#i actually really like how this turned out! more vibrant than i wanted but still good ❤️
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quick 1h painting of metus ❤️🌟
#rat's art#rataticaisdreaming#I JUST REALIZED I PAINTED THE WRONG JEWELS 😭 he has pointy ones not round 😔#anyways#i actually really like how this turned out! more vibrant than i wanted but still good ❤️#love those jewels mmm yummy jewels 💖#i love to see him in the void because why you there what are you plotting? 🤨#gotta drop the lore someday 🤔❤️#or just write the comic 🤷#oc#original character#protectors of dreams#metus
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Please. Tommys helicopter crashing while him and Buck are still broken up? That would be such great drama.
You know what I want? I want Buck to get mad. He has yet to actually get mad at a love interest. He's been hurt and confused, but I want him to get angry. I want him to go out and fuck like he's getting revenge on Tommy, even though he's the one who got left behind again, and I want him to convince himself he's absolutely fine. Eddie can see it, of course. Bobby and Maddie and all the people who love him can see that he's not fine, but I want Buck to pretend he is like he'll die if he doesn't. He deletes Tommy's name from his contacts and dumps all his stuff in the trash and erases his existence from his life like he's nothing more than yesterday's news.
I want this to continue through the rest of the season, long enough that both the characters and the audience start to think that maybe Buck is fine after all. Maybe this whole thing with Tommy was just a mistake, a hiccup. Maybe Tommy was right and saw writing on the wall that Buck didn't. Maybe he was smart by getting out when he did because Buck doesn't cry. He doesn't vent to Eddie, or show up on his doorstep like a kicked puppy. He lives fast and vibrant, and shows up to work covered in hickeys and lipstick and other people's cologne, and if Tommy really was as transformative of a love as he believed he was, shouldn't he be devastated?
Anyway.
Fast forward to the season finale. Athena has been following a case of corporate corruption where an auto and aeronautics manufacturer has been exposed for using faulty parts in their vehicles that have resulted in auto collisions and deaths across the country. None of this really concerns or interests Buck at all, if he's being honest. He fixes his own car for the most part (Tommy showed him how) and that which he can't do, he takes to his usual mom-and-pop mechanic for them to work on. Which is to say that, his life consists of sex and work, so news reports of [Same Company] being responsible for a Cessna crashing in Northern California don't really filter through.
Not until the 118 is called to a helicopter crash just outside of Los Angeles.
Even then, Buck doesn't think about Tommy. Why would he? Tommy Kinard is barely even a memory at this point, just an idea on the edge of his brain, an almost that was quickly buried. Helicopters crash all the time, so he has no reason to believe there's anything out of the ordinary about this one. But then when they're en route, Maddie's voice comes over the radio, tight with emotion and forcibly professional in a way that makes him immediately nauseous: Captain Nash, please be advised that the helicopter in question is one of our own. It's an LAFD chopper. Then, Hen and Eddie and Chimney and Bobby all turn to look at him, and Buck has nowhere to run from their gaze. Even if he did, he couldn't, because he feels paralyzed. Bobby's voice asking if there are any survivors, and Maddie's voice saying she's unsure get lost to the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears. Every repressed emotion, every memory, every bit of desperate longing and grief and love and anger comes rushing back in full force and all Buck can do is sit there while the engine weaves through Los Angeles traffic.
Tommy is fine, of course. He codes on the way to the hospital (Buck performing CPR on his boyfriend while begging him to stay alive is my drug), but once all is said and done, once he's come out of surgery with a little more metal in his body than he went in there with, he's okay. Buck isn't, not by a mile. He's full of too many emotions that he doesn't know how to sort through, chief among them being love, followed closely by anger, and then, guilt, of all things. But after Tommy opens his eyes, after Buck breaks down spectacularly, and after they finally confess that they love each other, Buck makes Tommy look him in the eyes:
"You don't get to run from this. Not again. I mean it. If you get scared, you talk to me. If you need to slow down, you talk to me. You don't make decisions for me, for us, and expect me to be okay with it. That's not how this works."
"Okay."
"I mean it, Tommy. I can't -"
"I mean it too. I promise. Okay?"
"Okay."
Anyways. Yeah. That's how I would do it.
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TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON
SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)
GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI
A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3
“Y/n?”
A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.
Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.
When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.
Time stills and so does he.
Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat.
Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.
“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you.
Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you.
“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility.
How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts.
“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”
His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex.
See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him.
Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.
With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives.
That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.
He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.
Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.
On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.
“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest.
Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now.
He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart.
A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions.
“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin.
Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer.
“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here.
A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self.
The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.
Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.
“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“
Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.
Can you blame him? It was so sudden.
The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming.
Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked.
Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions.
“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.”
The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with.
“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?”
“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?”
“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”
Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.
Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer?
You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette.
Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by.
The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40.
Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival.
“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.
After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.
“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce.
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.
“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other.
Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…
“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you.
You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.
“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.
You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that.
He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.
“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words.
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.
“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.
You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.
Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him.
But that’s the thing.
It’s only Sunghoon.
It’s just Sunghoon.
So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him?
So what if you want him back…
You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner.
You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.
You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.
When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures.
“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises.
You let out a resigned sigh.
You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open.
Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.
“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain.
It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple.
You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.
“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.
You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again.
“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.
Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape.
“You’re still cute, y’know that?”
The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has.
You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home.
“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit.
“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed.
You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort,
“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.”
He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.
Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.
Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it.
The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.
“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face.
You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin.
“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.
Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight.
Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start.
“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question.
“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.
He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.
You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table.
Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins…
When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.
He has to be doing this on purpose now.
You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting.
You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.
This is going to be a long dinner.
After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.
You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.
As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer.
Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud.
You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.
“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.
You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…”
A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones.
During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.
Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel.
In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.
You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts.
When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.
“Y/n, look at me.”
You raise your head, complying to his soft demand.
“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”
The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.
“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”
A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.
The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.
No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair.
You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.
Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.
“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’
“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.
“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.
Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.”
You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back…
Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you.
Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.
You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.
You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.
Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom.
Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers?
You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex.
“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire.
The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.
Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him.
His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured.
When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.
Your grip on the door handle tightens.
“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?”
The male smiles with his eyes.
“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.”
Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building.
The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion.
When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.
You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home.
“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door.
You let out a rigged breath.
“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."
He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.
If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.
As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.
He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”
Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.
You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment.
Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.
The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape.
In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces.
You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble.
Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.
The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events.
His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles.
“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.”
Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.
His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.
He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.
He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.
Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone.
“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips.
Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on.
Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips.
You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.
You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render.
In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.
“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl.
He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.
“Your turn, babe.”
He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.
“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.
“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.
He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.
“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.
“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.
“No? Use your words baby.”
You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.
“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.
“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.
“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.
“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.
Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.
Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.
He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.
His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.
You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.
You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.
“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.
Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.
“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.
His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.
Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.
“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.
The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.
You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”
“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.
“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.
Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”
You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.
“Y/n?”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”
“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.
You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.
“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.
“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’
Sunghoon’s ears redden.
“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”
Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.
Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.
His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.
Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.
“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”
You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.
“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”
“O-okay, Hoonie…”
Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.
“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.
“Shit—“ He curses.
Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.
“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.
“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“
Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.
“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”
“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.
Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.
“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.
“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”
Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.
“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.
“Yes?” He inquires.
“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.
Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”
You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”
Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.
“We don’t have to.”
Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.
You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.
“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.
“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”
Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.
“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”
You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.
“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”
Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”
“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”
“Where it all started.”
You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.
“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.
His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.
“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”
Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.
Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.
Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.
True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.
Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.
#cgi-aenergy#enhypen fluff#enhypen smut#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen#enha#park sunghoon#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon smut#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon enhypen#minors dni
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[13]: Twirling Thread
(Longer than my usual stories.)
This took a while, heh. Sorry for the wait in regards of stories, writer's block has arrived at Destination Me.
Not sure if I'll do the rest of the characters, feeling pretty down. Maybe someday.
(Reader is the costume designer for the toons. The names above each paragraph of writing are the names of certain skins in the game.)
Boxten: “Cloudy Dream”
“Almost…almost…there!”
You sat up to lean back and look over your work.The prettiest shade of lavender dripped from a small paintbrush you held, a can of white as well close by.
“Okay, we can let it dry, and then you can take the tarp off. Don’t want your clothes to get paint on them too.”
He reached up gingerly to pat his face down as he normally would, but you grabbed his hand quickly, forcing it away.
“Boxten…”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s a habit…”
Poppy: “Sapphire Dots”
“You’re sure this isn't a bit tacky?”
“I don’t care if it's tacky, what matters is I’m wearing it, and I’m proud!”
“Being proud doesn’t hide a poor sense of fashion.”
“Y/N!!!”
Tisha: “Lavender Maid”
“And to top it all off…”
You brought out the item from behind your back and gave it to her.
“A brand new feather duster!”
She gasped in delight, and gently put it down, then hugged you.
“Oh my goodness, thank you so much! The old one I had was getting so dirty, and I can't really wash stuff like that…”
“Hehe, I’m excited to see you use it! Have fun!”
Finn: “Prismatic Pal”
“MORE SHINE! MORE!!”
“FINN THIS IS GETTING TO BE TOO MUCH-”
“THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH SHINE, I WANT TO LOOK LIKE THE SUN!!!!”
“FINN YOU’RE ALREADY TOO BRIGHT FOR ME TO LOOK AT!!”
Razzle And Dazzle: “Seafoam”
“You’re doing a lot for us, you know. (Are you sure?)”
“Yes I’m sure! Besides, if you guys are going to perform sometime, you’ll need different outfits, right?”
“She’s got a point!” “(Alright then…but at least make it something simple.)”
“Aw, okay then. How does a mix of greens sound?”
“It won't be something like yellow-green, will it? (Yuck…)”
“Nope, more like turquoise.”
“Oooh, I’m excited to see how it looks! (Sounds pretty…)”
Cosmo: “Caramel Drizzle”
“I thought that maybe because you and Sprout are friends, you guys could have matching outfits! Whaddya say?”
“Really? Oh, yes please! That’s very sweet of you to think of us…”
“It’s not much really. Here, can you turn around so I can adjust your apron?”
Cosmo patiently did as you said, waiting as you secured the warm orange bow around his back. He only turned around again under your gentle pulling motions so you could smooth out his apron.
“And…this might be a bit hot, but please bear with me. It’s caramel after all.”
You took the bottle from the stand next to you, making a quick drizzle motion so it lined perfectly on top of his head.
You poured a little sauce on your hand to dab on his cheeks, then wiped your hands off and leaned down to get the perfect angle to place the stars in, sticking your tongue out as you worked.
He didn’t tear up or hiss at how hot it is though, he seemed to let out a sigh and…melt?
…He actually looked pretty content.
“Warm…”
I guess that confirms it.
Flutter: “Vibrant Monarch”
“Be still, I’m almost done.”
Flutter nervously flapped her wings, slapping you in the face every so often and nearly knocking you out of your chair.
“Please Flutter, the paint will be blurry and won’t look good if you keep moving.”
“...!!!”
“I know you don’t like standing, but you need to right now! You can fly all you want when I’m done.”
“...!”
“Thank you.”
She lightly tapped the floor with her foot as if testing the waters, flinching every so often, before she set both feet on the ground and stood stiffly, anxiously waiting for you to finish.
Goob: “Special Spaghetti”
“I want to commit cannibalism on myself.”
“What-”
Goob: “Fun Partygoer”
“Ooooooh, I get a party hat too??”
“Yes you do Goob, let- let me- adjust it please-! Please stOp BOunCIng!“
“Sorry, I’m just so excited to see how I look!”
“I get it I get it, but pleas-!”
The party hat crumpled under a particularly high jump.
“...”
“...”
You sat down, head in your hands and started crying.
“WAIT NONONO Y/N I-!”
Glisten: “Warm Sweater”
(Based off my opinion! I love blue and white, but THE MAKEUP RAAAAA-)
“I still think the eyeshadow is a bit much.”
“Well, I don’t!”
“But you say you look good no matter what you wear, right…?”
“...Yes…”
“So you shouldn’t have a problem with no eyeshadow because it’ll look just as good!”
“But I- you-!”
“End of conversation.”
(Glisten somehow convinced you to give him back his makeup)
Gigi: “Rainy Day”
“But I don’t waaaaaannaaaaa!”
“Gigi, it’s still an oversized sweater. You’re basically just changing the color of it and adding some drawstrings, okay?”
“Noooooooooo…but…b-but…”
“Yeah I know what a butt is, you have one yourself. Now give me that―”
You yanked the sweater out of her hands, cutting yourself off as you stumbled back, “―Thank you!”
Quickly checking for rips and finding nothing, you let out a sigh of relief, then immediately raised your hand in the air to avoid her grabbing ones.
“Nooooooo, gimme it back!”
You sighed again, walking over to the dresser―well, as best you could with a whiny Gigi trying to trip you― and pulled out a yellow sweater with a hood.
Placing her old clothes on a high shelf so she couldn’t reach it, you turned and picked her up, setting her down to sit on the edge of the dresser and pulled the yellow sweater over her head.
Her crying instantly stopped and she snuggled down into it, content. You let out another(she’s a handful to deal with) sigh and sat down next to her, petting her head.
Sprout: “Salted Caramel”
“And you’re sure that you’ll be fine?”
“Yes, Y/n! Now just do it!”
You hesitantly poured the bucket of caramel on him, covering half of his face bit by bit while also making sure not to get the petals wet.
You let out a sigh of relief as the last drop dripped from the container, making a quiet plip sound as it joined the rest of the warm sauce.
The rest of it settled on the tarp below, collecting in a puddle that stained his feet orange. You’d have to clean him later.
He reached up a hand, messing with the caramel on his face before you slapped his hand away.
“No! I’ll have to put a new coating on you if you mess with it.”
He simply chuckled in response, “Not like I’d mind.”
Vee: “Cosmic Signal”
You sighed in relief as you checked over her mic, making sure there weren’t any scratches.
“Okay…finally done. Oof, that took a lot out of me.”
“I can tell. Making 25 different costumes that actually look good isn’t exactly an easy job.”
You perked up upon hearing this.
“So you DO like Scraps' costume!”
“What!? I-”
“I’m joking, I already know.”
She just glared at you and looked to the side.
#oh boy here we go#*suits up*#time for the tags#dandys world#dandys world x reader#boxten x reader#poppy x reader#tisha x reader#finn x reader#razzle and dazzle x reader#cosmo x reader#flutter x reader#goob x reader#glisten x reader#gigi x reader#sprout x reader#vee x reader
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Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 1
pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333
prologue l ch. 1 play nice l prelude. strangers 1/2 l prelude. strangers 2/2 l ch. 2 l
You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.
And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.
You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.
You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.
“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.
“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”
She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”
“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”
Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.
The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.
At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.
As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.
“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”
“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.
“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.
“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”
“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”
She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.
“Make it twenty-five.”
“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.
“Follow me.”
You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.
“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”
You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
“Alright, well if you change your mind…”
“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”
She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”
“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.
A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.
“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.
"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”
“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”
The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.
“Let her play.”
You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.
Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.
He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.
You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”
This will be fun.
The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.
So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps.
A nine of Diamonds.
‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.
“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.
‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.
“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”
He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.
“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”
The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.
You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.
Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?
‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.
“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”
He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.
“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.
“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”
His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.
“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”
It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.
“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”
“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.
“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”
He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.
“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”
His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.
“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.
“You’d need a lot!”
Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.
******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.
Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.
“Sure, but come right back.”
In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.
“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through?
As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.
“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”
He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.
“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.
“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”
(Straight up lies.)
“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”
“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”
He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.
“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.
“Mind your business.”
“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”
“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.
“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”
He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.
“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing.
“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.
His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.
“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”
“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.
Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.
He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.
“What are you doing?”
“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”
“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”
“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”
“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”
“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”
You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.
“Will you be quiet?”
“Am I pissing you off?”
“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”
“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”
“I still have time. I could push you out now.”
“Do it then.”
A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.
“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”
He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”
“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”
When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut as you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.
“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.
“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.
You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.
“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”
Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.
“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”
“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”
He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?”
“Try 27.”
“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.
“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.
“5 years.”
He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”
Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.
“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.
“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.
Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,
“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.
Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.
“Mhmm.”
“Is that supposed to be a word?”
“Yes!” You whisper yell.
“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and dominating.
“Yes, I want to find out.”
Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.
He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.
Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, breath hitching as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.
“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”
“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”
You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.
As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.
“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.
“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.
You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.
You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.
His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.
“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”
“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.
"I am, damn it!”
“Then fucking relax.”
So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his fingers into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.
A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. Then for a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. He pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.
He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.
There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.
“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.
“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and a pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand rises to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to in between your legs. You have to bite down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down harder on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.
His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.
He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.
“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.
“Mhmm!” you exclaim. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.
He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.
“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to force it open.
“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in, fixing his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.
That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?
Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.
“I’m Angel, by the way.”
“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.
“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”
“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback.
"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”
"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?
“Whatever, prick.”
When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him.
The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, and you offer an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?
But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.
Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.
The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.
You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.
A motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?
As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.
A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?
You stare at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.
“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.
“This is a small island.”
Your eyes roll at his shit logic.
“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”
He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,
"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.
You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.
It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?
"Take it."
"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him.
He sighs and you think that's the end of it.
But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.
“Um, can I help you?”
“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.
“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”
“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”
You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?
“You could just go somewhere else.”
“It’s pouring out there.”
“Afraid you’ll melt?”
He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.
“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”
“You think I should be nice or something?”
“That would be a start.”
“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”
That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”
He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.
“Yoongi.”
Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”
He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”
He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that.
“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.
You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.
Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.
You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.
“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.
“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.
“Are you gonna eat?”
He shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”
“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.
“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”
He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.
The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.
"What happened to your hand?”
"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.
"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.
“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”
He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.
“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”
“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.
“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically, snapping you back to the present.
Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near boarding school.
“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.
“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”
“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.
“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bags. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”
You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.
“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”
Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.
“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”
The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.
“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.
“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”
A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”
He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.
The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.
“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.
“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.
Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.
Right?
Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.
“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.
“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”
“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.
“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”
The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.
“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”
Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.
Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.
The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”
“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.
You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but promptly withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.
He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.
“This way.”
You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.
The scent of the storm washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.
You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s a 360, but it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.
You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.
“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?
A dilemma.
“Why did you come after me?”
“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”
You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.
It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.
“I just did.”
He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.
“We gotta go.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.
“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.
“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.
The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,
“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.
“I know.”
“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.
“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.
“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”
You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.
“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”
“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.
“I’ll take a cab then.”
A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”
“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.
“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.
“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”
“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Trust me.”
“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.
“Just give me the damn directions.”
******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.
“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”
He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.
“I’m not that much of an asshole.”
“No, but you’re pretty close.”
“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”
“You told me to trust you and I do.”
“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”
“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”
Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.
“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”
“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”
Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.
You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.
“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”
“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”
“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”
He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.
“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.
You sense an impending ‘but.’
“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”
Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this.
You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.
.
.
.
thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!
xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao
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Right Where You Left Me
Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)
Ellie Williams x reader
I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.
Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.
Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one
Part one here!
Part two here!
Part three over here!
Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao
I think that I have unlearned how to love.
That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.
Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.
I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.
The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded.
She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.
Almost.
It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.
Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas.
The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again.
So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do.
I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.
When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.
As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.
"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.
"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"
Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."
"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"
I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."
"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."
"So?" Cat asks.
"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"
"Why not?"
"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"
"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.
She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.
Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.
I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"
My heart drops "I'm not?"
Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."
I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.
"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"
My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."
Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-
"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.
"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.
Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"
"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."
While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret.
She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.
The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.
"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"
The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.
"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.
"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.
I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."
I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.
Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine.
As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.
After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"
"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"
Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-
"Yes, I have."
"Who?"
"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."
She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."
"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."
"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"
I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.
Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.
'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?
AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?
She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together.
God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.
I think I've had my fair share of partying.
After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.
I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter.
Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.
When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things.
"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray.
Thirty dollars?
Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).
I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."
Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.
"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off.
After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-
"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen.
I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.
Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.
"Make a wish!"
Age Sixteen- Grade 11
I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.
How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.
"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.
The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.
"What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.
I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?"
He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand.
"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.
I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline.
"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?"
I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.
"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."
"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.
"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"
"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"
"Because I don't."
My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.
I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."
Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."
I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.
My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.
"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."
She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.
"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-
My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-
Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.
I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her.
"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!"
Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.
Frankly, I'm fucking scared.
She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body.
Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.
This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.
"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain.
I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.
I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air.
Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it.
I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.
She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.
"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."
"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.
"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."
"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"
"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."
"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."
We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.
"Fine."
I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.
I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.
When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"
Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.
We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.
She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"
"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness.
"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."
"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."
Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing.
She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"
My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.
She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night.
Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."
"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.
"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."
I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."
I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.
"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."
I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.
"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it."
The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"
I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."
She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"
"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."
Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.
How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.
A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀
Thanks for reading!
Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica
#ellie williams#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x you#the last of us#the last of us ellie#tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson#ellie williams au#ellie x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#joel and ellie#ellie tlou#ellie x you#ellie williams x reader angst#ellie williams angst#angst#ellie williams x reader fluff#fluff#ellie fluff#dina tlou#dina woodward#ellie williams fanfic#jesse tlou
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Hi!!! I was just wondering if you could do general dating hc with Andre or Robbie from Victorious! It's alright if you can't have a good rest of your day/night!:)<3
We look good together (Andre Harris x GN!Reader)
Summary: The students of Hollywood Arts talk about what it's like seeing you two together. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: None Word Count: 2.3k A/N: I don't write head cannons! Sorry I'm just bad at them! I had an idea of how I was writing this in the beginning and then it turned into something completely different, lmao. Here's the friend group talking about how healthy the couple is lol! <33
André Harris was the guy everybody liked. He was handsome, he was kind, smart, musically talented, supportive, and one of the most laid back people at Hollywood Arts.
No one was surprised when André started dating you, it was going to happen at some point. They were mainly surprised with how the dynamics of your relationship worked.
The relationship everyone was used to, wasn’t the best example for relationships. Jade and Beck broke up multiple times and the entire school was still questioning how and why they were still together.
Regardless, everyone was rooting for you guys since your relationship seemed to be the opposite of theirs. In other words, you’re a couple that people actually enjoy inviting places.
The main group: Tori, Beck, Jade, Cat, and Robbie, (and Rex), all sat at their typical lunch table, waiting for you and Andr é.
Jade groaned, placing her hand in front of her eyes, “Why are we waiting?” She asked, face in it’s typical neutral fashion but, it was clear she disliked having to wait in order to get lunch.
Tori scrunched her nose at Jades current discomfort, “We’re waiting for André and-”
“Yeah, yeah, his obsession. What do they have to do with anything?”
Beck looked over to Jade and put his arm around her shoulder, “They’ve been dating for months.”
“Yeah, get over yourself.” Tori told her, moving her bag to grab her phone. She began typing out a message to André, asking when he would get there since Jade was already antsy.
Cat ran her hand through her vibrant red curls, adjusting her top. “I think it’s sweet, they look cute together.”
Jade tapped her fingers on the table, “You think everything is cute.”
The redhead simply laughed, showing her dimples as she shook her head, “You don’t think anything’s cute!”
A voice from the end of the table spoke up, “You’re just mad that everyone likes their relationship more than yours!”
The comment caused everyone to turn to that person and Robbie was looking down at…Rex.
Jade smiled with closed eyes, “Shut your puppet up or I cut off all his little limbs and run his plastic head over.” She spoke, eyes widening slowly before narrowing into a nasty glare.
Robbie rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, “He’s not really wrong, it seems like you don’t like them coming together because they get invited to more things than you.” He mumbled, cowering under the dark haired girl's gaze.
“Why would I care that they get invited to places? I barely like anyone here.” She grumbled, leaning into Beck with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, I unfortunately hang out with the same seven people everyday.”
As she said that, a voice spoke from behind them, “They get invited because they bring the energy up instead of dragging it to the dark parts of our memories that we don’t want to touch.” The voice caused everyone but Jade to jump.
When they all turned, they were met with the oddest friend they’ve ever made at the school, Sinjin Van Cleef. They had no idea whether that was against their will and he was just around a lot, or if they knew him by choice. They never questioned it.
Beck shook his head at the typical antics of the boy, “What do you mean?” He asked.
Sinjin lit up and moved his way in between Beck and Tori, “I am so glad you asked.” He spoke, already beginning his story, “Just last week…”
It was tech week, preparing for the next show was a usual occurrence at Hollywood Arts. What wasn’t a normal occurrence was Sinjin being the only person to work everything for a few hours since his crewmates had a project during that period. He was the only person with a free period and had to work on the tech since it was currently a disaster.
As he was trying his hardest not to get frustrated and ultimately give up, you and André walked in, smiles on your faces as you talked about anything and everything. André left his phone during practice before the bell, so you guys decided to get it during your free period instead of interrupting class.
You had continued talking to André, looking around at the lights on stage until you looked up and noticed the curly haired boy tapping on his board for some portion of the tech. You tapped on André, bringing his attention to the seemingly irritated boy.
“Hey Sinjin!” He called, grabbing the boy's attention. Sinjin took off his headphones and gave a half wave to the two, “Hey guys.”
You waved back but, both of you could tell something was wrong.
André walked a little closer, Sinjin leaning over the rail to keep eye contact. “What’s up man?” André asked, concern lacing his voice since he could see Sinjin's face was blotched with red, as if he was about to cry.
Sinjin sighed, rubbing his eyes and explained the situation. “The rest of the tech crew can’t come in for this period because of some project.” He began, you and your boyfriend nodding along as he spoke. “We have checks tomorrow, so I have to get all this done before the period ends or we’ll have to delay the show.”
You hummed, “What all are you guys getting checked?”
“Mics, lighting, and the electric steps.” Sinjin answered, reminding them of the scene where the two characters run up the moving stairs, singing with each other. “Without the crew it just takes longer to hear the feedback from mics, to test the steps and see if they really work, and if the lighting hits right.”
You and André looked at each other, almost having a silent conversation before shrugging and turning back to your friend.
André put his phone back on the chair and took your hand, leading you to the stage.
Sinjin stood to look at you guys better, “Um, what are you guys doing?”
You shook out your nerves a bit and tilted your head, “What does it look like we’re doing?”
“We’re going to help you set up for checks tomorrow.” Your boyfriend answered, walking to the table on stage with the mics. He handed you one of the mics, strapping his own on, “Do all the mics need testing?” He asked, adjusting his hair so the mic would sit comfortably.
Sinjin sighed with a smile, relief filling him when you guys said you would help and he shook his head. “Just mics 4, 7, 19, and 23.” He informed, to which the two of you nodded.
You put your mic on, André making sure it was on right. “So, two runs with the mics, alone. Then we could do…” You trailed off, André finishing your aloud thoughts, “A couple runs with mics and lighting, then a few with the stairs.”
And that’s exactly what the two of you did. The two of you knew the choreography since you were in the performance.
You both helped Sinjin with everything he needed and even a bit more with your personal sights, even going as far to hear from outside the door just to check the feedback. All three of you spent the free period finishing up what Sinjin needed.
Once he reached the floor where you guys were packing up, he adjusted his glasses and thanked both of you profusely.
You waved your hand, “Don’t worry about it, anything to help!”
André shook his head, “You’re our friend Sinjin, if you’re ever in that situation again just text us.”
“He’s serious, and so am I. We’ll always be free.”
Sinjin finished the memory with a sweet smile on his face, “I have never been helped like that.” He told the group, hands clasped together.
“That’s because you’re a borderline stalker.” Jade replied, head bobbling as a thin smile painted her face at how Sinjin's expression fell.
Beck sighed, huffing out a breath, “Stop it.” He mumbled to her and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, placing her chin into her palm.
Tori hummed a bit, “I think they’re just helpful people on their own.” She shrugged, playing with the holes in the table. “As a couple they just have a different type of…energy.” She tried to explain, which everyone understood.
Cat nodded and smiled widely, “That’s why I think they’re so cute together! I mean have you seen them when they’re near each other?” She asked, remembering each time she’s seen the two of you together.
You were practicing choreography for a project you had with two other students, in one of the empty practice rooms. André was helping with the original music aspect, and he was the only other one there since Cat and the other person in their project hadn’t arrived yet.
When Cat finally did get there, you were near the end of the choreo, and she felt terrible. She entered the room quietly, trying not to interrupt.
When you did finish the choreography, André stopped playing and turned to you with a bright grin, his eyes shining as he looked at you. You walked over to him with a matching grin and stood in between his legs, hands on his shoulders.
“That was absolutely amazing choreography.” He whispered to you, rubbing your sides.
You were breathing a bit heavy but chuckled nonetheless, “Your fantastic original song is why it feels so put together.” You whispered back, your comment causing him to laugh a bit.
The two of you stayed in that position, whispering sweet nothings to one another as you both felt the warmth from each other's hands.
André pulled you in a little closer, lifting his head up to meet your gaze in that position and you lifted one of your hands to cup his face. You leaned down and placed a small kiss to his lips, humming against them when you pulled apart.
Cat couldn’t hear it well but she was sure she heard the two of you whisper,
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
Tori poked her bottom lip out as her eyes were wide in adoration, “That is so sweet.”
Cat pointed to her before clapping a bit, “I know! It was so cute!” She responded, smiling and shimmying her shoulders.
Robbie didn’t quite understand, and he tilted his head, “I don’t get it.”
“Of course you don’t get it, you have no romance in your life…ever.” A ‘voice’ called from below him, belonging to Rex.
Robbie shook his head and ignored the puppet, “I mean I don’t get it, they’re supposed to like each other. So what if they do it in private?” He asked, his point getting across to all of them.
Tori tilted her own head, “It’s not just in private though. They show that kind of affection all the time and…” She paused, trying to find the right words.
Beck apparently knew the right ones as he swooped a hand through his hair, “Their affection towards one another extends to how they treat other people.” He explained with a nod of his head. “Therefore, making them an extremely likable couple.”
Jade pursed her lips, “Those are just two experiences, for all we know they probably don’t even…what is it..” She mumbled, “Communicate, or whatever.”
Tori raised her brow, pulling up her phone before showing Jade a few pictures. “They got André a custom guitar and a keyboard that his favorite artist used in concert.” She began, holding her finger up when Jade tried to speak, “And his grandma likes them.” She nodded along with her own words, dropping something everyone was surprised about.
“That doesn’t mean-”
This time, Beck actually cut in, “André pulled strings and got them as a backup dancer for their favorite singer's music video.”
“But do they communicate? You don’t know.”
Cat pursed her lips to the side, “I’m sure they communicate if they’re still together.”
“I mean Beck and Jade are still together, so clearly communication doesn’t mean much.” A voice from Robbies direction spoke out.
This apparently brought Jade to silence as she clenched her jaw and her eye twitched. That was until she suddenly stopped and she blinked at the group with a weird look, “When did this become a share circle?”
“When did what become a share circle?” A voice asked from the side of the table.
You and André sat at the end of the table, it was a little cramped and once they all realized, the main group's eyes went straight to Sinjin. The curly haired boy stood with his mouth in a line, waving goodbye as he walked away.
André’s arm was around your waist and you were holding both of your phones. “Sorry we’re late, the teacher held us back for a minute.” You explained, André confirming with a nod of his head.
“What were you guys talking about?” André asked, raising a brow at everyone, minus Jade, smiling at them.
Tori stood up and shook her head, “Nothing.” She spoke suspiciously with a smile, everyone standing up after her, including you and André.
Jade rolled her eyes, “They were all talking about what a great couple the two of you were.” She spoke, her expression neutral.
The two of you looked at each other and then back at your friends, “What?” You asked simultaneously.
Beck walked with Jade, his arm around her shoulder still, “You two just look good together is all.” He spoke, walking past you.
The rest of your friends agreed, beginning their walk to the restaurant you guys decided you were going to for lunch.
The two of you were a little shocked so you were stuck, hand and hand, standing in the lunch plaza of your school.
You looked at your boyfriend and shrugged, “I mean, they aren’t wrong.”
André laughed and shook his head, “Nope, they’re not.” He hummed, walking with you to catch up with your friends. “We do look good together.”
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https://www.tumblr.com/umbrella-show/766905601979727872/httpswwwtumblrcomumbrella-show76562826466233?source=share
Ooooooooh I love it! Great now i wanna send this in as a genuine request of your requests are open...y/n can be timid or not depending on what you wanna do but still want twist where y/n was only crowned ruler so there is an excuse for y/n to stay in the castle and be cared for/watched over by all the cookies...like to expand and explain more...cookies claimed y/n is their ruler when in reality, the cookies are the ones making up laws/creating rules, doing all the stuff rulers do and y/n's job is just to sit there with their little crown, that the cookies made sure was very comfy for y/n, and accept affection and attention from the cookies lmao!
(Also now I can't help but imagine in a funny scenario like this...to give an example of what I had in mind lol...
Some bad guy cookie...maybe DE or shadow milk...will call em bad cookie as place holder:
Bad cookie: MWAHAHAHAHA!
*all the cookies panic!*
Gingerbrave: OH NO! IT'S (insert name!)
Bad cookie: IM HERE TO TAKE OVER THE KINGDOM-
*cookies still panic...some readying to fight and others running for their lives and others just having zero clue what to do!*
Bad cookie: -AND TAKE Y/N FOR MYSELF!
*Suddenly, all the cookies froze...and slowly turn to the bad cookie, all going dead quiet. The kingdom became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.*
Bad cookie: what the-?
*suddenly, all the cookies whip out various weapons...either their signature weapons or torches and pitchforks.*
Gingerbrave: you messed up the moment y/n's name left your mouth....CHARGE!
*all the cookies of the kingdom absolutely SWARM the bad cookie.*
Bad cookie, not expecting all the cookies to share a braincell: SON OF A- OH DEAR WITCHES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
*Bad cookie screams in terror as they are now in the middle of a giant horde of angry cookies.*
Meanwhile...
Y/n: *was gaming...suddenly heard a little noise.* what was that?
Strawberry, who was sent to y/n earlier to distract them from the chaos outside: that was probably just the wind...say, how about we do this level next?)
And late reply is ok! I know life gets busy sometimes lol!
Kay i love this idea it made me laugh a little-
Have a short fic!
As you placed down another card on the table from your deck, you couldn't help but wonder. Is this all a ruler does? All the stories you’ve read about kings and queens usually had them attend to important affairs or run their kingdom. After becoming a ruler yourself, you found out that there wasn’t much you needed to do in the first place. All you really did was sit there and look pretty. Your friends, the Ancient cookies, who ruled their own kingdom, did more than you. They were more involved with actually running their kingdom. And you did practically nothing.
You were snapped out of your thoughts when Pure Vanilla cookie said it was your turn again. Looking up at him, you saw him smiling at you with his deck of cards in his hands. He had an excellent poker face when it came to these sorts of games, you had learned. He always kept a gentle smile no matter what. You didn’t know whether it was an intimidation tactic or because he genuinely enjoyed playing these types of games.
You placed a card from your deck down on the table and took a few seconds to glance out of the window right in front of both you and Pure Vanilla cookie. It was a beautiful day. The vibrant blue sky, clear of any clouds, caused the sunlight to shine onto you and Pure Vanilla cookies from the window. You could hear birds chirping and leaves gently rustling from the light breeze.
As Pure Vanilla cookie had just placed down his card a sound made you perk up. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder as the source seemed to come closer to where you were. It almost sounded like..screaming? You looked out the window, searching for the noise. You were worried and confused. Was everything okay? Did something happen? Were people in danger? It wasn’t long until you saw what was happening.
Licorice cookie, with Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute close behind, were all screaming and running from something. They just ran by, screaming their lungs out. A horde of cookies followed, yelling and brandishing their weapons. As they chased, you noticed and recognized them as almost all of the cookies in your kingdom, with Gingerbrave and his friends leading the charge. Heck, even some of the children such as Pancake and Cherry cookie were trailing along in the very back, but were determined to catch up.
As the horde passed, you could only sit in a state of shock with Pure Vanilla cookie, looking out the window with raised eyebrows while you attempted to process what you had just seen.
“Oh my. Seems as if that cookie caused quite the stir.”
Pure Vanilla said after a few seconds of stunned silence from the sight both he and you had just witnessed. However, his voice was as soft and tranquil as it always was.
“Well, Gingerbrave and the rest seem to have the situation under control.”
Pure Vanilla cookie then placed down a new card on the table, smiling at you with closed eyes as if nothing happened.
“Why don’t we continue from where we left off.”
BONUS
Licorice cookie scowled, muttering complaints as he brushed the leaves off of his robes. Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute followed him, looking shaken up from their previous experience. Licorice cookie and his companions had narrowly escaped the insane cookies' anger. They had ran into the nearby forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, losing the horde in the trees. Now, they all trudged, defeated and shaken, back to the castle. Dark Enchantress cookie won’t be pleased, and Licorice was sure Pomegranate cookie would rub his loss in his face once he got back. The thought made him grip his bone scythe tighter in anger.
He may have failed to indoctrinate you into the Cookies of Darkness this time, but he promised he would get to you before Pomegranate cookie.
#umbrella asks#crk#self aware crk#crk baker au#yandere crk#cookie run kingdom#yandere cookie run kingdom x reader#yandere cookie run kingdom#cookie run#cookie run kingdom x reader
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𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐩𝐭.𝟒
*•*•*• 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 - 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝?
𝐀 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜! 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩
Part 3 here
*•*•*• 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭!
The strip club was packed tonight. Neon lights gleaming with low vibrant tones as smoke clouded the room. Women dancing or spinning on a pole for the enjoyment of their patrons, trying to earn some extra money for the night.
Eren sat amongst his group of friends. They cheered and laughed while he sat back and smoke the rest of his unfinished blunt. He was quiet. Distant. Not really paying attention to what was being said.
“Why the face handsome?” The dancer next to him ask. Her jumbo sized breast pressed right in her face.
“Don’t mind him. He’s been a bit grumpy tonight”
Damn straight he was. It had been 7 months since the last argument you had and soon you’d be ready to burst any day with your daughter.
It was scary for him to have another one but he’d love her none the less . Eren didn’t really know how to approach the situation any more.
He was tired of fighting with you over this. He just wanted to be a family but his anger wouldn’t subside and let him out his pride away.
He hated how vulnerable he felt when you left. Hated that you didn’t even think to trust him. Things could’ve been different.
He allowed you to have your space. Not bringing up the subject again but you could tell he was different. More closed off and aggravated.
It was always between the two of you but Eren never let you leave.
Even when you tried, he made sure you were escorted to anywhere you needed to go. He moved out of the room to give you a sense of privacy.
He barely even looked your way these days.
Eren stood from his spot knocking the woman back slightly. He took out a few hundred bills and slapped it on the table before walking out.
He had a lot on his mind. Scared to go home and confront you. To actually let this go and move on.
You were also feeling the same. It didn’t help that your hormones were raging and making you an emotional mess.
To stubborn to apologize and take accountability for your part in his feelings.
His insecurities. Although you did it for yourself and child (and you’d do it again.),
You know you still hurt him. Leaving Eren in his time of need. You were ready to apologize. More than ready. You were ready to be a family again.
-
Eren made his way into the foyer, closing the door behind him, turning the lock. It was quiet, save for the tv he could hear faintly from upstairs.
He climb the steps barely making it to the top when you round the corner. Belly low and swollen. A painful look on your face as you waddle to the rim of the staircase. Eren loved seeing you like this.
You looked beautiful and glowing.
Full with his child. He was swooning. Over the course of these past 7 months, nothing made him more happier than seeing you here with him.
He wanted to reach out and rub your belly, but he made sure to keep his distance.
Not wanting to upset you even more, since he’s forced you to stay.
“Hi.” You softy spoke. It looked like you had been crying. The puffiness of your eyes giving you away.
“𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.“
Straight to the point. Eyes pools of nothing. Emptiness. Seeing him look so dead only made you feel even worse for your part in this story.
“I wasn’t crying.” You lied. Already feeling the tears welling up and falling over just from his simple question.
Eren sighed and made his way up to you. Reaching out to caress the heaviness of the love you both created.
‘Ren I’m-“ “I’m sorry.” Before you could even get the words out, it was like he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.
More tears flood your waterline. Heavy sobs racked up from you.
“I was hurt, and I wasn’t ready to let go.”
“I’m so sorry.” He apologized again, pulling you to his as close as he could. You wrapped your arms around his neck. His scent filling your nose, only making you cry harder than before.
“I’m sorry too Eren. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” You cry. “The least I could’ve done was acknowledge that I hurt you.”
“I-“
Lips mashed together. He silences you with a kiss. Pouring all of his love into it. You missed this. You missed him.
Eren picked you up bridal style, belly and all, to your bedroom.
-
Soft moans and grunts could be heard from down the hall.
Eren thrusted softly into you. Careful not to be too rough. The gentle kisses he peppers on your neck has you squeezing his biceps.
He could feel you clenching on his girth. One clench in particular has him sucking harder. His soft strokes now getting a litter faster and vigorous.
“It’s so good baby.” You turn your head to the side in order to kiss him. The both of you lying side ways. The best possible position for you as your belly was in the way and missionary made you sickly.
You loved the way his dick rubbed your walls lovingly.
Your moans increasing with every thrust. “Yea mama this shit feels so good.”
You loved how vocal Eren was. He always let you know the power you had over him. “Oh shit!” Your orgasm was a strong one. It had been so long since your body had been touched so this was a euphoric feeling. You could hear your juices sloshing out of your pussy the more he pound into you.
“Keep going baby. Fuck!” Eren could feel you about to cum again. This only egged him on into cumming with you.
His thrust sloppy but still perfect enough to satisfy you.
Slow stroking, his cum shot into your canal spilling out from the sides.
The both of your breaths heavy and heaving. Eren went on to kiss you tenderly. Love sparkling in his eyes. He finally felt whole again. The weight of his anger no longer present.
“I love you.”
“I love you to ‘Ren.”
Sorry it’s so short guys. This is the last chapter. A lot has been going on and it was really hard to even write this. Hope you enjoyed l!❤️
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#smut#anime smut#mature themes#read#aot x y/n#Aot smut#eren x black reader#eren x y/n#eren jeager smut#eren x you#eren jeager x reader#eren smut#pregnancy#aot onyankopon#aot x black reader
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Hii
I lost my puppy recently, can you please write one where the reader is a bit depressed and Marshall gives her a puppy?
A/N : Hi Anon ! I’m so sorry about you losing your puppy ! I’m sending you tons of love 💕. I wrote a little something and I hope you like it !
Finding purpose 🐶
« I dont know, » you’d said in that monotone voice of yours. « I just feel like… there’s no purpose. I have no purpose ».
After weeks of beating around the bush, Marshall had finally confronted you, and your answer broke his heart. You were the most vibrant person he had ever met, so full of life and laughter. But in the past few months, he had seen you decaying. Your laugh, once his favorite sound, seemed like a distant memory and he couldn’t tell the last time he’d seen you actually smile, no matter how hard he tried. You had become withdrawn, distant. Sometimes, he would at you and he could see stare into the abyss, as if your mind was miles away. But every time he would ask what’s on your mind, you would shrug it off.
His first instinct was to blame himself. Maybe he’d taken you for granted. It wouldn’t be the first time after all. He was never really good at keeping his longtime girlfriends entertained, his workaholic nature often taking over. But his best efforts to win you over with impromptu date nights and presents seemed to be in vain. Then, he tried asking your friends, but no one seemed to know what was going on. As far as they knew, nothing had happened. You were doing ok at work. Your family was fine. And as far as they knew, you didn’t have beef with anyone. So it was kind of a mystery. But still, the facts were there : you kept on withdrawing, keeping people at a distance. You were once the life of the party, but you barely went out anymore. Even keeping up with your text messages proved to be difficult. Yet, everyone was getting increasingly worried. They could see the dim smiles, the dark circles, the weight fluctuation… They all tried to be subtle about it, not wanting to be insensitive or too harsh. Until Marshall decided enough was enough.
You had ghosted him for three days. No phone, no text. Nothing. When he showed up at your place, he was immediately taken aback by your gaunt face and hollow eyes. You weren’t alright and he was done being subtle about it. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees. You looked up as he let himself in, your eyes dull and tired. « Thank God I have your spare key » he sighed. « Otherwise, I would have called the cops to report you were missing ». You looked down, mumbling an apology. « We gotta talk » he declared in a voice that was a little sharper than he intended. You turned your head back to him, hough your eyes remained dull and distant. « About what? » you asked. He sighed and sat in the chair across you. « About you » he said. « About whatever’s been eating you alive for the past weeks. I’m tired of pretending like everything’s fine. You think I don’t notice ? You think I don’t see how different you’re acting ? »
Your jaw tightened and you looked away. « I’m fine, Marshall » you mumbled, though even you could tell how unconvincing you sounded. « Stop! » he snapped, his frustration evident. « You’re not fine. You’ve barely said more than five words to me in a day for the past three weeks! You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. You don’t smile. And I’m sick and tired of pretending like everything’s ok when it’s clearly not ». His voice was getting louder and louder, his tone sharp and cutthroat. You couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes and, for a second, you were pretty sure you were going to lash out at him. But instead, your face crumpled and you let out a shaky breath. « I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Marshall » you whispered, your voice cracking. « I don’t know. I just feel like… There’s no purpose. I have no purpose. Like nothing I do matters. I wake up, and I don’t see the point of getting up. No purpose ».
Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood up and crossed the room in a few quick strides, taking a seat on the couch, right next to you. You tried to turn away but he gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. « Listen to me » he said, his voice low but steady. « You do have a purpose. You do matter. You matter to me. I don’t care what’s gong on in that beautiful head of yours, I’m not letting you drown in it. We’ll figure this out together. But you need to let me in and tell me how you’re feeling, babe ». You nodded, letting your tears spill over. « I don’t even know where to start » you quietly sobbed.
He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to anger in his embrace, instead of pushing him away after a couple of seconds. He held you against his chest, gently stroking your hair as you sobbed, letting out the storm that had been going on inside your mind, that was too much for you to put into words. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, Marshall never letting go of you, whispering sweet words of reassurance. « We just start here, Y/N. You and me. You’re not alone. I’m here. ». Eventually, exhaustion took over and you fell asleep, your head resting against his chest, your breath uneven but steady. But Marshall couldn’t follow suit. Your words kept on echoing in his mind. The way you said you don’t see the point of getting up, that you had no purpose… You had said it with such emptiness, like the thought had been carved into your very soul. He could see the pain, the suffering in your eyes. He could hear it in your voice. And he wished he could take it away, suffer in your place. All he wanted was to make you happy. You were the love of his life, a beautiful soul, and you deserved nothing but happiness. And he couldn’t sleep until he found a way to give it to you. Sadly, words wouldn’t do. He needed something more. Something real, tangible. Something that would bring back the light in your eyes.
And then, like a lightbulb flickering in the darkness, he had an idea.
The next day, your boyfriend found himself standing in the middle of an animal shelter. To say he was feeling out of his element would be the understatement of the year. He’d had a few pets in his day, but he had sworn off them a long time ago, arguing that they required too much work, too much energy. But maybe it was exactly what you needed. Something that would require work and energy, that would give you a reason to get out of bed. The sound of barking and meowing filled the air as he walked past rows pf cages. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew he’d recognize it when he saw it. And he did. There was a small dog waddling inside one of the kennels, its stubbly legs moving unevenly. He had a misshapen ear that flopped to one side, a patchy coat that looked like it has seen better days and a back leg that didn’t quite work right. It wasn’t conventionally cute but it had the kind of charm that he knew would tug at your heart. He’d seen you at the market, picking up bruised apples and misshapen tomatoes, sad that nobody else would want them. He saw you pour your heart not the smallest things, believing they deserved love too. Hell, you had taken him in, of all people. That had to be the ultimate sign you didn’t mind things - or people - being a little broken.
He pointed the dog to the staff member that was with him. « That’s Ralph. This little guy came in a few months ago » she explained. « He’s got some mobility issues and… well, he’s not the first one people ask about but he’s a good one. Loves cuddles and, despite the leg thing, walks, too ». Marshall crouched down, holding his hand out. Ralph sniffed it tentatively, then licked his fingers before flopping over on its side, demanding belly rubs. Marshall laughed and indulged him. He could already picture you with him. « This is the one » he said with a smile.
When he got to your place, Ralph waddled awkwardly behind him, its tiny legs working double-time to keep up. He’d picked up a few essentials - a bed, food, a leash, a couple of toys - but he knew the dog wouldn’t need much to win you over. You were in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders. You looked up as Marshall walked in, your eyes tired but curious. « What’s going on? » you asked, your voice soft. Instead of answering, your boyfriend stepped aside, revealing the little dog, who waddled into view, its mismatched body moving with clumsy determination. You let out a gasp, sitting up straight as the dog barked once, a cheerful and awkward sound that definitely matched his appearance. « Marshall…? What…? » you whispered, hands flying to your mouth.
« I heard what you said, » he told you, his voice steady but gentle. « About not having a reason to get up in the morning. And I figured maybe this little guy could help with that. » He gestured to Ralph, who was now sniffing the corner of the coffee table. « He’s not perfect. He’s got a bum leg and kind of a funky look, but… I thought maybe you’d see him the way you see those lopsided peaches at the market. The ones you always say deserve love, even if no one else thinks so. » Tears filled your eyes, spilling over as you slid off the couch to kneel on the floor. The dog trotted over to you, tail wagging furiously, and licked at your hands. You laughed through your tears, scooping the little guy into your lap and cradling him like he was the most precious thing in the world.« He’s perfect, » you whispered, your voice trembling. « Absolutely perfect. » Marshall knelt beside you, watching as you showered your new friend with affection. « He’s yours, » he said. « And he’s gonna need you. You’ll have to help him get around sometimes, maybe even carry him when he’s having a rough day. But I thought… I thought you could take care of each other. »
You looked up at him, eyes filled with gratitude and something else—something that had been missing for too long. Hope. « Thank you, » you said, your voice thick with emotion. « I… I don’t even know what to say. » He gave you a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. « You don’t have to say anything. Just get up tomorrow morning and love him. That’s it ».
#eminem fanfiction#eminem x reader#eminem fluff#marshall mathers imagine#marshall mathers x reader#eminem imagine
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Viktor did not know the first time he wanted to kiss Jayce.
It was hard to keep track of all the moments because of just how many there were. Jayce was a very easy person to want to kiss, with his handsome looks and incredible mind, paired with a strong work ethic and kind heart. Viktor suspected almost everyone Jayce met in his life had wanted to kiss him atleast once.
Jayce did not seem too interested in this fact, based on the amount of time he spent in the lab right next to Viktor. Their partnership did not allow for many relationships outside of a scientific purpose; it just so happened that Viktor really liked Jayce not only as a partner but also in general, just as a person.
So really, there were far too many times to count where he felt compelled to grasp his face in his hands and press their lips together. Some nights, Viktor would imagine Jayce running into the lab with great news of a secured deal or more grant money and just plant one right on his lips without thinking, before dashing to his desk while still chirping and leaving Viktor gasping.
He thought of a scenario where he found himself in the forge one night, just the two of them in the entire building, and like something out of a trashy novel, a shirtless and sweaty Jayce would pull him in by his hips and kiss him slowly and sensually before the rest of the daydream turned into something... else.
Once Viktor and Jayce were in the midst of a heated argument about how to conduct an experiment with or without proper precautions in place, and Jayce stood up and walked towards Viktor. He thought in that moment that Jayce was going to find a less conventional way of shutting him up and before he could articulate if that would've worked or pissed him off even further, Jayce had walked out the door. The next day he came back with an apology and they moved on stronger than before.
Viktor was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted to kiss Jayce. He thought of how much he wanted to know just how Jayce would kiss, he wanted to see that side of Jayce and keep it all to himself. Viktor had Jayce in the lab but he wanted more.
When it happened, VIktor and Jayce were on long night number six. Days had passed since either of them had left the lab longer than it took to take a shower and brush their teeth. They could feel the edges of discovery brushing their fingertips, so close to a revelation.
"Only Piltovians would get bored of the ability for humans to fly," Viktor murmured as he adjusted a screw on the bottom of their anti-gravity contraption. "Why they needed something portable is beyond me."
"Now is kind of a bad time to start complaining, V," Jayce replied as he worked on finalizing the welding components. "This is going to work this time, it has to work-"
"It will work," Viktor emphasized. "And if it doesn't, we try again."
"If it doesn't I'm cracking open that bottle of wine I know you keep-"
Suddenly, the room was flooded with vibrant blue that had the both of them scrambling backwards. While before, the hexcrystals made the entire room weightless, now everything remained as it was with only Viktor's wrench floating in the middle, suspended in mid air. It was flying. It worked.
Jayce picked himself off the ground where he has fallen back and pushed his goggle up to his forehead. "Holy shit, V, it worked!"
Viktor removed his goggles as well, mesmerized by the suspension of an object isolated within their own chamber. The blue of the hexcrystal had died down and left the room in a cool glow, and Viktor felt a smile tug at his lips. "This is.. incredible."
"Oh my god, it actually finally worked. I need to write down everything we did, what kind of screws did you use? What is the temperature of the room, what runes did we use?"
As Jayce rambled on, Viktor stood up and took in his frantic energy. His hands were moving quickly and his eyes were searching for his notebook while he paced the room like he couldn't sit down. His hair was disheveled from the times he ran his hand through it in frustration and his eye bags were getting more and more pronounced. His face was leaner and exhaustion draped over him like a blanket. Objectively, Jayce looked kind of like shit.
Viktor felt a spark in his chest, he couldn't look away.
When Jayce made his way back in front of Viktor, he smiled warmly. "This is such a huge relief, I was really starting to get concerned that we were going to have to completely start over, but now we can start with trials and-"
As Jayce spoke, the spark grew and grew until Viktor could ignore it no longer. He pulled Jayce down mid sentence and pressed his lips to his, locking them together.
Viktor's hands cradled the sides of Jayce's face, keeping him in place while Viktor pressed his lips harder and tilted his head ever so slightly. It felt right, for the first time in a long time. Viktor was used to not feeling included but in this moment it felt like it was meant to happen. Their kiss was always going to happen in the wake of discovery, how could it not?
A few seconds passed before Viktor gently pushed Jayce back, their breaths shared in the close space. Jayce was silent, and Viktor began to quietly worry that maybe Jayce did not feel like this moment was perfect to him. The thought devastated him; there would be nothing crueler than losing Jayce as a friend.
Viktor took a step back as he looked away. "I'll get started on those trials, we can start with the screws to see if-"
In that moment, Jayce reached out and pulled Viktor back towards him, connecting their lips again in a kiss. One hand made its way to the nape of Viktor's neck while the other held his jaw gently. This second kiss was dynamic and Viktor found himself getting lost in the motions. In all the day dreams he had, he never thought to imagine that Jayce would want to kiss him back this badly, this fervent need to claim his mouth. Their partnership truly knew no bounds.
Before things could get more heated, they broke apart once more and Jayce pressed his forehead to Viktor's with a gentle laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."
"What a coincidence," Viktor purred as he tugged Jayce in again. "So have I."
#space snips#space.txt#arcane#jayvik#jayvikweek#jayce talis#viktor arcane#for day 2: firsts#had to do their first kiss but also im so aromantic and do not like kissing so i just kinda guessed
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Reality is . . . off
Here's me, screaming into the void. I've got no theory, only Clues.
Reality seems to be acting strangely in Season 2 of Good Omens. Mostly around Aziraphale. My examples:
This season seems to be from Aziraphale's point of view, and all the colors and lighting seem to be very bright and vibrant.
The note from Maggie -- another post on Tumblr (damned if I can find it now) pointed out that she puts her phone down right as Aziraphale comes into her shop for the first time. She seems to be texting him, but the text message arrives to his door as a note in the mail slot because that's how he expects to receive correspondences.
Changing the Bentley into Our Car -- and in the flashback to 1941 that happens after the trip to Edinburgh in the show, the Bently is still a four-door. He changed it and then made it so it always was that way. (There's a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to change something and then make it so it always was that way -- something that's repeated about the Book of Life, too. Hmm . . .) No wonder Crowley just opens up the back door to put his plants in, it's always had a back door at that point! And please don't @ me with the Bently is not a Clue -- the change happens right in scene, on screen. That was not a "they hoped no one would notice" moment. And yes, I know they weren't able to use Mary for the second season. They got a reasonable look-alike, and then changed that car into a four-door. For why??
The Bentley following him when he parks it. People have said, "Oh, yes, the Bentley is sentient, of course!" But it hasn't done anything to show that until after Aziraphale drives it. And don't @ me with the Queen -- the gag in the book says that any album left in a car for more than a fortnight transmogrifies into The Best of Queen. It's not the Bentley doing that, it's just a fact of Queen. (Can confirm.)
Aziraphale is terrible at magic. But somehow, when he really needs to make a trick work, he does it. Oh, yeah, babe? You just put that photo right up your sleeve slick as that? Hm.
That 25 Lazarii miracle. Neither of them expected that. Yet there it was.
The whole ball. He wasn't casting miracles, reality was just -- conforming itself to what he wanted.
Now my point is . . . I don't know. My observation is that reality seems to be following Aziraphale's wishes, and I don't think he even realizes that it shouldn't be. Not entirely. Or is it that he knows reality is re-shaping itself around him, and he's enjoying it?
Reality is not warping around Crowley in the same way, and Crowley seems to be able to feel something's wrong. Coming in waves, like a hangover.
Now, I have heard it said that Neil has also pointed out that our angel and demon warp reality just by existing. Okay, actually makes sense. How could an occult and celestial being not mess with reality without even realizing they're doing it?
Am I chewing on a nothing burger?
Is Aziraphale turned up somehow?
What is going on.
#good omens meta#good omens#good omens 2#good omens fan theory#a half-baked idea#help I've fallen into a good omens theory and I can't get out
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I find it funny when people write Gojo as a horn dog who wants to have sex 24/7 when in reality Satoru is a virgin and a prude. When it came time for the both of you to have sex Satoru wouldn’t even know how to position himself fr. Satoru obviously knows about sex, he’s learned about it and may have even joked about it a few times but when it comes to actually having sex Satoru is a flustered nervous wreck. If you’re experienced you’ll have to guide him and show him what you like but if you’re a virgin too then it’s gonna be a little clumsy. He’s sitting on the bed in just his boxers while you’re standing in front of him in a cute pair intimates. You both were watching a movie but at some point started making out. Things got heated and now you’re in this situation. You’ve never done anything like this before but you both want this more than anything. To feel connected in that way and merge bodies and become one, is something you want with him and only him and Satoru feels the same way. He doesn’t really care that he’s still a virgin in his twenties bc Satoru didn’t want to give up his virginity to just anyone. He was waiting for ‘the one.’ Someone he felt connected to and trusted enough to see him vulnerable like that. Despite what some people may think he isn’t the man whore many people paint him to be. He wants a deep connection with someone who loves him, not because he’s the strongest or bc of his good looks and money but because he’s just Satoru and he’s finally found that connection with you. He glances at you, you look so pretty standing there with reddened cheeks and a nervous expression on your face. Your lacy pink matching bra and underwear look amazing on your vibrant skin. Satoru gulps and abruptly looks away, his own cheeks turning a vibrant of shade of red. “I’m ready when you are.” He nervously says still not looking at you. You look at him, your cheeks turning redder as you took him in. His tone muscular body had your heart racing and thighs squeezing together. You couldn’t believe that this beautiful man was yours sometimes. You shyly walk towards him and straddle his lap, his hands rest on your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes and reddened cheeks. Gosh he was so cute, you softly smile and rest your forehead against his. “I’m ready.” You whisper. He nods and starts tenderly kissing your neck. His soft warm lips on your skin tickles but you’re soon sighing and moaning when he’s kissing and lightly sucking on certain spots of your neck and collarbones. You start to feel something hard beneath you, pressing right up against your core. You slowly grind causing him to moan as well. Soon enough you’re under him, both of you are bare with flustered cheeks. “Are you sure?” He ask softly. You nod and rest your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sure.” You confirm. Satoru nods again and places a loving kiss on your forehead. “Just tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable.” He said whispers against your forehead. “Okay” you reply softly. When you first feel him it’s uncomfortable and stings a little but Satoru is holding your hand and kissing you through it all while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Satoru strikes me as a person who cries during sex bc of how good it feels to be loved and connected to you like this. He gets so overwhelmed with emotion that he orgasms before you do. You don’t mind of course, you kiss away his tears and whisper loving words to him while you rub his head. Your first time with Satoru wasn’t perfect but it was special and memorable. You wouldn’t change a thing 🩷.
A/n: This came out longer than expected and it’s very self indulgent. This is my first time writing like this so pls be nice.
#soft gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#jjk#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen#my husband#satosum#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk smut#satoru fluff#satoru smut#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu satoru
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helloooo!!! can i ask strawhats reactions with a nakama reader who just LOVES doing her nails and every time they have a chill day she takes her sweet time doing it?
sure thing! :) sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with work, university and soccer, and it's been difficult for me to be online during Ramadan because of the fast and other things i have to do, but i hope you enjoy this!
taglist - @kabloswrld
manicure
featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader
summary - the ask :)
warnings - none
ZORO
It's not often that the crew gets to take a day off and relax, but when you do you take full advantage of it. It's the only time you get to yourself, when you can do anything you want without having the other Straw Hats in your face all the time. Normally you stay in your room and do your nails, but today a certain swordsman was curious to know what you do on days off, so here he was in your room watching you.
"What's the point of that?" He deadpanned, watching the stroke of the paint-tipped brush over your nail.
You looked up at him, beaming, "It looks pretty!"
"It looks-" He sighed. "Okay."
Silence fell between you two again as you continued painting your nails, a (vibrant/dark) shade of (colour). You could tell that Zoro had more questions, probably about the necessity of your hobby, but you pointedly ignored him.
"Are you done yet?" His gruff voice rang out a few minutes later.
"Yes!" You grinned, holding up your hand, "With one hand!"
He groaned, rubbing his face, "This is boring."
"Well nobody said you had to be here, grumpy," you teased.
"i thought you'd do something more exciting. And fun."
"HEY," you protested, "This is fun! For me!"
The swordsman rolled his eyes, and you narrowed yours, "Maybe you should try it and see."
"No thanks."
"Then how about I paint yours too?"
"I can't think of anything I want less than that."
You pouted, but resumed painting your nails. When you were finished with your other hand, you turned to show Zoro proudly, only to find that he was fast asleep. You were disappointed for just a moment before smirking, realising that this was an opportunity for you.
So you painted his nails too, and then hid when he woke up.
LUFFY
Luffy gets bored when there's nothing for the crew to do. Unlike the rest of you, who enjoy the day off and take time to relax, he cannot sit still. He doesn't understand the concept of relaxing, because he's always bouncing off the walls and begging one of you to entertain him. Which is as difficult as it sounds, because he has the attention span of a goldfish.
"(Name), what do you do on days like this?"
You almost jumped out of your skin when the captain appeared at your shoulder suddenly. You dropped the small bottle of (colour) nail polish and watched as some dribbled out and onto your desk.
"Luffy!"
"Sorry," he apologised, but didn't sound like he was really sorry. Or look it, since he was grinning like the gremlin he was.
You sighed and picked the bottle up, cleaning the spilled polish, "I'm just doing my nails. Wanna watch?"
He nodded excitedly, curious about what that actually meant. When he saw you brush the paint on your nail, he oo'ed and ah'ed at the sight. To him it was fascinating how the colour settled on your nail when you finished painting.
But after a few fingers, he started to get bored and fidgety.
"(Name), how long is this going to take?"
"I still have the other hand, Luffy!" You laughed.
He pouted, but continued watching nonetheless. He was fascinated by how the colour stayed on your nails, and when you were done with both hands he jumped up excitedly.
"Now we can go do something more fun!" He grinned.
"No!" You shook your head. "I have to wait for it to dry, and then put another layer, and then wait for that to dry."
He groaned and sat back down, putting his chin in his palms like a little kid. He was going insane with boredom, and you were just happily sitting there painting your nails.
"If you want, Luffy, I can paint yours too."
He seemed thrilled by the idea, until he bounded out of your room to show the others as soon as you were done, and came back whining that it got smudged.
Sigh.
SANJI
This man is possible the only Straw Hat that could watch you do literally anything, no matter how long or how boring, without complaining. He is the only one who will be happy to sit with you for hours doing the most mundane things, because to him the time spent with you is worth it. So the minute you asked him for company, he didn't even let you finish before he was dragging you off to your room.
"Do you want to choose a colour?" You asked him, laughing as you showed him your assortment of nail polish colours.
He was more than happy to do that, and eagerly showed you a (bright/pastel) (colour) bottle. When you smiled and thanked him, he practically melted.
He's also the most patient of all of them. He doesn't mind that it takes forever to get just one hand done, nor does he mind that after you let it dry you have to apply another coat.
"How does it look?" You asked him, holding your hand up with a smile.
His answer is nothing short of what you expect, and he looks at your nails with heart eyes.
"It looks so pretty (Name)! Just like you!"
He might even offer to do it for you, and if you let him you find out that he's surprisingly good at it. Maybe even better than you. He takes longer, but that's because he wants it to be perfect for you. He honestly has no qualms about spending the entire day doing this with you, you will not hear a single complaint from him.
"Thanks, SanjI! Do you want me to do yours now?" You ask him teasingly, then get surprised when he eagerly holds out his hands for you to do whatever you want with. "Okay, which colour?"
And now that he knows you do this on every free day you guys get, he's at your door before you can even ask anyone if they want to choose a colour.
USOPP
Usopp knows what everyone does whenever the crew gets a day off. Everyone but you. You just slink off to your room with a smile and no one sees you for hours. Normally Usopp wouldn't think much of it, but as it happens more and more he gets curious to know what exactly you're doing. It also may be an excuse to get away from an overexcited Luffy who wants to tinker with his explosives.
He doesn't know how to feel about what he discovers.
"Usopp! Great!" You exclaim, pulling him into your room to show him what you were doing. "Would this colour look better, or this one?" You held up two different colours, confusing the poor sharpshooter.
"Look better for what?" He asked nervously, his first thought being that you wanted to paint something on a piece of paper.
"My nails!" You beam, showing him your bare nails. "Which colour matches my skin tone better, do you think?"
He blabbers out some kind of response, then points to the (colour) polish in your right hand. You smile and get to work, and he just stands there awkwardly until he sees you actually applying the paint on your nails.
"You just...paint your nails?" He asked, confused on how that would be fun.
"Yep!"
Deciding it was better than being bugged by Luffy, Usopp sat down and just watched you for a few minutes. That's how long it took for him to get bored, but he was too shy to say it.
"So this is why no one sees you for hours on our days off?" He asked, "The reason is way more boring than I thought it would be."
"Hey!" You protested, painting his nose (colour).
Usopp is in between Sanji and the other two. He's not very impatient, but he's not patient either. He will sit there and watch, and get bored, but he won't say anything about it until he either hears someone pass by or has had enough and pretends to cough and come up with another fake illness.
"You know, I have this rare disease called the-smell-is-killing-me-itis, it's pretty contagious so I should just-"
"Sit down," you interrupted him, "Cause I want to paint yours now."
"W-what?! No! Then I'll look like-I mean I'm allergic-"
"Sit down."
#one piece#op#one piece x reader#one piece x you#zoro x reader#zoro x you#roronoa zoro#sanji x reader#sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji#usopp x reader#usopp x you#one piece usopp#luffy x reader#luffy x you#monkey d luffy
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can I request a stargazing with Logan Howlett and GN!Reader fic? He doesn’t do this stuff, but has taken interest in it because his significant other likes it. When he tries to say something during the viewing above the hill, he stops when he notices the readers’ euphoric and freedom-minded expression, so he decides to live in the moment actually enjoy it :o?
It’s in the Stars
The night was still, save for the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze and the distant sound of crickets chirping. Logan, or as most knew him, Wolverine, sat on the edge of a grassy hill. His rough hands rested on the picnic blanket beneath him, his eyes scanning the treeline with a vigilance that never quite faded, even in moments like these.
Beside him, you lay on your back, staring up at the vast expanse of stars twinkling above. Logan had never been one for stargazing. The sky was just another place to him—something to be watched for incoming threats, not admired for its beauty. But tonight was different. There was something about the way you looked at the stars that made him pause, made him want to understand what you saw when you looked up there.
“Logan,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost as if you were afraid to break the spell the night had cast. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to change the sky?”
He grunted, not sure how to respond. Logan wasn’t a man of many words, and questions like that weren’t his forte. “Never really thought about it,” he finally replied, his voice gruff.
You smiled, and he could hear the amusement in your voice when you said, “Well, how about I show you?”
Logan glanced over at you, an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t one to indulge in fanciful ideas or flights of imagination. But the way you were looking at him—eyes full of something he couldn’t quite place—made him nod, just once.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the connection within you, the unique mutation that tied you to the very stars themselves. With each breath, you reached out with your mind, feeling the pull of the cosmos, the endless dance of the constellations. And then, with a gentle nudge of your power, you began to shift them.
Logan watched, his skepticism fading as the stars above began to move. Slowly at first, then more quickly, they swirled and shifted, rearranging themselves into patterns and shapes he had never seen before. Constellations twisted into new forms, telling stories that had never been told, painting pictures in the sky that only you could create.
He watched as you crafted a scene of freedom and beauty, a vision of the night sky unlike anything he had ever imagined. The stars, once distant and cold, now felt alive, vibrant with your energy and creativity. It was... mesmerizing.
Logan found himself relaxing, the tension that always lingered in his muscles easing as he let himself get lost in the moment. He wasn’t the type to let go, to just be in the present, but something about this—about you—made him want to try.
As the stars continued to dance, Logan looked over at you again. Your expression was euphoric, your eyes wide and filled with a light that seemed to rival the very stars you were shifting. There was a freedom in your expression that he envied, a joy in the simple act of creation that he couldn’t remember feeling in a long, long time.
He took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs, and allowed himself to smile—a rare, genuine smile. “It’s... somethin’ else,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.
You turned your head to look at him, and the smile on your face was worth more than any constellation you could ever create. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, your voice warm.
Logan nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over him. He wasn’t used to this—to quiet moments, to enjoying the beauty of something so simple. But as he sat there, beside you, under a sky that you had made your own, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the night.
“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.
“For this,” he said, gesturing to the sky. “For remindin’ me that there’s more to life than fightin’.”
You reached out, your hand finding his, and for once, Logan didn’t pull away. He squeezed your hand, the roughness of his skin contrasting with the softness of yours, and together, you sat in silence, watching the stars tell stories only you could create.
And for the first time in a long time, Logan let himself just be.
#marvel imagine#x men imagine#wolverine imagine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine one shot#deadpool imagine#wolverine
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claiming the jackpot.
// warnings
non-canon compliant, a bit out of character. yandere. relationship inexperience. implied noncon.
// author’s note
Aventurine’s a little out of character for this imagine. There’s not much content of him on the wiki and I’ve been itching to write some stuff about this guy since he’s pretty new to Star Rail.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Aventurine has always been pleased with the idea of claiming prizes he deemed rightfully his. Toying with the minds of others was what he did best; besides, what is there to satisfy him more than winning a game of chance? Gambling has always been his best feat, but moreover, he wasn’t the type to easily throw a fit over his losses in the heat of the game. In fact, these challenges and obstacles to this game of chance was what made him all the more feisty and insistent.
When he met you, he began staking out his claim like a panther and insisted you to be respectfully his and only his. Months into the friendship, you always showed signs of naivety since this was not a situation you had adequate experience around. Aventurine was unlike other men around. He treasured you, spent time with you, made you feel beautiful, loved, and appreciated for doing the bare minimum. Despite all this, you grew tired of his antics considering you weren’t actually ready for a serious relationship.
“He’s always this vibrant” — you thought. And you were right. He always displayed exemplary behavior when dealing with colleagues and members of the Astral Express. That was just a part of his charm. You chose to look at the big picture and imagine how your experiences with Aventurine would turn out provided you said ‘yes’ to his will of wanting to lure you in. But that wasn’t enough. You needed to dig deeper into the core of his being and sense any form of red flags in him while it still wasn’t too late.
There are many layers to Aventurine’s self — one that’s charismatic, friendly, and outgoing. Yet that’s just a tip of the iceberg according to your family and friends. What he hid from the masses, was what he displayed right before you at this very moment. A pissed, sarcastic Aventurine filled with pride and deceit.
The question remained in your thoughts — was a relationship with this shady, questionable man really worth pursuing?
There’s not enough chemistry between the two of you, was there? If you observed anything from the man himself, it was that he developed an addiction for gambling, playing games of endless possibilities and luck. And god knows what he does to his most precious jackpots.
You, a prize in his eyes, felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to run from his touch. Sure, he was polite enough to lend you some money for your college fees. But such treatment just wasn’t worth a reason for you to pursue hooking up with him. Before you could face Aventurine head on, he lifted you up bridal style, shoving you on the mattress with your face first. There’s not much you can do right now.
Sure, he was glammed up in luxurious jewelry and sported handsome, youthful features. He could spoil anyone he held dear for he had the gold to do so. But something wasn’t right. This relationship wasn’t right. It just felt so out of your control and the timing was off. But he didn’t stop.
Your mouth eventually complied with his tongue. Aventurine guides you through the whole process of pulling you in, claiming you as the grand prize of tonight’s game. It’s not as if you could resist any of his advances from now. He’s got millions of eyes glued upon you just like he had millions in his pocket.
“Beautiful. Such an eager little sweetheart. I’m going to take you nice and deep, and you’re going to be a good doll for me, yes?”
“N-no!!! Please, let me go!” you pleaded. Pled till your throat ran dry. You struggled against Aventurine’s strength as you shook your head from left to right, indicating your resistance towards his touch. “I swear, I’ll do anything, just please, let me go! I’m sick of our relationship being this way!”
“Ah, ah, ah, better watch what you say, little one. Those who seize the night may be out to get you, yet none of them went the extra mile to actually express their love for you.” Aventurine chuckled condescendingly. “From this day onward, you’re going to regret leaving me.”
Against your will, you felt something similar to a sword hilt impale you like an uppercut, It was Aventurine’s length stretching every last bit of your sanity, hell, even your pride.
His moans. You couldn’t get enough of it. Despite being naked and restrained in his king-sized bed, you felt his body heat radiate in front of yours, feeling the friction of his thrusts that grew guttural as time passed.
“Hah. I’ve been addicted to the art of gambling for quite a long time now, and it’s been a long time noting how……fascinating it is to actually claim the most precious prize of them all…..All of it, as mine.”
“I’m not yours! Ngh!” you exclaimed, stifling a moan.
“Yes, my dear. Yes, you are.” Aventurine sneered. “One of these days, you’re going to get used to this. Used to having my eyes set upon the fragile, feeble you. I’m going to meet you in that beautiful afterglow as I make this relationship the best you ever had. And that time….is tonight.”
“It would be better if you just do as I say. Otherwise, I’ll just find more ways to sneak up on you and make you mine.” he added.
With that, he, once again, pressed his lips onto yours, shutting you up for the sake of shutting you up.
And there he was, plainly confessing his undying love (and lust) for your presence as a lovely jackpot.
#x reader#yandere x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr aventurine#hsr x you#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#hsr x reader#yandere tw#dddne
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