softly down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "I'm okay, daddy, go ahead."

He kisses the inside of your knee as he works the toy inside of you. He stands back up and taps one of the settings in the app to give you a test vibration to make sure it's working properly.

You're in for a long night.

What puzzled you most was that Harry hadn't done anything to you yet. He didn't turn the toy on in the car. And you've been at the party for an hour already, and he still hasn't done anything. The anticipation has been killing you. Maybe that was his plan all along. You see your boss and roll your eyes as he stuffs his face with shrimp from the raw bar. You hate him. Part of you wanted to wear your red dress tonight because you wanted to show that sweaty hog that he could look all he wanted, but he'd never be able to touch you.

It's when you're taking a sip of your martini while talking to some of the other paras that you feel the toy kick on. It's starts off with little pulsations, then moves along to steady vibrations. You pinch your thighs together as discretely as you can. You're starting to sweat, and you're starting to let little noises out. You're covering them with coughs and whatnot, but after ten minutes of this, you're starting to get uncomfortably wet. It's all so torturous because as good as it feels, you're not getting any external stimulation, which you need in order to come, so this is all just edging. And you love being edged, so even though it's torture, it's also the absolute best.

Harry knows this. He can see it on your face. You two lock eyes, and you pout at him, pleading. He can't resist you for long, not while you're wearing that dress. Before he can get to you, your boss approaches you, which makes Harry stop short. You had mentioned how he had been such a douchebag lately. He wants to watch the exchange.

"You look incredible." Your boss grinned.

"I know." You snap.

"What are you doing wearing a tight thing like that for? It leaves little to the imagination."

In your head, you don't see how that's true. It's a mermaid style halter with an open back, and the front is separated so you can just see the outline of of the inner parts of your breasts. But because it's a gown, there's an air of class to it. Your hair is up, plenty of pieces out in the front to frame your face. You look stunning. There are plenty of women at this party dressed similarly.

"Don't look at me too much, then." You respond after taking a careful sip of champagne. You're sweating while having that stupid toy inside you. You have to grit your teeth and pinch your nails into your palms to stay composed.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. I think you wore this to get my attention, not that you need help in that department."

"You're being inappropriate. I wore this for myself. I like the way I look in it. It's also one of Harry's favorites, so-"

"I can't believe you're still with that guy. He's like a lump on a log. He's only charismatic with his clients, you know?"

"We live together, so I'd like to think I know him pretty well."

"You deserve to be with someone that can make it so you never have to work another day in your life."

"I like working."

"No one likes working."

"I just said I like working."

"You like making jewelry. Wouldn't you rather do that full time?"

"I-" Your breath hitches when you feel the pulsations start to work in tandem with the vibrations. You're going to kill him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Your boss takes one of your hands, but before he can do anything else, Harry comes up and puts his arm around your waist.

"Bill, she really doesn't like it when you touch her. Look at her, she looks like she's going to be sick, so instead of continuing to make her more uncomfortable, why don't you just walk away. You get away with too many things here, but not for much longer."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you want to take it as one, be my guest." His grip on your hip tightens and you can't help but whimper. "Excuse us." Harry's hand moves to the small of your back to lead you out to the coat check room. He gets you in and locks the door behind you. "Are you alright?" He cups her jaw and looks you over."

"Yeah, th-thank you for getting me - shit - away from h-him." You grit your teeth and pinch your eyes closed, bracing your hands flat against Harry's chest. "Please, I can't...I can't take much more of this, it's been almost two hours."

"I know, and you've done so well for me. I'll turn it off and take it out if you tell me why you wore this even after I asked you not to. I know you can put whatever you want on your body. I just like it when you save certain things for me, for us."

"I hate my boss." You say, still bracing yourself against him. "He makes passes at me all the time. I just wanted to torture him a little, to let him know he'll never know what's underneath all this fabric."

"Sweet girl." He tilts your chin up so you'll look at him. "If Joe was being that big of a prick, why didn't you say something to me?"

"I don't want to run to you to fight all my battles for me. I need to be able to lean on myself."

"If he's sexually harassing you, then you should come to me so I can go with you to HR. You know they don't listen unless someone of higher rank complains. It's fucked up, but that's just how it is. I want the culture to change, but it's slow going."

"I know." You cry, almost feeling ready to drool from how worked up you are. "You're not one of the cogs in the machine, and that's one of the many things I love about you, Harry. I'm sorry I upset you by wearing this because I know you're only upset because you just want to rip it off with your teeth"

"That's right." He backs you up against the closest wall, not caring about any of the coats hanging up being knocked to the floor. He kisses you hard and hot, bending at the knee a bit to get a hand under your dress. He moans into your mouth as he slides his fingers through your folds. "You're soaked, beyond soaked."

"Please, daddy, please." You say breathlessly as he plays with you.

"You sound so good when you're begging. Keep going." He nips at your earlobe before licking and sucking at your neck.

"Please, take it out, daddy. Then you can fuck me in here and I'll do whatever you say."

"You'll need to be quiet. I'll have to stuff the toy into your mouth." He brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and you nod. "Need your safe word?"

"No, god no."

He smirks and pulls the toy out of you, pressing down on the button to turn it off. He whimpers when he feels so much of your slick drip out. He puts the toy inside his own mouth first, moaning at the taste of you, then he puts it into your mouth. He hikes your dress up and immediately gets his middle and ring fingers inside of you. You whine around the toy and clutch at the lapels of his jacket as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, beating into your g-spot. The heel of his palm works to ground down against your clit, making your head roll back. He sponges kisses to your throat as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Your eyes burst open when you feel yourself start to get close. You're going to explode, and you're all of a sudden worried about ruining the jackets in this closet.

"Don't you dare hold back on me. Fuck the jackets, baby, make a mess." He growls, pounding into your harder.

You're moaning uncontrollably around the toy. You start gushing with his fingers still inside of you, and he doesn't let up. You're coming hard and it feels like it's going to be never ending. This is why you like being edged. You'll take a solid sixty-second orgasm over a ton of little quick ones. Harry slows down his pace, weaning you off of him, before taking his fingers all the way out. He sucks them into his mouth as he fixes your dress. He takes the toy out of your mouth and stuffs it into his jacket pocket while you take his fingers to lick and suck on.

"My good girl." He coos, caressing her cheek. "My good, fucking girl." He catches a glimpse of his watch and sucks his teeth. "Shit, we need to go back to the main room. The pinning is going to start soon."

"Okay, just, let me catch my breath." She says. "Daddy, is my makeup all fucked?"

"Only a little." He wipes under your eyes for you. "Still gorgeous as ever."

"Thank you." You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight. He holds you close, giving you gentle kisses and whispering sweet words into your ear. "Thank you." You whisper. "Can we go home after the pinning?" You ask as he opens the door and you walk out of the coat check room.

"Eager for daddy's cock?" He grins.

"Always."

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #mine #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #blurb #harry styles blurb

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harry-styles-obsessed · 9 months ago

Text

Story does include smut. Minors do not interact with this post, thank you.

Trigger warnings: description of near assault/ bullying, age gap, dominant, dark Harry (kinda?), praise, dad! Harry, younger reader (early 20s), body image issues, self esteem issues… reader is just incredibly insecure… everything that goes hand in hand with that basically— and lots of smutty stuff! This will be kind of slow burn!! Long story so get comfortable! Also please read with discretion lovelies. You all matter.

This story was requested but the requester asked to remain anonymous so I will not be mentioning anything about their request but please to anyone out there struggling with any type of body imagine problems please PLEASE know you’re absolutely beautiful and I hope one day you will see that.

Harry x plus size Inexperienced fem! Reader (Harry is not famous in this story)

Make you mine

"You cannot be serious Anna"

Your voice was annoyed and frustrated "oh I'm deadly serious”

You throw a glare directly at Anna who's grinning at you mischievously "you’re unbelievable. I’ve got work to focus on anyways so… no.” You murmur a flush of red appearing upon your already reddened cheeks. You didn’t do parties. You didn’t like parties. Full stop. Parties were where bad things happen and you were not planning on getting involved with that type of shit.

"Don't change the subject! Y/n please... PLEASE. You know it'll be fun!! Plus Jamie is fine as hell... his tattoos and shit like-" you felt annoyance spread throughout you your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose "alright alright! Fine.. whatever. I'll come with you to your friends stupid party." You mutter rolling you eyes watching out of your peripheral as Anna does a little happy dance, before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck

"Thank god! Now we've got to choose your outfit. That red dress looks real good on you." She spoke suddenly sporadically searching through your wardrobe making you roll your eyes. She cannot be serious. Going to a party is one thing but dressing up with zero body confidence is another thing.

“Anna.” You spoke in a warning tone, fear and worry spreading across your features “I am not skinny. Im not even pretty. I don’t have your body confidence!” You didn’t feel beautiful whatsoever. You felt like an absolute failure and mess most of the time. You just felt ugly. Sure Anna would beg to differ but she was your best friend, of course she would boost you up. You hated the way you looked it made you feel sick... you hated your body. You hated yourself. You hated everything to do with yourself. “Y/n! Enough. You’re beautiful. Keep talking shit and I might just have to get a handsome guy to show you how perfect you really a-“ “NO. Anna. Oh my god gross— no.”

You say exasperated as you plop down onto the bed, laying down- your arms dangling just above your head as you breathe quietly hearing hangers clattering together as your best friend continued viciously searching through your wardrobe.

Jamie Goodman was.... Something else. He was annoying. The class clown basically. He used to be in your tutor group in school and he just had to fucking follow your path to college classes and annoy you further. Anna thought the world of him and you were almost 100% certain that they had slept together once or twice.

"Found it!!" Anna cheered spinning around with the red dress held in her hands grinning widely "c'mon put it on! I want to get there early!" She spoke and you squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling. You loved Anna. She was your best friend, you adored her, but god could she get so fucking annoying sometimes. She made you want to rip your hair out but... she wouldn't be your best friend if she didn't do that occasionally.

"I cannot believe you made me agree with you" you mutter before standing up yanking the dress from her hands, stripping off your clothes as she too began getting changed into an outfit far too revealing- a tank top that was more like a bra top. And short shorts, her entire stomach and rib cage exposed along with her long legs. Gods to have her confidence and carelessness…

"Might want to pack condoms." You speak to her, hearing the shifting of material pause as she glances at you brows raising before a slight laugh leaves her lips "I'm on the pill, babes. Chill." She smiled assuringly and you sigh shaking your head. You and her were complete opposites- her full of confidence however you were a mess. No confidence. No body confidence... no dates... no boys... you’ve never had a first kiss or even had a man touch you before... you’ve never been intimate with anyone before— ever. And quite honestly you were afraid to even experience it.

—

“Come on!!”

Anna shouted from downstairs and you stood up after contemplating your life decisions— spraying your perfume all over yourself leaving your face bare from any makeup. You didn’t want any advances being made upon you just because you looked a bit different with makeup on... although you highly doubted that would ever happen. No man wanted to touch you. If for a dare they would but not for any other reason. Or so you thought.

You jog downstairs to where Anna is keys in hand before she smiles grabbing onto your hand and dragging you out of the home intertwining her fingers with yours "it'll be fun girl. Loosen up."

The drive there was fairly fast and you had almost twenty minutes to spare. "We're here too early." You spoke but Anna only shook her head grabbing a present from the back and you raised your brows "it's Jamie's birthday. That's why we were both invited...." your lips parted eyes widening Anna laughing, “you shouldn’t told—“

"Shh y/n. Don't worry. Here." She then shoved a smaller wrapped present into your hands winking at you as relief wrapped around your body. Thank fuck.

You then got out of the car with her, walking with her towards the front door, the door being opened by the familiar dirty blonde who quickly pulled Anna into his embrace hugging her for a little too long to be “just friends” before his eyes turned to you and he smiled. genuinely.

"Didn't think you'd come, y/n. But glad to see you here." He spoke and without even hesitating he pulled you in for a hug your eyes widening at the sudden hug shared between the two of you. You hugged him tenderly, awkwardly almost— not entirely knowing how to act.

"Anna persuaded me. But c'mon.. how could I not come see the birthday boy." You smile awkwardly after pulling back, soon holding the present out for him to take his baby blues smiling as he smiled taking the present from you "well nonetheless- glad you could make it. And thank you… I appreciate it.” You only nod not saying anything else, a slight nervous smile remaining on your lips— Anna purposely elbowing you in the ribs to attempt to loosen you up more her eyes saying it all.

Jamie was way different without all his friends around... he was kind. Real. Genuine. How strange... "c'mon let's go into the living room. We can watch a movie before the others arrive. Would you girls like a drink?"

—

A while passed before eventually more people were filing in, you remained sat on the sofa drink of Pepsi in your hand as you took occasional nervous sips. Anna had been whisked away by Jamie and you were certain they were creating the slight banging noises coming from upstairs... and well... that said something didn't it?

You grimaced just at the thought before shaking your head clearing your throat before you decided to stand up, the living room becoming a major crowded area and so you feeling your anxiousness grow quickly left the area, walking around for a bit before finally stopping stood just in the doorway to the kitchen your fingers grasping onto your Pepsi tighter as you took more sips from it. You exhaled softly leaning into the doorway slightly your brows creasing as you stared at a mixture of young adults and what looked to be literal 16 year olds dancing together... what the fuck? That's not creepy at all… however that became the least of your worries as you suddenly felt a rather warm presence behind you, your stomach fluttering anxiously,

"Excuse me"

You quickly turn around expecting a teenager only to come face to face with dad-like material. Old enough to be a dad... he wasn't a teenager. Your mouth was working faster than your brain as you only managed to stammer over a word before finally backing up "I'm so sorry..."

You smile nervously allowing your eyes to scavenge the man— he had piercing green eyes. Beautiful chestnut brown hair that had slight curls to it on the top and a beautiful smile that showed two pretty dimples. Tattoos were layered up and down his skin, a butterfly one seeming to be on his chest from what you could see. He wore a loose fitting shirt that was unbuttoned at the top revealing some of his toned chest. He was... god like.

"No need to apologise, love." He assured with a smile as he went to walk past you, shoulders brushing momentarily before he stopped glancing over his shoulder looking back at you “you look a bit young to be here..."

He spoke some sort of amusement in his eyes not revealing whether he was toying with you or being genuine. Shyness wrapped around you momentarily before you soon answered in an attempt to stick up for yourself— "I'm twenty two, sir." You speak politely the man fully turning so his body was facing you "you look a bit old to be here." You soon retort as he doesn't respond, instead only raising a brow as if pushing the idea of you telling little white lies to him. "Call me Harry."

"You look a bit old to be here, Harry." You rephrase

His eyes glinted with amusement before he cleared his throat "got off work... decided to come have some fun."

You narrow your eyes at him as if showing you didn’t believe him but really you were poking fun at him… exactly what he was doing with you. “What do you do for work?" You ask noticing the palpable tension that was between you and him. It only seemed to be growing more intense as the seconds went by.

"Surgeon"

He spoke simply and you raised your brows "like plastic surgery? Butt lifts and-"

"No." His words were light and airy as he laughed shaking his head "reconstruction surgery."

"Reconstruction?”

“There seems to be an echo in here.” his tone was playful but still nonetheless he nods to confirm your question but he still saw the curiosity on your face "say someone gets into an accident or— a kid falls off their bike let's say he wasn't wearing any protective gear apart from a helmet. No sleeves. No knee pads... no nothing... if he hits the road and skids down it, his skin is either going to be red and sore or his skin is going to be torn off. There's no exact way we can put that dirty infected and broken skin back onto him so we have to reconstruct the skin somehow..."

Your brows raise in interest "so like take it from somewhere less obvious? The leg.. or something?" You speak and he nods taking a sip of the beverage in his ring covered hand,

"Yeah. I mean my job is to simply make the skin look top condition... in the end it doesn't matter where the skin comes from. If it can stretch far enough to cover the wound then you know... it's good enough."

You hum in response clearly rather interested before you smile "that's interesting..." you study him carefully trying to figure him out. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you but Harry seemed to beckon a different side out of you…

"I didn't think a surgeons "thing" was parties..." you soon murmur

"There's a lot of things you don't think, love. If I remind you quickly we've only just met..." his emerald eyes twinkled with amusement brows raised as he smirked.

Your cheeks immediately flush red and you stare at him slightly dumbfounded a nervous smile forming on your face "sorry" you giggle out Harry only shaking his head as he smiled "I'm just kidding. But you're right... parties aren't places surgeons often involve themselves with.. me particularly" he admitted and just as you were about to say something, a different voice cut mine off— “Hey dad can we order pizza?" Your eyes immediately move to the voice. Jamie. His hair slightly dishevelled some red marks left on his neck. Wonderful. But that barely mattered anymore as you looked at who he was talking to… harry. Your heart immediately stops in your chest. Jamie's dad was Harry. The man you were flirting with. That wasn’t flirting though was it? Your stomach flutters nervously. This absolutely was not happening no way…. Your cheeks were a crimson red colour, your eyes slightly wide and your lips slightly parted and god were you glad Harry’s attention wasn’t on you anymore.

"Jamie there's pizza in the fridge. As your mother said, we cannot afford takeaway right now. Remember?" His voice snapped me back out of your thoughts as you focused back on the handsome man, eyes flicking to look at Jamie.

"But dad there's like 80 people here!" He exclaimed Harry's face remaining calm and unfazed "who invited them?" He spoke Jamie's brows arching "you cannot be serious! Oh my god!" The boy yelled before storming off not saying anything else. Childish much? At this old age? Talking to his father like that? Wow the disrespect.

You look back at Harry only when he speaks— "sorry for his behaviour." He spoke as you remained shocked "it's okay... but... I didn't realise you were his dad..." you admit and he smiles slightly "he took his mothers last name. His mother and I are divorced, you see… he doesn’t exactly like that his mother has gone out for a pamper evening and has left me to look after him.” He explained— so Jamie really did have daddy issues? Huh. Your lips part slightly as you realise what he was saying "oh... that makes sense... i- uhm... wow."

Harry nods "Jamie still holds a grudge against me. It's diff-" harry cuts himself off realising what he was saying to his sons friend before he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose "I apologise... uh..." your eyes snap back up to his eyes from roaming across each of his tattoos “Y/n…” you speak with a small smile "I'm sorry y/n... you've come here to party and-" the way your name rolled off of his tongue so perfectly drove you insane and you weren’t sure why. "No sir..." "Harry." He cuts you off making your cheeks flush red "sorry, no Harry. I came here not on my own accord..." you let out a nervous laugh. "My friend begged me to come. I didn't really want to be here anyway so... it's okay. You're far more interesting than this party anyways." You speak soon realising how weird that sounded your eyes widening, Harry quickly catching on as he let out a small chuckle that sounded like honey to your ears— waving one hand at you to signal you not to worry. Dismissing your concerns. "Don't worry. I know what you mean."

You smile feeling the conversation become dry and although you didn't want to leave you knew you should best go find Anna. "I'll see you around, Harry." You speak with a small smile and he nods his head at you "yes you will. I'll see you around, y/n." He tilted his head at you and you smiled before quickly leaving to go and find Anna. As you made your way through all the dancing bodies your eyes finally locked on Anna who seemed to be totally black out drunk. Already. Great! Another time where you had to look after her for her stupid decisions. Her eyes immediately found yours and she practically jumped up and stumbled towards you, lips smushing against your cheek leaving a nice red lipstick mark “Anna you’re so drunk… you really don’t know when you stop.” You murmur to her, watching Jamie drunk too but sensible enough to remain vigilant assuring you that he could deal with her. You were unsure but eventually accepted it walking back to the kitchen and grabbing another drink, sticking to yourself yet throughout the entire night you felt eyes on you… which was an extremely rare occurrence. But this night— someone couldn’t keep their eyes off of you. He couldn’t.

The night continued on, you didn’t touch a drop of alcohol but eventually nearly everyone was filing out and just as you were about to go and find Anna again a cold hand grabbed a hold of your wrist yanking you harshly back into the kitchen where you were roughly slammed against the kitchen counter a pair of dark brown eyes meeting yours— your breath hitched your eyes wide, drink that was once in your hand now on the floor the liquid spilling out of it,

“You’re so pretty…”

The boys wandering hands began groping at your body “p-please get off of me.”

“P-p-p-p… scaredy cat. Never been touched by someone before hmm?”

Hi words were vile and cruel making your stomach churn. “I—“ you tried to gather your thoughts “I don’t even know you! Get off of me!” “Well my names Evan and your name is Y/n. Correct? You know me just fine babe..” a low chuckle left his lips your eyes widening further as you felt his hand suddenly trailing further down your body,

“Somebody hel—“

“Shut up!” His hand clamped over your mouth as he glared into your eyes “don’t you want to not be a virgin anymore? Isn’t that embarrassing? But it makes sense doesn’t it. Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately?” His words are cruel amusement flickering in his dark eyes your breathing growing laboured as tears formed in your eyes “what? Babe I’m telling you the truth don’t you get that? I just want to help—“

“What the fuck is going on here?” The sudden voice made both yours and Evan’s head snap towards the door the once horrible guy now stumbling back, eyes wide as his eyes remain upon Harry. Your breathing trembled, hands shaking “nothing” “nothing? It didn’t look like nothing.” Harry spat out taking intimidating steps towards Evan “I have half the mind to break your jaw…” “you’d be arrested” Evan spat back, Harry raising his brows “on what terms? Self defence? I saw you touching her. I saw her cry. I heard her scream for help whilst you covered her mouth. Now that isn’t very consensual now is it?” You watched with horrified eyes as Harry was now eye to eye with Evan not touching him whatsoever but the clear domination he had, had Evan pressed into the wall looking scared out of his mind “but you’d be arrested. Assault. bodily harm. Sexual assault… I doubt you’d want to find out anymore of the charges you could face… isn’t that correct Evan?”

But before Evan even said anything the once confident asshole had ran straight past Harry, practically shitting himself.

Harry’s jaw was clenched, tempted to go after him but decided not to knowing he had better things to worry about. You. He attempted to calm himself down before he eventually looked towards you noticing how you remained against the counter— still trembling “y/n…” he took a slow advance towards you and your breath hitched “hey… it’s me. It’s all alright.” His tone was softer than before, extending his hand out towards you his concern clear, and before either of you could’ve prepared yourselves you had practically slammed yourself into him arms wrapped securely around his waist, your fingers curled into the material of his shirt as you trembled his tall figure towering over you as he peered down at you, shaking in his embrace, scarred… he secured both arms around you and pulled you closer to the point your face was smushed completely into his chest the smell of his strong expensive cologne drifting into your senses… he smelt like heaven.

His hand slowly traced up and down your back in a soothing manner. “You’re okay, y/n.” His voice was assuring as he kept a tight grip on you attempting to console you as best as possible yet you refused to let him see your face, remaining practically glued to him. “Is there someone you’d like me to call? Someone to take you home?” He questioned but he didn’t get a response out of you, you were shutting down completely as a flight or fight response. He however didn’t push you, instead wrapping his arm around you again as he began leading your half aware self upstairs walking you into the guest bedroom of the large house— closing the door behind the both of you before he sat you down, your shaking hands rushing to grab onto him again scared he was going to leave…

“I’m here y/n. Right here.” He exhaled softly sitting beside you on the bed, his large hand resting upon your shoulder gently— thumb caressing lightly against the material of your dress his eyes watching the top of your head, you refused to look at him and that saddened him. “Hey…” he reached his free hand out towards you finger pressing underneath your chin as he guided you to look at him your eyes filled to the brim with tears “h-harry..” you whimpered his eyes softening and he without even thinking pulled you in close “I’m here. I’m right here…” “please don’t leave.” He silently shook his head and exhaled softly before he kicked his shoes off, the thump of each one landing on the ground making you realise your friends friend dad was sharing a bed with you… to comfort you of course.

Harry leaned back, tattooed arm being quick to pull you close giving you no choice as he simply pulled you on top of him “i— too heavy—“ you breathed out shakily but that didn’t stop the man from pulling you onto his chest, arms tightly wrapped around you “nonsense. Relax.”

Those two words were the only words he spoke to you, forcing you to relax against him, his hand trailing up and down your back soothingly making sure to give you all the comfort possible. He held you tight not daring to let go of you, his eyes constantly checking on you until he believed you were asleep your breathing much more calmer and quiet, but despite the fact that he knew he could leave… he didn’t want to.

9PM slowly rolled to 11PM until it was 4AM— Harry was still wide awake, eyes however slightly hooded his breathing slow and quiet along with yours. You hadn’t stirred at all you remained silent, Harry stayed convincing himself it was because he was worried you would have a nightmare but he knew it was much more than that. Much more. His eyes tiredly focused on the red digital clock 4:15AM… he never called in sick for work— ever. But if he had to, to look after you then he would. He had spent the time you were asleep trying to figure out his feelings, telling himself how wrong it was… but you ignited something within him. Something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Harry”

Your morning voice was cute somethings harry noticed immediately. “Y/n.” He responded, voice deep but soft his voice confirming he had stayed there for you. He had protected you… something no other guy had done for you… “what time is it?” You ask him groggily as you slowly force yourself to sit up, Harry’s arms unwrapping from around you “4:19” he spoke simply and you rubbed your eyes letting out a quiet groan your head pounding from the events of last night. You were now sat on top of him, slightly straddling him— innocently so Harry’s eyes searching your face tiredly his hands lazily grasping onto your hips mindlessly. “Can I ask you something personal?” You soon question him, his brows arching flawlessly as he tries to figure out what exactly you meant but nonetheless he nodded his head. “Do guys really not like fat girls?”

The question clearly alarmed him, his eyes readjusting on you before he furrowed his brows “what makes you say that?” He murmured quietly “what he said last night… or what he was hinting at. The reason I haven’t lost my virginity yet is because I’m too fat.” Harry stares blankly for a moment or two before he blinks his eyes a bit of surprise lingering on his face not expecting you to be so honest with him seeing as you had only met last night…

“Y/n that was a boy. A boy looks for magazine cover girls… skinny… big boobs big butts— fake. Edited. A man looks for what’s on the inside. A pretty smile. A pretty personality. What’s on the inside… sure people will have their own preferences…. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. Because you are.” His eyes remain glued to yours, searching your face for any look of doubt which he could shut down immediately but there was none detected… only surprise. “I’m beautiful?” He nods silently to confirm your shocked question, a smirk forming on his lips making his dimples appear and your breath hitches as you search his face and in those moments you finally realise the position you were in— legs straddling him, hands touching lightly against his chest your eyes widening slightly “I’m so sorry I-“ “stay.” His voice was stern green eyes staring into yours “what?” Your voice is shocked yet again and he smiles

“Be a good girl and stay.”

You felt your heart pounding wildly in your chest your eyes searching his face “you’re beautiful, y/n… you want to know something?” His hands remain resting upon your hips and you nod hesitantly “yesterday when I met you… I was certain you weren’t as innocent as they say you are… but maybe you are… have you ever touched yourself before?” His words leave you shocked, your cheeks furiously heating up as you stare at him shocked “w-what?” “Have you ever touched yourself?” Your breath hitched feeling him rub soothing circles into your hips your eyes searching his face certain he was toying with you…. To make you feel some sort of hope… or maybe he just felt bad for you and at that thought your heart dropped “Harry I— I don’t need your sympathy please… I—“

“Who said anything about sympathy y/n? Have you touched yourself before? A simple question.” His words made a hot fever like wave flush into your stomach a shaky breath leaving your lips “yes… but…” your mouth got as dry as a bone as you attempted to wrack your brain to not say something stupid. “But…?” He coaxed delicately your eyes snapping to meet his again “but I can’t get what I want.” He quirks a brow and you knew that he knew what you meant. He wasn’t stupid. “It’s embarrassing—“ “oh no it’s not.” His large hand caresses against your cheek, finger tips soon curling around the nape of your neck as he began pulling you closer to him until you were practically inches away from one another…

“It’s okay y/n.”

You search his eyes nervously and he smiles a slight twinkle in his eyes making your stomach flutter with butterflies “life is a learning curve…”

You stare at him expectantly, confused, watching as he smiled “you just haven’t had the right teacher.” His words made your stomach leap as your breath caught in your throat… what did that mean? He was going to teach you? But before you could’ve even asked he had sat himself up, back against the headboard— lips finding yours in a deep sensual kiss his fingers pressed against the nape of your neck keeping you still the kiss getting deeper, more passionate, leaving you breathless— you weren’t even sure you were doing it correctly, Harry pulling back momentarily to look at you “Harry I don’t know how to do this.”

“Don’t worry, love.” His tone was reassuring as he smiled calmly at you. “Just follow my lead.”

His lips attached to yours again his kiss making you dizzy. It was addicting. His hands trailed up and down your sides delicately, before his hands carefully began prying at the hem of your dress guiding it further and further upwards before finally removing it from your body his eyes studying you. He looked at you as if you were a supermodel…

“Lay down.”

His tone was demanding but you still did so. Getting off of him and laying down, left only in your bra and underwear which was highly vulnerable for you but you tried not to stress too much.

He got onto his knees, the bed creaking slightly as he adjusted himself over you, his lips pressing against yours gently as he began kissing down your neck— sucking slightly every so often hearing the sweet sounds that left your mouth “that feel good hm?” You nodded your head gently the simplicity of him kissing your neck drove you absolutely wild your stomach in knots but it felt good. He began trailing kisses down your body, lips pressing softly against your tummy insecurity immediately getting the best of you as you whined attempting to cover up “hey..” he strict voice grabbed your attention “you’re beautiful.” He spoke making you remove your hands which were nervously remaining close to your body. He eventually continued to leave kisses all over until eventually he had reached your thighs his eyes flicking up to meet yours “get comfortable.” He spoke simply watching you grab a few pillows before you laid down comfortably “good girl.”

He peered down just between your thighs— closing his mouth as he sucked in a sharp breath as the sight of you before him… all for him. To devour. To ruin. To make sure you knew your worth… all. For. Him. “If you want me to stop at any point. We can. Understood?” He spoke watching you nod “use your words, Angel.” “Yes Harry.” You spoke shakily and he smiled. Boundaries were always good to have in place. He wanted you to know that you were allowed to have boundaries. You felt the sensation of your panties being slid down your legs, exposing your heat to him— using one single finger to trace up and down your slit a shiver running directly down your spine a low whimper leaving your lips “feels good hm” your breath only hitched no words leaving your mouth as the odd but wonderful sensation soon becomes your favourite thing. His finger didn’t linger too long in any specific place— sliding up and down before mercilessly toying with your clit. Pointer finger delicately tracing around the bud whines and moans leaving your lips as he watched your every reaction as if he was taking an image of the moment in his mind. Not wanting to forget it. “That’s it relax… relax for me y/n.” He praised delicately watching how your body relaxed further into the bed his tongue soon adding to the pleasure, flicking over your clit and all over your body shaking with the new feelings erupting throughout you “feel good angel?”

“Yes sir” a cry of pleasure leaves your lips and for the first time Harry didn’t correct you— instead he smirked, tongue lashing more fervently against your heat.

As your body began to squirm his large hands grasped onto your thighs, holding your still keeping you down for him as he continued flicking his tongue all over your core. “A-ah harry..” you cried out your back arching up off of the bed as an unfamiliar feeling surrounded you— tingles running up and down your body “that’s it… that’s it… oh such a good girl…” incoherent whimpers of his name left your lips until eventually your first orgasm ripped throughout you— Harry moaning, the sound of his moan enticing something within you a look of pride within his eyes “good girl.” He smiled genuinely as you panted, attempting to calm yourself down. He repositioned himself on his knees his hand beginning to trace up and down your arm slowly and carefully soothing you, allowing you to catch your breath your hands working before your brain as you reached out towards his jeans— his ring covered hands immediately stopping your hands,

“Ah ah impatient our we?”

A smirk tugged at his lips “please.” You spoke and he studied you carefully “tell me.” He spoke tenderly “tell me what you want to do?” One hand traced up to your cheek which he caressed gently, thumb brushing over your lower lip delicately “make you feel good…” you murmured softly Harry quirking a brow at your innocence but he decided not to pry. Instead he nodded “are you sure?”

He watched you nod your eyes meeting his again “you’re my teacher right?”

He smirked slightly and let out a low chuckle before he only nodded. Allowing you to undo his jeans as he leaned back. His length was hard— his hand immediately beginning to rub up and down your eyes watching him carefully “see what I’m doing?” He spoke, you nodding. “You do that.” You slowly took over your hand beginning to pump up and down, his head leaning backwards eyes rolling into the back of his head slightly and the more comfortable you got the more quick your pace grew “you’re doing it darling… you’re doing great.” He praised breathy moans continuing to leave his lips— he continued guiding you until his hand was in your hair, helping you as your mouth began hollowing out around him, tongue swirling around the tip— doing everything almost naturally Harry’s groans and moans growing louder

“Fuck y/n your mouth feels so good… fuck!”

His grip tightened on your hair helping move your head up and down until eventually his cock twitched and his orgasm wrapped around him his moans gravelly and beautiful driving you insane making you want more… desperate for more… greedy for more… and as he pulled you up and off of him by the hair his eyes were glazed over with hunger “fuck… you felt so fucking good.” He spoke clearly feeling the same. Just as hungry for more his hand coming to caress against your cheek lightly your eyes showing your hunger into which his thumb stroked against your lower lip “next time.” Next time? His eyes searched your face and he smirked slightly “next time when we’re alone in the house I’ll teach you some more.. but for now… we don’t want to get caught do we?” He smirked slightly before shaking his head chuckling slightly “you did so good.” He pulled you in for a light kiss a little confident grin tugging at your lips…

“Learnt from the best.” You whispered his green eyes glowering into yours as he grinned keeping a hold on you… it was very clear neither of you were forgetting each other anytime soon.

I hope this was okay and you enjoyed it! I kinda just went with the flow rather than with an actual idea in my head so I hope it isn’t awful… I haven’t written smut in a while so excuse it if it’s bad… anyways more stories coming hopefully soon! Thanks for reading loves!!

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