#i plan on adding it later but I might forgot

[hauntedkeys]

I did it I drew Danielle again

[inside-lees-mind]

Naruto Characters Accidentally Calling their Girlfriend their Wife

MR KRABSSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAA

Fem reader (or if you want to be called wife)

Characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Shino, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji, Neji, Rock Lee, Kankuro, and Gaara.

(Masterlist is up now) also I’ll be adding Sai to this in the morning

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s talking to some new people and enthusiastically pulls you to his side, a large smile on his face, and he says “This is my wife! Y/N!”

You can’t hide your shock, not fully at least. He’s never called you his wife before. I mean, he’s said things like “you’ll be my future wife, right?” As he giggles or something.

But you are in a state of shock that he introduced you that way.

Nonetheless, you’re happy.

If the person makes a comment about how young or cute you two are for a married couple, he’d realize. Likely, he’d respond a little oddly, stuttering, but recovers and just full sends with the claim you’re his wife.

Sasuke Uchiha

If he’s with you, you’re gonna be his wife anyways. He didn’t get with you until he was sure of that, because it took him a long time to realize he felt that way anyways.

So he calls you his wife with full confidence, before realizing his mistake. However, he doesn’t care too much to correct himself or anything.

Because you are gonna marry him right? (He’s actually really nervous to propose, but he won’t admit that.)

People would probably just believe him immediately considering just how serious he is about you to even be with you.

When you confront him about it later, he’ll ask you if that was okay, explain it was a mistake, but he’ll probably comment on how he’s dating to marry anyways so… you might as well be his wife.

You can probably expect a proposal soon.

Shino Aburame

I can’t fully see this happening tbh. However, let’s say that it does.

He’d probably over explain himself to the person he referred of you as his wife too.

Not that he doesn’t want you as his wife, but you haven’t said you’ll be his wife yet. So he can’t call you his wife. That’s how he sees it.

He’ll probably think he messed up and upset you, so you’ll have to explain it was cute.

Once you explain to him, he’ll see your point. Maybe with some reluctance to lighten up on himself.

He’ll be happy you want to be seen as his wife though.

Kiba Inuzuka

Realized his mistake, but he could not be bothered.

He will keep on as if there is no mistake. As if you are legally married.

He’ll be upset if you correct him in front of people.

It’ll turn into a bit of an argument if you correct him in any way other than sweetly.

Because what the big deal???

If you leave it alone, and talk to him later, now he’s nervous and stuttering. But he’ll likely comment on how he knows you want to marry him so you might as well be called his wife.

Shikamaru Nara

Immediately realizing what slipped out his mouth.

Does he really want you to be his wife? Well, of course he does. But that’s a lot for him to accidentally spill out to some strangers you’re both meeting.

They don’t know he made a mistake, because you roll with it.

Later, he’ll try to avoid talking about it, but if you bring it up, he’ll say it was a mistake, don’t take it so seriously.

If you seem down about his underwhelming response, he’ll likely have an actual talk about his future with you to reassure you that he was just being an idiot when he said that.

Choji Akimichi

He forgot you’re not his wife.

I think Choji would just love you so much that he would simply treat you like a wife. To the point he forgets, you’re not his wife.

If you comment on it, he’ll think about it and probably be like ohhhh right.

He’ll apologize, but more than likely you’ll just say it was cute.

I can see him calling you wifey.

But if he’s gonna call you that, he’s gotta get you that ring. He’s planning on it as yall speak.

Neji Hyuga

You two are waiting a while before calling it official. Plans of marriage are far off.

He’s a little too traditional to jump at marriage quickly.

So when he accidentally calls you his wife, it was to Hiashi. He went pale. Paler than usual.

Later, depending on how exactly that went, he’ll probably be in his head.

Let’s assume for this though, that Hiashi approves of you completely.

Hiashi made a comment, rather he meant it badly or not, Neji will take it the wrong way. Realize he jumped too far.

You’ll have to tell him you find it cute, and rather his uncle approves of you two or not, you’ll be his wife someday :)

Rock Lee

It COULD be an honest mistake.

But let’s be honest,

It’s Lee.

He calls you his wife to your face, to other people, hell, he’d shout it from the roof tops.

So it’s not an accident. He meant it. He will one day make you his wife, so why would he not call you his wife now!

If you have any reserves about being called his wife before actual marriage, he will pout and be upset. He won’t understand.

But, once that’s over, he’s crying and begging for forgiveness.

Please tell him it’s cute that he wants to marry you, even if you do want to have a talk with him about not assuming roles you don’t officially have.

Gaara

HE CALLED YOU HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF A CROWD. so now he’s blushing.

He might correct his mistake, might not. Depends.

He’s a confident speaker, but that threw him off a little bit.

Likely you were a strong shinobi or something and he was trying to give you credit where it’s due, but it didn’t go as planned.

When you too are alone later, you’ll bring it up likely.

If you tell him you thought it was cute or sweet, he’ll turn bright red like his hair.

He likely won’t go on calling you his wife or anything. Maybe in private.

But he’s not ashamed of it. After all, he’s strongly considering marriage.

Kankuro

Called you his wife to his siblings while you were over for dinner.

Temari is not letting him live it down.

“Hey, I think your wife is trying to get your attention.” “I don’t know, maybe ask your wife?” “What about your wife?” From then on out.

He’s frustrated because it was a mistake, BUTTTT honestly, eventually he’ll make some snarky comment about how at least he’s closer to marriage than she is. Then he probably harps on Shikamaru a little bit in defense for his own comment.

(He approves of Shikamaru tho, if he’s being real. He just thinks it’s a little funny)

As long as this is before a certain point.

He decides to call you his wife to your face.

He’ll call you that to tease you now.

[theredcuyo]

Little Dick (like, between his teen rebellion and actual gremlin child fase) wants a little sibbling after having a little summer job of babysitting his neighboor, Tim

Convincing Bruce turns out easier than he thought, but Alfred is unfaced to his pleas and denies any chance, so he and B work out a plan

They don't have a real plan (Bruce didn't have a plan when he adopted Dick to begin with) but during Patrol a few nights later, Robin finds a kid looking for food in the trash, gives him five dollars to actually buy something nice, takes a good look at him and goes "Yeah, this is brother material"

And after the kid comes back, he wonders if the rest could buy medicine for his mom, who wasn't feeling good that morning and 'fell sleep very very deeply'

A bit of panic takes over Dick, and the worse is the truth unfortunately for this boy, but it doesn't take away the chance for him to quickly get a brand new older brother

Alfred can't stop them, the kid needs a family

By the way, his name is Jason, he's still processing what just happened, but someone is feeding him now, that's good

Two years later, is Jason who wants a baby brother, and it just SO happens that as of late, when he goes with his brother to babysit their neighboor (When he feels like Dick might need company but not Bruce's, they're arguing a lot as of late) he starts to notice weird things, like, who besides them is taking care of him?

The kid also has trouble speaking, he read in a book that if babys don't get enough talk done to them they have trouble learning to speak. The kid's eyes also get teary if you say something like 'Sorry, forgot you were there for a second' even on accident.

When he snoops around the house during Tim's (And Dick's) nap time, that by the way, was hard to do because Tim likes sleeping between both of them, literally baby brother material, and he finds documents that state he's not had anyone come look after him save for them in the weekends since a year and a half ago he knows they have to intervene

And if that gets him the baby brother he wanted that's just added price to getting justice done!

Tim never really felt like he wanted another sibbling, it could be nice if he had one, You know? One that could help him scape Dick's hug hours or one just so Jason would stop calling him a baby, but he knew better than to ask for anything.

Lucky for him, the league had him covered, and yeah, he wasn't exactly allowed to hack into their base, B said it could be dangerous, but he was curious of the possibility and if by chance he saw a little boy running around thanks to the security cameras, then it was good, wasn't it?

The league wasn't a place for a child to grow in, Batman, we have to intervene!

It wasn't just because he'd be the perfect little sibbling material, pfff, of course not...

Just look at him, this one comes trained already!

Yeah, Tim was happy.

|||

Dunno what i just did, but i do love those the kids get into the family earlier fics ngl

[misofist]

I did a pretty interesting scene with my girlfriend @trannytheophage last night.

She is *very* susceptible to hypnosis, and she has a trigger that can be used to make her forget anything of your choosing. She's also kinky enough that (in the right setting) she can take almost anything she hates and sexualise the suffering until she enjoys it.

I had something in mind that I knew she'd hate. So in the afternoon while we were getting ready to go to a play party, I gave her a sneak peak. I showed her exactly what I was planning to do. As expected, she hated it, but I was wanting to make sure that she wouldn't hate it enough for it to be a consent issue. Then I made her forget, so it would still be a surprise.

Early on at the play party I ran the scene I'd been planning. Another friend at the party joined in, adding extra parts to the scene that made it way better than I'd originally planned. My girlfriend fell deep into subspace.

When she surfaced, she growled and hissed at me and promised that she'd get me back. And I told her that no she wouldn't, because she wouldn't remember. I also told her she should mind her manners or I might extend her torment.

When the scene ended, I used careful phrasing to edit her memories, so she could remember everything she'd done with the third person in the scene but not anything I'd done, not the part that she'd really hated.

Trouble arrived only a few seconds later. My girlfriend was puzzled at some lingering sensations she had which couldn't be explained by what she remembered. I gave a kinda half-hearted "oh that's strange" and she leapt at me, pinned me to the ground by my neck, and asked me "What did you do? What did you make me forget?"

My other girlfriend opportunistically tickled my feet, and as I squirmed desperately I could not barely catch enough breath to say a single word. Once I was afforded the ability to speak again, I gave in. "I'll tell you I'll tell you! I'll whisper it to you." So she leaned in to hear, and I used her trigger to make her forget that I'd made her forget something.

She blinked a bit and then went "Why do I have you pinned to the floor by your neck..." and after a moment of puzzlement it dawned on her why she was feeling confused. And she started right back in, "What did you do!?"

This second time, after I offered to whisper it to her again, I managed to wriggle out of her grip as I was pretending to reveal it to her. And so as she forgot what she was doing once again, this time she came back to without anything obvious to remind her. I had gotten away with it.

Later in the night, she asked me to take a photo of her ass (which had just been spanked). I took the photo and showed it to her. As I took my phone back, I mentioned how I had a lot of other great photos of her from the night. And she looked confused and said "what do you mean, we haven't done any photos... we haven't played together tonight?" And I ineffectually deflected with "oh yeah of course".

She dropped me to the floor and started kicking me quite viciously. The third person from earlier joined in on the fun, stomping on me with her boots. I playfully protested, and eventually pulled the "I'll whisper it to you" trick again.

The other person said "oh that's a shame, I was hoping she'd realise who else had the information she was looking for" so I turned around and sweetly said "Hey <girlfriend>, <other person> has information about something you've forgotten." and then let the violent interrogation scene play out between the two of them.

The third person ended up being made to spill their info, and as my girlfriend walked away triumphantly, I whispered the trigger in her ear again. She wondered aloud why she'd been topping the other person, and I told her that it's because they'd been wanting to be bullied. She does aftercare for them, and then we all split off to do our own things for the rest of the evening.

And now I have written this, so she can enjoy the knowledge of how I toyed with her mind, and still feel the frustration of being clueless about what happened in the original scene.

I'll tell her what happened from time to time. I'll show her the photos. But it's not a memory I'll allow her to keep. She will only be able to savour it in brief flashes, as and when it suits me.

[iiotic]

Rhetorical Question (Il Dottore x Wife! Reader)

SUMMARY: you decided to stay in your husbands office as you didn't want to go home alone in the cold. it was already late, you didn't control your mouth and just said the first things that came to your head.

1.1k words | masterlist

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 TAGS: dottore x fem! wife! reader, fluff at first, angst/no comfort, immortal x mortal, let's just say that dottore didn't make you immortal in this scenario, death, mentions of Pantalone, akademiya flashbacks, mentions of kidnapping, ooc dottore? lowercase intended, not proffread, please inform me if i missed something.

NOTES: im back with writing y'all!! i dont know when i will post this yet but im so happy that im finally motivated again. this was suppose to be shorter but oh well. i also can't make summaries so forgive me.

the wind hitting the window could be heard even inside to coziness of your husband's office. the dangerous winter of sheznaya was not for the weak. you were thankful that you didn't need to work in the cold, thankful that you can stay inside on Zandik's couch under a warm blanket near the fireplace.

you sighed, snapping out of your thoughts. looking away from the window you acknowledged the closed book lying on your thighs. you forgot to mark the page again.

"what time is it?" you asked, eyeing your zandik who was apparently fighting with some paperwork, trying to get more funding from regrator.

normally he'd give the job to one of his segments, but ever since the ninth got an envelope covered in oil and other kind of sticky substances, signed webby ;3 he demanded that dottore need to write it himself.

"ten past eleven" he responded shortly after. "you know you can go home at any given moment. i could have one of my assistants escort you safely."

before you could protest he added. "as much as i appreciate your company i know that you might start talking gibberish somewhere around these hours."

"pff.. no, i will not." you murmured to yourself. you opened to the book that you were previously reading, searching for the page that you ended on. the clock hit twelve am. you soon started to get sleepy but didn't want to wake up to your husband saying "i told you to go home."

"if i were to leave you" you started but immediately cut off.

"are you planning to?" dottore eyed you from behind his desk, momentarily stopping his writing.

"no, of course not." you chuckled slightly at your husbands reaction. "it was a rhetorical question." he let out a pleased hum, signalling that you can continue your meaningless questions.

"rhetorically speaking, if i were to leave you or if i would get kidnapped, what would you do?" you laid down at the couch, not looking at dottore, however admiring the flames of the fireplace.

"dear, what kind of a question is that?"

"a rhetorical one."

he was silent or pheraps silenced. the room was silent, besides the wind hitting the window and the cozy fireplace burning. there wasn't any sound of dottore writing the letter. you could feel his eyes staring at the back of your head.

after a minute or two you started to question yourself if you should apologize. you relaxed slightly as your heard zandiks laughter echoing in the room.

"you'd never do that, i'd make sure of that." he replied shortly, already ending the conversation at that. he thought that you will stop but he was entirely wrong.

"you're right i wouldn't, BUT rhetorically speaking-" you started, but got cut off yet again. you sighed hearing dottores response.

"i do not answer dumb questions."

annoyed, you opened your book yet again, searching for the page yet again as you forgot to mark it again. you knew that arguing with zandik was pointless. if he doesn't want to say something, he won't. soon enough, your eyes felt heavy. you could feel them closing by themselfs.

later that night you woke up to a sudden weight beside you. groaning, you opened your eyes slightly to see your husband sitting on the other side of the bed.

"apologies, i didn't mean to wake you up." zandik said, slipping his shoes off and coming under covers to your now awake figure. you mumbled that it's fine, half sleeping. as soon as he fully laid down you cuddled your lover.

"i was thinking about the question you asked me earlier." you hummed in response, feeling his arm move to your hair. "if anyone or anything would take you away from me i'd go crazy." he chuckled lightly

"i'd send every single fatui to look for you. search every nation, every nook. i.. i know i don't say this often nor act like it but you mean so much to me. i don't know what i'd do without you. if you were to ever go missing i'd kill anyone just to see you again. i'd do anything just to see you again. i cannot imagine my life without you."

"oh.. my sweet zandik." you sighed, looking up at your lover "i will never leave you, i promise. im sorry if i upset you, i didn't mean to.

"you lied." dottore murmured looking at your lifeless body infront of him.

it was so terrible, so terrible. your eyes deprived from any emotions looking so lifeless, your body stabbed in various places. hair devolished, blood on your clothes. it was too late he told himself.

he crouched to your body, closing your eyes gently. why? why do you look so beautiful even though that you're no longer with him. you will always be the most beautiful creature in the whole universe for him.

later, he moved you to one of the rooms in his lab. a room that only he had access to. there you were laying in one of these gorgeous transparent coffins, one candle being the only light source in the room. you looked gorgeous, as always in your wedding dress that dottore himself changed you into.

he stood there just infront of you, fingers digging into his legs surely they started bleeding by now.

"you always made my days brighter when we were still in the akademiya, days seemed to go slower than now. at first you annoyed me terribly but i could never bring myself to tell you to leave. it soon formed into something more, at first fondness, friendship then love. i-i didn't know how to feel about this so i just distanced myself from you, but i couldn't bear it much longer as everything reminded me of you. your gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, angelic voice.. how could you leave me like this. if only you told me about thise earlier, we could find a solution together. mortality is a curse.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[4nyangnyangz]

bf!yeonjun who just might love you a bit TOO much.......

synopsis: lonely nights without Yeonjun have become part of your routine, and tonight wasn't any different. after spending the evening decorating for Christmas, you receive a late-night call from him that brings you comfort while waiting for him to return, that is —until small, unsettling details about your day slip into the conversation. as his warm words echo in your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right.

pairings: bf!yeonjun x fem reader

tags/warnings: possible triggering/sensitive content!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. established relationship, dark themes, hints of stalking, obsession, etc. yeonjun is OBSESSED with you and doesn't want you out of his sight for long. FLUFF IF YOU SQUINT. there might be more I forgot to mention-

wordcount: 0.8k!!

fic below the cut!!

Being alone late at night without your boyfriend, Yeonjun, made you feel incredibly lonely. Due to the demands of his job, he often returns home late and frequently works overtime, something you were still struggling to adjust to.

The two of you lived together in a small but cozy apartment, which you were currently decorating with Christmas ornaments, adding little decorations to your mini tree. This was your way of keeping yourself occupied while Yeonjun was gone.

You finished your decorating by placing a star on top of the Christmas tree, completing the festive atmosphere.

Looking around, you felt proud as you admired the decorations scattered around the living room, which made your cozy space feel more vibrant. You cleaned up afterwards, ensuring that the mess from decorating was tidied up.

Once you were done, you headed to your bedroom, letting out a sigh as you picked up the fox plushie from the small desk next to your bed. It was a gift from Yeonjun, given to you when he received his first paycheck from his current job. You would usually play with the plushie or talk to it whenever you felt bored, or when you were just missing your boyfriend in general.

“Hey, Hwangchoon,” you called out, using the name you and Yeonjun had given the plushie a while ago.

You lay down on your bed, resting the plushie on your stomach, facing you.

“Do you think Yeonjun will like the decorations I put up in the living room?” you muttered as you fiddled with the little fox plush.

You held the plushie with both hands, moving it to make it nod in response to your question. You smiled to yourself before reaching for your phone, which was resting beside you. You then checked the time.

[11:37PM]

No texts or calls from him yet… you thought, before locking your phone and placing it back on the bedside table. With nothing else to occupy your time while waiting for Yeonjun to come home, you decided to take a bath before heading to bed.

You placed Hwangchoon back on the desk and got up, grabbing a towel before heading to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you returned to your room and changed into something comfy.

You and Yeonjun had agreed that if he wasn't home by 11 PM, you could go to bed first, and that's exactly what you had planned, especially since you were still feeling a little tired from decorating the living room.

Just as you finished changing, your phone rang, and you rushed to your bed to answer. The smile on your face was instant when you saw Yeonjun's name on the screen.

“Hey, baby~ are you still awake? I hope I didn’t wake you up,” his voice came through the phone, and your smile grew even wider at the sound of his voice after what sounded like a long, tiring day.

“Well, I was getting a little sleepy and was about to go to bed,” you paused for a moment and giggled, “But now I'm wide awake after hearing your voice.”

“Aww, I'm sorry for keeping you up, angel. Something urgent came up at work, and I really had to finish it tonight, so I clocked out later than usual. But I’m on my way home now. I’ll be there in less than 5 minutes.”

“It’s fine, Yeonjun. You know I’m always just here waiting for you around this time. Get home safely, okay?”

“I promise I'll be quick. I know you must be tired from decorating all night. I got you your favorite snacks, so just hang in there for a bit, okay?”

You laughed softly and stood up, heading to the living room to get ready for his arrival.

“Alright, baby. I'll be right here when you get in.”

“You know, I'm a little upset that you took a shower without waiting for me,” Yeonjun teased on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the pout in his voice. “So, you’re going to have to give me a ton of hugs when I get home, alright?”

“I’ll give you all the hugs you want, but you better hurry up or I’ll fall asleep on you,” you joked, rolling your eyes.

“Wait—no! I’m already here! I’ll be at the door in 10 seconds, I promise. I’m hanging up now, okay? Love you, baby!” Yeonjun’s voice wavered, and you could hear him running in the background before the call cut off.

Just as you expected, the doorbell rang, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as you headed to the door to let him in.

But right as your hand reached for the doorknob, a sudden thought hit you. You froze, furrowing your brows in confusion.

Wait, I haven't told him I was going to put up the Christmas décor in the living room today and that I took a bath first, have I?

It turns out your boyfriend had been keeping you company all along, but in a way far more unsettling than you ever realized.

-------------------

a/n: i was listening to Devil by the Window when I thought of this prompt, and i immediately remembered how yeonjun's look in the GGUM concept photos would complete the whole vibe of this, so here we are. Merry Christmas, everyone! ❤️

[beelinx]

the moment i knew

synopsis: between all the stress of volleyball and final exams, your boyfriend kenma happened to forget a very important day - your birthday. warnings: kenma might be a bit of a bad bf </3 angst w/ (somewhat) of a happy ending. NOT PROOFREAD ! 3.1k words fem!reader

based on this rec <3

it was no secret kenma gets tired easily – everyone can see it, really. he has always had a hard time keeping up with his overly energetic teammates, often opting to miss practice to relax and play videogames.

there were days when kenma was just so exhausted he forgot stuff and even neglected his studies.

well, he couldn’t really do that last one much lately.

final exams were tiring not only for him, but for all the students attending nekoma – and you definitely weren’t an exception.

you spent most of your days studying the hardest you could so as to get good grades and be finally able to relax. at least you had something to look forward to, though.

your birthday landing near finals season wasn’t exactly the nicest thing ever, especially considering most of your friends would be too busy. therefore, you opted for no party; just spending the day chilling with the people closest to you was enough.

as your boyfriend, kenma was one of the first people to be told of your plans for the day. you’d been forcing him to study with you, the idea of him failing because he preferred to play video games rather than studying bothered you immensely. 

“i’ve been thinking.” you’d said during one of your breaks, a half-opened bag of chips in your hand.

“about what?” he mumbled in reply, his focus separated between the game he was currently playing and your current conversation.

“well, i know that with finals and all, everyone’s been super busy.” kenma hummed in agreement. you ate a handful of chips before continuing speaking. “and since my birthday falls in between all this madness, i think i’ll just not do anything.”

he grumbled in reply, so you continued, “maybe just you and some of my best friends can come over, and we can watch a movie or something.” you nodded, already set on your idea. “we can eat tons of snacks, too. i want popcorn – and i can get the chips you like.”

kenma nodded absentmindedly, eyes currently trained on his game system. his focus on you was slowly slipping away.

noticing his detached spirit, you quickly added, “you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to though! i know you feel kinda awkward around my friends, but they like you. i promise!”

he hummed once again in reply and stood up slowly, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek – and that basically seemed to mark the end of the conversation. you’d mentioned the party again in later conversations, all in which he seemed to grow more comfortable with the idea.

around three weeks later, it was finally your birthday.

both your friends and your classmates at school had all congratulated you, some giving you gifts. your best friend even brought out a cake and sang you happy birthday, along with your other closest friends, during break. it was nice, receiving so much love from everyone; but something was wrong.

you hadn’t seen kenma all day.

you looked for him everywhere – all his classes, your lunch spots, and everywhere else. you even asked kuroo about it, but he told you he didn’t know, and that it was likely he just overslept and stayed home.

okay, no matter. just because he didn’t come to school doesn’t mean he forgot you existed or anything… right?

you texted him, of course. he replied to you quickly – he always does. he explained he was just feeling tired and that you shouldn’t worry, but that’s not what you were really concerned about.

throughout that whole conversation, never once did he wish you a happy birthday. it made you feel horrible. him forgetting your birthday broke your heart. i mean, it’s not like he didn’t know when he was. you told him. and, sure, maybe he was just so tired with exams that he forgot. but, your friends hadn’t. hell, even kuroo hadn’t – he wished you a happy birthday when you walked up to him earlier.

so, why did he forget?

your thoughts started becoming too much for you. the feeling that the person you considered most important to you currently forgetting such an important moment for you felt soul-crushing. suddenly, you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. you tried to blink them away – and when that didn’t work and the tears started to spill, you wiped them off your face as quickly as you could and rushed to the ladies room.

you rushed with your head down, trying to avoid anyone in the halls seeing your red face. once you got to the bathroom, you locked yourself inside a stall and started sobbing as quietly as you could.

you were suddenly startled by a soft knock on the door of the stall you were sitting in. “...are you okay?” said a soft, questioning voice – one belonging to your best friend. of course, she’d noticed you breaking down. seems like nothing can get past her.

you sniffled and wiped your nose with toilet paper before speaking. “yeah.”

“i don’t believe that.”

slowly, you stood up and unlocked the door of the stall, walking out to meet her. she looked startled upon seeing your red cheeks and puffy eyes, but her features quickly softened into that of concern and sympathy.

“c’mere,” she said, pulling you in for a big hug. then, she grabbed you by the arm and guided you to the sinks, where she ushered you to wash your face. meanwhile, she quickly sent a text on her phone, right before returning her full attention to you.

she gave you a few seconds of silence, waiting for you to comfortable to speak.

“he forgot my birthday,” you whimpered, tears still running down your cheeks.

“who?” she asked. “kenma?”

you nodded in reply, and you swear smoke was basically coming out of her ears. “oh that jackass,” she hissed. “i’ll kill him next time i see him, i swear. what an idiot. how could he forget your birthday? you’ve talked about it time and time again! seriously, i swear that guy better switch schools before i catch his bum ass and-”

before she could finish her threat, the door busted open, revealing your other two friends – yuki and hana. their faces looked red, too, and their clothes seemed disheveled. either they just sprinted all the way here, or they were up to some interesting activities.

your best friend turned around, face seething with anger, and quickly filled them in on the situation. almost immediately, they had all flocked around you, uttering many words of comfort and just as many insults on kenma’s name.

“well… maybe he’s actually planning a secret surprise party?” hana suggested, trying to get you to cheer up, it seemed.

you shook your head. “no, kenma doesn’t like surprises,” you said. “also – i’ve told him before that i wouldn’t like having a surprise party. and he knows today’s plans since i invited him.”

your best friend scoffed, “if he’s willing to forget your birthday then he’s likely to forget tons of other stuff. anniversaries, holidays, picking up your kids for school…” she trailed off, but her point had been made clear. “you should end it now that you know exactly what kind of partner he is, honestly.”

you bit your lip and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. she made a good point, and you knew there was a high chance she was right. but, kenma hasn’t forgotten any of your other anniversaries. in fact, he’s celebrated them all monthly, without missing any of them. you were close to being one year together with him, and during that time he’s been nothing but considerate of you. it seemed he always knew exactly how you were feeling, and what you needed. he doted on you constantly – complimenting your appearance, buying you gifts with all his money, and even trying his hardest to step out of his comfort zone and show more physical affection. despite how heartbroken you felt right now, it still didn’t feel right to break up with him over this.

“i know what you’re thinking,” your best friend said, taking notice of the look in your eyes. she always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “‘oh but he’s so nice! he’s never done anything wrong!’” she mocked your voice in a way that almost made you laugh despite the current situation. “but i’m telling you, that’s how it starts.”

“maybe,” you replied, “but i still want to talk to him.”

she sighed dramatically, “alright then, whatever you want.” she paused for a minute, clearly hesitating. “i’m just looking out for you, ‘kay? i do hope this is just a stupid mistake that will never happen again on his part. i really do want things to work out for you; i wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken – especially since i know how much he means to you”

you smiled softly and hugged her again. yuki and hana went on their way, not before wishing you good luck with your talk with kenma. your best friend lingered for a little longer, offering to walk to your next class after the lunch break, which you agreed to.

after school had ended, you said goodbye to your friends once again before heading out. you weren’t going to your house this time. well, you were going sometime, since your party plans with your friends were still on. but given that kenma had forgotten your birthday, you assumed he had likely forgotten about the party, too. therefore, going to his house served two purposes: to remind him of said party, and to have a really serious talk with him.

the walk over to kenma’s house somewhat relaxed you, the familiarity of the trees and buildings bringing a sense of comfort to your stressed-out mind. it was a road you had followed many times before, mostly with kenma, though. a sudden wave of sadness washed over you at the abrupt thought that, if this conversation didn’t go well, it would be the last time you walked through this path to visit his house. the thought made you feel sick to your stomach, the previous sense of comfort banishing almost instantaneously.

suddenly, you found yourself standing at his front door. given the lack of noises and lights, you figured his parents weren’t currently home – they were at work, probably. just as well, it might make this even less awkward for you if his parents weren’t here. because, if things went south and they heard that… yeah, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get over it.

your hesitated before knocking softly at his door. you waited for a few seconds, the sound of your heart thumping erratically in your chest being the only noise your ears could pick up. your heart only stopped once he had opened a door. just for a second though, because then it was back to beating at record speed.

kenma looked nice – he always did, in your opinion. despite his messy hair and wrinkled clothes that suggested he’d spent all day laying down, probably playing a bunch of video games, you thought he looked really good. handsome, even. the corners of your lips almost quirked up at the memory of your friends making fun of you the day you confessed to them your huge crush on him.

“oh.” kenma was clearly startled, not expecting you to be the person knocking at his door. “hey, y/n,” he finally said, smiling softly at the sight of you. it was sweet, but you weren’t here for that. you were here for serious matters.

“can we talk?”

he was taken aback by your sudden tone. it was rare for you to act this way, usually the second he’d opened the door you would have jumped in his arms and started rambling on and on. so, obviously, given your change in attitude, he knew this was going to be a serious talk.

kenma nodded and opened the door more, allowing you to enter. you walked up to his room, the house all too familiar. his bedroom smelled like him – well, obviously it did. a video game was left paused on his desktop, the music coming from it stopping abruptly as he saved his progress and closed the game. he sat down next to you on the bed and stared deeply into your eyes. neither of you said anything; it seemed that he wanted you to take the initiative.

“do you know what today is?” you asked him. maybe you still had a sliver of hope he was just waiting to tell you in person. maybe hana was right and he was throwing a surprise party. maybe.

he paused before speaking cautiously, “last week of finals?”

you scrunched your eyebrows and looked down, “check the date, kenma.”

following your orders, he turned on his phone and checked today’s date. his eyes scanned over his phone for a bit, clearly trying to piece together what you were trying to hint at. it wasn’t your anniversary, not yet. he couldn’t remember any special holidays taking place today. maybe it was another one of those dumb trends based on songs. no, you would’ve told him about that. you would’ve…

wait.

kenma’s head snapped towards yours, eyes wide. “it’s your birthday.” he stated. it wasn’t a question, he knew it was. he didn’t know how he forgot, but now he felt awful – especially after noticing your reaction to his words.

“yeah.” you replied simply, your voice raspy.

he stayed quiet for a second, trying to figure out what to say or what to do. his eyes seemed trouble, no doubt he’s mind was off calculating again.

finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

 “i’m… sorry.”

…

“that’s it?” you said, astonished. “is that all you have to say after forgetting my birthday?”

“i don’t know what else i can say,” kenma responded, “i really am sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i-”

“how exactly do you plan to make it up to me, kenma?” you asked him, trying your hardest to keep your voice level and the tears from making an embarrassing return.

“i don’t know yet but,” he took a deep breath, “i will make it up to you, i promise.”

you scoffed and looked away, “so what? am i supposed to take your word for it?”

he swallowed before speaking softly again, “yeah.”

you took in a breath and closed your eyes. “alright then. i’ll see you around,” you said plainly, right before heading over to the door.

“wait!” kenma exclaimed, grabbing your arm before you could get away. he softened his grip once he’d realized he might hurt you. you felt his fingers caress your arm softly, an action he always did to comfort you. “i know you’re upset, it’s my fault. i was tired and i was stupid, but i…” he took a deep breath, “i’m sorry, okay? i’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me.”

hearing kenma so desperate was a rare sight. his eyes looked red, as if he was close to actually starting crying. it wasn’t common for him to show so much emotion. so, in your heart, you knew he meant every word he said. kenma was never the type to lie for his own gain. but… still.

you wanted to forgive him, you really did. still – it didn’t feel right to forgive him so easily, your best friend’s words ringing in your ear. however, it also didn’t feel right to not forgive him. so, you made up your mind on what you’d do.

you kept your gaze averted to the ground, knowing deep down that if you looked at him you’d immediately give in.

“kenma,” you started, “i understand you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt my feelings. so i… well, i’m not breaking up with you.” he seemed to relax more at your words. “but i’m also not forgiving you this easily. you need to make it up to me, and then i guess we’ll see where it goes, ‘kay?”

he nodded, “do you still want me to go to your house?”

you bit your lip, unsure on what to say. “my friends might be a bit… hostile towards you, and it may be better if i had more time to think. so… it might be better if you don’t, actually.” he once again nodded, understanding your point.

“we should do something – tomorrow, maybe. i don’t know,” you continued, “you can think about how you’ll make it up to me during that time, if you want.”

“okay,” he said softly, watching as you walked away, not making an effort to stop you this time. he lowered his gaze and stared intently at his hands. you didn’t forgive him, but you also did? he wasn’t sure what to do to fully make it up to you, but he’d have to try his hardest now. he imagined kuroo would make a comment about how down bad he’d become that he’d actually put so much effort into something that wasn’t a video game.

“kenma?”

his head snapped up at the sound of your sweet voice. you were standing just out of his doorway, looking awkwardly at him.

you hesitated, debating whether or not you should tell him that he does have a chance, that you really wanted to forgive him. but if you did then maybe he wouldn’t try, so…

“nevermind,” you shook your head, “good luck on your game. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

his eyes followed you as you scurried away. he only relaxed once he heard the sound of the front door slamming.

you might have backed down whatever it was you were going to say, but the fact that you lingered for a longer while made him feel as if he did have a shot. for a second he’d worried you would never forgive him. that you – kind, sweet, and understanding you – had finally had enough with him and would leave him all alone.

knowing he had a chance motivated him to try his hardest, already planning what he’d say, what he’d give you, and what else he could do. he kept kicking himself over how your birthday managed to slip his mind. it was such a stupid mistake, and he’d make sure it’d never happen again. that’s not what you deserve. kuroo would, without a doubt, call him an idiot, too. 

it didn’t matter, he deserved that.

and you, you deserve the best of the best – which he’ll try his hardest to give you. 

even if it takes him years, he’ll never stop trying to make it up to you.

because you’re you, and you’re way too good for him.

he has a lot of work to do for tomorrow, huh?

[ktaerssoi]

summary: you never check your phone, so when the team is live and you forget once again, the secret is out.

paige bueckers x reader

forgetfulness is better forgotten

(664)

it was a basic friday night, usual to the ones you had been having all year. your girlfriend, paige, had practice earlier so she was unable to hang out with you tonight. you had decided to go out with some friends from your psych class, knowing that by the time you got home paige would be too.

you guys went to some bar, ordered a few drinks and hung out for a few hours. you were, and always had been, one of those people who forgets to check their phone. this habit has posed a few problems for you, you never know where to be, when to be there, or who is even there, but the worst situation you had ever found was the one that took place later that night.

❛ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❜

walking down the hall to your shared apartment with your girlfriend, you hear fimiliar voices coming from inside, the basketball team. you smile as you unlock the door, seeing them all and greeting them, you had yet to realize the fact that your girlfriend and one of her fellow teammates was missing.

you had been talking to nika for almost twenty minutes before you decided to go into your bedroom, what you had failed to notice was the text from your girlfriend saying she was live and ice's reminder before you walked in.

you saw KK and paige sitting by the desk, happy to see your girlfriend you walk over wrapping your arms around her waist kissing her forehead before looking up at her phone, quickly realizing what you had done.

you had just kissed your girlfriend on live.

You had just kissed your girlfriend who was not out to the internet, on live.

instantly you back up, and kk picks the phone up making up some lame excuse of a topic change. you bring yourself to look at paige, seeing a smile on her face. "why are you smiling? i feel so bad, i just messed up your plan." you talked quietly, number one to not be picked up by the mic and number two because you had just felt bad.

"baby its okay, it was just some silly idea, people knowing about us does not change the fact that i am with you." you nod at her words, looking to KK as you hear another "girl boo" come from the corner of the room. you nod, walking over to sit next to her and chat, choosing not to look at the flood of comments not only asking who you were but what you and paige were.

you and kk were on the topic of whether or not we think we could fit our whole head into our shoes if they were combined, you turn around when you hear your girlfriend, "kk, be so serious, we all know those ears aren't fitting in a shoe let alone your head." you laugh, giggling at a few funny comments that go by adding onto paige's joke.

its eventually brought up again that when you walked in you had kissed paige, and you're quick to lie. "y'all, i am drunk, trust me, me and paige would never date, but keep them edits rolling if you know what i mean," you mubble the last bit, laughing to yourself as you turn and see paige's cheeks a little pink.

a little after you guys end the live, you walk out to the team, and laughter fills the room.. "you guys would never date?" aubrey questions your lie, trying to hold back her laugh. you roll your eyes, "i didn't know they were live! i forgot to check my phone!" the whole team groans at this, all of them having dealt with the consequences of you and your forgetfulness.

"y/n if you don't start checking your phone more often im going to chuck it at your head." paige mutters, her hand around your waist as she rolls her eyes at your behavior.

guys i might be losing it. anyway, double upload who am i? this is so cheeks im sorry 😭 -kate

[amorvincitomnia-claire]

"Forgotten Anniversary" – Diluc, Genshin Impact

Pairing/Characters: [ Diluc x GN!Reader ]

Tags: Angst, (married) established relationship, hurt/comfort, neglect, alcohol (slight)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Summary: “You forgot about our anniversary again, do we even matter to you anymore?” – Imagine Diluc as your husband of 4 years. He’s never failed to celebrate your anniversaries when you two started dating; always giving you gifts, doing anything to make you happy on your special day – But he hasn’t done any of that for the past two years, does it even matter to him anymore?

a/n: I'm sorry for taking so long to post! This is my very first posted fic so I'm a bit nervous but I had a lot of fun writing this <33 I'll be posting some prompts to better help some requests soon! I'll also post more works soon <33 (hopefully)

also i'm very much aware of the stark contrast of this post to my blog's aesthetic (and im sorry) but it's diluc so here we are

⊱┊ ·˚ ༘ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ + ꒰ request guide ꒱ !!

Imagine being married to the wealthiest man in Mondstadt, Diluc Ragnvindr. In the past, before your marriage, he would always celebrate your anniversary. You had always felt that it was a special day, and he made sure to pamper you with all his affection and love, and especially with gifts. He was a wealthy man, and he could afford to spoil you with numerous expensive gifts.

Thinking of anniversaries with Diluc always produced the same things in your mind: expensive jewelry, fine wine, beautiful roses, and the most affectionate man you’ve ever met. It was his way of celebrating the day, as it was another year added to your love for one another. He had always assured you that the day would always be special to him, and he would forever be grateful for the bond and love the two of you shared.

As time passed, a few years after the marriage, the two of you started to be more independent and occupied with your own lives, especially with Diluc and his busy winery. His business grew and required more of his time, stealing away the hours he could’ve shared with his spouse. He was often stressed and exhausted with work, so when he came back to his chambers where his wife waited, he had no energy for anything other than rest.

You noticed this early, two years into the marriage. His winery was growing, and he gradually became busier, spending less time with you at night and even less time with you during the day. On a good day, he might be able to eat breakfast with you. When you were lucky, he might even have the time to have dinner with you. But that was it, right? You couldn’t help but feel lonely, going to bed alone as he came home at later hours. When he was home early, he did nothing but sleep. And on your first, then second wedding anniversaries, his gifts and celebrations were significantly less than before. A flower bouquet left for you and given to you by the maid, or a few boxes of gifts left for you on the bed in the morning. At the time, you decided that it was better to understand him. You knew that he was a busy man, and you couldn’t blame him for the lack of thought. Still, you felt neglected.

Then the day of your third wedding anniversary came. It was clear now that he was a busy man, with very little time to spare for himself — so you were going to take things into your own hands. You wore the black dress he had bought for you a few years back, decorated the bedroom with flowers, and had written a love letter for him, sealed with an elegant red wax seal. Two wine bottles and two wine glasses were set out for the two of you. You had told him about your plans a few nights back, when you waited for him to come home. He had told you that he would surely be there, and promised to make time for his beloved wife. There you were, sitting patiently in the quiet confines of your shared bedroom, waiting for your husband to arrive. The clock went on and eventually ticked past midnight. He didn’t arrive. You tried to understand him, but the feeling of loneliness and neglect weighed heavily on you. Tears unknowingly streamed down your cheeks as you took off your makeup and jewelry. You took one bottle of wine, skipping the glass and drinking straight from it. One bottle of wine emptied within the hour, and then the next bottle.

You woke up to urgent apologies from Diluc, and he showered you with kisses and pleas of forgiveness. He muttered an excuse here and there, and told you that he would make up for it and never forget about your anniversary again. You tried to understand him. He was your husband, and you knew of his stress and hardships in his job, as well as his passion and determination to keep his business up and going. You forgave him now, but the bitter feeling of neglect still lingered.

The fourth wedding anniversary quickly came by. Even you had started to get used to the decline in celebration, and almost forgot as well. The bitter feelings remained, and you planned not to do anything for the special day. It was a petty retort, but it was all that you could do against your husband. After all these hardships, you still loved him, and he still loved you— at least that’s what you felt.

The fourth wedding anniversary arrived, and so far no sign of celebration nor gifts from your spouse. You looked around, almost desperately trying to find a sign that he had remembered at the very least. It was bad enough that you woke up alone on your anniversary. The day progressed to afternoon, then to dusk, then to night. You had given up on waiting for him. He forgot again, you were sure of it.

The rain poured heavily and loudly outside, drowning out the sounds of your sobbing. It was cold, and you wore one of his shirts as an attempt to comfort yourself. It was pathetic, you thought to yourself. The clock ticked past 9 pm, and yet there was still no sign of your husband. Several deafening thoughts circled through your head over and over again. Did he not promise? Was there something going on at work? Was his work more important than his spouse? Did the day not matter to him anymore?

You curled up on your bed with your head between your knees, letting the rain drown out the thoughts from your mind. You hadn’t noticed the creak of the door as it opened, as your husband came walking in.

As the door creaked open, Diluc stepped into the room, his expression a mix of guilt and concern. He rushed forward, his voice filled with apologies, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen. You were tired— tired of the excuses, tired of the neglect, tired of feeling like an afterthought in his busy life.

"You've forgotten about our anniversary again," you hissed, your voice trembling with pent-up frustration. "Do we even matter to you anymore?"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the growing discord between you. Diluc's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words to say. But before he could respond, you continued.

"I've tried to be understanding, Diluc. I've tried to support you, to be patient. But how much longer am I supposed to wait? How much longer am I supposed to pretend like it's okay to be forgotten?"

Your chest tightened with emotion, tears threatening to spill as you poured out your frustrations. Diluc stood before you, his usual stoic demeanor crumbling under the weight of your words.

"I-I didn't mean to," he finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of rain against the windows. "Work has been overwhelming, and I lost track of time. But that's no excuse, I know." His admission only fueled your anger. "I'm tired, Diluc," you admitted, your voice breaking as you finally let down your walls. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough. I'm tired of feeling like you don’t value our anniversary anymore. Like you don’t value our marriage!" For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I'm so sorry, my love. I know I've let you down, but please...please don't give up on us."

His words pierced through the haze of your anger, reaching deep into your heart. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, despite the pain and the hurt, you still loved him.

"I won't give up on us," you whispered, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the storm outside. "But we need to talk, Diluc. We need to figure this out together."

You wrapped your arms around each other. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. For in the midst of the storm, you found solace in each other's arms.

I hope I did well <33

Prompts list soon! Feel free to give some requests <3

⊱┊ ·˚ ༘ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ + ꒰ request guide ꒱ !!

[jellybonbons]

Roommate Antics: Need a bra?

Pairings: Leon Kennedy x reader, Chris Redfield x reader (platonic), Rebecca Chambers x reader (platonic)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 words: 1.1k 🎥 main story 🍿 series masterlist

AN: proofread by rose <33

Audiences: @roseglazedlens @laceycoffins @emilykolchivans @naomisaki @burgandylover @getosbeloved @angelstargel @delulusimps

You shuffled wearily through the corridor, your fluffy slippers softly padding against the wooden floor, still half asleep. The closer you drew to the kitchen, the more enticed you were by the aroma of sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs, mingling with the sound of the bubbling water from the electric kettle. Entering the kitchen, you found Rebecca bustling about, expertly preparing breakfast for herself.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she greeted with a warm smile, her eyes bright with morning energy.

“God,” you squinted your eyes at the radiant aura she was emitting. “Morning,” you replied with a yawn.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, Rebecca glanced over with a playful grin. "Rough night?"

You nodded, reaching for a mug to pour the hot water. “Yeah, spent the night reading the novel you recommended. I couldn’t put it down.” Then you added cold water to the mug, balancing out the hot-to-warm ratio. You took a sip, the warm liquid easing you into wakefulness as you watched her expertly flip the bacon in the pan.

“It’s good, right?!” she said excitedly, her eyes lighting up.

"Seriously, I stayed up way too late," you replied, setting the mug down. "But it was worth it. The plot twists are insane!"

Rebecca beamed, flipping the last slice of bacon. "I told you! Just wait until you get to the ending. It's mind-blowing."

“And what are you doing up so early? I thought weekends were your sleep-in days,” Rebecca chuckled.

“Forgot to turn off my morning alarm,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. “Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I might nap later to make up for it.” 

Rebecca laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan. Want some breakfast? I made plenty.”

You nodded, grateful for the offer. “Sure, thanks Rebs. Breakfast smells amazing.” 

After thanking Rebecca, you joined her in placing the plate of bacon and scrambled eggs on the dining table, the delicious aroma wafting through the air. Sitting down together, Rebecca poured herself a cup of coffee while you went back to the kitchen to fetch some toast to accompany the meal. As you buttered the toast, you couldn't help but notice the quietness of the apartment, prompting you to ask about Leon and Chris.

"Hey, where are Leon and Chris?" you inquired, curious about the whereabouts of your other roommates.

Rebecca glanced up from her plate, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Oh, they’re out for their morning run,” she replied casually. “They’ve been doing that every weekend lately. I think they're trying to get in shape or something.”

“Typical,” you chuckled, shaking your head slightly as you returned to the table with your toast. The apartment felt unusually serene without their usual banter or the sound of Chris's laughter echoing through the walls.

“At least more bacon for us,” Rebecca said with a mischievous grin as she took a satisfying bite of her crispy bacon.

You nodded in agreement with a smile, but then the jingling of keys interrupted the quiet.

"Speaking of the devil, looks like they’re back from their run," Rebecca groaned loudly, her playful annoyance evident in her voice.

As if summoned by Rebecca's groan, the front door swung open, and in walked Leon and Chris, both flushed and sweaty from their morning exercise. Leon's usual stoic expression softened into a smile when he saw you two at the table— especially you, with your bags under your eyes and hair slightly dishevelled.

"Morning, slackers!" Chris greeted cheerfully, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and taking a long swig after taking his sneakers off.

"Morning," Leon replied with a nod, a faint smile quirking his lips as he peeled off his sneakers.

As Leon and Chris settled in, you couldn't help but admire their athletic bodies, a result of their consistent morning runs and gym sessions. Your gaze lingered on Leon, noting the way his sweat-dampened shirt clung to his defined chest, accentuating every muscle with each movement. 

Then, as you observed the contrast between their well-built torsos and your own, a thought crossed your mind. "Y'all need a bra?" you quipped, breaking the comfortable silence and drawing laughter from Rebecca. 

Chris, in mock horror, quickly covered his chest and gasped dramatically. "Pervert!" he exclaimed, feigning offence. "I worked hard for these pecs, okay?"

Rebecca smirked at Chris's antics, shaking her head playfully. “Please, you love the attention," she scoffed, reaching for another slice of bacon. “Cause you’re an attention whore.”

Amidst the laughter, you noticed Leon’s cheeks taking on a faint hue of pink, his stoic demeanour momentarily faltering under your teasing remarks. His reaction only added to the amusement, prompting a grin to spread across your face as you exchanged playful glances with Rebecca and Chris.

Chris feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. "Me? An attention whore?" He shot a mischievous glance at Leon. "Unlike some people who get flustered over a simple compliment," he added with a grin.

Leon rolled his eyes, though his cheeks were still faintly tinged with colour. "I'm not flustered," he insisted, his tone mockingly defensive. "I just don't appreciate being objectified first thing in the morning."

Rebecca laughed, reaching for another piece of bacon. "Aw, Leon, it's all in good fun! Plus, I think you secretly love it," she teased, winking at him.

Leon sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until I start commenting on your outfits every morning."

"Okay fair," you replied with a smirk. "As long as you admit that deep down, you love the attention just as much as Chris does."

Chris grinned, nudging Leon. "See, even they know it. Just embrace it, man."

Leon chuckled, finally relenting. "Fine, fine. But next time, at least buy me dinner first."

You raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully. "Is that an invitation? Because I know a great place downtown," you teased, leaning in slightly.

Leon’s eyes widened for a moment before he caught on to your playful tone. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but he quickly recovered, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, if you're offering, how can I refuse?"

Chris, shaking his head and looking between the two of you. "Seriously, man? Right in front of my bacon?" he said, feigning exasperation.

Leon laughed, finally relaxing. "Hey, bacon and dates can coexist," he quipped, reaching over to grab a piece from the plate.

Rebecca chuckled, handing Chris another slice of bacon. "Here, maybe this will help you cope with the trauma."

Chris accepted it with a mock sigh of relief. "Thanks, I need all the help I can get with these two flirting right before me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking another bite of your toast. "C’mon, Chris. You know you love the entertainment."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget to invite me to the wedding."

“Chris!”

“Shut up!”

[hey-august]

Putting Buggy in my favorite tired old romcom trope and imagining him trying to set up a „perfect“ date where he tries his best to come across as a well mannered, bright, conventionally handsome gentleman, because he thinks that’s what YOU would want him to be. He knows he scored this date out of pity, but once he’s done with this evening, you’ll see him as more than a joke of a man, he can do it!

Cue slapstick scenarios en masse, causing him to loose his temper at least once, trying to impress you with a fact that YOU correct him on and that’s just so obviously wrong and an accident that leaves him with only half an eyebrow, singed tips and the wax nose (ESSENTIAL TO HIS PLAN! If he could get rid of that eyesore in the middle of his face he may have had at least a snowball chance in hell with you) to finally abandon ship and melt right of his face.

And you’re enjoying yourself tremendously. You had your doubts when Buggy came in looking so unlike himself, trying to be something he’s not, but now? After all that chaos and one candle accident later? Now that you’re sharing the bottle of wine he snagged before hauling out of the fancy place he tried to wine and dine you at, sitting on the beach laughing about everything and nothing? Perfect date. Would do again. You absolutely love that clown shit.

ADORABLE. PRECIOUS. LOVELY.

LET'S EXPLORE THIS CONCEPT SOME MORE, ANON.

WC: ~800 Warnings: buggy x GN!reader, some profanity, drinking, that's about it

Of course it’s a pity date - that’s the only reason you agreed so readily. It’s definitely not because Buggy blurted out the question before you had a chance to ask him on a date. And the way you choked on your drink? That had to be because you thought it was a joke. Not because you were surprised and excited.

Let’s not talk about everything leading up to the date itself. Like how all his “good” shirts were dirty or wrinkled. One smelled like old hot dogs. So he had to borrow a shirt and it was fine. Kind of plain, though. Not flashy. Plain white cotton, but at least it fit.

And his hair. A low ponytail would suit the occasion. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice his greasy roots. Buggy ran out of time to wash his hair because of everything else he was working on. Mainly the nose. He sculpted it out of wax and it looked… It would probably look alright during a candlelit dinner.

Buggy just needed to get through the dinner, prove himself as a decent guy, score a second date, maybe a kiss or two, and that’s all. Not too much to ask for, right?

Well…he forgot to bring you flowers. He showed up empty handed (except for the sweat collecting in his palms). You didn’t say anything, but he’s certain you noticed and were adding it to The List of Failures. And that’s only the start of his panicking.

Next, Buggy demanded a table. That table. Yeah, the one that is already occupied. Fine, okay, this table is alright. He wanted the darker corner since it was more intimate (not so he could hide his nose or the sweat stains in his pits), but whatever. 

Then he demanded the good wine. The real shit, not that cheap boxed shit. And he can tell the difference! Which is true, Buggy is a boxed wine connoisseur. Well…here’s the thing. Smell and taste are tied together, and that wax nose was more decorational than practical. Some words were had over the wine, before the sommelier brought over a dusty unopened bottle for Buggy to inspect and give gruff approval for.

You tried to interrupt and say the other wine was just as good (and far less expensive), but Buggy was too eager to please and too nervous to back down. 

The rest happened in a blur. Buggy doesn’t remember much. He might have talked over the waiter explaining the day’s specials. He definitely kicked the table a few times while trying to sit comfortably. Maybe he laughed a little too loudly and another table told him to be quiet. And maybe he threw a bread roll at that table.

Buggy definitely remembers knocking over your glass of water, though. It was an accident. He was reaching for your hand for some dumb reason and your drink got in the way. Of course he wanted to help, so he leapt out of his chair, kicking the table yet again, and pretty much threw his napkin at you.

And in this chaos, he must have leaned over the table too long. Over the tealight. Even though it was a small candle, and it was only a few seconds, his glob of wax was ready to make a grand exit. It was already barely clinging to his sweaty oily skin, and this was the right time to just -PLOP- right into a puddle of water on the table.

But here’s the thing that you’ll take to your grave. Seeing Buggy hunched over the messed up tablescape, hands over his face, and looking downright mortified and murderous - well, it made your heart pitter-patter.

Buggy looked like himself, for the first time that night. That “nose” was not really your preference, so hiding the middle of his face from view reminded you of how much you were crushing on the cute clown.

Dinner was over at this point. Staff was walking over, the table with an extra roll was also shouting for Buggy to be ejected, there was broken glass on the table. It was time to go.

Ending the night on the seashore was a much better way to spend your first date with Buggy. He had pulled out his red nose from a pocket so he could actually enjoy the wine. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t taste any better and he lamented not throwing it at the sommelier before leaving.

You’re glad he didn’t though. Because then you wouldn’t get to watch him drink from the bottle under the moonlight. His adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. Drops of liquid escaping from the corners of his lips and starting a journey down. That white shirt was now unbuttoned (so his armpits to dry out) and rolled at the sleeves. 

And, well - damn.

Buggy was definitely getting a second date and a few kisses. Maybe something a little extra for dessert.

[cursedlovesstuff]

Fixing Us. Part 3.

Nat woke up later than usual, the weight of the previous night's conversation still heavy on her mind.

As she stretched out her limbs, groaning softly, she dragged herself off the couch and made her way up the stairs to the bathroom to start her morning routine.

Knocking on the bedroom door, she called out Y/N's name, but there was no response.

"Y/N?" Nat called out again, opening the door to find the neatly made bed, but Y/N was nowhere in sight. Disappointment washed over Nat as she assumed Y/N had gone out with Esther, especially since it was the weekend.

Shrugging off her disappointment, Nat proceeded with her morning routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face before reaching for her phone to text Wanda, asking if she had time to talk.

Shortly after, Wanda messaged Nat back, saying she was on her way back to the tower asking if Nat wanted to meet her there to talk.

With that, Nat grabbed her keys and made her way to the Avengers Tower.

~

At the tower, Wanda greeted Nat as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"What's up?" Wanda asked.

"I messed up, and I need some advice," Nat admitted.

"When you say that you've messed up and need advice, that makes me worry," Wanda replied, concern evident in her voice.

"It's nothing bad... well, it is bad, very bad, but not enough for you to worry," Nat assured her.

"Okay, so what is it this time? Did you get spotted by Hydra agents or punch someone in the face? Because those are things that I can't help with; you'll have to ask Tony," Wanda joked.

Tony walked into the kitchen, grabbing water. "Ask Tony what?" he chimed in.

"Nat needs advice," Wanda explained.

"Oh god, I can have my lawyer here in 15 minutes. Wanda, call Y/N to let her know that Nat is in safe hands," Tony teased.

"Tony!" Nat exclaimed.

"What?" Tony asked, looking confused.

"Why is the first thing you assume when I ask for help that I'm in some sort of legal trouble?" Nat retorted.

"Because I had to bail you out for getting into a bar fight," Tony replied nonchalantly.

"I was in the bar fight protecting you and your slick mouth, but that isn't important right now. This is serious," Nat countered.

"Right, right, sorry. So, what was the advice you needed?" Tony asked, now serious.

"I think Y/N and I are heading down the path of divorce," Nat confessed.

"You think?" Wanda asked, her brow furrowing.

"No, I know," Nat corrected.

"Okay, so what did you do wrong?" Tony inquired.

"Why do you always assume I'm the one messing up and doing something wrong?" Nat questioned.

"Because Y/N is a literal angel," Wanda interjected, and Tony added, "Just a guess. So, spill the beans. Just between us girls, what did you do wrong?"

Tony earned a side-eye from Wanda and Nat.

"Don't worry about him, continue," Wanda said, brushing off Tony's comment.

Nat sighed. "Last night, Y/N and I got into an argument outside the bar and another when we got home," she admitted. "From what I know, I've spent too much time with Maria for Y/N's liking. I'm not home enough, and at some point in the argument, I may have said something that hurt Y/N deeply."

"You did what?"

"I may have said something hurtful unintentionally. We were outside of the bar, and I asked her if she could tell if Carol was just her friend or someone who wanted to sleep with her."

"Nat—"

"I know, it was stupid. I said it without thinking, and I didn't realize how much my words hurt her last night."

"Well, this is a lot worse than I expected."

"It's not just that. I think Y/N might believe that I either cheated on her with Maria or that I am currently cheating."

"Well, are you?" Tony asked.

"No, Tony, I am not cheating on Y/N, nor do I plan on it. But she doesn't believe me."

"So let me get this straight—you and Y/N got into an argument last night because you're never home and you're always out with Maria. You said something hurtful, and now she might think that you're cheating on her?"

"Yeah, that's about right. I forgot to mention the part where if I don't fix things soon, Y/N said I could marry Maria."

"You're screwed."

"Tony, stop it."

"What do you want me to lie and say everything is going to be fine? Nat's marriage is hanging on the thinnest line I have ever seen."

"I know it's on a thin line, and I want to fix it before it's too late. I came here for your advice and opinions, not to be judged."

"Well, I've never been through this situation. I think you're a workaholic, and you're so busy that you forget that Y/N is a person too, not just someone that you just met or started dating. She's your wife, and she needs to feel loved, valued, and cherished," Wanda remarked, to which Nat nodded before turning her attention to Tony.

"How did you fix things with Pepper?"

"Well, we have had our fair share of disagreements, but I'd have to say communication. You can be mad at each other, but you can't fix the problem if you don't know what the other is mad about," Tony shared.

"I tried walking in Pepper's shoes for the day, and it wasn't easy. She manages a lot of things for me, including press conferences. She helps in the lab, and when she and Wanda are taking turns, she helps cook dinner and clean up around the entire tower," Tony continued with a sigh.

"The point I'm trying to make is, don't get so mad easily and understand things from Y/N's point of view. Try and make her day easier. If she cooks breakfast, you wash the dishes. If she washes and dries the clothes, you fold them and put them up. If she's having a bad day, go out and get her favorite snacks or comfort food. Show her that you really care. It's 50/50, not 95/5 percent. Y/N is a good one; don't lose her by being stupid. It's the bare minimum," Tony concluded.

"Where do I start?"

"You can start by taking some time off work and showing Y/N that you really care. What's something that Y/N really likes?"

"She's not really a fan of really public things that are in crowded places or expensive gifts. She likes more thoughtful gifts that took time and effort."

"Maybe you can clean up the apartment, reorganize some things."

"The apartment is always clean. Y/N doesn't even like shoes going past the carpet."

"Maybe you can make her something."

"What if I cook her dinner?"

"You want to cook?" Tony asked, surprised.

"Yes, why?"

"The last time you tried to cook, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"I didn't know what I was doing back then, but if it makes Y/N happy, I'll do anything."

"What's Y/N's favorite food?" Tony asked.

"She likes shrimp alfredo and homemade garlic toast. That's one of her favorites," Nat replied.

"Okay, shrimp alfredo and toast. What's your plan after dinner?" Wanda inquired.

"To try and get her to talk to me and hope it doesn't turn into an argument. Maybe I can get her some of her favorite things from the store to lighten her mood," Nat explained.

"It's a good start. It's getting late; we should get to the store and make dinner before Y/N gets off work," Wanda suggested.

"Y/N has a job?" Nat asked, surprised.

"Yes, you didn't know? She said she was tired of being in the house by herself all day," Wanda revealed, making Nat reflect on how close Y/N and Wanda had become.

"Well, we should get going," Wanda said after noticing Nat's silence.

"We should head out. Thank you, Tony," Nat said, acknowledging Tony before leaving the kitchen with Wanda.

"Yeah, yeah, go fix things with Y/N before I tell Fury you're breaking her heart," Tony teased as Nat and Wanda walked out of the kitchen.

[manicpixiefelix]

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

@saintbeau asked: I know you said in the Canon ending, up until a certain point, Oliver was planning to let the reader live. If he'd never decided to kill them, do you think they'd suffer a similar fate as Farleigh and be forced out? Or do you think there's ever a possibility of 'the pet coming with the house' so to speak? I think to a degree Oliver's yearning to take Felix's place could lead him to essentially slotting himself alongside the reader if they'd allow it.

Summary: After the death of your best friend and his sister, you can't bring yourself to stay at Saltburn, even when their grieving mother wishes you would. However, after several years away to process and grow, you find yourself back in touch with Oliver Quick, who's changed so much in the time you've spent apart. Fate certainly has a funny was of working out, so you're not entirely surprised to end up back at the place you'd once called home.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Oliver/Reader are endgame here.

Warnings: Very poor relationship with reader's parents. SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; Felix & Venetia are still dead, but we get a happy ending this time. Also not sure if it needs a warning but Oliver does admit to killing Felix.

A/N: 4162 words. This got away from me. this ends up being so painfully fluffy. it's VERY Oliver/Reader, Oliver's less of a bastardman and he doesn't kill Elspeth but her health is failing significantly like it does in the movie. i think i might have made him a better person as compared to the film, but it's still canon compliant mostly. it ends so fluffy and happy tho, i love it omg. AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no world where you stay where Oliver wins.

But there's a world where you leave, heart too heavy with grief, where you transfer from Oxford and spend time as an adult reconnecting with your own family, where he finds you again. Your parents don't respect you as family, but you're granted access to their lives, to be in their line of sight; you become almost like a live-in assistant who takes meals with them but for whom they show no outward affection.

It's all you have left.

You tell yourself it's enough.

"That Catton fellow offed himself," your father says it with such idleness, as if reporting the weather.

"Sir James?" You almost choke on your breakfast, and father peers down his nose at you over his morning paper, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yes, sorry, I forgot you knew him -"

"Surely it doesn't say that he offed himself," your mother frowned, tugging at the corner of the paper to try and get a look at the article. They bicker lightly, charmingly, in the middle of this cafe about the death of your best friend's father, and what the article is saying or implying, but you just wonder about Elspeth.

Later, when you search through old papers and memories and notebooks, you find the number for Saltburn and call. Duncan's voice is familiar, as is yours to him.

"Captain," the old nickname is so gentle on his tongue, the most gentle you'd ever heard him be about anything. Then, as quickly as you'd heard it, the gentleness is replaced with apology, letting you know that Elspeth is unavailable, but that you'd be welcome to attend Sir James' funeral. You know you'd never be able to bring yourself to attend.

It's Oliver who reaches out, deliberate, in the months that follow. It's slow going, too formal for how intimately, how messily you knew each other for those few months in the Spring and Summer. He apologises, says he saw you on the cover of a tabloid trailing a pair of aging socialites and looked further into it.

"You looked -" he tells you over dinner in the city, beautiful, settled, no more of his youthful awkwardness; it had only been a few years, but how glad you were to see him, "fucking miserable," he says so gently, taking your face in his hands. Oh fuck, you'd missed him, missed his touch, missed how clearly he could see you - you burst into tears in the restaurant.

Dating Oliver makes you feel like a whole new person, raw, relearning yourself, realising you'd been living like a ghost since you'd left Saltburn. Your hyper competency had needed an outlet and your parents had provided that, but you were barely a person, to them or to yourself. Now you were learning who you were, alone.

Quieter. More focused and driven in your professional endeavours. As dangerously charming as Farleigh ever was. The memory of Venetia peeking through in your wickedly sharp wit. An echo of Felix in the affection you carried with you, in your smile, in your laugh. A living ghost, learning to love and embrace the ways in which you were haunted, rather than grieving for them.

You spend nights in his little flat, take refuge from your own life in his, and Oliver's the one who informs you that Elspeth has moved into town, leaving Saltburn echoing and empty, if not for the skeleton crew that maintains it.

"She wants to see you," there's a strange look in his eyes when he says it, something conflicted, almost dark, but when you smile, he too lights up.

Elspeth holds you for a very long time. In the middle of a cafe in walking distance for your both it turns out, there's tears in her eyes, and a joyful smile, and she doesn't let you go even as Oliver goes and order you all drinks.

"So beautiful, you've always been so beautiful," she murmurs, long, elegant fingers feather light against your features, no care for propriety here, "you're so grown up." It's like she's trying to connect the person you are now with the memory she has of you. Tears are welling in your own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left, mum." There's a lump in your throat and her tears start to fall as she takes your face gently, cradling you against her, laughing through her bittersweet memories.

"I never blamed you, pet, never," she assures, voice wet with tears but reassuring nonetheless. Oliver sits down on your other side, wordlessly leaning into you both, resting his head on your shoulder. The three of you stay like that for a long moment. You can hear Elspeth sniffling quietly.

The moment breaks, she lets you go, and when you sit back up, Oliver takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and resting your joined hands on the table. Immediately Elspeth's eyes focus upon them, and she gives a warm smile to your both.

"I cannot believe you've found each other again," and she sounds so genuinely joyful, "it's funny how the universe works out." Oliver gives a faint, bashful smile, leaning into you, bumping your shoulder for a bit.

"I'm a lucky man," there's something wonderfully, desperately loving in his eyes when he looks at you in this moment. It is, to him, the total and complete truth. Before you're overwhelmed by your urge to kiss him, however, Elspeth continues.

"After all that's happened, I am glad luck, and life, have brought you both back to me; I was just saying to dear Ollie the other day," Elspeth rests her cool, well manicured hand on your free hand, sitting on the table, "the two of you should come stay at Saltburn again."

Something constricts in your throat, grip on Oliver's hand tightening momentarily.

"I know," Elspeth is quick to move her hand to your shoulder, seeing the way your expression changes, drops, "but that house still holds so much love for you, my dear pet," and she takes a deep, shaky breath, finally admitting, "and I can't bring myself to be there alone."

Looking to Oliver, he gives you a gentle smile, nothing but sweet warmth and reassurance; he's changed so much since Saltburn, so sweet, so sublime. That version of Oliver didn't know how to love you or Felix in a way that was good for any of you, you came to realise, but this Oliver, oh this Oliver had crafted himself a home in your heart with love you didn't think anyone other than Felix had been capable of.

"It can be our home again," he murmurs, a sentiment Elspeth echoes like she hadn't even realised that was what she had wanted from you both;

"It can be your home again."

The drive to Saltburn feels like a memory, of young laughter and loud music and Summer sweat whipped away by the wind in Felix's convertible. The car you'd chosen to take with you is far more sensible, but still relatively ostentatious, and when you ask Oliver to drive, he of course obliges you. Still, the music is loud, and the day is warm, and even if the two of you are quiet, there's still a warm hand on your knee.

And you still feel loved.

Saltburn creaks and echoes with familiarity.

The doors open, and though you don't recognise the footmen either side of the entrance, you certainly recognise Duncan. He's older, of course, as are you. There's a touch of grey by his temples, and he's paler than you remember, but still prim, still gaunt and haunting -

"Mister Quick," until his eyes fall on you, and he softens almost imperceptibly, but you see it, you hear it in his voice, "and Captain Y/N," almost like it's an in-joke between you both by now.

"It's good to see you, Duncan," you tell him sincerely, and for the briefest moment he actually smiles.

"And you as well."

Everything's the same, just as Elspeth had assured you both. Everything's the same, just as when you'd left. Fled. Alone all those years ago.

Coming back, hand in hand with Oliver, it feels surreal.

Grand foyer, red staircase, secluded alcove that you and Venetia used to tease Felix about regarding his 'accidental' bout of cousin fingering, Henry Seventh's cabinet, the arch Felix claimed his grandmother haunted, the Green Room, gardens through the windows, Rubens that Felix never cared for but you had always appreciated. Still broken piano. Blue Room; still blue. The King's bedroom, not that you cared for Henry the Eighth, but Felix always liked to bring it up. The long gallery. Portraits of Cattons you had never cared for. Shakespeare's folios that you and Felix had spent a Winter going through, just to brag that you had, without realising how few people would care.

Sir James' teddy was absent from it's usual chair. Something about that makes something ache in your chest, just a little. So you look away, to the maze beyond the windows that you never want to go in again.

You know this house, this route, like the back of your hand even now. Oliver holds your hand tightly as you rest your hand on the intricate doorknob of the midnight blue door that you both remember so well.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is quiet, is reverential, as you hesitate. Nodding once, you push open the door.

It still smells like Felix. His things are still here, still a bit of a mess. Books and knickknacks and photos. His wardrobe door is still ajar, the way you know you left it when you'd been scrambling to pack your own garments when you'd last been here, and his clothes still hang there, frozen, a moment in time.

It aches, but it doesn't... hurt. Not like you thought it would. It almost seems silly, to have this preserved for so long.

"Can we stay in here, Duncan?" You call out, knowing he must be around somewhere, he always was.

"I thought you might," Elspeth's gentle voice from the doorway makes you and Oliver both jump. But she's smiling at you both, and once the shock has worn off, you can't help but laugh. It sets you all off, laughing warmly, fondly, all three in Felix's perfectly untouched room.

Elspeth does, however, let you know that they've had the bathroom redone. She doesn't say it's because of Venetia, but you're quietly grateful nonetheless. You don't know if you could bring yourself to bath in there if all you could think about was Venetia's blood across the bathroom floor. It's different now.

When you try out the new tub, still claw-footed, still deep and soothing, there comes a knock at the door you'd left ajar out of habit.

"Mind if I join you?" It's Oliver, with a teasing little smile and hope in his eyes. He does not wait at the door like you know he once had, he is bold, he is unapologetic, he is confident in his love. Enthusiastically you wave him over, delighted to create new, better memories in this bathroom that no longer resembles the one you know.

There's still this strange kind of divide; Oliver, at times, still acts like a guest. Saltburn's been your home for too long for you to feel uncomfortable within it's walls, but Oliver's still always asking permission. For everything. He asks if he can borrow some of Felix's old clothes and looks relieved when you look at him like it's an absurd request.

"He's not going to be wearing them."

Elspeth gets this look in her eyes whenever she recognises any of Felix's clothes on Oliver, fond and nostalgic as she tells him she's glad they're no longer gathering dust.

"Beautiful clothes for a beautiful boy," she liked to say.

It takes you a few weeks to realise Elspeth's ulterior motives. Her health is failing. She has no family left. She needs people. As Oliver had pointed out so long ago, you were both desperate to be needed. Much like when you were younger, your own parents had no qualms about you living your life at Saltburn without them; they'd hire another assistant. The email they'd sent back to you did however note that you had been the best assistant either of them had ever had. It's the nicest thing they'd ever said to you.

Elspeth speaks to you alone one morning during the fall, the grounds turning all shades of golds and oranges.

"I..." your thoughts are moving too fast, her offer was so simple yet so overwhelming, "can't take Saltburn." A deep sigh escapes her, and she looks out over the grounds, but pets your knee, "I won't leave," you try to placate her, "you, or Saltburn, if you'd like me to stay; I'll be like Duncan -" this gets her to laugh, fond and bright, "but I think it will complicate things with my own family."

She tells you she understands. Her voice is getting weaker by the day. Then, after another long moment of gentle silence and contemplation, she speaks carefully.

"And Oliver?"

Part of you kind of knew this was coming.

"He might love Saltburn more than me," you admitted with a chuckle, "and he loves you dearly, you know that right?"

"He's such a strange, beautiful creature," Elspeth muses fondly, "I don't know if James even looked at me the way he looks at you," she smiles at you, expression turning soft and nostalgic for just a moment, "Felix used to look at you like that, didn't he?"

"In his own way," you agreed, unable to look her in the eyes while knowing exactly what she meant, exactly what she could see in this moment.

"They say we have more than one soulmate in our lives, pet," she says softly, reassuringly, and you look up once more. There's gentle hope and fragments of old grief that wrap around your heart as she continues, giving your knee a faint squeeze, "I think you're one of the lucky ones."

And your mind settles back on Oliver, how good, how kind, how loving he's been in the year since you'd reconnected. Finally, you're able to smile.

"I think so too."

Oliver seems genuinely surprised when you and Elspeth approach him with the offer. He keeps looking at you, confused. All you can do is smile, assure him that you want Saltburn to be in his name.

"I'm not abandoning you," you laugh, "I'll be here as long as you'll have me, help take care of any paperwork or maintenance or, well, calling people to take care of those things."

"They're a good house pet," Elspeth actually teases, while Oliver is still silent, looking at you in awe. He stutters through a verbal agreement, and Elspeth delightedly says she'll get the contract drawn up in the next few days.

"Why me?" Oliver finally asks, and Elspeth stands, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"You've worked hard all your life, Ollie, I can see that in you," she murmurs, "and you loved the ones so dear to me. I know you will love this home, and my darling Y/N, and one day I know it will be a family home again."

Oliver is quiet during supper, he keeps looking at you with this unreadable expression, almost grateful, but somehow intrigued. There's something lighter about him now, less tension carried in his shoulders, a small smile he can't quite get rid of. After you all eat, he offers you his arm and asks you to stroll the grounds in the moonlight.

"I thought it'd be you," his voice is so soft. The moon makes him glow. He's wearing the pale, linen shirt of Felix's that catches the light so beautifully.

"I could tell," you can't help but smirk, gently ribbing him. When he laughs, it almost sounds disbelieving.

"Saltburn was your home first."

"Saltburn is a place," you tell him, "my home was always the people in it."

"Felix was your home," he remembers when you'd told him that, how wide Felix had smiled when he'd heard it.

"And now," you're surprised by how your voice catches as you realise what you're about to say, "it's you."

"You love me," Oliver turns with wide, adoring eyes, while you can't help your shy smile.

"Of course I love you, you know I love you -"

"You love me-love me," he sounds like he's discovered the meaning of life, like he can see it in your eyes. Then, very suddenly, a whole new realisation seemed to wash over him, "I think I actually want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Oh! Is this -?

"I don't have a ring, fuck-!" Before he can get any further, you're kissing him, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to make him taste how much you fucking love him. Giddy and burning with desire, you feel like a teenager again, overwhelmed with delight and affection in this old house you call a home.

When you suggest that you meet his parents, properly this time, Oliver makes a face like he's bitten a lemon. It's a beautiful, cool mid-morning at the beginning of Winter, grey light reaching through the curtains to caress you and your fiancé, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets.

"I've met them before," you remind him gently, hand splayed out across his chest as he looks at the ceiling, "I don't hold that Summer against you."

"Felix stopped... trusting me," his voice barely breaks a whisper, "he stopped loving me because of them," it trembles, catching, and you see tears in his eyes. A flush was rising up his cheeks, grief and a strange kind of fury overwhelming him it seemed, much to your surprise, "you should hold that Summer against me, should hate me, should -" it's spilling from him now, with such speed, such anger that it's almost frightening.

"Ollie, love -"

"I wasn't in my right mind, I was sick and obsessed and- and- and I can't believe I hurt you like that -"

"What are you talking about?"

Through his tears, his grief, his outburst, Oliver threw his arm over his face, unable to look at you, unable to look at anything in this room he now seemed to regret being in.

"I just wanted him to love me too," Oliver choked out, "I know you tried to help me - I can't believe I hurt you, I know you loved him - but I didn't want him to love anyone if he didn't love me."

"Oliver."

"I put the cocaine in his wine. I gave him the bottle. I left him there."

To your surprise, as much as the news hurts, it comes in a dull wave of grief, not the sharp, stinging kind you were braced for. What you don't expect is the sympathy that wells up inside of you for the man who just admitted to killing your best friend.

But you had spent years grieving for Felix, had come to terms with it, made peace with it. It's a shock to the system, of course, to learn he was murdered, but you can see the hurt, the guilt that Oliver had been carrying with him, and knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with love for Felix Catton to the point where you'd do unspeakable things with him in your heart. You'd ruined lived over one-word insults spat in his direction because that was who you were, that was what you did.

And you knew Oliver Quick, who he was, how he operated, the kind of desperate jealousy and need to be needed that became dangerous or perverse when they went unsated. Neither of you were the people you once were.

Carefully, you drape yourself over Oliver as he wept, wrapping him up tightly in a hug with one arm, other reaching up to brush through his dark, messy hair.

"Loving Felix makes us do terrible things," you murmur softly, fingers carding through his hair, "you took someone special from this world, but we can't change that."

"Why the fuck are you being so nice right now?" Oliver groans, voice full of disbelief, "I just told you -"

"You loved Felix and he stopped loving you back; you were drunk, and obsessive, and out of your mind with some psychosexual desire. You killed the man you loved, that we loved," you recount firmly, and he quiets down, still sniffling, "do you regret it?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Are you lying?"

A long pause follows.

"I don't know."

"Did you ever stop loving him?"

"I don't think I ever will," then, moving his arm, he reaches out for your face, gently cupping your jaw. His eyes are bright red, smudged tear tracks shining on his cheeks, "I don't think you will either." You shake your head, confirming as much, before you turn your face and press a kiss to his palm.

"You're not that same person, Oliver, neither am I. The version of me from that Summer might never forgive the Ollie that killed Fi, but I know you now, and I know you love me, and you'll love this house, and the memory of Felix, just like I will."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're not a saint, and you're not a devil. You can't change the past. You're just a human, full of flaws, but you're better than you used to be, I know."

"I love you." He coaxes you forward, bringing you in for a passionate, messy kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Still, you keep this revelation between the two of you. Elspeth never needed to know.

It was a small ceremony at the beginning of Spring on the grounds of the Saltburn Estate. Elspeth was barely able to get out of bed anymore, so the location was more for her sake than anything else. She'd insisted on taking the reigns for planning the wedding though, looking through folders and magazines with you and Oliver at her bedside.

A beautiful flower archway, Duncan officiating, and only your families as guests. At your suggestion and reassurance, Oliver had worked hard to repair his relationship with his family.

"You don't have to lie about being important anymore," you'd smirked at him, "you're inheriting the Saltburn Estate, you're marrying into my family; you're Oliver Quick, that means something."

Oliver's family had marvelled at the estate the minute they arrived at the property; his sisters and their partners seemed shocked and delighted.

"Is this your place?" One had asked you, eyes bright and incredulous as you and Oliver were giving them all the tour.

"Ollie's actually," you give him arm a squeeze as you give him a proud smile, watching as he ducks his head, flush with embarrassment.

"This is you house, Ollie?! What the fuck!?" Another shouted, even as her own partner laughed while asking her to tone it down.

Before the wedding even begins, his oldest sister has talked him into letting she and her children visit in the Summer.

It comes as a surprise when your own parents show up, though you suspect it's because Elspeth personally called to invite them, not because of you. They too are impressed by the house, but less so than the Quicks; they'd been there for gatherings in years past, after all.

When your grandmother arrives, however, that's when it all becomes real for you. Unlike your parents, she dotes on you. Your grandfather had been the head of the business when he'd been alive; your grandmother was a dedicated professional, but always a romantic at heart, which is where your mother claimed to have gotten her artistic proclivities from.

Oliver says you have the same, beautiful eyes, and she chuckles.

"He's a charmer, I see," she teases, but wraps him up in a hug. "You be good to them, Mister Quick," your grandmother tells him in a faux-stern voice as she leans out of the hug, "we're the kind of family you don't want to get on the wrong side of." Despite how she's waving a finger at him and doing her best angry glare, Oliver can't help but cast you a fond smile, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm aware, ma'am; every day I feel lucky to have Y/N by my side."

This seems to sate your grandmother, who pets his cheek fondly, and tells you that you've got a good one.

"I think so too."

It's a beautiful, perfect day, the best day of your life so far, where the worst day is now but a mere memory. All that matters is Oliver Quick, and the love in his eyes as he looks at you, as he promises you;

"This house will be full of people who love you for the rest of your life."

[the-fruitpunch-clown]

KINKTOBER 2024:

DAY II: car sex featuring Mike Schmidt

synopsis: mike can make you come on his face in less than five minutes, right? or mike makes you late bc he’s munch

tags: oral sex fem! receiving, mike being a needy whore basically lmao

kinktober 2024 masterlist | main masterlist

“mike, baby, you know i have somewhere to be. i don’t have time for this…” your voice trails off. mike continues to kiss along your neck, even after you’ve told him multiple times you’ll both be late for work if this goes any further. 

“c’mon babe, just five minutes, please? i’ll be quick, promise,” his light kisses continue up to your ear, whispering the words against you as his hands play with your hair. you sigh, internally reprimanding yourself for giving in so easily. “fine, but just five minutes, nothing longer. alright?” 

mike smiles at you and presses a quick kiss to your temple before eagerly fumbling over the center console to settle between your legs. unsurprisingly, there’s already enough room from your previous intimate moments shared in his car. he makes quick work with shoving your skirt up and settles his hands on your spread legs, “open up for me baby, that’s it, fuck…” 

mike leans in and leaves a chaste kiss against your panties, making you squirm against him. in return, he smacks your thigh, “quit movin’, you said you wanted this to be quick right? well sit there and be still for me.” 

right before you’re about to chide him, he shoves your panties aside and licks a long stripe up your center, flicking your clit with his tongue. he continues his assault by shoving his whole face into you, his tongue dipping lightly into your hole, and you can’t help but grind your clit against his nose. he moans into you, the vibrations going straight through you and adding to the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

mike continues to messily make out with your cunt while you moan and mewl above him. “mikey, oh fuck- please.. i need it,” you grip his hair mercilessly, pulling him deeper into you. you think you hear him mutter a muffled, “i know i know, baby, use me, fuck my face, c’mon, give me it..” but you can’t tell anyways with the ringing in your ears. 

you continuously rock your hips against his mouth, quickly chasing your orgasm. “mikey, baby.. fuck, ‘m right there, please..” you whine out. the grip you have on his hair borders on painful, but it only ceases to turn him on more. mike groans out against your cunt, “come on my face baby, do it for me, c’mon,” he fucks his tongue into you, rubbing his nose against your clit. his quick ministrations push you over edge, has you coming on his face as you moan out his name and a string of curses. 

as you slowly come down from your high, mike works you through it, lazily lapping at your release while looking up at your blissed out face. soon, his lazy strokes start to build up to overstimulation and you push against his shoulders and shove his head away, “too much, it’s too much mikey.” 

he reluctantly pulls away from you, resting his head on your head, “alright, you good?” 

you smile down at him, admiring how equally blissed he seems, “mhm.” you check the time on the clock, which reads 1:08 P.M., eight minutes past when your break ends, and ten past the end of your “five minutes”. 

“micheal!” you sit up abruptly, forcing him to lift his head. “what?” 

“you made me late, i told you five minutes!” you scold him, but you can hardly keep up the act with the adoring look he gives you. “i’m sorry, baby, i can make it up to you-“ 

“later. if i’m already gonna be late, might as well make the most of it. get in the back seat, it’s my turn to have fun.” 

notes: so the plan was to post either logantober or kinktober early in the morning (around 12am eastern, as i am on the east coast lmao) and then the other later in the day but i forgot to post this morning. oops. but logantober will be out later today!!

also no logantober for tmr, but will be back on the 4th!! kinktober will continue ofc!

all banners, dividers, and graphics are from @/saradika-graphics !!

[mingi-s-dimples]

His love, a masterpiece in his eyes - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 20, REQ. BY anon

~"Ateez Yeosang x Reader who self doubts. Please add squirting/ toys/ Yeosang using deepvoice/"

pairing: bf!yeosang x gf fem!reader

genre: 18+, soft smut

summary: You've been feeling insecure about... kinda everything, lately, and your sweet boyfriend decides to please you and show you just how much he loves you.

wc: 3.7k

warnings: mentions of body checking, mention of insecurities (remember to love yourself as you are ♡), use of toys, (vibrator), fingering, p in v, lots lots of praising, mirror sex duh, there's a slight slight the slightest hint of dom in yeosang *a speck*, i absolutely don't know what else I could add, unprotected (boo wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, unedited might edit later.

Author's Note: Heyy guysss so this one is a little bit sad in the first part, the introductory part. Tho I absolutely love their dinamic ngl and he is def the person to praise tf out of you and for your pleasure. Enjoy ml! 💖 This fic is on the softer side btw.

Whoever feels down for whatever reason or insecurity that is bother you, please remember that you are your own person and everyone is left with oneself in the end. Cherish your body and mind to the fullest 🤍

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member.

It was a quiet afternoon. The soft hum of the wind blew through the slightly cracked window, carrying with it the crisp scent of fall. You sat cross-legged on the bed, your laptop open in front of you, textbooks scattered around, along with a haphazard assortment of notes, highlighters, and pens. You had been working on a particularly difficult assignment for hours now, the once-clear instructions now feeling like an incoherent jumble. The small ticking of the wall clock added to the already growing pressure in her chest.

The semester had been grueling so far—between lectures, exams, and papers, You barely had time to breathe. Today was supposed to be productive. Though, you could feel the beginnings of a familiar anxiety creeping up on you.

At first, it was just a small voice, a whisper of uncertainty.

"Maybe I’m not cut out for this."

You brushed it aside, trying to focus on the work. But the longer you stared at the assignments, the louder the voice grew, until it drowned out everything else. The once methodical clicking of your fingers on the keyboard slowed and eventually stopped. Shoulders slumped, and you let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the headboard.

“Why am I even trying?” you muttered to yourself. “I’ll never get it right.”

Your gaze shifted to the chaotic spread of materials around. There was a strange irony in the way the bed had started out as an organized workspace, but now it seemed to mirror your internal state: disarrayed, overwhelmed, and falling apart.

The spiral of thoughts that followed was inevitable. First, it was about your academic abilities. Maybe you weren’t smart enough for university, maybe you weren't disciplined enough, maybe you were just a fraud pretending to belong here. Then, like a wave crashing over, it expanded beyond school.

It wasn’t just your mind that wasn’t enough—it was your body too.

You stood from your bed, walking over to the mirror that hung on the back of the door. You hadn’t planned on looking at yourself. In fact, you avoided doing so on most days. But today, you couldn’t help it. You stared at the reflection, a lump forming in your throat as you scanned yourself from head to toe.

"Why can’t I just be… better?"

Your hands lightly grazed the stomach, then the thighs. The criticism in your mind was merciless. Every flaw seemed to be magnified in the mirror—every imperfection suddenly glaring and unforgiving. You weren’t just failing at school, you were failing at everything. Your body wasn’t the way you wanted it to be. You weren’t as put-together as everyone else seemed to be.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, shaking your head as if it could stop the flow of self-doubt. Though, it didn't last long until you started sobbing, thinking what could've been better. What could you do to make things better?

Hours passed, though you couldn’t tell how much time had gone by. The day outside had shifted into evening, and the room was now bathed in the dim, golden glow of the sunset.

Just then, the familiar sound of keys jingling in the door echoed through the apartment. Yeosang was home from his classes. He had his late university lectures today, and he often stayed behind for extra work. Normally, you loved hearing him come home. He brought with him a calming presence that made you feel at ease, but right now, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the tears or the chaos that built up.

The door creaked open, and Yeosang’s voice, soft and warm, filled the apartment. “Y/N, I’m home!”

There was no response from you. You tried to wipe away the tears quickly, though the red and puffy eyes betrayed you.

“Y/N?” Yeosang stepped into the room, his gaze immediately landing on you. Concern etched across his face as he took in the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and the disheveled mess surrounding. He walked over to you quickly, his eyes full of worry. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

But Yeosang wasn’t one to be fooled by half-hearted reassurances. He knelt down in front of you, gently taking your hands into his. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he said softly. “I can see you’re not fine.”

You sighed shakily, the lump in your throat returning as you tried to explain. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. School. Life. Everything feels like it’s falling apart. I don’t feel good enough.” voice cracked as you spoke, and the tears you had tried to hold back threatened to spill over again. “I feel like I’m failing. And… and I don’t even feel good in my own skin.”

Yeosang’s heart broke at your words. He reached up, gently cupping your tear-streaked face. His thumb brushed away the lingering wetness under your eyes. “Y/N, you are more than enough. You’re smart, you’re capable, and you’re doing so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

You looked at him, eyes searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was his genuine concern and affection. “I just don’t feel it. I don’t feel… enough.”

Yeosang moved beside you on the bed, wrapping his arms around, pulling you close to your head resting against his chest. “You are everything to me,” he whispered. “Do you know how amazing you are? You work so hard. You always push yourself, even when you’re feeling like this. That takes so much strength.”

His words were soft, comforting. Slowly, the tension in your body began to ease as you listened to him. “And as for not feeling good in your own skin… I think you’re perfect. Every part of you is beautiful to me.”

You lifted your head slightly, teary eyes meeting his. “You really think that?”

Yeosang replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You are beautiful, inside and out. And I love every bit of you.”

Your heart warmed at his words, the self-doubt that had consumed you earlier now fading into the background. You sniffled softly, hand resting on his chest as you looked at him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Yeosang smiled gently, leaning down to kiss you softly. It was a tender, lingering kiss, filled with affection and reassurance. There was no rush, no need for words. His lips on yours conveyed everything he felt for you, and you kissed him back, feeling the love and warmth in every gentle movement.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, Yeosang’s voice was barely a whisper as he spoke.

“You’re enough, Y/N. You always will be.”

Yeosang’s hand remained at the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer, his touch grounding and tender. His eyes, dark with care, held yours as he leaned in again, his lips meeting yours with a warmth that felt like home. Every kiss seemed to melt away the doubts and insecurities you had just confessed, his steady presence calming the storm within.

"Do you know how much I admire you?" he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. "The way you keep going, the way you face everything—even when it feels impossible. You're more than you know."

His words sank deep, wrapping around your heart. You felt him take your hand and press it to his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart. "I need you to feel how real this is," he said, his thumb tracing small circles over your hand. "How much I love every part of you—inside and out."

With every touch, he seemed to be silently telling you, showing you how precious you were in his eyes. He moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you close, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt seen, cherished, and beautiful in his gaze.

“Trust me,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. "There's no one else I want, no one else I need... just you.”

Yeosang's hands moved to your shoulders, his touch gentle yet full of purpose. His fingers grazed your collarbone, tracing a slow, reverent path as though he were memorizing every inch of you. His eyes roamed over your face, filled with a quiet awe that made your heart race.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice like a soft caress. His hands slid down your arms, his thumbs brushing over your skin in soothing strokes. “Every part of you… I want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw, his lips lingering as though he never wanted to let go. His fingers trailed down, resting on the curve of your waist, pulling you close. His kisses moved down to your shoulder, each one slow, deliberate, a whispered promise of his devotion.

As his fingers found the hem of your shirt, he paused, looking into your eyes for permission, his gaze soft and respectful. When you gave a slight nod, he gently lifted the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed each inch of your skin. He took his time, as though he wanted to savor every moment, his hands gliding up your sides, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands moving slowly, reverently. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing tender kisses along your shoulder and down your arm, his every touch filled with a quiet reverence. "Every inch of you is beautiful to me."

Yeosang’s hands continued to trace your skin as he whispered to you, his voice a soft and reverent murmur.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, stepping back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. He watched you with quiet admiration, his own breaths coming a little faster as he took in every part of you, clearly moved by the beauty he saw in you. With a gentle smile, he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall away before his hands moved to his jeans. You noticed the hint of his own desire, a warm flush on his face. His now hard cock straining against the zipper of his jeans, a little wet spot forming right where the tip was, dripping with pre cum.

Your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help but smile, your voice soft but filled with longing. “I want you, Yeosang. I want to feel all of you,” you murmured, letting your words linger between you both.

He nodded, his gaze tender yet full of a deep affection as he finished undressing. As he moved back toward you, he paused for a moment, as if taking in the moment itself, letting himself fully appreciate the trust and connection you were sharing. With a gentle, steady hand, he guided himself over you, his body fitting perfectly against yours as he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours.

Then, with one slow, purposeful motion, he closed the distance between you, grounding you both in a quiet, shared rhythm. His hands travelled on your thighs, his eyes full of admiration, and as he was feeling you up, he never stopped whispering those soft reassurances, each word a reminder of how much you meant to him. It was a quiet, powerful closeness—an unspoken promise that he would be there, lifting you up in every moment.

“May I-?” he asked, voice deeper than you expected, but you loved that side of him. His deep, sultry voice always sent a shiver through you. You nodded, and his hand traveled lower on your legs. You were completely bare in front of him, your own arousal dripping on the bed. He took a deep breath before his kiss trailed off from your knees to your thighs, then to your inner thighs and to your lower belly, as close as possible to your cunt. He stopped for a moment, and looked into your eyes. “You're so pretty.. just like this.

His fingers moved with a steady, knowing rhythm, pushing deeper with just the right pressure that made every nerve come alive beneath his touch. The way he watched you, eyes dark and intense, sent another thrill through your body. His thumb found that sensitive spot, circling it slowly, building an ache that made you cling to him, helplessly following the pace he set. Each breath felt heavier, a deep, pulsing heat coiling tight inside you, desperate for release.

As his fingers moved faster, pressing deeper, he murmured low praises, his lips grazing your skin, heightening every sensation with words that made you feel cherished and desired. His voice was rich, a soft command and encouragement that pushed you higher. “That’s it, just like that,” he whispered, his tone coaxing and gentle, each word grounding you as he brought you closer and closer to that peak.

Finally, the pressure shattered, sending wave after wave of euphoria rushing through you, your whole body trembling with each pulse. He didn’t stop, keeping his touch firm and steady, easing you down slowly, drawing out every last bit of sensation until you felt like you were floating, entirely weightless in his hold.

As the tremors faded, he eased his fingers back with a gentleness that made you melt into the bed. His hand caressed your thigh, grounding you, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your skin. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss just above your heart, his gaze filled with a quiet adoration. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his words a gentle echo that brought you back down, cradling you in the warmth of his presence. With each slow breath, you felt yourself relax, sinking into a calm afterglow, his hand never leaving you, holding you close, safe, and utterly cherished.

He kept his gaze locked on you, his eyes soft and full of reverence as he took in every inch of you, almost as if memorizing each detail. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle lines down your arm, over your waist, and lingering where his touch had left its mark. "Every single part of you… absolutely breathtaking." His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, a reverent tone that left no doubt in your mind about how he saw you.

Leaning closer, he brushed a thumb over your cheek, his eyes searching yours before his lips met yours in a kiss, soft at first, like a silent promise. But as the kiss deepened, his hand slipped down to your back, pulling you flush against him. You felt the warmth and firmness of his body pressing close, and the tension between you both sparked alive again, a slow burn igniting into something more intense.

With a gentle shift, he eased himself forward, closing the distance completely. The moment he slid inside you, a low, deep moan escaped him, his voice raw and full of pleasure. The sound reverberated through his chest, pressing against you as he buried himself fully, his breath mingling with yours in the shared closeness. He stayed still, savoring the feeling, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed in deeply, grounding himself in the intimacy between you.

The warmth of his hands, the depth of his gaze—it all blended into one powerful connection, a quiet moment suspended in time. His fingers brushed tenderly along your spine as he murmured against your lips, "You’re… perfect." And as he began to move slowly, his body pressing closer with each motion, his words were a steady rhythm, a mix of praise and awe. Every movement, every whispered compliment became a shared heartbeat, drawing you into him, grounding you both in a moment that felt boundless and endlessly safe.

Yeosang’s rhythm was slow, deliberate, each thrust grounding you both in the moment, his hands firm and possessive on your hips, holding you close as his deep voice murmured soft praises against your skin. With each movement, he brought you to the edge, his quiet intensity a powerful force that left you clinging to him, savoring the way he filled every part of you.

Then he stilled, his breath warm against your shoulder as he pressed a kiss there. "I want you to see yourself… the way I see you," he whispered, his voice filled with reverence. Gently, he lifted you, his arms cradling you for a moment before he turned you over, guiding you onto your belly and positioning you so you were facing the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

With one hand on your lower back, he leaned over you, his chest grazing your spine as he slowly pressed into you again. His hand remained firm on your lower back, grounding you, while the other held your waist, pulling you closer so you could feel every inch of him. His movements were unhurried, each thrust deep and steady, designed to keep you connected, to let you feel the weight of his presence with every inch.

In the mirror, his gaze stayed locked on you, his expression one of awe as he took in the sight of you beneath him, every curve and line reflected back. His deep voice resonated through you, soft words spilling out as he praised the beauty he saw, the admiration clear in his tone. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine as he pressed even closer, the fullness of his presence grounding you in the here and now.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips so that each movement brought him as deep as possible, his grip on your waist keeping you close, pulling you back to meet each thrust. His hand trailed over your lower back, anchoring you, his praise a steady rhythm in time with his movements. Watching you in the mirror, he let out a low, appreciative sound, his gaze never leaving the sight of you, wrapped in his embrace, vulnerable and cherished in a way that only he could make you feel.

As he moved within you, his rhythm slow and deep, you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a soft flush spreading across your face as you glanced away, shy under the intensity of his gaze. Sensing your hesitation, Yeosang’s hand moved from your waist to your chin, his fingers gentle but firm as he tilted your face toward the mirror, guiding your gaze to meet his reflection.

“Don’t look away,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, his eyes holding yours in the mirror. His thumb brushed tenderly along your jawline, his hand steady as he kept your face tilted, making sure you could see yourself exactly the way he did. “I want you to see what I see.”

He leaned over you, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his words filled with quiet reverence. His gaze roamed over you, taking in every line and curve, admiration clear in the way he looked at you. “Your body… it’s perfect, exactly as it is,” he whispered, his hand returning to your waist, pulling you back against him so you could feel every inch of him, grounding you in his touch.

With each gentle thrust, he continued his praise, his deep voice resonating through you, filling you with warmth and reassurance. His hand on your chin slid down to rest on your shoulder, anchoring you as he held you close, his gaze never straying from yours in the mirror. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do,” he murmured, his tone a soft, steady reminder of how deeply he cherished every part of you.

With a few final, deep thrusts, Yeosang’s breathing grew heavier, his low, quiet moans filling the room as he buried himself completely within you. His hands tightened on your waist, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he rode out his high, each sound he made a low, reverent murmur in your ear. As the last wave passed through him, his movements slowed, gentle and lingering, savoring the closeness as he gradually stilled.

He stayed like that for a moment, holding you close, his hands grounding you as he caught his breath. Then, carefully, he lifted you up, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that made you feel cherished, entirely wrapped up in his embrace. Gently, he settled you in his lap, angling you so you could see the aftermath of his passion, the warmth of him still lingering as his arousal dripped from you.

With a quiet intensity in his gaze, he slowly spread your legs, his fingers gliding over your skin with a reverence that made your pulse quicken. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper as he held you close, guiding you to take in the view. “You’re a masterpiece,” he added, his words soft yet full of pride, his hands tender and steady as he let you see yourself through his eyes, appreciating every inch with a quiet awe that made the moment feel intimate and entirely yours.

With a gentle strength, Yeosang wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his warmth surrounding you completely. He held you close, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head as his hands ran soothingly over your back. After a moment, he scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, and carried you toward the bathroom, his gaze soft and full of care.

In the shower, he was attentive, his touch gentle as he helped you wash away the remnants of the night. His fingers combed through your hair, his hands moving with a tenderness that made you feel cherished. He stayed close, his quiet presence a comforting warmth as the water cascaded over both of you, easing away any lingering tension.

As the steam filled the space around you, you looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft but sincere. “I love you, Yeosang.” Your hand reached up, brushing lightly along his cheek as you held his gaze. “I can’t be myself without you… I’m not complete without you.”

His eyes softened, and he pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours as a gentle smile spread across his face. “You’re everything to me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. He held you like he never wanted to let go, his embrace grounding you as you stood there together, feeling whole, connected, and perfectly safe in each other’s arms.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @memorabxlia @peachy-bell26

[enhastars]

THE RED ROOM જ⁀➴  CHAPTER TWO

AT THE RESTAURANT, OCT 13TH

Y/N hadn’t expected to see so many people in line, waiting to dine in for breakfast when she arrived at the restaurant the next morning. She had barely slept the night before, her nerves keeping her awake, and even now her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped them hastily on her dress shirt before walking past the waiting crowd, a growing sense of existential dread tightening in her stomach. With how out of it she’d been last night, she hadn’t considered that her new coworkers might not like her. What if they tried to get her fired?

No, that was ridiculous. This was her first job, after all—surely they’d take pity on her.

Most of the people in the lobby bustling around seemed like ordinary travelers, much like herself. Suitcases clustered near the glass revolving doors, and sunburned children darted between harried parents. Y/N had arrived surprisingly early, a small victory considering she was running on four hours of sleep and two shots of espresso. The wealthy guests probably attended evening events; no one here seemed particularly out of the ordinary.

She shuddered at the thought of serving those intimidating people, though she wasn’t planning to be the center of attention—like a host might be.

Before she could step into the dining area, a stranger stopped her and smiled.

"Hey! You must be the new starter?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily startled by the voice cutting through her thoughts. The man standing before her had a kind smile, the sort that seemed to radiate warmth. It caught her off guard, making her wonder if she was just imagining the friendliness. Maybe it was her nerves playing tricks on her again.

His neatly parted black hair gleamed under the kitchen's fluorescent lights, and his brown eyes had a soft, almost feline-like quality. She felt her pulse quicken—how was everyone here so intimidatingly put together?

"That’s me," Y/N replied, willing her voice to stay steady. She forced a small smile, hoping it hid how overwhelmed she felt.

���Nice to meet you. It’s been a while since we got a new addition to the crew—especially a girl.”

The man’s voice was light yet confident, as if he was used to welcoming newcomers like her. Y/N’s gaze flicked to the polished name tag pinned neatly to his shirt: Yang. Family name, she noted.

“Thank you, Mr. Yang,” she replied, forcing her voice to steady despite the faint waver she could hear.

For a second, his expression froze in mild surprise, as though he wasn’t accustomed to such formality. Then his lips quirked into an amused grin, and he rubbed his forehead with his palm.

“Just Jungwon is fine,” he said with a short laugh. “We’re probably around the same age anyway.”

Jungwon extended his hand, and Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. His grip was firm, his fingers rough and calloused—an undeniable testament to long hours spent in a demanding industry. Despite his easy demeanor, the handshake reminded her that this man wasn’t someone to underestimate.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. It’s really early,” he added with a slightly sheepish tilt of his head.

Y/N managed a small smile as he handed her the menu he’d been holding. She almost stumbled under its weight; it was larger than she’d anticipated, bound with a thick black fabric that was soft but sturdy. Gold letters gleamed under the overhead lights, spelling out God's Menu in elegant script. The name piqued her curiosity, but she tucked the thought away for later.

“Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the crew,” Jungwon said, motioning for her to follow. He adjusted a gold-encrusted belt over his apron with a practiced motion before heading toward the dining area.

As Y/N trailed after him, she found herself taking in the grandeur of her surroundings. The dining room was more opulent than anything she’d ever seen—like something pulled straight from a period drama. Ornate chandeliers hung from the soaring ceilings, their golden light casting a warm glow across the room. Maroon curtains framed every window, their thick folds cascading down to the floor like velvet waterfalls. Towering black marble columns lined the space, their glossy surfaces so polished they reflected the chandeliers’ light.

She trailed her fingers along the edge of a nearby table as they passed, the linen smooth and cool beneath her touch. Across the room, a stage loomed in the distance, its polished wood floor gleaming under subtle spotlights. She could almost imagine it coming alive during an evening performance, filled with laughter or music.

It was breathtaking—every detail deliberate yet effortless.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered as she adjusted the menu in her hands, trying to steady her breathing. How could she possibly fit in here?

“Sunoo, for the last time, I’m not doing that!”

The sudden shout jolted Y/N from her thoughts. She flinched, the clang of metal ringing out a moment later. Her eyes darted toward Jungwon, who didn’t so much as bat an eye. He pushed open a set of heavy steel doors leading into the kitchen.

“Listen, I’m just spitballing here!” a voice whined as they stepped inside.

Y/N blinked, her eyes widening at the chaos unfolding before her. A blonde man—presumably Sunoo—was practically dancing out of the way of a ladle hurtling through the air. The weapon’s sender stood across the kitchen island: a man with crimson-colored hair and piercing eyes. Even from a distance, his sharp gaze made her want to shrink into herself.

The two men were dressed in aprons, but each was unique—Sunoo’s was embroidered with intricate floral patterns, while the other’s bore minimalist geometric shapes. As Y/N glanced around, she noticed no two uniforms looked alike. It was a small detail, but it only added to the surreal atmosphere of the place.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jungwon demanded, exasperation heavy in his tone.

“Wonnie, Heeseung’s being an asshole!” Sunoo called out, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

“Can you tell this son of a bitch to mind his own business?” Heeseung retorted, rolling his eyes.

Sunoo gasped, his expression the picture of betrayal, before reaching for a stray chopstick to retaliate.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Jungwon interrupted, snatching the chopstick out of Sunoo’s hand before it could escalate further. “You guys are making this place look like a zoo in front of the poor new girl.”

At Jungown’s words, both Sunoo and Heeseung froze mid-motion, their eyes snapping toward Y/N. They looked at her incredulously, as if they hadn't seen a woman in years.

Her stomach churned under their stares. She clutched the menu a little tighter, suddenly feeling like the spotlight was burning too brightly on her.

“This is all Heeseung’s fault!” Sunoo exclaimed, his grin returning as he strode toward her. The warmth in his expression was almost blinding, and Y/N swore for a moment she was staring into the sun itself. Did everyone here have such radiant smiles?

“Y/N, right? The boss told me about you,” Sunoo said.

His voice was lighter than she’d expected, catching her off guard. Freckles dusted his face, and dimples appeared as he smiled. There was an effortless charm about him that made Y/N’s nerves simmer down, if only slightly.

“Don’t listen to him; he’s the real devil,” Heeseung cut in, his smirk sharp and teasing.

Y/N offered a polite laugh, though her gaze stayed locked on Sunoo, unwilling to meet Heeseung’s eyes. Something about his presence made her skin prickle, like a predator sizing up its prey.

“What's her position?” Sunoo asked, tilting his head toward Jungwon.

“No idea. Boss didn’t tell me.” He shrugged, wiping a cleaver clean. 

“General manager, huh? Real thorough,” Sunoo teased, earning yet another tired glare from Jungwon.

Narrowing his eyes, he started twirling a knife in his fingers with a precision that was both impressive and mildly intimidating. For a moment, Y/N thought he might actually throw it. Instead, Sunoo blew him a raspberry, hopping away toward the ovens with the carefree energy of a child.

“He’s like a child,” Y/N muttered under her breath, intending it only for herself.

Heeseung, however, caught it. His sharp, slanted eyes eyes locked onto hers with unsettling accuracy.

“He’s immature, sure,” Heeseung said, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves with deliberate slowness, “but he’s got a pure soul.” He leaned back against the counter behind him, crossing one leg over the other in a way that seemed too casual to be uncalculated. “That’s his best quality. Don’t think too lowly of him.”

Heeseung’s gaze remained fixed on her, drilling into her as if he were daring her to disagree. Y/N swallowed hard, offering a small nod before looking anywhere but at him. A few minutes ago, Heeseung had been arguing with Sunoo; now he sounded almost protective. The sudden shift in mood was disorienting.

“Dude, leave her alone. You’re scaring her,” Jungwon said with a roll of his eyes, his arms crossed in an authoritative, almost sassy stance.

“Nonsense,” Heeseung replied smoothly, slipping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders before she could react. Her entire body stiffened at the unexpected contact. “We’re already friends, aren’t we?”

Y/N blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded, but managed a noncommittal hum of agreement. This guy was so strange. Almost as strange as Park Sunghoon from last night.

“Yeah, totally,” she mumbled, grimacing when Heeseung gave her back a hearty pat, seemingly satisfied.

“I’m not sure what position you’ll fill,” Heeseung said, stepping back and adjusting his gloves. “But I’m the Executive Chef here. What I say, goes.”

Y/N gave a small nod. Truthfully, she had no idea what position she was supposed to take either. She’d applied on a whim and somehow ended up here. What would Sunghoon assign her to do? She tried not to think about it, but “janitor” seemed like the most realistic option.

“Jungwon over here is the general manager, which means he always has a stick up his ass,” Heeseung added with a smirk.

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Despite his unnerving demeanor, Heeseung was undeniably funny.

“That’s enough,” Jungwon said with an exaggerated sigh, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement.

“Yeah, Jungwon, you really need to get laid!” Sunoo’s voice rang out from across the kitchen, loud and unapologetic.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in this time—she laughed, a genuine, bright sound that echoed in the chaotic kitchen. It caught everyone’s attention. Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jungwon all turned to her, their surprise evident.

Jungwon recovered first, pointing a finger at Sunoo. “I’m so going to get you for that,” he threatened, though his tone lacked any real malice.

Sunoo simply grinned, forming a heart with his fingers before skipping off toward the ovens again.

“You have a cute laugh,” Heeseung said abruptly, ruffling Y/N’s hair gently as if she were a kid.

“Thanks,” she murmured, looking away as her cheeks flushed. She didn’t know why heat rushed to her face at the comment, but when a good-looking guy compliments you, what else are you supposed to do? 

“Not as cute as Jake’s, though. But still.” He continued, a soft smile growing on his face.

The moment the name “Jake” left Heeseung’s lips, Jungwon and Sunoo groaned simultaneously.

“You and Jake again? Just fucking date already,” Jungwon grumbled.

“I’m sorry, what K-drama episode is this?” Sunoo asked, deadpan.

Heeseung scoffed, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “You’re just jealous someone actually likes me.”

Jungwon and Sunoo gasped in unison, spinning toward him with exaggerated expressions of mock offense.

Y/N stifled a giggle, marveling at how easily their banter shifted between tense and ridiculous. The dynamic in the kitchen was chaotic, but it felt oddly warm– inviting, even.

She opened her mouth to ask who this ‘Jake’ was when the kitchen doors slammed open.

All heads turned instinctively toward the sound.

Now, Y/n hadn’t been attracted to any man ever since experiencing a very messy breakup with her ex– yet all those years of celibacy had flew out the window the moment she saw who just sauntered in. He had long, luscious locks of black hair and the plumpest lips he’d ever seen; even on a girl. The man looked like he hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep in years but it managed to make him look even more attractive. His figure was lean, but you could see through his see-through blouse how toned his biceps were. She couldn’t help but stare. 

There’s nothing wrong with thinking your coworker is attractive, Y/n. She consoled herself.

“You’re late,” Heeseung said flatly, his tone laced with just enough disapproval to sound believable. He straightened from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

Riki strode in without a trace of apology, his expression a mix of irritation and defiance. He dropped his crossbody Prada bag onto the floor as casually as if it were a grocery tote.

Y/N blinked, unable to hide her disbelief. He just put a Prada bag on the floor. Not even she would do that, and she’d grown up in a pretty well-off family.

“Sorry, your majesty,” Riki quipped, smirking as he pulled a black bandana from his pocket and tied it around his head to push his bangs out of his face. The gesture was quick and practiced, his fingers moving deftly. Y/N noticed how his confidence exuded throughout the room, and she quickly looked away with a blush on her cheeks. 

“Riki, you’re on dish duty tonight. Jung-Hoon’s still sick,” Jungwon announced, tossing him a stained washcloth and gesturing toward the sink with a tilt of his chin.

“Are you serious?” Riki groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I swear he’s just saying that to get out of work.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sunoo chimed in, laughing as he patted Riki’s shoulder in mock sympathy. “Rules are rules.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. She was beginning to think she might enjoy this strange, lively environment.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the minutes turned into an hour, the kitchen transformed into a full-fledged operation. Waiters and servers bustled in and out, balancing trays of empty plates or carefully scrawling order notes onto slips of paper. Sunoo, one of the fastest and most efficient among them, barely paused to catch his breath as he dropped another set of orders onto the counter near the chefs. The cooks moved like clockwork, passing sauces and side dishes to sous-chefs, who quickly returned them plated and garnished.

Y/N couldn’t help but be captivated by the precision. The staff worked in such perfect sync, their movements calculated yet fluid. And then there was her—awkwardly lingering at the edges of the chaos, feeling more like an outsider with each passing minute.

“Hey, what is this girl doing here?”

The shout cut through the noise, and Y/N felt her stomach drop as a few heads turned in her direction.

She was frozen in place, caught off guard, but before she could answer, Riki’s voice piped up from near the bathrooms.

“Who, David hyung?” Riki was adjusting a tie in a small wall-mounted mirror, his tone casual. His hair had been tied back with a hair tie, of all things, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he actually intended to leave it that way.

She hesitated, awkwardly raising her hand in a half-hearted wave. She’d been standing near Heeseung moments ago, but he had wandered off to argue with a waitress.

“Oh,” Riki said, his tone brightening when he finally noticed her. “So you must be the new hire. Wait here, I’ll find Sunghoon-hyung for you.”

Y/N nodded, though disappointment flickered faintly in her chest. She’d been hoping to introduce herself properly, but everyone just seemed too busy.

“Nishimura here, has anyone seen Mr. Park yet?” Riki’s voice came through a walkie-talkie clipped to his ear as he pushed his way out of the kitchen doors. And just like that, he was gone again.

Y/N tried to keep herself out of everyone’s way, retreating to the quieter area near the cold storage. Curiosity tugged at her, though, and she couldn’t resist peeking into the walk-in fridge. She was curious– too much for her own good, her mother would tell him, so she felt an urge to go inside. It’s not like there's much in there anyway, but she wanted to explore every part of this place to familiarize herself. After all, she did plan on working here for a while.

While nobody was looking (which no one was in the first place), she walked inside the ventilation room which didn’t have a door. The temperature dropped sharply as she stepped inside, her breath puffing in small clouds. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with imported fruits, bread, vegetables, and neatly labeled containers. She noted the gleaming steel doors on either side of the room, their surfaces polished enough to reflect her face. Her breath came out in small puffs, hot smoke emitting from his her.

Her fingers brushed against one of the handles, but something in her stomach twisted—an instinctive unease she couldn’t quite place. Get yourself together. It’s just a freezer, she told herself, exhaling slowly.

She stepped closer, her hand hovering over the keypad next to the door. It required a code to unlock. Y/N sighed, letting her arm fall back to her side. No use poking around where she didn’t belong.

“What are you doing here?”

The low, cutting voice came from directly behind her, so close she felt the heat of their breath.

Y/N froze, a startled gasp slipping from her lips. Her heart jumped to her throat as she spun around.

Speak of the devil.

Park Sunghoon stood there, his expression hard and unyielding, his dark eyes sharp enough to pierce through her. His brows were furrowed, and his clenched jaw only added to the intensity of his glare. She started trembling, an uneasy feeling washing over her as she felt her limbs go numb.

“I asked you a question.” His face was contorted with rage, hostile gaze boring into her eyes. and Y/n swore she had never felt more terrified in her life. She was paralyzed to the spot, the menacing aura holding her in a tightening grip.

“I— I didn’t mean to—” Y/N stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

His hand slammed against the door behind her, just inches from her head. The metallic clang echoed in the small room, and she flinched instinctively. Y/n took two steps backward, recoiling herself as much as she could. Sunghoon mimicked this, taking two steps forward until their faces were inches apart.

Her mind was whirling, confusion and fear etched on her face. She didn’t know what provoked this type of reaction, as the same playful Sunghoon from last night seemed to have dissapated. Y/n did not like this new version at all.

“Get out,” he spat, his voice cold and venomous.

“What?” Y/N blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.

“I said, get out. Now.”

The command snapped her out of her daze. She slipped under his arm and bolted for the door, her pulse pounding as she emerged back into the bustling kitchen.

“Never come here again, you understand?” Sunghoon’s voice followed her, sharp and unrelenting.

She didn’t turn around, couldn’t turn around. Her legs carried her forward on autopilot, her body reeling from the encounter.

That was a close one, Sunghoon thought to himself, his sharp gaze lingering on the door Y/N had fled through moments ago. He hadn’t planned on firing her—not for something as trivial as this. Other people had made the same mistake before, and Y/N was far too important for his future plans to let go.

If I go through with it, that is, he reminded himself, the thought laced with calculated restraint. There were still details to finalize, conversations to have with his affiliates.

He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable as he turned back toward the steel door. His fingers moved with practiced ease, punching in the security code. The small beep echoed faintly in the stillness of the room. The heavy door clicked open, and he slipped inside, the cold air biting against his skin. Without hesitation, he reached for the keypad on the interior wall and locked the door behind him, ensuring no one else could follow.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Y/N’s feet didn’t stop moving until she was safely out of the cold storage area and back into the bustling kitchen. The warmth of the space wrapped around her like a shield, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down.

She scanned the room, searching for something—anything—to ground her. Her gaze landed on Riki, who had just returned, casually sliding into the room with a clipboard in hand. He glanced up, immediately noticing the strained look on her face.

“So I couldn’t find Sunghoon, but you can work with Sunoo as a—Hey, are you okay?”

His teasing tone disappeared, replaced by genuine concern. Riki tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her.

Y/N tried to respond, but her throat felt tight, and her voice caught before she could form words.

“Y/N?” His tone softened, and he took a cautious step closer. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from playful to protective, nearly unraveled her completely.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, though her voice cracked slightly. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears threatening to spill to retreat. She hated feeling like this—so vulnerable, so exposed.

Riki frowned, not buying her answer. Without saying anything, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a short, loose hug. It was quick, just enough to let her feel the comfort of another person’s presence. 

Y/N froze for a moment, startled by the gesture. Then she let herself relax, if only slightly. She already had the craziest past 24 hours, so a hug was really what she needed right now– even if its from a total stranger she had just met. Her childhood butler would kill himself if he knew what she was doing, the hilarious thought making her feel slightly better. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

He pulled back, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Look, I don’t know what happened, and I know we just met, but we’re technically family now.” His voice was quiet, almost careful, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm her further. “If something’s wrong, you come to me, okay?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure whether to trust him. He seemed sincere, but then again, so had Sunghoon when they first met. Still, she nodded.

“Good,” Riki said with a simple smile, as if that settled everything. He straightened up just as Sunoo walked by, arms full of freshly folded linens.

“Riki, they need you out front,” Sunoo called, not bothering to stop as he breezed past them.

Riki sighed dramatically, giving Y/N one last look. “I’ll be back. Don’t let Sunoo boss you around too much.”

“Hey!” Sunoo called from across the room, his tone indignant.

Riki grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender as he headed for the doors.

Sunoo turned to Y/N once Riki was gone, his easygoing smile immediately putting her at ease. “Well, since you’re stuck with me for now, let’s keep it simple for your first day.” He handed a notepad and pen to Y/n, who took it with grace. 

“Just watch what I do, and if you have any questions, ask away.”

“Thanks, Sunoo,” Y/N said softly, grateful for his straightforwardness.

He smiled wider and led her out to the dining area, where the atmosphere was entirely different from the chaos of the kitchen. Guests sat at elegantly set tables, the low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware filling the air. The chandeliers overhead cast a warm, golden light, and the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the rich aroma of sauces and grilled meats.

Y/N followed Sunoo closely, observing as he navigated the room with practiced ease. He moved quickly but never appeared rushed, greeting guests with a polite smile and taking orders with precision.

“You have to be exact,” Sunoo explained as he scribbled a note onto his pad. “A single mistake, and the chefs will make you regret it.”

Y/N nodded, hurriedly writing down his advice. She couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he handled everything, even when a guest became visibly impatient.

The next hour passed in a blur of activity. Y/N trailed after Sunoo like a shadow, trying to absorb everything she could. Despite her initial nerves, she found herself growing fascinated by the rhythm of it all—the way everyone had a role to play, how every detail mattered. She also liked the blonde’s company, as his extroverted personality made her feel at ease. 

By the time they reached their fifth table, Y/N was starting to feel more comfortable. That is, until a petite girl wearing a black mask approached her, her dark eyes sharp and focused.

“Mr. Park told me to give you this,” the girl said simply, handing over a small post-it note.

Y/N’s heart sank the moment she heard his name. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the note.

Meet me in my office by 2:30. No company. – President Sunghoon

Her stomach churned, a familiar dread creeping up her spine.

“Is everything okay?” Sunoo asked, noticing the way her face had paled.

Y/N forced a nod, quickly folding the note and slipping it into her pocket. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just... an orientation thing, I think.”

Sunoo didn’t seem entirely convinced but didn’t press further. “If you say so.”

Y/N tried to focus on the task at hand, but her mind kept circling back to the note. She didn’t know what the man wanted, but she doubted it was anything good.

How fun.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

author note: ahhh what is he gonna say?? 👀 also im sorry if the character descriptions are weird, i was trying to figure out which member fit which role best (i switched heeseung and jay last minute bc heejake <3 and 02z supremacy). thank you for all the love!! hope you enjoyed! not beta read! (we die like men), wc: 4.4k

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