#i think I spent too much time with my family last month all they fucking do is talk about their weight

[girlcrushau]

[afarthestarsarewaiting]

This is a post about food and my relationship to it (or will be in the tags bc my brain is a secret) so I highly recommend those that might get triggered to Sit This One Out, Folks

[xoxojuyo]

Nanny | jjk (m)

✦ summary: you take a babysitting job for the wealthy Jeon family, one night you get to see Mr. Jeon in the kitchen, finding him much more attractive in person than in photos. Despite his seemingly disinterest in you, he comes to you one night, summoning you to his studio.

✦rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✦ pairing: dilf!Jungkook + f!reader

✦ warnings: married!jungkook, dad!jungkook, he is a father of two, older!jungkook, power imbalance relationship, he is your boss’s husband, mistress!reader, cheater!jungkook, swearing, kissing, boob play, finger licking, slight choking, fingering, degradation, penetrative s3x, no mentions of contraceptive use, he cums inside.

✦word count: 3.5K

✦a/n: this is written in first person, oopsie. hope you enjoy.

The clock indicates 9PM as I tiptoed out of the children's room, my steps light and cautious, mindful not to wake the little ones. I was the Jeon’s trusted babysitter.

My sister worked as Mrs. Jeon personal trainer. The woman would spend her whole day at the country club, pilates in the morning, then tennis and swimming lessons at the afternoon. She spent zero time with the kids, she is finally home after 7pm, but it was almost like she warded off her kids, I’m convinced she hates interacting with them, at nights she went to her room or to the patio to have dinner while FaceTiming an unknown man, that was my second hint that she could be cheating on Mr. Jeon, actually at that point I was pretty convinced. She went out with her friends during the weekend nights, going on clubs, bars or some girls night, she always had a plan, some days she wouldn’t come back until Monday morning, with her hair tangled and unkempt, pumps off and a dry colorless face.

She had fired the previous babysitter after she found out she was stealing some of the kids clothing and selling them online, she was an old lady who pretended to be a retired and experienced children psychologist, Mrs. Jeon never cared enough to read her resume, turns out she wasn’t, and it only took the effort of googling her name to find news about her other scams on rich families pretending to be a kind babysitter, and not only she was stealing the kids’ clothes, also Mrs. Jeon’s jewels.

Shortly after she hired a young kindergarten teacher, only lasted a week. Mrs. Jeon thought she was too flirty when she greeted her husband, truth is she never saw them interact, it might be the fact that the girl had a rising onlyfans page that Mrs. Jeon found about because the gardener had recognized her, and also because she was an impolite vegan, the girl demanded rudely to the chef to make her a special vegan meal, so Mrs. Jeon told her to not come back the next day.

Once the door clicked softly shut behind me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Babysitting could be exhausting, but I cherished these moments of tranquility after the children had drifted off to dreamland. I made my way to the cozy living room, settled onto the plush sofa, eager to enjoy a few moments of relaxation.

My sister received a call for help from Mrs. Jeon. Desperate because if she didn’t find a new babysitter before the kids finished their school day she had to stay with them for the rest of the day. My sister said she sounded as if someone had died, in complete panic. I got my sister’s call for help, she wanted to be in her boss’ good side and also to get my ass out of the couch once and for all.

I had just graduated, and conveniently unemployed. I had tried my luck in a big city, completely failed and had to return home. Had been rotting in my family home for almost a month until my sister told me she had a job opportunity for me.

- Just focus on taking care of the kids, don’t engage with the male employees on the house, she will think you are fucking them, she hates sharing her men. And if you get to see Mr. Jeon when he arrives early from work just say good night without making eye contact, no more exchange, understood?

In fact, I had never seen Mr. Jeon in person. There were huge family pictures all around the house walls, and small frames on the shelves that portrayed his beautiful face.

Mr. Jeon is a handsome man, with youthful features and athletic physique. From chatting with the maids I learned that he goes jogging at 6 AM, to the gym at 7, has breakfast at 8, then heads to work until 9 to 10 at night when he arrives home, takes a shower and goes to bed.

As weeks went by, my love for the kids grew, just as much as my curiosity for their gorgeous father.

The couple didn’t share a room, in fact, apparently they hated each other. They were a happy pair until she was “forced” to bare his children. Both families had agreed to unite in all aspects including business, but the warranty was to have at least one male that would take over everything one day. They did, the youngest of the two children was a beautiful and healthy boy, but Mrs. Jeon was left traumatized and deformed after the pregnancies, which caused the fall of their successful marriage.

Linda, their oldest maid said that it all started even before they got married, because both were compulsive cheaters that enjoyed to have interaction with people bellow their status, such as maids, trainers, secretaries, drivers, bodyguards, etc.

As I reached for a book from the nearby shelf, I heard a faint rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Perhaps it was just the house settling.

This weekend I had been tasked to stay over and take care of the kids while Mrs. Jeon was on a girls trip to Indonesia, she’s coming back on Monday.

I’d say Mrs. Jeon trusted me, I was her beloved personal trainer’s sister and I’ve been doing a good job taking care of the kids, acted as if the chef, the gardener, the drivers and the new pastry cook didn’t exist. She was happy with my work.

Her instructions were to just normally complete my Friday - Saturday routine with the kids, but to stay over to keep an eye on them at night, she didn’t trust the maids, one time she had a nightmare in which they all grabbed forks to kill them and fed her a broth made with their bones, ever since she’s been paranoid, she says they hate her so much she believes they are capable of doing it.

It was Friday night, the kids already asleep, I would usually go home after this, but I had to sleep on one of the guest rooms to check on the kids, and Saturday morning prepare them for their swimming lesson and entertain them for the rest of the day.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably—a soft shuffling, like footsteps moving across the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I debated whether to investigate or retreat to the safety of the children's room. The staff had already ended their activities, they were all supposed to be in their chambers.

Summoning courage, I rose from the sofa and tiptoed towards the kitchen, my pulse quickening with each step. The dim light from the living room cast eerie shadows against the walls, adding to the sense of uneasiness that gripped me.

Peering cautiously around the corner, My eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the center of the kitchen was a figure—Mr. Jeon, very alive and kicking.

He was so much more handsome in person, an unreal beauty. Blazer and tie off, sleeves up his elbows revealed his tattoos, they covered his whole right arm and hand, first three buttons undone letting me see part of his chest, he was bulked. A piercing adorning his lower lip, another on his right eyebrow, a couple more on his ears.

I had heard he did that to his body after he found out guys with piercings and tattoos gave Mrs. Jeon the ick. Apparently he really wanted her away from him.

- Who are you? He asked confused, looked like he already had a few drinks, was peering at the fridge looking for a beer.

- The babysitter.

- What happened to Ms. Barlowe? he asked while opening the beer can and pouring it in a glass.

- She was fired two months ago. I tried to respond as concisely as possible, but this man was making me feel things that would put this job on risk. He liked getting inside the staff’s panties? Then he could take me right here.

- What’s your name? How old are you?

- y/n, hadn’t you heard it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age. I’m old enough.

- Old enough? For what? He chuckled.

- To be your children’s babysitter. I said jokingly, nothing matters anymore, this man has me on my knees acting all flirty.

- Once we had a 16 year old. He said looking at me, taking a sip of his beer.

- Not that young, more like old enough to buy alcohol all that stuff. I said while looking down at my feet, shyness taking over me all of a sudden, I shouldn’t have said anything.

- Are you staying the night?

- Yes, I have to keep an eye on the kids while your wife is away.

- Then I’ll see you around doll, I need a shower. He winked and walked to leave the kitchen, when he passed by me he patted the top of my head.

What?! The nickname got me all confused and flustered, but then the way he touched my head, was it all in a “oh how cute” way? Or a “let’s fuck till daylight”?

I stood there, still processing the whole conversation we had, now I feel embarrassed.

Headed directly to the guest bedroom and took a shower too. I felt so hot, cheeks red and teary eyes. Got my pajamas on, don’t I own a prudish set? Pair of pants and an oversized tee. If he were to walk into the room and saw me wearing this, I bet he would laugh.

Of course I couldn’t sleep a wink. Thinking the hot man was somewhere under the same roof. Foolishly kept imagining things, the way his hands would feel against my skin, his big hands around my throat, long fingers inside my pussy. Oh god!

The mere three or four hours of sleep I got, I slept them like a dog, after about three orgasms I achieved by rubbing my clit. It felt awful afterwards. He was a married man after all, he didn’t love his wife but they were together, he got two children who I adored and spent a lot of time with.

Mr. Jeon would never look at me like that anyways, I bet he had a bunch of women already. Models, celebrities, escorts.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with the kids, I usually arrive after they had finished. Once done we head upstairs to get ready for their swimming lesson. They had a private instructor every Saturday to teach them how to swim, I sat on one of the pallets by the pool.

After the lesson ended, the kids wanted to stay and keep playing in the pool, it was a hot day since summer was around the corner.

- Pleaseee! You can grab one of mom’s swimsuits. The oldest daughter insisted I should join them on their little chasing game inside the water.

- I’d like to but it’s almost lunchtime and then we have things to do remember? You wanted to go to the supermarket and buy snacks. I insisted that it wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to jump into the fresh water, but maybe it would seem shameless.

I ended up getting in. One of the maids brought me one of the many Mrs. Jeon’s bikinis, she told me she grabbed it from a big bag full of clothing she was about to throw away. It was a tiny black Valentino bikini with a white outline.

We played for a while and then got out to have lunch, we sat in the outdoor dining table, all soaked, the tips of our fingers wrinkled from spending too much time on the water.

And then he comes out from inside the house, wearing a black polo shirt tucked in a pair of navy blue jeans, black Saint Laurent sunglasses. He took them out and looked at me from head to toe, licking his lips.

Was he home the whole time?! I’ve never ran into him on Saturdays. I was standing up beside the table, opening a can of sprite for the youngest son.

The kids waved at his father and continued eating, he gave each a kiss on their forehead and stood in front of me.

- When is my mother supposed to pick them up? He said, head lowered to look at me in the eyes.

- Tomorrow morning.

- I’ll tell her to take them today, have everything ready. He said putting his glasses on and heading to the garage.

I’m already imagining things, foolishly thinking he might have a hidden intention to ask his mother to take the kids early, maybe all he wants is my ass out of his house and I’m here all nervous believing he might want some alone time to fuck my brains out, very unlikely.

Once the kids were gone I went to my room, packed everything. I was meant to leave after the grandma took the children TOMORROW, now they are gone and I’m confused on what should I do.

More like expecting Mr. Jeon to come home and…

Toc, toc, toc.

He opened the door and looked at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

- On my studio, in five. He said and quickly closed the door and left.

What the fuck?!

I was almost having a panic attack before I knocked his studio door three times. I decided to change into a white tank top, no bra, white cotton panties and a pair of blue stripped pants, what I had intended to wear tomorrow.

Heard a small come in, and opened the door to enter.

He was sitting in a grey loveseat, manspreading, left hand on his crotch, right holding a cigarette between his lips, such a breathtaking view.

- Come sit with me. He ordered patting the couch.

I walked slowly, still shaking from the nervousness. Sat next to him, hands and eyes on my tights, I couldn’t look at him.

- Is this what you want? He took my hand with both of his, which made me look at his face. He was waiting for an answer.

- What do you mean? Of course I knew what he meant, I guess I just wanted to hear him say it to be sure.

- Do you want me to fuck you? Here, right now?

Yes.

He grabbed my face by my chin and pressed his lips against mine. He let me set the pace at first. His lips were soft, breath tasted like tobacco. I could feel how at times he was struggling not to kiss me harder.

So I let him slide his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my hips to place me on his lap, groaning at the feeling of my covered pussy on top of his crotch. He bit and dragged my lower lip, his kisses started to descend from my chin to my neck.

- From the first moment I saw you, your eyes were pleading me to fuck you, then I saw you in that tiny bikini, so naughty.

My pussy was throbbing, his words and his desperate kisses against my skin had me drunk in pleasure already.

He took the hem of my top to remove it, tits bounced right in front of his eyes. He chuckled and looked at me with a smirk, grabbed them with his huge hands, caressing them as if they were two stress balls. With his thumb, he started rubbing my nipples, eyes on mine the whole time.

- You like that princess?

I was a moaning mess, nodded and arched my back. It felt so good, a numbing sensation right into my pussy hole, soaking wet.

He left my nipples to grab my buttocks, automatically started to rub myself on his bulge. He closed his eyes and moaned, then kissed my lips hungrily. Grabbed my waist and helped me pace my movements, he laid back on the couch, locking his eyes to mine.

I stood up to remove my pants, once off he grabbed my hips and sat me on his lap, this time my back against his chest. His rough hands start to brush my body, from my breasts to my stomach.

- Open your legs princess. Obeying immediately to his command, I was already desperate for his touch down there, couldn’t help but to feel powerless under his touch.

I whimpered as I felt his hands pushing my panties to the side, and started to stroke my clit. He then took his fingers to my entrance only to remove them quickly. I moaned and turned my head to look at him in disbelief. He brings his fingers up to my mouth, coated with my juices.

- Lick them.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his long fingers, doe eyes staring at his while circling my tongue against his digits. Spit dripping from my chin and his hands, such a filthy sight. He then removed them from my mouth producing a popping sound.

He took those two fingers down my pussy again, inserted them into my pulsing hole. His hands are skilled, every move he makes hits the right spot, I dropped my head back in pleasure and let out an embarrassingly loud moan, he started kissing my neck, sucking and licking.

- Such a filthy whore, you like my fingers? He said with a deep voice, groaning in my ear. His eyes were fixed in my pussy the whole time, he seemed to enjoy watching his fingers going in and out of my hole.

He had been fingering me for a while, when I felt that familiar response down my pussy, a numbing sensation signaling my orgasm was close to take place.

Jungkook thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed underneath me, my thighs trembled as I tried to keep them spreaded. The sight spurred him on as he added another finger, I groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving me with three fingers.

- Come on baby, cum all over my hand. He mumbled against my ear. It didn’t take long for my release to come. Jungkook groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out.

He laid me against the couch before his mouth littered hot kisses across my chest only pausing when he felt my fingers delicately trail along the waistband of his pants, looking forward to undo the button. Jungkook met my gaze with a smirk on his lips.

- Please sir, can I have your cock now? I asked, my eyes innocently blinked up at him. Jungkook groaned at my words, he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at my doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed me on the soft silk couch before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps.

My legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. I felt his tip prod at my entrance, he began to rub, coating his hard dick with my juices. Jungkook sunk himself into my throbbing heat. He started off at a slow pace, kissing my neck softly. Once he felt me clench him, Jungkook started to move faster.

My moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of my pretty lips. It didn’t take long for me to become cockdrunk as I clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Jungkook felt his balls tighten at my chants.

- Fuck! Yeah sir fuck me harder, I love how your cock feels inside me. My words spurring him to drive himself deeper inside me. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in his arms as I came for the second time that night. My body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through My orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched my eyes roll as I let him continue to use me like the a slut.

- Oh my god! Sir, please cum inside me, I want your cum inside my pussy. My willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat my walls. I could feel his cum warming me from the inside causing me to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of my boss’s husband. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of us.

Jungkook pulled his softening cock out of me gently, I heard him get off the couch and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between my legs. I snuggled my head into the pillows behind.

- You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need? Jungkook asked, sitting next to me on the couch. He moved some hairs away from my face and began stroking my cheek awaiting a response.

- I loved it, thank you sir. I spoke with a soft smile. Jungkook’s helped me slip into the comfort of the bedding in the guest room, he laid in the bed scooping me into his embrace. I laid on his chest whilst he stroked my back, lulling me to sleep with his actions and for the first time I slept peacefully in the embrace of my new lover.

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[sturniolohouse]

Anniversary in the Cape - M.S

A/N: hey so, i feel CRAZY after writing this. this is truly an example of the duality of my writing... also, i'm sorry if there's any typos, i've proofread a ton and even stuck this bitch in grammarly but i could have missed something. she's looonnnng, so get some wine (if legal) and some popcorn and enjoy!!!!!! ALSO, ALSO, minors!!! DNI!!!! pls and thank you. :)

summary: matt and reader take their relationship to the next level, going on an overdue vacation to the cape for their anniversary.

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected do not recommend), spanking, choking, matt being hot, uhhh idk

word count: 5.8k

song: stargazing - the neighborhood

'started with a spark, now we're on fire'

"And you're sure your parents were okay with us using the car and the house?" I ask looking at him focus on the road in front of him.

"Yes, baby. For the one-hundredth time, they don't mind. Quit worrying, this is our vacation," He looks at me quickly, taking a hand off the wheel to meet my thigh and squeeze it lightly.

"I know, I'm just nervous," I admit softly and he turns to me with wide playful eyes.

"Nervous! Why the hell are you nervous?" He laughs in bewilderment, and I roll my eyes, shrugging slightly.

"I mean, obviously we've been alone before, but we've never been away just the two of us," I explain.

"Yeah, and I'm fucking ecstatic about it. Like you said, no interruptions, quiet house, on the cape...possibilities are endless." He says looking at me with a small suggestive smile growing on his face.

Of course, Matt and I get alone time. Do we get as much as we would like? No.

It's difficult finding time for ourselves when Matt lives with his brothers and my roommates are hermits.

Which I never saw as an issue, because I honestly don't mind spending time with Chris and Nick whenever I'm by their place–which is often. I was actually friends with all of them way before Matt and I began dating. 

But when Matt brought up the last time we had gone on a real date, it had been months.

"No, I know. I'm excited too, it's just a new step in our relationship and it feels very...adult? I don't know, I sound silly," I shake my head and he squeezes my thigh again before grabbing my hand.

"Hey, I know what you mean, and you don't sound silly." He softens a bit to reassure me before kissing the back of my hand. My heart warms at his gesture and I squeeze his hand. 

"I'm excited to show you one of my favorite places, I still can't believe you've never been. I literally grew up here." He changes the subject as he switches lanes and I see the sign indicating Cape Cod is less than a mile away.

We flew into Boston by ourselves yesterday afternoon and spent the night at his parent's house. It was Matt's idea, saying he didn't mind taking the drive as it wasn't too far from his house in Somerville. 

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?" I rub circles into the back of his hand with my thumb.

His mouth quirks to one side pensively but he laughs as soon as he hears me sigh impatiently. 

"Okay, okay, you really wanna know?" He drawls out, turning to glance at me for a moment then turning back to the road. 

"You know I wanna know," I lean over the divider and stare into the side of his face. He smirks a bit, side-eyeing me a few times before humming. 

"Hmm, I think I'll leave you squirming a little longer," He says after a moment.

He exits the highway and I huff, slumping back into my seat.

This place looks like something straight out of a storybook.  

The green, hilly scenery takes my breath away. Matt shows me the main street, driving past the historic houses and buildings as families and couples walk down the street. When we round the bend, the dense trees become few and far between and the lush green landscape dissolves into tall grass, sand, and rock as the ocean comes into view.

We drive along the coast the rest of the way and I just stare in awe at the cozy beach town as Matt tells stories of growing up here in the summer. 

"That house at the end is the family house," He points to the one on the left.

Pulling into the driveway, Matt puts the car in park before cutting the engine. I go to open my door but he stops me, putting a finger up and getting out of the car himself.

I give him a questioning look before I see him jog to the other side of the car to open my door for me.

"And they say chivalry is dead," I shake my head jokingly and he shrugs with a smirk.

I get out of the car and lean up to give him a quick kiss, we're smiley and giddy when we pull apart. He gives me another kiss before handing me a key.

"Go head inside, I'll grab our bags," He says softly against my lips and I nod quickly.

As I walk past him to make my way to the front door, I feel a light slap to my ass. I go to give him a playful disapproving look, but he's already opening the trunk to grab our stuff and acting like nothing happened.

The house is small and charming.

It belongs to their grandparents and has been the family vacation home for decades. The colorful wind chimes on the front porch sing with the soft breeze. I breathe in the salty air and walk towards the steps leading to the front door.

I twist the key to open the door and I'm engulfed with a warm, inviting scent. There are tons of family pictures on the walls and my heart swells at the baby pictures of the triplets.

I can easily spot Matt in a picture of the three of them on the beach, probably around four or five years old.

Seeing photos of them as children always blows my mind because of how identical they looked.

Matt comes in with our bags, noticing me looking at the photos on the wall.

"You were so fucking cute as a kid," I say going to grab my duffel from him but he takes my hand instead, leading me down the hall to the bedroom.

"Am I not cute now?" He pretends to be offended.

"Eh," I joke back and he opens the door at the end of the hall.

"This is our bedroom, the bathroom is next door on the left," He nods behind us toward the hall.

The bedroom is a pale seafoam green color, the bed adorned with a vintage patchwork quilt lined with a ruffle trim. The room has more family photos hung on the walls and beach-themed decor.

"We can unpack now and then head to the store to grab something for dinner and the next few days. There's definitely no food here. Sound good?" He places our bags on the bed and turns to me, placing his hands on his hips.

He wears a backward camo Boston Red Sox hat, a black tee with a silver chain around his neck, jean shorts, and white New Balance sneakers.

I must have been ogling him for too long because he snaps his fingers in front of my face with a smug expression.

"D'ya hear me, kid, or are you too busy eye-fucking me?" He smiles, licking his lips, and I feel a deep blush bloom from my chest up to my neck.

"Not my fault my boyfriend is so hot," I shrug, trying to recover from his playful callout, and he rolls his eyes, blushing himself.

He shakes his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, placing my head over his heart as we settle into a moment of comfortable silence.

An intrusive thought takes over, and I squeeze him tighter against me. I hear him groan at the sudden pressure of my grip, and he grabs hold of my arms.

"Okay, okay. Enough with the cuteness-aggression. You're going to break my ribs, kid," He wheezes.

I let up only after he tickles my sides. I squeal as he chases me to the other side of the bed and I finally surrender and ask for mercy. He slaps my ass and tells me I'll pay for it later.

We unpack our stuff and head out to the store to get ingredients for tacos. The one and only thing I've tried to improve in Matt is his cooking skills.

When we first got together, it was concerning how little he knew about cooking along with the number of times a week he'd eat out. I changed that real fast, teaching him basic meals he could make himself that were quick and pretty foolproof. Tacos were one of them.

"Go shower, I'll start dinner." He tells me, putting all of the groceries on the counter.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Hey, I've gotten better. Didn't you like the salmon I made you the other week?" He points his finger at me and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, my love, I was very proud of you." I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'll be quick," I say before going to take my long-awaited shower.

As the hot water cascades over my shoulders, I can't help but let my thoughts drift. This trip is a huge step for us, and despite my nerves, I know it was a much-needed and deserved trip.

We don't really have an anniversary only because we both don't remember the specific date and we never made our being official a big deal. It's never been our style.

But we decided this would be a getaway for our 'anniversary' as next month will be our second summer together.

I finish up and wrap myself in a towel, savoring the lingering warmth before I quickly get dressed. I smell the scent of sizzling meat and spices coming from the kitchen.

When I reach the kitchen, I can't help but smile at the sight of Matt carefully chopping lettuce. His brows furrowed and his tongue poked out in serious concentration.

"Smells amazing in here," I comment, leaning against the doorway.

Matt looks up startled a bit, dropping the knife and putting a hand over his heart. A proud grin quickly spreads across his face when he realizes it's just me.

"You fuckin' scared me. I'm almost done, just need to heat up the tortillas." He gestures for me to come over, and I do, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

"You're getting good at this," I compliment, kissing his shoulder as he flips the tortillas.

"Only because I have a great teacher," he replies, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

I help set the table while Matt finishes up. We sit down to eat, the atmosphere cozy and intimate. The tacos are actually delicious, and I make sure to shower Matt with compliments for his efforts. We pop open the sparkling apple cider Mary-Lou and Jimmy gave as a parting gift to us. Digging through the cupboards, we end up finding old plastic flutes to make a quick toast with.

"Here's to us, thank you for making each day brighter. To many more days with you, I love you very much," I say simply, raising my glass. He gets shy and smiley but clinks our glasses.

I can't help but smile at him as he blushes and tries to hide it. I lean in for a kiss and he immediately gives me one.

"I love you more," He whispers against me, pulling me onto his lap and giving me a deeper kiss. "I would say something too, but I don't want to sound stupid,"

"Hush, I already know you're madly in love with me. You made me bomb ass tacos," I joke, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into my chest. He giggles and kisses my collarbone.

After dinner, we go to the backyard to watch what's left of the sunset. We put a lawn chair by the water and sit together watching the orange horizon disappear behind the shoreline. The hues of blues and purples melt together in the sky until it grows darker and the moonlight casts a silvery glow on the water.

The sound of the waves is soothing, our breathing in sync as I sit in his lap, his hand drumming lightly on my hip.

"This will continue to be my favorite place, I'm glad I get to share it with you." Matt says, his voice soft and contemplative.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," I reply, squeezing his hand. "I'm really happy we came."

"Me too." He turns to face me, his blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. He goes deep in thought for a moment and he almost goes to say something but stops himself.

I give him a questioning look and nudge him lightly.

"What was that?" I ask gently and he shakes his head.

"Nothing," He tries to brush it off but I grab his chin and turn his face toward me.

"Didn't seem like it," I play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I don't wanna freak you out," he says lowly and I give him a pressing look before he sighs deeply, finally giving in.

"I was just imagining our future. I can just see us, you know, bringing our kids here in the summers. They'd grow up with memories of this place like I do," he admits, staring directly at the water as he confesses his inner thoughts.

My heart tightens with emotion at his statement.

"You think about stuff like that?" My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes and he immediately snaps his head to look at me.

"Hey, why are you crying?" He looks worried, cupping my cheek and using his thumb to catch a tear falling.

"Of course, I think of 'stuff like that' though. Does that scare you?" His voice laced with uncertainty and I shake my head immediately at his foolish question.

"No, no," I say softly, running my hand through his hair tenderly, then tracing his face. Starting from his left eyebrow, down his cheekbone, and over the scruff on his jaw.

His eyes flutter at my soft touch and he grabs my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

"It's actually really sweet, Matt. I didn't think you'd want things like that with me, a family..." I admit and his eyes widen at my foolishness.

"Sweetheart, I hope you know you're it for me. Pretty sure if you ever decide one day you're sick of me, I'll spend the rest of my fucking life alone." He tells me openly and I blubber at his sweet words that pierce my heart more.

"Stop crying," He laughs lightly, getting slightly nervous by my reaction but I try to compose myself.

"You wanna have babies with me," I squeak, crying more and he tosses his head back in laughter as I continue to be a mess.

"Yes, I want 'babies' with you. If you want babies," He smiles, continuing to wipe my tears. "Okay, I love you, but you have snot all over your face," he says motioning all over his face with his finger and I gasp covering my nose.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Now, no more tears" He says and I roll my eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly, laughing a little bit now.

"They're happy tears. I just love you, a lot. It's overwhelming sometimes," I bury my face into his neck and he rubs my back soothingly as I actually compose myself.

I must be severely PMS-ing because I'm never this emotional.

"I know what you mean," He says, my heart swelling once more. "It scares me how much I love you." He kisses my hair but I lift my head for a real one.

We share a tender kiss, the ocean breeze wrapping around us like a comforting embrace.

"I can see it too by the way. Having a family. But way, way in the future," I say when I pull away, fixing the hair on his forehead.

"Oh, yeah for sure. Although, shit happens, who knows." He shrugs and I raise my eyebrow.

"Well, thanks to modern science and my IUD, no kids for at least ten years," I say and his eyes widen a bit.

"Okay, ten years is kinda a long time..." He trails off, catching me off guard.

"Matt!" I say in shock.

"I'm kidding!" He laughs.

. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ˖

Matt walks into the room after brushing his teeth just as I'm taking the throw pillows off the bed and pulling back the duvet.

I feel his arms wrap around me from behind and his face buries into my neck. He places open-mouth kisses on the curve of my neck, making his way up to my ear, where he grazes his teeth lightly.

I sigh, shuddering at the sensation and allowing my head to fall back against his shoulder.

He puts both hands on my hips this time, pulling my backside into his crotch. I moan at the feeling of him already hardening against me and I press my legs together in anticipation.

"I like this, no one around to interrupt...just us," His voice is velvet and I melt into his hold.

I hum, "Yeah, it's nice," My voice is airy.

"Can be as loud as we want, too..." He chuckles lowly, as I feel one of his hands sneak beneath my sleep shirt.

His fingertips delicately dance up my stomach, barely even touching my skin. Leaving goosebumps in their wake, yearning for his touch.

His hand stops right below my breast and I whine when he doesn't touch me further. I arch hoping to make more contact with his hand, but he doesn't give it to me.

"Matt," I say almost as a whisper, a plea.

"Mm," He hums, returning to kissing my neck. I can hear and feel the smug grin on his face, he knows what game he's playing.

"Touch me," I whine, arching again and lifting myself to reach his hand.

He finally cups my breast, taking my nipple in between his fingers and I gasp as he tugs and pinches gently.

He sucks on my ear lightly, giving it a kitten lick before blowing cold air. I spin around in his hold, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into me.

The kiss was explosive, and we both let out a breath we didn’t realize we were holding.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling our hips flush together and leaning into the kiss more, forcing me to bend back.

In the heat of the moment, we stumble back onto the bed behind us clumsily, my butt slipping off the edge of the bed. I yelp when I almost fall, and laugh into the kiss. Our teeth clink together momentarily as he chuckles too.

He grabs under my thighs, lifting me further onto the bed as I make room for him to settle between them.

"That's better," He breathes out before kissing me again, laying me down on the cool linen sheets.

I revel in the feeling of his weight on top of me, our hips perfectly puzzled together, my hands running through his soft hair, while his rest on my hips.

I tug at the roots of his hair to elicit a delicious sound from him, something primal and guttural.

He squeezes my hips and pulls back to look down at me with half-lidded eyes. His pupils are so blown out you can barely make out the icy blue of his irises.

He keeps eye contact with me as he makes his way lower, lifting my sleep shirt above my breasts. My nipples pebble and harden as they're exposed to the cool air. He places wet kisses down my sternum, then my stomach until he reaches right above my cotton underwear.

He kneels on the floor so he's perfectly aligned in front of my core, his fingers play with the band of my underwear and he smiles to himself shaking his head.

I lean up on my elbows, "What?" I can't help but smile back.

"Kittens?" He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me.

I shrug, not ashamed in the slightest at the pattern of my underwear.

"Yeah, you like 'em?" I deadpan, but break into a grin when he tips his head back and laughs.

Endearingly, of course.

"Very sexy," he replies, and I shriek as he yanks me to the very edge of the bed.

He slips his fingers into the hem of my underwear, finally pulling them down my legs and discarding them. He lightly slaps the inside of my thigh before prying them apart and pinning them.

Just as quick as we're joking about my underwear, I'm back to trembling under his touch.

Completely exposed to him now, he teases me, kissing my inner thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

My hips buck at the gentle assault but he keeps me in place, stunting my movements.

"Patience..." he chides and I roll my eyes.

He slaps my thigh a little harder this time and I hiss, my core pulsing at the act. He licks a stripe on each crease of my thigh, purposely ignoring my aching cunt.

His thumbs spread my lips apart before he collects my arousal using it to circle my clit. I whimper at the contact, stopping myself from bucking my hips again.

Matt's in a trance, mouth agape, eyes heavy, as he continues to tease me and I become more and more restless.

Almost as if he couldn't contain himself any longer, he finally buries his head between my thighs. He hungrily licks from my entrance up to my clit, before sucking on my swollen nub like I'm a honeysuckle.

"Fuck," I gasp under my breath, squirming under his grip. My breath shallowed and my heart stuttered.

"I told you, we could be as loud as we want," He slurs against me, flattening his tongue against me and shaking his head side to side quickly.

I let go of a whine before snapping my legs around his head, overwhelmed by pleasure. He growls, immediately prying them back open and relentlessly swirling his tongue against me.

I grab a hold of the hair at the crown of his head as he continues to drink me in. Skillfully lapping every inch of my folds, knowing exactly what to do to get me wound up in merely minutes.

I feel the build-up of my first orgasm, all my muscles going taut as I begin to shake uncontrollably.

Matt knows that I'm about to come, so he pulls his mouth away and replaces it with his fingers. He slips his ring and middle fingers inside me with ease, massaging my front wall and coaxing my orgasm out of me with each gentle drag.

"Oh my fucking god," I cry out, my hips moving with his fingers.

He stands above me now, swiping my hair away from my face and gently caressing my cheekbone. I grab onto his bicep beside me as he leans down to kiss me, swallowing my whimpers. 

"C'mon, baby. I can feel you squeezing the fuck outta my fingers. Come for me," His voice is a gentle command against my jaw. 

His mouth attaches to my nipple as his thumb smushes into my puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, stimulating me everywhere.

That's all it takes before the wave peaks, then crashes and floods of icy-hot, blinding pleasure courses through me. He moans against me as he feels me pulse and ooze around his fingers.

My nails dig into his bicep and I arch into him, my hips mindlessly riding out the pleasure as his name falls from my lips in a desperate, broken cry.

His mouth and fingers gently work me through the aftershocks before I'm grabbing his wrist and whining from the sensitivity. 

"You're so fucking hot," He breathes, kissing me again.

I exhale into him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him down onto me.

He pulls back, tossing his shirt off his head and undoing his belt, looking down at me as I lay half-naked and panting. I lean up on my elbows and move myself further up the bed.

He's only in his black boxers now, placing a knee on the bed before crawling towards me.

"Wanna taste you," I say, reaching up to kiss his neck and he lets out a shaky breath.

He shakes his head, "I won't fucking make it," he pants, grabbing my jaw and claiming my mouth again.

He pulls back, "As much as I love this fucking mouth," He adds darkly, tracing my swollen lips before licking them sensually and kissing me deeper.

I moan at the kiss and the feel of his cold rings against my hot skin. I run my hands down his chest as our breathing picks up, the kiss becoming more heated.

I run my tongue along his bottom lip and he allows me in before moving his hand down from my jaw to my neck, squeezing gently.

I pull back this time to take my shirt off, leaving me completely bare in front of him. I then hook my fingers in the band of his boxers and pull them down just enough to free him. His dick springs up, the tip so red it looks painful.

I spit into my hand before taking him into my hand and giving him a couple of strokes, swiping his weeping tip with my thumb. He whimpers at the touch before grabbing my wrist and making me release him.

I pout, bringing my thumb to my mouth to suck off his precum. His mouth falls agape at the sight, and his eyes screw shut as he falls onto one of his hands weakly.

"What's wrong?" I make sure my voice is dripping like sweet, gooey honey. Tempting a very hungry grizzly bear.

He grits his teeth, straightening himself back up on his knees in front of me. I look up at him, my hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

"You're going to be the death of me," His voice is gritty, and I tilt my head innocently. I yelp when he grabs my hips and flips me over.

It's moments like these that remind me of his surprising strength.

He pulls me onto my knees so my cheek is pressed into the mattress and my ass is elevated, leaving me exposed and shaking with anticipation.

His hand comes down onto my asscheek and I hiss at the sting. I feel his dick poke the back of my thigh as his hand smooths over my ass to ease the burn.

"Matt, please," I pant when he kisses down my spine and I push my hips back impatiently.

"Need my cock that bad, hm?" he murmurs against my skin and I nod quickly.

"Need you inside me, please," I whine, not caring how desperate I sound, only focused on how his low chuckle makes my core pulse around nothing.

"Yeah?" He croons and my breath hitches when I feel him run his tip along my aching pussy. Knocking against my clit with each teasing stroke.

"Yes-" I whimper and then gasp when I feel the familiar, delicious stretch of him.

I grip the sheets as he grips my hips harshly, slowly entering me.

"Fuuuck," He strains out, and I can picture the vein in his neck protruding, wishing I could lick it.

He fills me completely, his hips flush against my ass. I whimper as I feel him buried deep inside me, hitting a sensitive spot that turns my legs into jelly.

He begins guiding me in a gentle rhythm, slow and deliberate, determined to make this last. His thrusts are deep, intentionally angling down to hit the spot that he knows makes me see stars.

"You feel so fucking good, so deep," I praise him and he slightly picks up the pace.

My core tightens around him involuntarily and he hisses, his grip on my hip becoming almost painfully tight.

"Fuck, don't do that. I'll come too fast," He pulls back slightly, trying to steady himself.

"I don't care," I push back against him again, just wanting to feel him.

He curses under his breath, his hands firm on my hips to stop my movements. He pulls me up by my hair, my back against his chest now and I laugh maniacally before moaning at the fresh angle.

"Must you always be so defiant?" His breath is hot against my ear and I can't help the grin on my face. I love getting him riled up.

"I like it when you push me around," I admit, my voice dripping with playful challenge.

He releases his grip on my hair, and I catch myself on my hands, bracing for whatever comes next.

"Yeah? You like it when I'm rough?" He presses, his voice low and taunting.

"Mhm," I hum pressing my hips back again but he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty.

I go to whine in protest but I'm shut up with the hardest slap of the night, right on top of the red mark he left before.

I cry out and bury my face into the sheets again, but quiver with longing for more.

"That's what you wanted, right?" He continues to taunt and spanks me again but this time, on the other side.

I moan and go to rub my clit for some sort of relief but he grabs both my wrists, knocking me down further.

Another smack. I groan this time in frustration.

He gathers my wrists in one hand as I feel him lean over me. His hand sneaks around to find my neck as he presses his mouth against my ear.

"Are you just that fucking desperate?" He queries, his fingers pressing into my pulse points, just enough for my head to lighten.

"Please, Matt." I plea, but don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

"What's the matter, baby, you can't handle it anymore? Thought you liked me pushing you around," He tuts.

His free hand lifts my hips before he teases my entrance with his tip and I let out a shaky breath.

"Hm? Nothing to say?" He pushes his tip in but pulls back and I whine at the teasing.

He releases my neck to brush my hair away so he can see the side of my face. A reminder that he's still the caring Matt I love.

"Just fuck me, please," I beg and he sighs deeply.

"You're so fucking lucky I love you,” he says through his teeth before he drives into me again in one swift motion.

Both of us moan in relief, the tension finally being broken.

He grinds his hips down into me teasingly and my eyes roll back at the intense, tight angle.

I feel his body heat leave my back as he straightens out behind me. Placing his hands on my lower back, he leans forward causing my back to arch before slamming into me. Again and again and again.

Each breath is knocked out of me, and each blow is deeper than the last, discovering a new spot inside of me and pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace quickens with every approving sound I make, answering me with his own moans of approval.

He turns me onto my back, staying inside me, wrapping my leg around his waist before leaning forward to kiss me slowly.

"Mm, missed your face," he admits softly, his thrusts starting off slow but steadily increasing momentum. "Wanna see that pretty face when I make you come," he coos, and I shriek at a particularly hard thrust that sends me further up the bed.

He watches my face the entire time, studying every furrow, every eye roll, mirroring my expressions as if he can feel everything he is doing to me.

I can tell he's trying to distract himself, to last longer, slowing down to kiss me and then picking up the pace.

My second orgasm build-up is slower and more subtle. It almost comes out of nowhere, but he knows my body so well. He reaches down to stimulate my clit, deepening his strokes, driving me to the brink.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh-" My back arches, and my ears ring as my orgasm rips me apart.

"Good girl, fucking come for me–oh fuck. I'm coming–I'm gonna come. W-where do you want me to-" He rushes out, as my pussy continues to spasm around him.

Through my haze, I push my heels into his hips and grab the back of his neck.

"I-inside, come inside me," I pant and he shudders, whimpering.

"Oh my–fucking, fuck," He strains as he comes and I moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

He pushes as deep as he can inside me, and the aftershocks of my orgasm milk him further causing him to hiss.

He collapses into my collarbone, his hair drenched in sweat as he takes a moment to regain strength.

I place a hand in his hair and scratch his back lightly as we settle into a steady breathing rhythm.

"Holy fuck," he says eventually into my neck, laughing a little and I giggle too.

"Wait, wait don't laugh-" He pulls away with his face scrunched and I realize he's still inside me.

He hisses again in sensitivity, looking down at where we're connected before pulling out of me carefully. I whimper at the feeling and he softly apologizes.

I feel his come leak out of me and I watch his expression falter for a second as he notices the sight.

"Fuck me," he says under his breath, shaking his head and I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling.

I slowly reach my hand down to play with myself and his eyes widen as he quickly grabs my hand to stop me.

"Are you trying to kill me tonight? No, I'm cleaning you up and we're going to bed. Stay right there, don't fucking move." He gets up, pointing at me as he walks away.

I cover my mouth and laugh at his reaction. He comes back with a wet washcloth, using it to wipe me carefully.

He huffs out again, shaking his head and I give him a knowing look.

"Devil woman, don't look at me like that." He tries to sound stern, but his voice cracks with nerves.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning it. His eyes soften and he leans over me, a hand on either side of my head. He scans my face, a soft smile carves into his face before he leans down to kiss me.

"We really need our own place," he says when he pulls back and my stomach flips.

"What was that?" I ask him with wide eyes.

"I said we really need a shower, c'mon," He lies, laughing as he tries to pull me up but I'm tugging him back towards me.

'Hey, get back here. That's not what you said," I laugh at his antics but he runs away towards the bathroom before I hear him call back.

"I plead the fifth!"

[niningtori]

cruel intentions | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: in the wake following the revelation that your boyfriend, beomgyu, only dated you for a bet in order to get his rent paid, you're actually doing pretty well. on beomgyu's end? he can't say the same.

genre: romance, angst, melodrama, fluff

warnings: clichés everywhere

word count: 3.8k

notes: she's here! i fear that this might be super corny and somewhat abrupt but that's fine i think!

beomgyu is not okay. he really, really isn’t. how could anyone expect anything other than that? it’s been a year since he saw you last, but he’s starting to believe that whoever said time heals all wounds was just blowing smoke up his ass. if anything, the longer he’s spent away from you, the worse his heart aches. that’s natural, he supposes, because you’re definitely the one that got away, and the fact that he drove you to leave only twists the knife. he wishes he could go back to the day he agreed to that stupid fucking bet and wring his own neck — maybe that'd talk some sense into his old self. but like you said all that time ago, he can’t. he even wishes he could go back to the first day of freshman year just so he could meet you sooner. that way, he could have been in your life and alleviated some of the stress and pain you always felt. but, and he cannot stress this enough, he can’t.

you may have blocked him on everything he can think of, but that doesn’t stop him from asking about you. luckily, taehyun made good on his intentions to get to know you better before realizing that you were the girl beomgyu had secretly been dating for months. as a good friend, taehyun declared you as totally off-limits, but that didn’t stop your all’s friendship from blossoming. as it is, your friendship with taehyun is only rivaled by your friendship with chaeyoung — a fact that she is all too aware of.

“when are you gonna stop beating around the bush and just get with him already?” she pouts.

“never,” you snort. “i told you, we’re friends and nothing else.”

“i know, i know, but i think he’d be good for you,” she insists.

“you’re only saying that ‘cause you’re worried he’ll replace you as my best friend, which he won’t, by the way,” you tease.

“you caught me,” she says playfully. 

truthfully, your friendship with chaeyoung has only strengthened after graduation. with the help of your therapist and a certain someone whose name you can’t bear to speak these days, you finally grew enough courage to tell her how you’ve felt like you were nothing more than her shadow since you were a preteen. you even told her about all of the times men (and women alike) only talked to you to get to her. to say she was horrified is the understatement of the century. after endless reassurances that you bore no ill will towards her and didn’t fault her for anything, she finally stopped apologizing. now, you two are closer than ever. 

“it’s just… i want to see you happy with someone,” she adds. she doesn’t have to end her sentence with  “again”, since you already know what she means: she wants to see you as happy as you were with beomgyu, again. except, for real this time. not for a bet or for fun.

“it’s okay, chae,” you say with a smile. “i’m happy as i am, i mean it.” and you do. working in your desired career field has helped you tremendously with income, and you’re actually able to provide for yourself and for your family without killing yourself with working overtime. you have so much free time, you're even able to date around a little bit. it never amounts to anything particularly serious, but it’s enough as it is. gone is the permanent storm cloud looming over your head and you’re finally able to breathe for the first time since, well, your relationship with beomgyu.

“i know,” she replies. “i just want my best friend to be even happier; is that so bad?” you roll your eyes good naturedly and she grins. 

“who knows? maybe i’ll meet someone tonight,” you muse, but you don’t really mean it. taehyun, or “tyun” as you affectionately call him, is having a get together at his place. he hinted at bringing some of his single friends, but you don’t expect anything to come of it. while it’s true that with the help of therapy and being completely honest about the nature of your inferiority complex with your best friend has helped boost your confidence, you never expect much from prospective romantic partners. you’ll never say it, but everyone knows it’s because of beomgyu.

“maybe. y’know, soobin is pretty cute,” she says with a nod, taking everything you say way too seriously. 

“yeah. he is.” 

-

while you have been to many, many events taehyun has invited you to, there has always been an unspoken rule that beomgyu would not be there. it seems that taehyun is able to perfectly juggle you two without having you all appear at the same place at the same time. that is, until you arrive at his apartment with a big smile and a 12-pack of beer and see the man who haunts you religiously sitting listlessly on taehyun’s couch. he doesn’t usually care enough to look up from his drink when new arrivals step foot through the door, but for some odd reason, he does when you walk in. it’s almost as if his truly supernatural intuition tells him to. unfortunately for you, his intuition is a pain in your fucking ass. 

when you meet eyes (lock eyes, really) you feel a pit of dread bloom in your stomach, threatening to swallow you whole. still, there’s a light fluttering of your heart that you wish to god you could deny, but it’s there, nonetheless.

you all stay in a deadlock for what feels like a lifetime before taehyun pulls you from it with a smile and hug.

“i’m glad you made it,” he says lightly. 

“of course, tyun,” you smile, successfully pulled out from your daze and back into the real world. it’s okay. you can do this. you’re a different person now that a year has passed. you’re mature enough to be in the same place as beomgyu. what you’re not mature enough for, though, is actually having to speak to him. luckily, you have no plans to do so now (or ever). 

beomgyu thinks… differently. 

when you’re standing in a quiet corner nursing a drink and wondering what the hell you’re still doing here, you almost miss the sound of feet shuffling towards you. your eyes lazily glance up and see beomgyu himself unsurely leaning against the wall next to you. 

“h-hey,” he says softly, cautiously. you look confused for a second, almost like you’re unsure if he’s addressing you, but his eyes look so earnest, there's no way he’s not. 

“hey?” you reply before fussing with your cup and watching the alcohol swirl around, threatening to spill over the rim of your solo cup.

“uh, how… how have you been?” he asks so nervously that it sounds like he’s surprised that you even responded. and he is. if he were you, he wouldn’t give himself the time of day. why would he? he doesn't deserve it.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a genuine smile. if he knew you less, he wouldn’t even be able to catch it. thankfully, he does know you, for better or for worse. his heart sings at the thought that you’re able to smile at him like you did before.

he waits for you to ask him how he is — that’d be the perfect segue into his apology — but you don’t. it’s like you don’t care to know, and any tune his heart was previously singing is strangled in an instant.

well, he supposes that he’s lucky that you’ve even said two words to him (two words in the literal sense that you’ve only actually said two words in total, but that's not the point). he’s even luckier that you actually seem to mean that you’re doing well. taehyun had told him as much, but it’s not nearly as effective as seeing you glowing the way you do with his own eyes. you look normal. you look happy. there was a point in his life where he thought that’s all he wanted, but he realizes he was wrong. he shamelessly wants to be happy, too, and he knows the only way he can do that is if he’s with you.

the air is awkward and heavy for a few minutes, but neither of you make a move to break it until you decide enough is enough. you purse your lips and are about to bid him goodbye so you can get home and ruminate on your very, very brief interaction, but he notices your movement and reaches out to grab your arm before he can stop himself. instinctively, you smack his hand away. not hard at all, more like a swipe than a smack, really, but he recoils as if you’ve just backhanded him.

“s-sorry,” you stammer. “it was just a gut reaction.” 

somehow, that makes him feel even worse. there was a time where his touch soothed you like nothing else, but now all it does is put you on your guard. 

“it’s fine,” he says with a forced smile, and your heart aches. “i was just gonna see if you wanted a ride home. i haven’t drank anything, so i just thought that… maybe…”

“oh, it’s okay,” you politely decline. “chae is going to pick me up.” he flinches at the name and as much as he wishes you couldn’t tell, you definitely do. 

“but i can take you!” he insists a little too desperately. “i just thought, you know, that we could talk or something,” he mumbles. 

“talk? about what?” you ask sharply. you begin feeling like you’re going to lose your temper. why is he making this so hard? it’s starting to piss you off.

“i—”

“if you’re going to apologize to me again, i don't want to hear it,” you sneer. you said you weren't mad at him and that you forgave him, which felt true at the time, but the more you started respecting yourself, the less patience you had for him. as you look at him, looking like he's every part like a victim in this ordeal, you realize that you’re angrier than you previously let on. “you know, i’ve thought more about what you did.” he looks like he’s just been kicked in the stomach, but you don't stop.

“and i’ve thought about what i would do for rent. i thought, ‘well, maybe if i were desperate enough for the money, i could do that, too’, and you know how desperate i was.” his lips tremble because he does know. he knows it all too well. “but i realized i couldn’t, and even if i could, i never would. the shame? the humiliation? i would never put someone through that, and i thought you would never, either, but i was wrong. i was wrong about you and the kind of person you are, or were, or whatever. and i thought, at the very least, you had enough decency to at least leave me the fuck alone, but i guess i was wrong about you again, as always.” you don’t mean for your voice to get so loud, but it does. each syllable is ripping through beomgyu like a punch to his gut, but he can’t find it within himself to defend his actions. all he can do is sit there and take it. 

devastated doesn’t even begin to encapsulate how beomgyu looks and feels, but you don’t really give a shit. you’re absolutely fuming right now, nearly shaking from releasing the anger you’ve felt for months, and he has the nerve to look like the one who’s hurt? what about you? what about how you felt when your boyfriend admitted he only dated you because he needed (more like wanted) the cash?

“babe…” you hear a familiar voice say. chaeyoung. she must be here to pick you up. your attention snaps from her to the rest of the room and you finally register that everyone has gone silent, all their stares directed towards you. embarrassed isn’t even the word. mortified is more like it. you awkwardly clear your throat and take one last scathing glance at beomgyu before grabbing chaeyoung’s arm and storming outside of taehyun’s place.

the ride home is silent — unsettlingly silent — until chaeyoung pipes up after a few minutes of driving.

“why don’t you just talk to him?” chaeyoung asks tentatively.

“what?!” you exclaim, whipping your head around to meet her gaze. 

“it’s just — i mean, i don’t think it would hurt anything if you tried,” she says cautiously, which is very, very much unlike her. 

“why? i thought you, of all people, would understand. you know what he did to me.”

“i’m not defending him, honey,” she coos, as if she’s soothing a child during a tantrum. “i’m always on your side. always.”

“then why are you saying i should hear him out? i thought you hated him!” you don't really know why, but you’re becoming more and more defensive as you speak to her. 

“i did hate him. i just think there’s more to it than that. why don't you talk me through how you’re feeling?” she suggests.

“i… i just don’t understand. i’m not who i used to be — i’m not some spineless doormat who lets people treat me like shit. don’t you think so?” you ask, sounding increasingly unsure about that sentiment to the point where it’s nearly laughable. 

“what does that have to do with hearing somebody out when you clearly want to?” she argues patiently.

“it’s just… it’s just not fair!” you exclaim. “it’s not fair how he used me. i had to try so fucking hard to rebuild myself after him.”

“as much as i love you, you and i both know you weren’t rebuilding yourself; you never had that foundation in the first place, and that’s not your fault, but it’s not beomgyu’s, either. it’s true that he treated you like shit, and you don’t have to forgive him for that, but how you felt about yourself was always so much bigger than him.”

you find yourself recoiling with each point she makes.

you hate how much she makes sense. 

“b-but still, i’m different now,” you argue, more like you’re convincing yourself instead of her. “i won’t let myself fall back into him like that.” 

“don't you trust yourself to make the right decisions? people change — you know that better than anyone. look, i’m not saying you have to or should do anything, but i think it’d be good for you to at least listen to him. you’re not doing yourself any favors by torturing yourself with ‘what if’s’ instead of just, well, talking to him.”

-

you think about it, and think about it, then think about it some more. you wonder what beomgyu could say to change anything he's done before realizing that it's impossible. but maybe chaeyoung's right, maybe he did change. does that matter, though? probably not, but you still find yourself wanting to know what he has to say. maybe you'll find it within yourself to finally let him go.

you unblock his number and, before you can think too much about it, you’re calling him. it doesn’t ring more than once before you hear the line connect.

“h-hello?”

“i’ve thought about it, and i'd like to talk.” 

“s-sure. uh, when?” he stammers.

“whenever.”

“i'll be there in 15,” he hurriedly says, as if wasting a single second will lead you to change your mind.

“okay,” you reply with a soft smile on your face, hanging up shortly thereafter.

12 minutes later, you hear a frantic knocking on your door. you open it to find beomgyu out of breath and looking incredibly disheveled. your lips almost curl up at his sorry state, but they don’t quite make it there.

“hey,” he says between pants.

you don’t respond, but you crack your door open further to let him in. he takes your cue and stands awkwardly in your living room, almost as if he’s afraid to actually touch anything. you don’t miss the way he takes everything in. some of the interior is different, but the bones of it are still the same. he doesn't know why, but the thought relieves him.

“so?” you ask after clearing your throat, effectively breaking the silence. he looks at you confusedly before seeming to remember what he’s doing here.

“r-right. i’m— i mean, i just wanted to explain,” he says meekly. 

“explain what?” 

“explain why i, uh, why i d-d—”

“dated me for a bet?” you finish, and mercifully so, because the words feel like nails when they try to leave his own throat.

“yeah. that,” he says, taking his hand and nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“mm,” you hum.

“i just want you to know that i’m sorry,” he blurts out before he has half a mind to stop himself. he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when he sees impatience flash across your features.

“we’ve established that.”

“oh. right,” he croaks, looking more and more crestfallen and lost by the second. 

“listen, beomgyu,” you sigh. “if you don’t have anything to say, i think you should just l—” 

“i do! i do have something to say!” he exclaims. you still seem agitated, but against all odds, you nod.

“back when heeseung and i, you know, made the b-bet, i knew it was wrong,” he says. “i knew it was wrong, but i still did it. i guess i just saw you as, like, a challenge or something.” you flinch at his words and cross your arms as if your insides will spill out if you don’t. he winces, but continues, anyway.

“but then i got to know you,” he quickly adds. “really know you. and i realized that you’re so much more to me than that. every day i spent with you taught me more about myself, and i didn’t like what i learned; but  i think even just being around you made me into a better person. i don’t know how to ever thank you for that, but i guess it’s worth a shot, so thank you. really.” you can’t help but feel your eyes water. you were that important to him? “and every day, i want to fucking strangle myself when i think about how much i hurt you,” he says, voice cracking at the end of his sentence. you take him all in, finally noticing the fatigue in his gaze, in his entire being. reminiscent of the way you looked nearly a year ago. instead of satisfaction at the thought that he finally knows how you felt, all you can feel is sympathy. you know how it feels to be the kind of tired even sleep can't pacify.

“i want you to know that you are the most important person in my life, a-and even if you don’t forgive me, it’s… well, i understand. but you are not a joke to me, or a challenge, or whatever. i guess i just want to tell you that i meant it when i said that i loved you, and i mean it when i say it now. because i do. i really, really do.” you are silent, trying to scan his eyes for any signs of deception or ill intent, but you can’t find any. his teary eyes and quivering lips tell you that he really means what he says. is that enough, though? can it ever be enough? maybe not, probably not, but as you stare at the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, you decide you’d like to try.

“okay,” you say. 

“o-okay? does that mean—” 

“it means we can try again. as friends. for real this time. but i’m not the same person i was. is that okay?” the tears that were once on the precipice of leaving his waterline have now begun to flow freely. fuck his stupid pride, you can have all of it if you just let him give it to you.

“y-yeah. me neither. i mean, i’m not the same person, either,” he babbles. 

“okay,” you say with a nod, ever-so-graciously wiping his tears with the pads of your thumbs, smile floating on your lips. and he just can’t help himself. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks. 

“that’s not what friends do,” you chastise playfully, “but alright. just this once.” and you’re still as kind and merciful as ever. he lets out a shaky breath.

slowly, he takes his trembling hands and pushes your hair behind your ear before leaning down and planting his lips against yours. you melt into the feeling, just like you always did when he kissed you, and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest. on beomgyu’s part, he feels like he’s in a dream. to be perfectly honest, he’s had many dreams like this since you left, but nothing compares to how sweet his present reality is. 

when he deepens the kiss, you let him. you want to say you’re unsure why, but you know it’s because you don’t want this moment to end. you two stay in each other’s arms for longer than you’d like to admit. who can blame you for it when nothing in your life has felt this right in such a long, long time? 

for beomgyu, when you two finally part, he thinks it wasn’t long enough, at all. but then, no amount of time could really satisfy him, anyway. still, when he looks into your eyes, he can’t help the unconscious pout that adorns his face when he realizes the moment is over. you can’t control the way you let out a soft laugh at it.

-

being friends with you is very, very hard. not because you're hard to be around or because there's anything wrong with you, but because, to beomgyu, you're so easy and comforting to be with. it’s all too familiar to beomgyu and he finds himself slipping into old habits such as holding your hand and tucking your hair behind your ear when you let it fall into your face. surprisingly, you let him do whatever he wants. whether that's because you missed his touch or because you just don’t want him to stop, you don’t care to figure out. when taehyun brings up the unnecessary intimacy between you two, you can’t help but blush and deny anything crooked going on, which beomgyu takes to heart every time.

he’ll wait for you to accept him, though. he’ll always wait. 

and one night when you’re watching cheesy movies on your couch with him and you look down at your intertwined hands, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against your smaller one, you realize you don’t want to deny him. 

“beomgyu?” you whisper, drawing his gaze from the screen.

“yes?” he asks, attention fully on you like a puppy ready to listen to whatever you say.

“you don’t have to wait anymore.”

-

notes pt. 2: yeah sorry if this is the corniest thing u have ever read... my fault!

permanent (sfw only): @zzhyuu @defnotleee

permanent taglist (sfw/[n]sfw): @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

series taglist: @vixensss @dejavu-jun @gyuchubss @missychief1404 @hihello-pinky @dojdcmidcmkmfekdvmkrkmvvrm

*bold names could not be tagged

[artinvain]

Sevika's reaction to her girlfriend cumming untouched from eating her out AAAAA pulling out my hair bangin on the walls I'm so normal for her I have nothing else to say I'm just vibrating at unimaginable speeds

fuuuckk thank u - been watching the bear so in keeping with that — we have chef!sevika

angst, fluff, smut, degradation, dom!sevika, oral (sevika receiving) after care, drugs (weed).

being a chef at one of piltover’s five star restaurants could kill sevika. sure she was strong physically, and she could hide her pain, but in the kitchen she was vulnerable. in the kitchen she was young again, clinging to her mother’s legs as she baked this thing or the other.

so when the head chef had told her that she had disappointed him with her fucking choux? to say she was devastated was an understatement. how did she fuck up a pastry she’s been making since she started culinary school almost a decade ago.

he went in on her, about her ethic — “you gave yourself too much to do again, you do not delegate and that does not work in our kitchen’s brigade.”

jesus christ he was worse than usual today. she tried to focus on folding in her pastry, thinking about; the eggs she had going low over vinegar, the last meal review — there were bones in a bake and she had shit on jinx for overlooking something so simple. and yet here she was, fucking up a choux. she could feel bile in her throat.

“Yes, chef,” sevika replied, restarting her batter and taking a deep breath,

“and when was the last time you did quick checks?”

“twenty three minutes go, chef,”

“for this event? for brunch sevika are you incompetent now?” he asks slamming his hand down on the hard metal of her island, “do you not know how quickly breakfast foods go? you need checks every ten chef,”

“yes, chef,”

“but here you are doing a choux a second time, something so simple you could do it asleep,”

“sorry chef,” sevika says, she couldn’t explain herself even if she wanted to. there was no conversation with silco — he talks and sevika listens, learns and adapts.

“we’re wasting piltover resources on undercity scum for charity we do not pay for fucking incompetence,” silco says so loudly the kitchen goes quiet for a moment. sevika can’t hear or see anything anymore. can’t hear silco asking her how she got into this industry, why she thought she was good enough. told her that she would never be good enough.

“are you fucking mute?” silco asks.

“no chef,” sevika says void of emotion.

“they chose you, despite my protestations. yes you are creative - but you have no work ethic” chef silco rounds her station,

“I’ll do better chef,” sevika says starting to pipe her choux, these were perfect.

“and here you are, disappointing me, as expected. but what do I know, right?”

there are people glancing nervously, they liked sevika, they were a family when silco wasn’t around and spent months trying to convince her that they loved her, regardless of where she came from which was “pretty fucking cool” according to them. they had finally started to get her to believe that she wasn’t a good chef she was great, one of the best — all that work undone in a moment.

sevika spent hours after her shift fucking up the punching bag at the gym, by the time she’s home — she’d cried for over an hour in the gym shower and now she was kind of just pissed. she didn’t want to feel small or afraid. she was a good chef — inside she knew that. she made a mistake and she couldn’t afford any inconsistency, it gave her heart palpitations. she wanted to be respected, revered, praised and when she enters your shared home she knows you’ll give yourself over to her in that way, you always do.

when she crawls into your bed, you put down your book and start to scratch through her damp hair and kiss her forehead, you can tell from the look on her face. “bad day?” you ask gently as she pulls you over her lap to straddle her lap. she rubs her hands over your thighs, grunting when you roll your hips and she smacks your ass. you’re stunning, sitting above her in her sweater, it’s falling off your shoulder and she feels your neck is too clean so she sits up to lick and kiss and suck on your neck so she can hear your pretty moans.

“promise, I’ll make it better,” you yelp and your breath hitches when she smacks your ass. you pull her face toward hers and kiss her feverently, licking into her mouth and moaning as she sucks on your tongue.

she pants into your mouth, her arms around her, guiding you to grind down on her. kisses you, her lips tasting and biting and sucking yours.

“get on your knees for me baby,” sevika pants, watching you kneel between her legs, moaning when you arch your back. you bend down so you’re nuzzling her mound, your ass on display for her. and she’s got a wet spot on her boxers, “yeah,” sev moans — “boxers off” she pants as you kiss her through her underwear, instead - teasing sucking and moaning around her clit.

“get them off, now sweetpea or you won’t cum for a week,” sevika nods “good girl,” when you scramble your remove her underwear and she whimpers when you face her cunt, warm and leaking as your dip your fingers through her lips, the soft hair of her mound against your cheek.

“please,” you gasp out, near burying your face between her legs but tittering on the edge - waiting for permission.

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” she tuts, a hand in your hair, tugging gently and keeping your head away from her pussy — all she wants it so suffocate you with her cunt but god did she love to hear you beg. “tell me you want me, beg to eat me out,”

“want to make you feel good sevika, please I need it, makes me feel good tasting you,”

“fuck you’re pathetic, so needy for my cunt aren’t you,”

you moans and kiss and suck her inner thighs,

“need to see you cum. please you take such good care of me — of everything, want you to feel good,” you whimper as sevika whispers out praise, “what a pretty slut I have — so needy just to get me off.”

sevika guides your face towards her cunt and — “come on be a good, dumb little fuck toy and eat my pussy baby,” you whine, your hips sharply meeting the bed, your body going weak as you taste her. her soft, wet pussy lips rubbing on your cheeks as you lick into her, going to suck on her clit after running your tongue up and down her slit, tasting her sweet and tart cunt.

“god, yeah good — jus like that,” she’s already on edge, so pent up, her back is tightening when you moan around her, she looks down and sees that you’re rutting against the bed, grinding on the sheets between your thighs as you eat her. “fuck, so riled up huh? you need this as much as I do - don’t you honey? yeah, christ just like that,” she groans when you dip your tongue into her leaking hole.

“fuck you’re such a slut, getting off on making me feel good — so needy for me,” she moans, cupping the back of your head and holding you to her as you start to suck and roll your tongue against the underside of her clit. “fuck lemme - let me fuck y-your face just a little baby,” she huffs “stick your tongue out for me, wanna use your mouth just a little,” sevika moans loudly as you whimper around her clit and she starts to buck her hips against your face.

sevika groans, her hips near lifting off the bed as she grips your head and guides your mouth, bobbing your head as you suck on her clit, moaning at the sounds of you slurping at her, whimpering against her.

“so good baby,” sevika moans “so good letting me use you like this, my perfect girl,” she whimpers you shift up a little bit, her thighs resting on your shoulders. you twitch, your thighs twisting together as you salivate on her pussy, pulling her close the feeling of the soft sheets on your clit, your lacy panties rubbing your swollen nub. your head is dizzy, her taste leaking into your mouth you swallow gratefully and moan, your hips twitching.

“oh my god, loot at you, actually fucking getting off, shit baby, you’re the prettiest slut I’m so lucky to have you,” she moans and you whine your nails biting into her thighs, you look up at sevika meeting her hooded eyes, “I love you baby,” she moans and your eyes roll back in your head as you cum.

seeing you cum all from eating her out, the feeling your you licking and sucking her cunt, your tongue rolling against her as she controls your movements, controls your pleasure. fuck, she’s cumming — holding your head in place she’s riding your face, hot white pleasure warming her body.

“f-fingers, fingers!” she whines when you sink two fingers into her and curl until you’re rubbing the perfect spot, fucking into her until she’s squirting, wetting your face and leaking down onto the sheets, you’re moaning and sucking at her clit and drinking all her pussy offers until she’s pushing your head away from oversensitivity, moaning when you resist her and keep fucking your fingers into her, sucking gently on her clit.

“fucking brat, shit, mm’gonna — keep -“ she’s fucking drunk on pleasure, her hands solely resting on your head as you fuck her into another orgasm.

when she comes down and you let off her clit, gently slipping your fingers from her and crawling up to have her bury her head between your tits and brush her hair away from her face.

“fuck thank you,” she sighs, pulling you in close and wrapping her arms around you, “I love taking care of you vika,” you say, kissing her face with sticky lips and then kissing her mouth.

“need to clean you up, maybe we take a bath and you can tell me about today?” you ask gently and sevika nods, you run the bath and fetch her when the water is hot and soapy. she can feel her muscles relax, smell the lavender and eucalyptus essential oils and,

“did you put the cbd oils in here?” she asks and you slide in, getting between her thighs - your legs on either side of her hips.

“yes, and I brought a joint,” you say as if it’s obvious, she smiles and kisses you, and puffs on it,

“I fucking hate silco,” she groans and fills to air around you with her exhale,

“I’m gonna kill him,” you say, “he terrorises you,”

“today i fucked up a choux and he called me undercity scum,” she sighs, she can only laugh about it now, but you’re enraged.

“what the fuck?” you say, trying to stand but sevika tugs you down by your arm, “no, I’m calling the resturant he can’t talk to you like that,” you say, “you’re not scum, you’re the best person I know,” you say sternly and sevika smiles at your protective nature.

“I know, because you remind me every day,” she pulls you closer and stuff the joint head in your mouth, “there, pacify yourself, I’m fine,” she grunts and kisses your cheek.

🤲🏼🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Tight

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Reader and Chan divulge their ‘excuse’ as to why they couldn’t make it to hot pot and barbecue dinner with their friends.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: smut, porn with plot, swearing, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampies, fwb, some pillow talk (ish)

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

🏷️ LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @livsposts @dawn-iscozy @princejisung @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @/leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri (if you want to be removed or added to the tag list, please lmk!) ⭐️

A/N: if you don't know what a refractory period is it's essentially about the ability of most women to cum back to back or one after the other in a short span of time between one orgasm and the next. Therefore, if it seems as though I've written about reader having multiple orgasms within quick succession, that's because she is and Chan is making the most of it. Also I really pushed the time limit with uploading this part bc I spent the last few hours trying to get the fan club which took fucking ages...

Hot pot and barbecue with friends - now that sounded fun. 

You saw the group chat messages from earlier, and the plan to all meet up at half past six. Had you not orchestrated other arrangements, you would be sitting with them right now enjoying nice meals and chats. Instead, your body remains to be railed thoroughly, right into the bed that belongs to none other than Chan. The owner of very capable hands who had just finished fucking you on his couch earlier on. 

He too missed dinner with everyone for the same reason. Selfishly being, to get laid. 

Chan presented half of a lie to the group chat, saying that his family was back in the city - which was true, and that he was going to visit them, so he couldn’t make it - not true. You on the other hand conjured the only fib you could think of and told everyone that you were going to be working past six.

Both of you felt relatively guilty for ditching the dinner. However, it would’ve looked ten times more suspicious if the two of you suddenly changed your minds at the same time and decided to show up. 

But why would anyone suspect anything? Nobody knew Chan was rearranging your guts every other night. Or so you thought. That dirty, slutty little secret was only kept hushed between you and Chan. These past couple of months you’ve spent at each other's houses, tainting the very last remnants of innocence either of you had. 

You wouldn’t have realised it at first until you experienced it for yourself, but Chan is and can get really horny. Before him, there was no such thing as ‘hard-paced’ or ‘nasty’ sex. It was fairly vanilla, which there’s nothing wrong with from time to time. But at the minute, that wasn’t the cup of tea you fancied. No. It was something much dirtier and riveting, something that makes you feel like you’re very much alive. 

Chan was able to achieve that in less than half an hour after you both hooked up one time after a night out. Sure there might’ve been alcohol involved, except neither of you were drunk enough to completely forget what an amazing time you both had. So much so that you and Chan decided to hook up again. And again, and again, until it became a weekly event. 

In saying that, there were a few layers as to why you and Chan started seeing each other regularly. You needed the de-stressor from work that had been hounding you for months, and among other things, there is nothing like a good dick down to make just about make every worry in your mind disappear.

As for Chan’s situation, it wasn’t as light. Having been cheated on by his long term partner, Chan entered what you refer to as his ‘hoe phase’ to which he was rather embarrassed to learn that it’s something that people tend to go through when they’ve broken up with their significant other. 

Nonetheless, you and Chan unexpectedly found each other in a way friends wouldn’t typically, and it was only limited to that. No strings attached, still remain good friends, and the best mind blowing sex. 

“Fuck - yes, right there!”

Chan’s hips ram unforgivingly into you from behind. Creating godly, euphoric waves that ripple throughout your body each and every time he does. His fingernails clutch themselves into the soft flesh of your hips, allowing him to use that small bit of traction to pull your body back onto his cock or for him to thrust forward mercilessly. 

This was way better than dinner with friends. 

“W-Wait,” you reach behind to the side of your body, trying to tap his arm and prompt him to slow down so you could get your message across without having it fucked right out of you. “Ride…lemme ride you.” 

Chan swallows and nods, taking a short breather, “yeah, yeah okay.” 

Whilst you’ve learned a lot of things about Chan since you’ve started sleeping with him, he’s also learned some stuff about you. Like discovering throughout your secret sessions with him that you seem to cum the hardest when you’re riding him. He doesn’t entirely see the appeal of it since he doesn’t mind picking up all the slack just so you don’t have to do any of the work. At the same time, however, nothing feels as good as fucking his frustrations into you.

But he also doesn’t mind them getting fucked out of him. It easily added to one of the reasons why he found it so hot to watch you ride dick. 

As he gently slides his cock out of you, moving into the next position where he now gets to lie back against his pillows. He watches you straddle him first, then take his length in hand before aligning it with your hole. Slowly, you sink down onto his cock. 

The ‘o’ shape in your mouth enlarges when the entirety of his length vanishes inside you. He’s big. Something you can’t always grasp every time you sleep together. The silver lining in that however is that the foreplay is amazing. 

“Christ,” you breathe out, lifting your hips up and down a couple of times, groaning as the pleasure already built up from before starts re-taking its effect to its highest extent. “Fuck, make me feel so full.” 

“So you keep telling me,” he responds with a cocky grin as his hand reaches up to one of your tits and gropes ravenously. “But that’s what you like isn’t it? Having a big cock inside you, yeah?”

Your hand claps right on top of his, the other stabilises your body on his chest as you start riding at a pace comfortable enough to build some momentum. It doesn’t take long until every part of your body feels like warm flames are tickling your skin, leaving tingly traces in their wake. 

“Yes, love it so much,” you pant breathlessly. “Love it when it makes me cum.” 

Chan is glad to hear that. Then again, he knows. He’s fucked you long enough to know what you like, what you don’t, and what type of pleasure can turn your mind inside out. With that in mind, and one hand still groping you, he uses the other thumb to find your clit and rub generously. 

“F-Fuck, oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you plead in anguish as you start to feel your orgasm shift into sight. 

It’s right there. The utmost pleasure and ecstasy at its apex swells from the pit of your stomach, to your toes, all the way into the crevices of your brain. Every part of you - physically and mentally, just seems to melt into Chan. His cock, which feels like it was made for you to use like this, glides frictionlessly until his tip kisses your g-spot so lovingly. Each time it hits, Chan earns extra centimetres of long red scratches down his abdomen, marked up by your fingernails. 

“Cum,” he demands through gritted teeth. “Fucking cum all over me.”

Brainless and vacant as you were in trying to respond to him, your actions seemed to speak for themselves. As Chan continues to move his thumb consistently over your clit and you bounce yourself still on his cock, your eyes suddenly screw tight shut - shuddering before a surge of relief gushes from between your legs. 

Chan grins sickeningly. 

The untapped pleasure squeezes and strangles moans out of your throat, yet, in the few spare moments when you had come back down to earth, your stomach felt like it dropped at some point along the way. The minute you open your eyes, breathing hard and heavy, your attention catches on to the mess you’ve made. 

Most of Chan’s abdomen is soaked with your juices, his taut torso gleaming with your cum. Droplets of it roll down his side and seep into the sheets below him. From there, the humiliation is quick to ensue. Chan even sees the panic fill your eyes. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you whine apologetically. “I don’t know what happened! I was - I was caught up in-“

Chan ceases your babbling by grabbing the undersides of your thighs and just about throws you on your back as he moves to top you. His sudden movements catch you off guard, wondering for a moment what he was doing until he started fucking you again. 

“Chris!” you cry out, latching around his back. 

His head buries into the crook of your neck, “wanna feel you do it again. Wanna see you drip down my cock.” 

At his words of request, you knew it was possible with the way that his dick hits deeper, pressing against those sensitive spots inside you that have been milked of pleasure. It’s not difficult to feel it building up again. There’s zero refractory period, allowing you to cum in an uninterrupted procession. At this stage, Chan could just whisper dirty things in your ear and have you become a squirting mess on his bed for him to watch. He wondered if that was actually possible. 

After watching and making you cum an extraordinary amount of times this evening, Chan was about to witness another, this time, mixed with his own release of pleasure. He can never ignore that dense pressure stacking up in his cock, like a blocked pipe that’s about to burst with the help of the tension from your contracting walls. 

One hand at a time, he places each beside your head to lift himself up while still trying to maintain a consistent pace. Then he coils back, grabbing the undersides of your thighs again and leaning some of his weight down so that he can press deeper. 

Tears are pricking your eyes - not from any pain but from pleasure you’ve never felt. It’s so intense and has nowhere in your body to escape that the longer you hold it in, the more explosive it’s going to feel. As your emotions exude the ferocity of another orgasm, Chan absorbs your expressions, giving him a very clear estimate of when you’re about to cum. 

“Gonna give me another one?” he asks even though you’re in no state of mind to give him a verbal answer. “Gonna be a good girl and get my dick wet one last time?” 

You shake your head but only because you’re unsure if you can actually take that pressure that’s about to blow. Regardless of how high he has built your orgasms for you, you always take them well. It has you sobbing - screaming and clutching onto his bedding as you whimper that you’re about to cum. Chan could only just hear you over the sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

“You can do it,” he reassures you. “You always do.” 

At that moment, as if he just flipped a switch inside you, Chan had you gushing in an instant. Your upper body contorts to the left and stiffens as he fucks you right through it, right until his own orgasm slaps him on cue. Grunts mixed with whimpers force their way out from the base of Chan’s throat. His cock uncontrollably spurts his hot white cum, coating liberal amounts on your walls with a few hard, deep thrusts. 

"Fuck, oh my god," he groans through gritted teeth, satisfaction seeping through into his blood.

He pulls back to sit on his heels, looking down as he grabs the base of his cock now slicker than usual with milky, almost transparent liquid rings of white. The fact that both of your juices have mixed together does something to a sick part of Chan’s brain. His lower half is still dripping with your cum, forcing you to shy away into the bunched up sheets when you realise you’ve made another mess on him. 

Too weak to speak up about it, Chan had no trouble reading the room and caught onto your emotions. He was right to assume that you were embarrassed for it but fuck if Chan could experience it all again, he would. That then strikes an idea as he massages your inner thighs with the palms of his hands. 

“That’s never happened before,” he comments with a little bit of surprise, making you turn with embarrassment, all the while trying to ease you back down from your high. “So fucking hot.” 

His thumbs rub into your wet skin, inching closer to your pussy. Before you know it, the backs of his fingertips are brushing over your hole where his cum is leaking out of you. Semi sticky strings of it attach onto him when he pulls away and goes back in to smother it all the way up to your clit. He thumbs softly over the sensitive bud, setting fire again to the muscles in your lower half. 

You shudder a little bit from the faint stimulation, and finally muster the energy to talk, “yeah…d-don’t know how. Usually it’s - mm, just cause’…maybe you were hitting the right spot.”

Chan doesn’t meet your eyes, and by the preoccupied look on his face, it was clear that he had another agenda as his thumb continued to rub mindlessly. Although, he did hear you as he smirked and shook his head. 

“Nah, that was all you,” his mouth falls open slightly as he stares down at where his fingers begin to disappear. 

“Chan…” 

“I reckon you could give me one more,” he predicts as he starts to finger you slowly. “Just one more.”

“Please, fuck...” You whine loudly throughout the room. “D-Don’t think I can…please.” 

Chan moves to the side of you just a little bit, placing his other hand on your lower belly to apply just a little bit of welcoming pressure while he ignores you, “yes you can pretty. Only one.”

His fingers curl deviously inside you, forcing an automatic bodily response for your eyes to roll to the back of your head and back to arch clean off the bed. As he strokes over the spongy area, your fists are clenching on the duvet. Your body is beyond sensitive and squirms uncontrollably at the faintest of his touch. 

“Chris!” You sob, tears now leaking down the sides of your face from the euphoria. 

This was the closest replica to being high. It’s like the pleasure picked up where it left off from the previous orgasm Chan brought to you and nearly doubled in intensity to the point where you thought for a moment that you were going to black out. But it hits you harder than before since his fingers have a bit more precision to find and hit your g-spot rather than making you feel fuller. 

“That’s my good girl,” he says encouragingly. 

There and then, as Chan detects the tell-tale signs that you’re about to cum, he finger fucks you at a generous pace that doesn’t let up on the time your insides have to try mitigate the pleasure. It goes into overdrive, sending a bunch of all the right signals straight to your brain. 

“C-Cum…cumming…I’m-”

Chan appreciates the fact that he’s reduced you from crying and screaming his name to a silent, overstimulated mess. Alternatively, you’re surrendering entirely to the ecstasy which sweeps you under like a current. Chan doesn’t need to hold you in place for you to take what he’s giving you with his fingers. He just gives and gives, and gives until for the third time, he has you squirting. 

“Oh yeah, look at that,” he grins excitedly, watching his palm and all the way up to his forearm become completely drenched in your juices. “What a good girl.”

By that point, Chan was successful in running your body dry. His pace slows down, now gently stroking inside you. Your quiet, strained moans die down, along with a reserve tank of energy you had left. You were limp and helpless, a gorgeous mess on the bed for him to admire. 

Chan slowly takes his fingers out, gently massaging around your sensitive pussy, “fuck, so good."

You turn onto your side, processing all of that. For a few moments before, it felt like you had had an out of body experience, and maybe you were. Everything was so consuming and powerful that for a second you didn’t feel like yourself. But that wasn’t a bad thing, nor did you think of it that way. It’s just a new experience that you welcomed, one that made you feel good multiple times. 

Chan hops off the bed and kneels beside you onto the floor as he strokes and pats your head, “you okay?”

You nod then go to sit up, “mm, just out of it. Give me a few minutes.” 

“You - you shouldn’t move so much, not now at least,” Chan warns, then quickly spots the uncomfortable expression on your face as you realise that everything beneath you is wet and sticky.

“Your duvet,” you say to him, looking down and around at all the large damp areas.

“What about it?” 

“Well it’s all ruined-” 

“They’re not ruined,” he says defiantly like a stubborn child, almost like he was offended you even made that sort of comment. “It looks…fucking hot.”

“Hot,” you repeated with an airy chuckle. 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” says Chan, bewildered. 

“Neither could I to be honest,” you agree wholeheartedly. “It was really…intense and...strange.” 

“Strange?” He retorts. 

“Not a bad ‘strange’, just something I’ve always heard of, but never managed to do with someone else before,” you reply. 

Chan smiles to himself, looking at his bed before that grin drops off his face, “never managed to do it with someone else before? As in, you’ve done it before, just…on your own?” 

You blink up at him, quickly changing the subject, “reckon the others are still out?” 

“I’d imagine so,” he says, still thinking about what you said previously. 

“Hot pot and barbecue sounded so nice too…” you trail off, eyes going in and out of focus. Your body is starting to catch up to you.

“Well, luckily we live in the era of food delivery, right?” He responds confidently. “Let me clean you up first, then we can hop in the shower. After that, I’ll order it in for us, sound good?” 

Sometimes when you’re with Chan, you forget that at the end of the day, he’s one of your good friends and still acts like it after you sleep with him. He knows when to be your fuck buddy and when to be your mate. None of it is awkward or weird and nor does he strive to make it that way. 

Potentially it’s because of his nature to be a gentleman inside the bedroom just as much as he is outside, hence why you had a considerate amount of gratitude towards him for not being an ass like some of the people you’ve hooked up with or seen casually in the past. But that could never be the two people you slept with a few weeks back. 

Not Hyunjin nor Jisung, whom you’ve thought about ever since that night at his apartment. Although it was truth or dare that led you all to the events that unfolded, you would’ve still slept with them anyway without the game. Just thinking about the two of them makes you miss them. Makes you miss the way that they touched you. 

It was a different feeling to how Chan normally touches you. With him, he’s a friend with benefits. Someone who can call you or you can call him whenever either of you need each other. As a result, there isn’t going to be anything fond or loving between the pair of you - which you’re more than happy with. You made that clear to Chan at the start that you weren’t looking to enter into a relationship with him at any stage if that’s what he was thinking. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t either. 

But when Hyunjin and Jisung touched you, it was surreal. Almost natural, like they were meant to feel you that way and only them. That was the difference between them and Chan, not that you were comparing them since you saw them in separate positive lights.

There was just something about those two that left a strong imprint on your brain, something you can’t scratch without them…

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[unclewaynemunson]

I definitely think it takes Eddie a while to accept that Steve changed. He remembers what he was like in high school.

When Steve asks him out, for whatever reason, Eddie says yes. But he’s determined not to fall in love, because deep down Harrington’s still a dick. But he’s cute, and Eddie can smile and play pretend.

But then! Steve goes full happy relationship mode, he tells Robin (obv), introduces Eddie to the other adults as his bf, and is just generally being sweet.

MY SWEET ANON I HOPE YOU'LL STILL SEE THIS!!!

I'm so sorry it took me ages to answer this one! But I really loved the idea of this (the good ol' steddie + misunderstanding about what they mean to each other with a dash of terrible communication skills my beloved) so i wanted to give it my proper attention, which i didn't have enough time for over the past few months. Buuut the words have finally found their way to my keyboard so here is the first part of what probably will turn into a 3-part ficlet, I hope it's something like what you had in mind when you sent this ask to me <3

---

Eddie has been acting weird all day. Maybe Steve is too much of a romantic, but he can't help it: he wanted to celebrate this day. Exactly a month ago, he asked Eddie out. And it's been good. They've spent a lot of time together. They've been on lots of dates, spent plenty of nights together... But today, things are different, somehow. Eddie is different. He turned Steve down for a dinner date, he didn't stop by Family Video during lunchtime, and when Steve shows up at the trailer to surprise him with flowers, he merely frowns and pulls back from their kiss before it can even properly get started.

'Everything alright?' Steve asks, trying to catch his boyfriend's gaze – which isn't exactly easy with how Eddie is turning away from him to not-so-gently put the flowers down in a corner of the trailer's living room.

'Yeah, sure,' Eddie mumbles, not really looking at him. 'It's just – I didn't really expect to see you today. We didn't have plans.'

Steve chuckles, trying to get the tension out of his chest. 'Didn't know I was expected to schedule an appointment before coming here.' He tries to play it off as a joke, but the tone of his voice doesn't really want to cooperate.

Eddie finally turns back towards him and Steve catches the end of an eye-roll.

'I'm just not feeling too great today, alright?' It sounds a bit stiff and Steve pauses. He wonders if he did something wrong, if he somehow invaded Eddie's space – even though he has showed up at the trailer on countless evenings in the past month.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Eddie answers, a little bit too fast. 'I told you, I'm not feeling so well.'

And now that he can see his face properly, Steve notices that Eddie is indeed looking paler than usual.

'Hey, don't worry about it,' he says. 'I can stay to take care of you, if you want to. We don't have to do anything. You can go to bed early and I'll keep you company. I can make you some soup, read to you... You could've just told me you're not feeling good, you know. I would've picked up some fruit on my way over here and stopped by the library for you.'

'You don't have to do any of that, Steve.'

Steve tries to ignore the fact that it's been ages since Eddie has last called him by his official first name. He doesn't like the sound of it.

'But I want to,' he says instead. He takes a step towards Eddie, lifts his arms to wrap them around him – but Eddie swats his arms away before he can properly embrace him.

'Don't.' He sounds cold and detached, so different from how he usually sounds. 'Don't act like this is something it isn't.'

'Like this is something –' Steve echoes, completely caught off-guard by this turn of events. 'Like what?'

'Jesus Christ, you really don't know when to stop, do you?'

'What?' He takes a stumbling step backwards, driven away by the force in Eddie's words.

'We're not – like that,' Eddie stutters out. 'We're just fucking around, aren't we? So you don't need to pretend. You don't need to bring me flowers. You don't need to take care of me when I'm sick. You don't owe me anything, alright? You can go home.'

Steve takes another step backwards, until his back collides with the door of the trailer. He blindly grabs the door handle behind him.

'Alright,' he says, trying desperately not to let his voice tremble audibly. 'I hear you, loud and clear. I'll – I'll leave you alone, then.'

Read pt2 here (Edit: it's actually 5 parts now. You can read the whole thing on ao3 here)

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him anything before leaving New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just up and vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Derek would've only followed her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. Those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't even mark graves, and grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Where do you go to, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're rarely in your own bed most mornings.”

She hadn't meant it as a dig. Derek knew that. She was his sister, and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, and hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperate to find scumbags to taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is—standing in his stupid big loft that he bought for his betas, yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping as far around his shoulders as they'll reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 2.5k

➴ author’s note: this is pure fluffiness, the calm before the storm, the hughes being the best family in the world and jack making my heart MELT (i literally wrote him). i hope u guys enjoy this too. let me know what u think of this one:))

“AND that, my loves, it’s a wrap on ‘rip to my feelings’!” Grace yelled, and everyone yelled too.

You were in your studio with all of your producers and song-writers, plus Grace, and you had just finished recording the last song on your album.

You were beyond happy. Finishing this meant getting over everything Harris did to you. It was like closure. It was like restarting again.

“Guys, I’m so fucking happy, I love you all so much I could kiss you on the mouth right now,” you said, hugging John— the main producer.

“Don’t think Jack would appreciate that,” Grace mumbled when you hugged her, and you smacked her butt.

Jack.

You had sent him the demo of the album as soon as it was sent to your phone, not really sure why. You just wanted his opinion, that’s all.

Not much fuck buddy of you but whatever!

“Fuck off, Grace Morgan,” you fake whispered, laughing.

You all celebrated and laughed for hours, the time passing quickly whenever you spent it with the people you loved. You were grateful for having so many amazing people in your life, helping you to make your dreams come true.

Your phone rang, and you picked it up, unlocking it and smiling when you saw who had texted: Jack.

It was funny seeing how he complimented you in his own little, weird way. It made your heart beat in the wrong— right— way all over again.

“Did he just ask you on a date?” Grace whispered, probably reading your texts over your shoulder. Everyone else had already left— it was late, after all— and only Grace was left. You were sure she was probably going to sleep at your place anyway.

“I guess? We never just ‘hanged out’ before.” You sighed, replying to Jack’s texts.

“Woah,” she whistled, sitting back on the couch, looking at you funny. “Are you in love?”

“What?” You laughed, locking your phone. “What do you mean, we’ve been fucking for six months only. Chill.”

“Girl, like time matters to you!” She raised her arms. “You fell in love with that piece of shit in like three weeks, imagine with Jack, who fucks you every other week and treats you like you’re the most precious thing ever.”

“Excuse me? Are we talking about the same Jack?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Jack doesn’t treat anyone differently. Besides his family, that is.”

“Like the shit he does for you isn’t anything special, right? Like knowing your Five Guys order, or your favorite movies, or how you eat apple pie before your concerts,” she started listing those things on her fingers.

“He doesn’t know those things!” You raised your voice, trying to convince both you and her.

“Girl, I love you but stop playing dumb. He knows and you know he does! Why are you pretending that he doesn’t care about you? He just asked you on a date, for fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes.

“First of all,” you started, mentally listing your reasons. “We don’t know if it’s a date. He just said: dinner. He didn’t say ‘I wanna take you out on a date’. Second of all, I’m not denying anything, but I think I would know if I was in love with him, wouldn’t I?”

Actually. The answer was probably no. Harris fucked up your perception of love, and even though it’s been more than a year that you broke up with him, you still feel like you can’t really trust anyone anymore.

So you wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you are in love or not. At least, you don’t think so.

But talking about love with your fuck buddy? Hell. No.

“You piss me off.” Grace bickered, turning the TV on. “Go change to your little date. I’ll be here, all alone and sad.”

“Pff, shut up. You’re just alone because you and Nico are dumbasses.” You said like it was a matter of fact and left the leaving room, leaving a very pink Grace behind.

Changing didn’t take long, and applying a light makeup didn’t either. You weren’t going to do anything special because, let’s be real, if you and Jack decided to be reckless and fuck somewhere, that makeup wouldn’t last long. So, why bother?

You left your house, saying goodbye to Grace and kissing her cheek. Jack’s fancy ass car was in front of your garage and you smiled, entering it.

“Hi, Jackie boy,” you greeted him, noticing how fucking good he looked, wearing his burgundy suit. Thank god to whoever created the suit rule in hockey. You’ll forever be grateful.

“Hey.” He greeted back, and did something surprising. He kissed you. Softly, and not like any other kiss you’ve shared in the past.

And that didn’t do anything to help the little cardiac arrest you had every time you were around him.

“Are we ready to rock our lasagna?” You asked, half embarrassed and half confused with what you were feeling. Food always made it better though.

“We sure are.” He smiled before starting the car again.

The silence was comfortable but your thoughts were too loud so you took the liberty of turning the radio on, scaring yourself with how loud the music playing was. And, shockingly, your music. Already Over was blasting through the speakers.

You looked at him, and he just shrugged, cheeks red.

“Were you listening to my music on the way to my place?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s good,” he blushes so cutely you find yourself wanting to chomp a piece of his cheek.

“You’re so cute, Jackie. Thanks, means a lot,” you had a feeling you were blushing too, and you thanked God he wasn’t looking at you. “I’m excited to release it.”

“When are you doing it?” He asked, making a U turn.

“Beginning of the next month. Now I have to take pictures and set up the concept for it. It’s my favourite part.”

“Are you doing any music videos with a guy dying?” He asked and you stared at him, once again surprised. Had he been watching your music videos? All of them? “What?”

“Are you a fan?” You giggled, genuinely happy. Harris hated to talk about your work, and he never listened to your songs for more than ten minutes.

“Nico forces us to listen to your songs and watch your music videos,” he answered, nonchalantly. You smiled, nodding your head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You played dumb.

“Like that. You have this little minx stare that you do whenever you’re plotting something.” He smiled this time, and God if the sight didn’t make you feel full.

“You’re no fun,” you sighed, looking at the view. “Also, where is this restaurant? We’ve been driving for at least twenty minutes and nothing in Jersey takes more than that.”

“The restaurant is actually my parents’ house.” He says, like it’s nothing.

“What?!” You yelled, turning your head in his direction. “What do you mean you’re taking me to your fucking parents’?”

“Yeah. Ma’s making lasagna for you.”

Your cheeks were burning hot and you had this bubbly feeling inside of you. You were feeling something really weird and you started to wonder if Grace was right and—

“Soph?” You heard his voice, gentle and soft. You looked at him, noticing that he wasn’t driving anymore, and that the car was now parked in front of a big, beautiful, colonial house. His parents’ house. “We can go back if you want to, baby. Ma won’t be angry or anything like that.”

Stop making me want to trust you, Jack.

He caressed your cheek, and you snapped out of it. “No, it’s fine. I just… you could’ve said something, y’know? I’m wearing sweatpants.” You tried to make a joke, smiling. He smiled too.

“I’ll put on some sweatpants too, so we’re matching,”

“Right.”

You left the car, taking a deep breath. It was just his parents. You weren’t even dating so it would be fine.

Wait.

“What did you tell them? That you’re bringing one of the girls you’re fucking home?” You asked just before you walked in their property.

He raised an eyebrow at you, scowling. “First of all, I’m not fucking anyone else. It’s just you. Second of all, I told them I’m bringing a friend.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to do anything else.

He’s not fucking anyone else? Jack Hughes? The man whore of the NJ Devils?

Yikes, sure.

You both walked into the house, Jack not bothering knocking before entering it. A delicious smell of fresh tomato sauce and herbs reached your nose and you could swear your mouth was watering.

“Ma, we’re here!” Jack yelled, making you jump a little bit. You eyed him before facing the woman in front of you, who was absolutely gorgeous. She looked so fucking young and pretty, and you were biting your tongue, trying not to say something stupid. “Hi, Ma, this is Soph. Soph, that’s Ellen, Ma Hughes,”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. Nice to meet you.” You said, certain that your cheeks were on flame.

Ellen took a step closer, smiling. “Hi, darlin’. No need for formalities, dear, it’s just Ellen. I would hug you but,” she pointed at her apron and shrugged. “A bit dirty.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“No, thank you for making this guy over here visit me,” she slapped Jack’s shoulder, both of them smiling together. “He only called because he said you wanted to eat lasagna and he loves mine so that’s why he’s here.”

If your face wasn’t going to melt before, it definitely was now. You were going to kill Jack. For real this time.

“Come on, Ma, I can’t be worse than Luke and Quinn. They don’t even remember your address anymore,” was Jack actually pouting? Jesus. Your heart was not ready to see that.

“Stop throwing us under the bus, dickhead.” Luke’s voice was heard and you and Jack both watched as both Quinn and Luke entered the room. “‘Sup, Soph.”

“Hi, Luke. Hi, Quinn,” you greeted them with cheek kisses, not even wanting to acknowledge that you had actually missed them. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Soph,” Quinn quietly answered, not a single thought behind those eyes. “Great to see you.”

“I hope you’re all hungry because your mom outdid herself tonight,” Jim, the dad, said, smiling when he noticed you. “Hello there. I’m Jim.”

“Hi,” you whispered, mortified with all the attention you were getting. Some would think that performing for big crowds would make you less anxious to meet people. Nope. “I’m Sophia. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s fine, as my baby was saying, we do need our son to visit more.”

As they discussed why Jack didn’t visit them more frequently, you felt Jack’s arms around your waist and his mouth on the tip of your ear. You froze. “Yeah, they call each other baby and honey. Sorry about that.”

You managed to smile, trying not to get his family’s attention. They certainly wouldn’t understand why he was this close to a friend.

“I think it’s cute.”

The dinner went awesomely well. The lasagna was amazing and Ellen and Jim were the cutest couple ever, you could see how they’ve raised three amazing men.

They asked questions about what being a postar meant nowadays, and what was it like during your tours, and how could someone sing and dance at the same time, and have you ever met Adele?

They’re great people. Even Quinn and Luke, who had talked to you before on different occasions, made sure you were included in every topic, and Luke even asked for a signed cap so he could wear it at UMich.

“Do you guys know what we should definitely do?” Ellen started, after forcing all of the boys to organize the kitchen and do the dishes, while you sat with her drinking wine. Yeah, you loved her. “Karaoke. Let Soph here show us how good she is.”

“Maa,” you could hear Luke whining, while running his hands through his beautiful curls. “You do this every time.”

“You’ll make her work on her day off? That’s wild, Ma.” Jack joked, putting his arms around your shoulder. You froze again, looking at the expressions of his family, trying to picture anything out of place.

No one was looking at you weirdly, besides Ellen who plastered the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, which made you smile too.

“I don’t mind singing…” you said, softly.

“Perfect!” Ellen stood up from her seat, pouring more wine on her glass. “Jim, set the karaoke thing on.”

“It’s called YouTube, Ma.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Leave your mom alone, ugly face,” Jim called him out, on his way to do exactly what Ellen asked. “Sophia, can you sing some Elvis?”

“Yes, ‘course.” You also got up, discussing with Jim which song he wanted you to sing.

“Tell her to sing our song, honey!” Ellen yelled from the dinner table.

“Ah, yes, yes.”

Turns out that their song is Can’t Help Falling in Love, which was so freaking sweet. You sang the romantic lyrics while Jim and Ellen danced with each other, swinging slowly and delicately.

Quinn and Luke were recording themselves with you singing in the background, while you waved happily to the camera.

Jack was sitting on the couch, watching you sing. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, smiling whenever you’d hit a high note or change the song’s rhythm.

It was nice. So, so nice. The Hughes were such nice people and you felt so safe and adored around them. They asked you to sing more songs and when you noticed, you were singing an upbeat song with Jim and dancing between Quinn and Luke while Ellen filmed everything. Until Jack grabbed you again and made you sing in front of him, for him. And boy, how you wanted to kiss him. His blue eyes were shining brightly and he looked just as happy as you felt.

You ended the singing when it was around midnight, everyone exhausted and sweaty— even if it was winter.

You started saying your goodbyes and thanking Ellen and Jim for the best lasagna you’ve ever eaten and for the hospitality too.

“I hope you come back soon.” Ellen whispered in your ear when you were hugging her, and you held her slightly tighter.

When you left the house with Jack, you couldn’t contain your happiness inside you. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him until you were near his car, and standing on your tiptoes, you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, both of you moaning inside each other’s mouth. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, pillowy and so soft. You were finally melting into Jack’s arms and nothing could be better.

Until you realized what was going on.

You had just had dinner with Jack’s family, sang and danced with them, and now you were in the middle of the street of a fancy neighborhood, with Jack Hughes holding you close to his chest, while devouring your mouth.

And instead of not feeling anything, instead of keeping things casual, you were feeling everything. Each tiny part of every emotion there is in this world were making their way into your heart and, unfortunately, you didn’t want to take them out.

Because for the first time in more than one year, you wanted to feel.

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, someone he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the male he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my dessert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew that wasn't her true intention. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days since.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place as elysian and inviting as she, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it perfectly preserved.

It had been more of a final gift to Addie than a show of good will between the courts. Adelaide had been a foundling on the border of Day and Night. Helion took her in as his ward and she grew up with access to the best education and scholarly texts Prythian could offer. Rhysand later made her head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. She spent more of her life in Night than Day, but she never went so long without seeing the man who gave her all she had.

She used to tell Azriel she would take him on vacation to Day to meet Helion. He of course had met the man before but they had been the Spymaster of Night and High Lord of Day, Addie wanted them to meet as 'two of the people she loved more than anyone'.

They never did get that vacation.

And as Azriel finally looked down at her, Helion's gift to her felt like a cruel punishment to him.

6 months later, she was still as ethereal as she was the last time he saw her, but she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed there by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

[grippingbeskar]

two is hardly a crowd

— john price x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni (age gap, mxf, dirty talk) swearing, mention of death and injury

— a/n: i’m so in love with this man. oh my god.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” You say through the door, knocking a few times.

“Come in.” He calls back, and you try to still your hand as it reaches for the doorknob. Every time he calls for you, you can’t predict what will happen. Some times he’s all work no play, giving you assignments like he does the rest of the 141 with a straight face and serious look in his eyes.

Other times, it’s… less business, more pleasure. He smiles more, offers you a drink. Jokes with you. Flirts… you think, but you weren’t entirely sure Price meant it. You don’t have the most experience with this kind of thing, but he certainly isn’t having those kinds of meetings with Soap or Ghost. He doesn’t compliment them at all, let alone sweet talk them like he does to you. It’s only really when you’re between missions, and almost always when everyone else has gone out for the night or gone off base. He knows you don’t leave even on off days— Price is observant, and the only other one who stays, too.

Swallowing, you push the door open. You know everyone’s gone home this break— Gaz just left last night, and he was only here this long because he couldn’t get a flight out. Now, you knew it was just you and the Captain. It made you as nervous as it did excited, considering the embarrassing crush you were nursing for him.

“I really hope you aren’t telling me I have to spend the year locked up in the cockpit of a jet.” Taking a seat in front of him, you watch the curl of his mouth form around a lit cigar. He leans back, and your eyes are drawn to the stark lack of papers or files open on his desk. All of them are stacked in piles. All closed cases.

“Nothin’ like that, don’t worry.” You watch him closely as he pours himself a glass of scotch. Then, he pushes the full one towards you. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Fine.” You reply, trying not to think too hard about the last few weeks. It was rough— all your missions are, but the burn of the scotch now going down your throat and the undivided attention from Price makes it a bit easier to forget. “Starting to understand why you all drink so much, though.”

“You did well out there, not that you need me tellin’ you.” He looks at you under the brim of his hat, still sandy from the return. You wonder if he ever washes that thing, or if he’s superstitious, like it’ll wash the luck off or something. “All the boys were impressed. So was I.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You try to hide the obvious heat that spreads to your body, nearly making you squint. Of course it was good to be recognised, but hearing it from him. ‘So was I’. You impressed him. “Is— was there something you needed me to do?”

“Just hate to think of you wastin’ your off time in the barracks. I’m not takin’ the jet, so I was gonna offer it to you. Get out of here for a bit, see your family.” The sentiment was sweet, and the idea that he was thinking of you nearly overshadowed his offer.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t… see my family. Besides, I’m not a big fan of flying. I like to avoid it, when I can.” The fact you’d just spent almost a month flying between bases and never said a thing makes Price lean forward, eyebrows raised. It was a stupid fear to have, but it was there nonetheless.

“Take a car, then. Go see— something. Anything.” His forearms were on the table, leaning toward you. His shoulders are slumped slightly, about as relaxed as he gets.

“You trying to get rid of me, Captain?” He laughs dryly, taking the cigar out of his mouth again to finish off his drink. You follow him, needing the liquid courage.

“Course not, love. You just shouldn’t be hangin’ around here at your age. Let us old guys sit and rot, but you— go live a little.” Almost choking on your drink, you bite down on your bottom lip as you swallow. Love. Love. Fucking hell, you’ve been less tense while staring at the barrel of a shotgun.

“You aren’t that old.” You say meekly, dropping your gaze from his intense one.

“Don’t change the subject.” His voice is dripping with authority, one that simultaneously drops you into line and makes you need to shift on your seat. “Why are you still here?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” That shuts him up for a second. Your family probably thinks you’re dead— if they know you’re alive, they don’t care enough to check in. Any friends you had drifted away when you became too hard to reach, missing birthdays and never coming home for holidays— always working. Once you joined the 141, they stopped trying completely. You didn’t mind. You only wanted to focus on your job. The next mission. Keeping people safe. These guys were all the family you needed. Plus, Price was here.

It was hard to find a good enough reason to leave him, and the kindness he always showed you was ten times more than you’d get if you really went home. It was more than enough to feed your ridiculous crush on him, too, which you couldn’t figure out if it was a good or a bad thing.

“Ah.” He says after a while, and then fills up your glass. The action mixed with the subtle uncomfortable look on his face, like he’s not sure what to do, makes you laugh out loud. The sound seems to relax him again. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Well, why are you still hanging around base?” You take another sip, the honey flavour of the liquor easing the burning taste. “You’re not afraid of flying too, are you?”

“I think I’ve seen enough of the world by now. Happy where I am.” Before your heartbeat can catch up, he keeps talking. “Besides, the company’s not all bad.”

Your face gets so hot you think you might break out into a sweat. It was definitely one of those kinds of meetings. Your favourite. These kinds of talks with him, where you get to see the man under the title and pressure of the job. Price, as you’ve discovered, is smooth. A gentleman, of course, but such a sweet talker. You only ever see it here, alone with him, but you can never stop thinking about it when it happens.

“If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.” You say, stumbling straight over his compliment. He makes you so confused— you’re usually straight as a steel blade. Impossible to bend, strong willed and focused. With him… you can’t even think. “But you… you don’t have anyone to go visit? You said you aren’t taking the jet. I’m sure your wife would be missing you.”

“If I had one, I’m sure she’d of left me by now.” You honestly hadn’t been sure if he had family. You had a feeling he did… look at him. There’s no way a man that looks like this, talks the way he does isn’t dodging women left right and centre. “When have people like us got the time for date nights, aye?”

“Soap does it. Gaz. It’s not impossible.” Your glass clanks against the wooden table as you set it down, and Price’s eyes seem to light up a little. “I mean… I’m sure you could find someone if you— if you wanted to.”

“You got me there.” He fakes a little surrender, his hands rising off the table. You almost didn’t realise how close he was until he sets them down again, fingers nearly brushing against your skin. “What makes you so sure?”

“You’re…nice.” He laughs, bringing the cigar back up to his mouth. You watch him intently, smoke curling and fogging in front of his face. Ash drops onto the desk, and his giant hands swipe it away quickly.

“Nice.”

“Mhmm.”

“That all?” Your throat feels dry. He was looking at you so closely. Like he could see through you, right to how fast your heart was beating. Like he could see your thoughts in a cloud above your head, as clear and thick as the smoke in front of him.

“Fishing for compliments, Captain?”

“It’s John.” You suck in a low breath at the sound of his first name. Your eyes nearly flutter shut. “And can you blame me? Pretty girl like you, maybe I could get some ideas since you wanna marry me off so quick.”

It was subtle. So like him, smooth and easy, but it hits you like a freight train. That cross of a line in such a short, stupid little sentence, but he knows he’s made a touch down when you smile and hide your face. You were a soldier, for fucks sake— but he had you blushing and smiling like you were a kid.

“I’m just saying, Ca—John. You are nice. You deserve something like that to go home to.” The sentence wasn’t well thought out, two glasses of scotch going straight to your head, but it was true.

God, how you have thought about being that for him. Let him come back from a long mission, take the stress out of his shoulders and have him really relax. He was always so on all the time, so much pressure running the team. He was fucking good at it too, which was worse for your crush on him. You just wanted to take care of him like he took care of everything for you and the team every single time—

“I think I’ve got all I need right here.” You blink up at him, hands gripping the side of your chair. His head is tilted slightly, a smirk on his face. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, love. Like I said, I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

His voice is low. Lower than before. Maybe you’re just drunk, but his eyes seem a little darker, too.

“On base with me, eating leftovers? Sounds like a real fun t—“

“Yeah. I want to be here with you.” You don’t take a breath for a good five seconds. Just let the confession hang in the air. It’s thick, full of smoke and tension, and the burn across your face is either from embarrassment or pure need.

He wanted to be here, alone, with you. Until now it was easy to sign all these passing comments and looks off to pure coincidence. Maybe even a lack of options, being one of the only straight females on base. But with the way he was looking at you now, it was anything but.

“Are you messing with me?” Your eyes nearly shut completely, suddenly feeling the warmth of his hand on yours. His covers you completely, thumb tracing along your knuckles. They’re still blue and green from the fading bruises of the last mission, and he pays extra care not to press to hard.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His eyes stay on your touching hands, the rough pads of his fingers drawing aimless lines on your skin. “I’m patient, but I’m only a man. Only so much time I can wait before I blow myself to bits keeping this to myself.”

“Keeping what to yourself ?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper.

“I’m your Captain.” He says like it’s a confession, and your heart is beating so fast he can probably hear it with those trained ears.

“I know that.” He makes a noise like he’s in pain, going to pull away, but you’re faster and catch his arm. “Tell me anyway.”

“It’s… you mean something to me. A lot. More than I can chalk up to just admiration. I want to take you out.” He says, his voice trained, like he’s using every ounce of bravery he’s got to get the words out. Only then does he finally look up at you, his pupils nearly overtaking his eyes. “I want to see you outside this place. I don’t wanna be looking over my shoulder every three seconds makin’ sure no one’s watching the way I’m staring at you. You’re in my head. Can’t get you out of it. I want to do this the real way. The right way.”

“I—“

“But if you don’t feel the same, you’ll never have to hear it again. Trust me. I’ll learn to live with it. I— it’d just kill me if I never asked.” He runs over your sentence, then leans back, taking a few puffs of the cigar like a reflex.

“You really aren’t messing with me?” Your hands were reaching out instinctively, missing his touch, as fleeting as it was.

“No, love. Just been working up the courage.” You were grinning like an idiot at his expression. The composed face of your Captain had folded in on itself, now replaced by the man you knew was underneath— admittedly a little more nervous than you were familiar with. “Is that… do you—“

“Oh! Yes. Yeah— fuck yes. I’d really like that.” Nodding rapidly, his head hangs back and he sighs a little in relief. Adjusting his hat, he watches you smile at him, fondness dancing in his eyes.

“Guess I wasn’t the only one thinking about it?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Nah. The foods just really shitty on base. I’d do anything for a good meal.”

“Ah. Of course.” He squints, smirking as you laugh. He takes another drag of the cigar, and you watch his mouth intensely— letting your eyes linger with the safety of his confession. “Well, can’t deny a pretty face like yours, can I?”

“In that case, I haven’t eaten since this morning.” You say, the words fumbling out of your mouth before you have a chance to reign them in.

“It’s nine o’clock, Private.” He chides, the tone of his voice making you squirm in your seat. “You wanna go now?”

“You’ve been patient enough, haven’t you?” Your leg bounces with all the extra energy you suddenly have, mind wiring with thoughts of where he would take you. He stands up, and you follow him, pushing your chair back as he clears the distance around the table in two steps.

Those giant black boots, ones he still hasn’t changed out of since coming back. They were tracking dirt and mud all over the hard wood floor, and you had a feeling he’s never had anyone tell him to take his shoes off before he came inside. Probably why he wears his camouflage jacket everywhere, too. You hate to imagine the state of his real place, wherever that may be. He keeps walking towards the door, unlocking it and nodding towards you.

“Come on, then. Better move if you want anything other than pizza.” He smirks, and you really could walk out the door. You could, and make him take you out to a nice dinner. He’d be sweet, and you know you’d probably ask him a thousand questions that he would answer without skipping a beat. And you want that— you do. You’d thought about it more times than you’d admit out loud. You’d get there.

But right now, you had too much adrenaline. It was like being on a mission— heart racing, antsy to just jump in with both feet and not look back. There was something about living the life you did that made you not want to wait for anything anymore. Now, you had been so, so patient with Price, because you had to be. But now it was right there in front of you, standing at the open door.

A kick in your step sends you right up to the door, your hand slowly pushing against his grip on it. It’s squeaky and obvious what you’re doing— and his eyebrows raise higher and higher, eyes flicking down to you when the lock clicks shut.

“Not hungry?” He rasps, taking a step closer to you. His hand drops from the door, settling gently on your hip.

“I have something else in mind.” Your hands fist in his jacket and you yank him forward, feeling his hand on your neck as you finally kiss him.

He doesn’t rush, taking his time to feel your mouth against his. Once he realises you don’t want to let him go, he drags his hand up your face, along your cheekbone, thumb tracing along your skin lightly. You push yourself up on your toes, wanting to be closer.

He grabs you a little harder, and you moan into his mouth when his hand tangles in your hair. He uses it as leverage, nearly pulling you off the ground. He’s wrapped his arm around your waist, and the warmth of his body against yours has you pulling on the hair that hangs out of his hat. He’s the one to make a sound now, letting out a low groan when you fist your hands and tug.

He tastes like expensive cigars and scotch, his mouth burning it’s way into your memory. Every time you look at him from now on all you’ll be able to think of is how he tastes, and how easily he’s taken over you. He towers over you, and with one hand still around your waist, the other tucks your hair behind your ear, a hint of something softer despite the neediness of both your movements. You hate it like that, always thinking you look off balance. It’s why you have your head shoved in a hat most days, but he seems to like it. He walks you backwards, away from the door, picking you up with a strong forearm under your ass until you feel your calves hit the hard wood of his desk. He presses close, only leaving your lips for a second to kiss along your jaw. When you whine and tug on his hair, he comes back up, and you can feel him smiling through it.

When you need to take a breath, reluctantly you lean back, eyes fluttering open when you feel his forehead press to yours. His hands cup your face, enveloping you in the feeling of him everywhere. The shadow of his body blocks out all the light in the room except for him, tunnel visioning him into focus.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You say before you can think, almost like some kind of trance had overtaken you. Price laughs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly.

“Is that right?” You nod once, and he leans closer, his mouth lightly pressing its way along your neck. You squirm in his touch, needing more, but he only gets further away. “You have no idea how many times I thought about walkin’ down to your room and begging you to put me out of my misery.”

“Fuck, Price.” You tug him closer by the ends of his jacket, smiling when you feel his hands fall to your waist and his head pull back. “You should of. It’s so lonely in there.”

“Don’t play games with me.” He says lowly while you bat your eyes up at him, that authoritative tone rumbling through every word. “Your tuggin’ on my last string of control with that look.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll finally snap.” He groans, kissing you lightly.

“I should do this right. Take you out. Buy you flowers and dinner.” His hands begin to wander again, getting a little more daring, opposing the words he’s trying to talk himself out of. “You deserve it.”

“You could just propose, skip the twenty steps and get a ring.” He smiles again, finally, and even if it’s controlled and Captain like, it’s a smile. “Heard you army boys like to settle down pretty fast, anyways. That what you want?”

“Fucking hell. You really are trying to marry me off.” You shrug, and something much more intense is in his eyes now. It makes you tick into a higher gear, cogs turning faster and faster. “Can I kiss you again?”

Instead of answering, you bring both hands on either side of his face and yank him to you, moulding your mouth to his. It’s desperate, one lonley hand seeking another as he puts his palm over yours, then moves you seamlessly. You mould for him, standing as he hurls you up and into his arms, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist tight even when you feel the hard wood of the table under your thighs. He reaches behind you, one hand on your lower back rolling your hips towards him, the other now revealing his half finished cigar.

You want to roll your eyes, but he’s too overwhelming to think about anything else. The way he smells— smoke and old spice filling your senses. You can’t get enough of it, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingertips tracing up his neck. For a second you hesitate, feeling the material of his hat against your knuckles, but the slightest touch of your hand in his hair makes him groan into your mouth, and you throw all caution to the wind.

He kisses you a little rougher now. Keeping you still with one strong arm around your waist, he’s slowly uncoiling, strand by strenuous strand. His other hand is still occupied with his cigar, and you can’t figure out why he’s holding onto it right now until you hear something crash and hit the floor behind you.

“Jesus, Price.” You sigh into him, only opening your eyes for a second to see he’s shoved everything on his desk to the floor— ashtray shattered in pieces under your feet. Didn’t want to waste his damn cigar, but the countless files on his desk weren’t important enough to him.

He pulls back, your lips chasing him even though your lightheaded from a lack of oxygen. You open your eyes again, your arms still wrapped right around the back of his neck, and your head drops to the giant mess on the floor. Cigar still secured in his fingertips, both of his hands cup your face, forcing you to look at him. You’ve never seen him unwound. He’s your Captain— a man of control, someone who’s always three steps ahead of the enemy. But here, breathing hard and standing between your open legs, he looks fucking wild. His eyes are half shut, and he’s smiling like a fool, the sight making you feel even warmer with him this close to you.

“You are something else.” He murmurs against your mouth, making you smile.

“And you’re a fucking tease.” You kiss him again, and he nearly whines in his own protest as he pulls back. “John.”

“I know, love. I’ll take care of you.” He steps away a little, one hand dropping to the edge of the table. “Mind holding onto this f’me?”

He brings his other one up, the end of the cigar appearing in front of you. Instead of handing it to you, his thumb drags down against your lip, your mouth opening for him on the silent command. Dark eyes watching your every move, he puts the end of the cigar in your mouth, watching you take in the familiar taste of it. Of him. It sends a buzz through your veins now, the alcohol and feeling of him overloading your body. He lets his hand slip to your jaw, smirking at the way your teeth nearly bite into the end. Then, the asshole winks at you, and you almost choke on the smoke burning through your chest.

“There’s a good girl. Stay nice and still, yeah?” He presses a quick kiss on your cheek, watching as you nod slowly. Mesmerised. It’s taken about five minutes and a few well chosen words for one of his best soldiers to become a puddle in front of him. You knew it was a little embarrassing how quickly you lost your nerve with him, but he didn’t have to look so smug about it.

Just as you think you’ve recovered, he drops his hands, still staring at you as he expertly undoes your military pants. He doesn’t even have to look down, just watches how your eyes close, head falling back as he yanks them down your legs and his fingers hook into the fabric of your underwear.

You almost forget the cigar completely, moaning around the end of it as you feel him draw closer. The rough pads of his fingertips, hardened from years on the force, are gentle and soothing against the sensitive skin, and he plays with the seams sitting around where you are clearly edging him towards.

He’s not watching you anymore. No, now his eyes are occupied with the sight in front of him, just below your face. How your back is arched towards him, enticing him to move a little faster. Your legs spreading across his table, knuckles white as they grip the edge in anticipation. Then, there’s your fucking underwear. Price spits out a few curse words, then rips them away, tucking them into the pocket of his own pants.

“You wear that just to drive me insane?” His hands splay on your thighs, rising higher and higher. You hum around the cigar that’s growing heavier in your mouth. “That what you wear all the time? Pink and lace shit under all that gear?”

“Just hopin’ you’d take it off and find out.” You mumble, only half coherent with your mouth full. The comment seems to undo something in him, and his restraint frays as you finally, finally feel two of his fingers dragging slow, steady circles on your clit.

You crumble forward, hips shifting to seek out something a little faster, but his free hand holds you down. He kisses along your neck, down to his collarbone while setting you alight with his soft moving hands. As he dips just below there, in a place he knows will be hidden in your uniform, he spends time there. He listens to the little noises you make, how you say his name like it’s the only word you know. He fucking knows he has you right there— and he hasn’t even taken off his shirt.

“You are so gorgeous, baby. You know that?” His mouth is so hot and his fucking hands��� they were playing you like a violin. Plucking all the right strings, a melody of pleasure played out of your mouth, interrupting his ramble. “Never gonna be able to keep my hands off you. Not when I know how sweet you sound.”

“Hmph.” You groan around the butt of the cigar, and he grins a little mockingly, cooing as he takes the cigar from your nearly open mouth.

“There you go, did real good for me. Need to hear you louder though, princess.”

“Please, Price.” Your hips buck, and his fingers dip lower, teasing.

“You ask me, it’s yours.” He whispers, then bends down to press one long, bruising kiss to your lips, one you take greedily.

“I need you.” He kisses you, humming low into your mouth, then you feel one of his strong fingers curl inside of you. “Ohh— fuck.”

“You’re alright darlin’. That’s it.” He whispers in your ear, and your mind focuses only on the sweet adoring touches of his free and and his mouth and the coil tightening low in your stomach.

Everything is only him— the roughness of his hands subsided by the gentle graze of their touch, exploring all the parts of you he’s telling you he’s dreamed about. His other hand, finding the places that make you scream the loudest, never letting up as your eyes roll backwards into your skull. His mouth— god, that fucking mouth. The way he’s talking to you, telling you all the ways he’s imagined you spread out for him, how long he wants to take with you, how hard he is for you, only you.

Your hands reach towards him, sliding down his toned chest, along the lines of his jacket until you blindly caught on the waistband of his jeans. You could feel yourself slipping into that blissful heat low in your stomach, but you wanted him to fall with you. As much as he was talking, you were just as desperate to get your hands on him, even if you couldn’t articulate words right now.

“You don’t ha—fucking hell.” He growls, kissing you harshly as your hands slip into his pants and palm him through his boxers. “I’m not gonna last. You’re fucking me up real good, princess.”

“J-Just let me make you feel good, too.” You blink your eyes open, pleasure skittering up your spine. He pumps his fingers inside of you faster, skilled in a way your brain can’t compare to anything else. The rough skin of his palm drags across your clit with every move, sending your hips into a roll in search of more— greedily chasing whatever he’d give you.

When you finally feel him, hot and heavy in your hand under his boxers, you can feel he wasn’t lying. He’s a fucking mess— a choked moan shocking through him as your thumb gently swipes across his tip. When you pull away he looks up from where his head dropped on your shoulder, eyes only half open to watch you spit in your hand, and then return to wrap your fingers around him, pumping him slowly.

“Ohh, fuck. That’s good. Fuck, that’s so good.” He praises, hot breath kissing your neck and collarbone. You could tell he liked to talk, but it wasn’t even the words he was saying that was sending you spiralling helplessly anymore. It was the noises.

Desperate, nearly whining as you tighten your grip, matching the pace of his two, strong fingers curling inside you. You felt boneless— foreheads pressed together as you watched each other fall apart from just the others hands. You weren’t much better, high pitched, girlish sounds that had nothing of the trained solider in them. Just a girl, spread out on her Captains desk, exactly where she wants to be.

“So tight, baby. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock.” You hum, closing your eyes and imagining it. If he felt this thick in your hands, you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel in— “Gonna take you out to a nice dinner and then bring you home, fuck you in a real bed. Fuck… you think about this too?”

“A-all the— fuck, right there— all the time.” You manage, vision beginning to blur. “I’m so close, Price. Please.”

“Give it to me. Wanna feel how wet you get after you cum for me.” He groans. He switches so fast— low, heavy voice interrupted by slightly higher moans and a gasp. He’s so hard to keep up with, it melts your brain down to only the simplest of instructions. “Cum for me.”

You lose conscious control of your hand, only knowing to keep holding him like that as his hips buck, fucking into your palm. Pleasure takes over— zapping and skittering through your body, making your legs shake. His breathing gets faster, stuttered little gasps coming from him as he guides you through your orgasm, hand slowing to a soothing rhythm.

There was none of that softness for himself, though. No— he was nothing but hard and fast, using your hip as leverage to drag his length along the wet hold of your hand. The table creaks under his strength, and you wrap your free hard around his neck again to hold on tight, needing to see him through it.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls, and then covers your hand in warmth as he cums to the sight of you. His jaw is hanging open and you take the opportunity, kissing him desperately. He responds even with the pleasure clouding his thoughts, all tongue and teeth and feral sounds as his hips slowly still in your hand.

Both of you are reluctant to let go of each other, but you seemingly find yourselves at the same time as you both flinch at the touch of the other. You take your hand back first, sliding up along the lower contours of his abs. You’ve been obsessed with that part of him for so long, it’s nearly surreal to have it under your hand.

“You… Jesus Christ.” He breathes deep, his head falling to the crook of your neck. He kisses you affectionately, taking slow inhales like the taste of your skin will bring the oxygen back to his lungs. “That’s not what I thought this meeting was going to go like.”

“Funny.” You say softly, still searching for your voice. “It’s exactly what I had planned.”

He sits up at that, and you catch the look of him believing you— just for a second before he shakes his head, smirking.

“Alright, smart ass.” You laugh, tugging him to stand closer between your spread legs. “You okay?”

“Never better.” He kisses you softly again.

“You gonna let me take you out? Do this the proper way?” His hands hold your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin. “Cause I meant it when I said I’m not keeping my hands off you now. I’m a man of my word.”

“Pizza is fine with me.” You smile, and he picks you up off the desk, but not before sneaking one lazy kiss while you’re up in his arms.

Pizza would be fine every night, you think as you quickly pull your pants back on and follow him out the door, still seeing the light pink fabric of your underwear sticking out his back pocket.

[halaboyz]

spice and everything nice, seonghwa

ceo! ateez seonghwa x gn, employee! reader fluff wc: 11.4k warnings: rather detailed description of food and eating, ALL OVER THE PLACE ! not my best work but my best efforts though a/n: rrAAAAHHH i think this is my first time trying this trope?? lmao anw its inspired by a lot of scenes in kdrama 'dreaming of a freaking fairytale'! giving lots of my gratitude to my one and only ducky 4 deciding with me (which... ended up with spin the wheel) @ricsang !! ilysm <3

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move out as soon as... tomorrow morning." Your landlord drops the bomb, and leaves you without a second glance, leaving you with a piece of dismissal paper and a list of your unpaid dues.

You gawk, closing the door behind you helplessly as your eyes wander around your flat, eye twitching at the sudden— is it really sudden— news with your head still hazy from the sunlight.

Sighing, your fingers quickly call your friend, your one and only, already placing a default smile on your face, although he won't see it. "My lovely, most gorgeous, kindest, prettie—,"

"What the fuck do you want so early in the morning?" Wooyoung growls through the line, and you hear his bed sheets as he probably twists and turns from his bed.

"Clear your lawn." Your default smile drops, "I'm moving in your lawn for a few days. I'll be there by lunch,"

You don't even wait for his answer before you drop the call, finally washing up to start and clean up the flat you've been living in for years, and been leeching off for months already.

"I cannot, for the life of me, absolutely believe you." Wooyoung stares at you in bewilderment, movers working behind you as they drop your boxed things in his lawn.

"I cannot absolutely believe how broke I am too, thank you very much. Do you have food? I'm starving. I spent my last on the moving company," You comfortably made your way through his house, immediately going to the kitchen and found his mom's kimchi lying in the counter.

"Don't touch anything, I'll just make you lunch," Wooyoung sighs, while you hop into the high chair, watching Wooyoung move around his territory. "Come on, y/n, just ask your family for some money. They're your family, of course they'll need to help with your masters fees. You've been LOA for what, almost a year now!"

"Look, Mr. Right," You take a gulp of water, "My family is not like yours, all mighty and well that you even have a house of your own while you take your masters, no dues, no bills." You state as a matter of fact, but take no offense of his opinions, picking on the nuts he provided you snack on while he cooks. "My family's already struggling as they are."

"So why take masters? Why not just go and work already?"

"Because they wanted it, too. I helped start my masters with some fees with my part time job, which unfortunately fired me because I ate one of their expired food, and then lived far away so they wouldn't worry much about me." You explained, and he sighs. He's sad he can't do anything to help you lighten your burden, which is why he lets you stay in his house with him.

Of course you had conscience. You insisted to stay in his lawn because you had a tent and a sleeping bag, but Wooyoung was a loyal friend after all. After a little more insisting from Wooyoung and his mom which he called for help, you and Wooyoung had finally agreed until you've found yourself some decent job.

"Don't your company have some free space?" You pout, looking through your laptop's screen for a whole hour now trying to find a job.

"Even if there was, I can't get you in there," Wooyoung sing sung, scrolling through his phone on your bed, lying in his tummy.

"Why? They're that strict?" You squint, facing him.

"The CEO himself handles who goes in and out of his company. Directly. Don't know what goes in that cold head of his," He shrugs, and faces you. "But it doesn't hurt to try. Your degree lines up with mine so they could consider you without a doubt. You also have a high GWA so,"

You nod, knowing there's nothing going to hurt when you try. You've been handing over a hundred resumes for hundreds of companies, what's one more, right?

"Oh my god," You barge into Wooyoung's room one evening, and thankfully he was only lying in his bed, "I got scheduled for an interview at your company tomorrow!"

"For real?" Wooyoung shoots up as he looks at the email on your phone, "It's real..." Wooyoung whispers, and stifles a chuckle. "Be at your fucking best tomorrow, you're getting head on with a fucking bull."

Well, Wooyoung mentioned a bull. But he didn't say that bull was the CEO himself, Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa, consistently chosen as number one for consecutive years already as continuously rising businessman in the fashion industry by different newsletters and publications such as Vogue, GQ, Esquire, Arena Homme, of the many.

He sits in front of you all elegant and mighty, while you sit there almost wanting out with how he gazes at you. You feel so small in front of him, and feel like Wooyoung just dumped you into a hell hole.

But thinking of your situation, this wasn't a time where you feed your ego away to the birds. It was a desperate time, not only for you but also for your family. So you set your embarrassment aside, heading face on with the bull, as Wooyoung adviced.

"You're applying for?" It was like elegance and superiority was oozing out of his lips when he talked. Having a one on one interview with one of the living legends of the fashion industry was making you shake to your toes, goosebumps all over your body.

"Either marketing strategy or marketing secretary, if I may, sir." You confidently reply, straightening your back. Right. It was a time to be arrogant of your skills.

"Without experience, at that," Seonghwa scoffs, and tosses your file to the table. You almost swoon at how he sounds, but quickly shake your head to reality. "You may leave."

"I am quite the ambitious person, sir. And I have my experience. As an intern, you'll see it by the third page," You ignore his last order, sitting still in your chair.

"Which has been five years, and if I may add, at an already closed, blacklisted company," You didn't get to think about that. which almost crumbles your confidence down. but you stand your guard. "Leave."

"Let me prove my skills for a week. Just a week. Whatever tasks you give me, let me prove it." From all the companies that has accepted your almost empty resume that only consisted of academic achievements but zero experiences, you were quite— desperate by a lot.

Seonghwa scoffs again, crosses his legs and leans back to his chair.

"A day." Seonghwa offers, smirking. "Attract ten investors tomorrow, within the day and I'll even accept you to be my direct secretary." Seeing your dumbfounded face was something he found funny, because it was a funny offer, after all. "It's a take it or leave it offer. That's so much time I can offer to a candidate only,"

"We have a deal, then." When he hears your determined voice, he internally scoffs. You keep throwing him out of his zone, being the first one to do that. He raises an eyebrow in interest, letting him know for the last time that you had agreed to his offer for tomorrow.

"Was that a bad idea?" You almost cry to Wooyoung, thinking you're only walking right into the trap of embarrassing yourself.

"I don't want to pop your bubble but... absolutely." Wooyoung gives you a wry smile, patting your shoulder. "The company's been having a hard time getting new investors for a few months now, I think it's due to less and less creatives coming out. That's also why his secretary suddenly quit and signed with a rival company. Thinks it's the start of the downfall of Park Enchante."

You dramatically fall on your knees, losing all hope for yourself.

"I can't believe I just said those to the Park Seonghwa..." You almost whisper, "...who you didn't tell me is your CEO!" You point out when you suddenly remember, jumping to strangle him.

"I didn't get to?" He slyly tries to get out of your room in a hurry, but you immediately grab his jacket.

"You don't understand! He's a living legend! Did you know he's the youngest CEO who has established his own brand? Do you have any idea how much he's earned just a month after he established his company? How lovely his first works were? My god! I could go on and on!"

"It's not my fault that you didn't know his company name!" He struggles out of your reach, trying to calm you down. "And I'm not down bad for fashion like you are! I'm just someone who works at the company! Also, why apply for marketing, you literally have a god-given talent at styling and creating!" Wooyoung blurts out, and it makes you pout.

"I don't draw and sew shit anymore, Woo." You roll your eyes, plopping to the couch. "It's been years, come on now, let it go! I'm majoring in marketing now so goodbye creatives,"

"y/n, you were so good at that, you were even thinking of starting of making your own brand! Why didn't you push through with it anyway,"

"I didn't think I would earn from it anyway. And starting it would cost so much. Don't worry about it, hands were rusty anyway. I wasn't confident with my own works, too." The atmosphere glooms and you take responsibility for it, clapping and taking a sharp breath. "Anyway! Better be ready for tomorrow. You should go rest, I'll be readying files for tomorrow."

"You got the files?"

"Easily. With permission from your great CEO, the temp secretary gave all out to me at once." You sigh, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have 10 clients to meet tomorrow,"

"Holy shit, I can't get used to these big ass revolving doors," You whisper, and determinedly let out a huff as you admire the big Park Enchante blaring on top of the doors. "I'm getting you in my resume." You nod in commitment, patting your chest to cheer yourself up. But before you even take a step in, three consecutive cars rush in the front of the company, and you stop to see in curiosity.

People rush out of the two cars behind, one opening the car door of the first car.

There he was, so elegant and flashy, coming out of the car with his sunglasses on. Another held an umbrella up for him but he immediately takes it with him, shooting the butler a small smile.

It was the first time you see him smile. You never see him smile. In person (from yesterday's experience), online, whatever paper you see him on, he never smiles. Always that poker face, sleek, straightened-back, poised and just pure... elegance.

"Wow. He's so handsome," You curse through gritted teeth, unconsciously holding your breath as you watch him make his way inside. "He couldn't have seen me, right?" That was a surge of shame running down your veins.

It was rich coming from you that you even had the guts to apply to a company like this.

He wouldn't mind if you wouldn't show up for your deal, right?

"Right." You nod, heels turning around as you make up your mind not to show, gripping your coat and stepping away from the big doors.

Before you're stopped by closed, long, black umbrella.

"May I ask where you're going?" Seonghwa, the almighty himself, now without his sunglasses presents by your side, holding the umbrella up to your waist to stop you.

"Hi." You awkwardly chuckle, "I uh, umm," You think of an excuse, sighing. "Going for coffee. Before going in," You smile in default.

"Ah. Five minutes before supposed time in," He checks his watch, and then at you. "I do not condone late comers. And, coffee's provided in the lobby. Why go for a mile walk if you can get it here,"

"Ha. I didn't know that."

"You're pulling back from the deal." He stated as a matter of fact, taking the umbrella down.

"Why would I for a once in a lifetime offer," You chuckle, shaking your hand in front of him. "I need money to save my life, why would I," Being sarcastic doesn't even go through him.

"Get ready in ten. I'm coming with,"

"What?" You blurted out, face contorted into something... desperate. When Seonghwa turns around to look you in the eye once again. He raises his brow at your reaction, and you immediately fall into a default smile once again. "I mean, you're the CEO. Why would you need to come with,"

"I don't think you've heard," He sighs, confidently stepping towards you. "I'm in a quite desperate situation right now. And I can't quite trust an unskilled candidate employee to go alone with my files."

You inhale sharply as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, stepping towards him as well.

"I'll prove my skills, then." You confidently crane your neck, facing him head on with another challenge. "I'll get employed, get my skillful ass paid, and get out of your company. I'll bet you'll beg on your knees to not let me resign?" You shrug, waiting for his rebut.

He chuckles incredulously, tucking his hands in his pockets. And then he nods, taking your statement seriously.

"I'll be waiting for that day,"

And it wasn't even half the meeting for the first client to see how skillful you were. The way you communicated, the way how you had managed to study all about his company through the files he had provided, and how easily you gave your beautiful smile.

Oh that beautiful smile is what scammed him in this deal in the first place. Although he knew it was sarcastic and far from the real one, he liked it. How you showed confidence, how you were ambitious, how honest you were, how you showed no fear of the high figure in front of you.

It was fresh to see in the industry.

Before he even shoots back to reality, you were done with your first client in thirty minutes. Hopping back to the seat two tables away to observe you after the client has gone, Seonghwa swiftly turns his gaze toward you.

"How was it? Did you fail already?" Seonghwa blinks, but you just open the file folder to present to him, falling flat at the table, signed.

"Promptly, the successful second client meeting will be in another ten minutes, at the hotel next door. Let's get moving, my dear CEO." You smiled, closing the folder and waving it at him.

It wasn't even long before you had finished eight more clients. Seonghwa had stayed silent, only tailing on you and continuously giving you additional information you asked for.

While talking with your last client, your eyes moved to him as he rest his elbow on the armrest of the couch he was sitting on. His eyelids were falling with his chin in his palm, legs crossed. It looked very uncomfortable, making you quicken the pace of the last meeting.

"Thank you very much. We'll contact you once again for future meetings and appointments. I appreciate you coming in person." You bid your farewell, watching him thank and smile at you, shaking hands before going his own way.

When he's out of sight, you made your way quietly two tables away where Seonghwa sat solemnly, sitting in front of him. When he feels it was too... quiet, his eyes finally open to see you sitting in front of him, reading more files he had handed out.

"Ten over ten clients signed. What do you think about that?" You arrogantly shook non-existent dust on your shoulders, leaning back on the chair.

Seonghwa chuckles, scooting to a more proper posture. "You're hired from the first client itself. Saw how you do, saw your potential. Nine more clients were a bonus. Quite impressive, I have to give you that."

"You're beautiful when you smile. Why don't you do it more often?" You scoff, making him squint his eyes at you. "Thank you, sir." You smile, that always default smile. Seonghwa still likes it, though. "I'll treat dinner, follow me. You must be tired." You offer to your huge CEO, gaining ego and confidence now.

"Follow where? We're already at a hotel, we can just eat here." Seonghwa looks around, confused. "And I think you've come to grow a little comfortable with me too much, secretary."

"One, you think my wallet can handle a five-star hotel restaurant?"

"Then you can let me pay for dinner." You shush him sharply, glaring.

"Two, its beyond working hours. You wanted to go with me so I'm giving you the chance of being treated by a broke person. You wanted to go with me so it is not my fault that I can't keep being polite and straight up sucking up all day with you." You ramble, reasoning your hunger for it. When he raises his brow, you press your lips to a thin line. "...Sir."

He scoffs, until he lets you lead the way on where to eat. You lead him to a small grilling house near your neighborhood, coming in like it's already your home.

"Oh, you're with someone new today? Where's Wooyoung?" The owner welcomed you, leading you to a free table.

"Please don't tell him I dined here tonight," You scrunch your nose, patting Seonghwa to let him sit. "We'll take Set B, with a plus of two beers," You smile, and watch the owner hop away after winking at you.

He hesitates, seeing how molds were forming at the corner of the walls.

"Humble setting." Seonghwa mumbles, still looking around in awe. His face scrunches when he sees cobwebs in his side of wall, flinching.

"What, you want to switch?" You chuckle, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes, please." Seonghwa immediately stands up and almost pushes you out of your seat, making you scoff in disbelief.

"This is the best grilling house in town. Haven't you at least heard of it? This ambience makes the food even better and here you are scrunching your beautiful face."

"I've never been to such... humble place," Seonghwa doesn't even look at you. He keeps looking around, as if he was there to scan the place for more cobwebs or worse. "Can't we eat at a more proper place?"

Just at the right timing, the tray was set rather angrily in the table, which made the both of you two jump. The owner scowls at Seonghwa, taking what he said as an insult.

"I think i might just prefer the loud one than a classy one," The owner rolls her eyes before leaving, eyes still glaring at Seonghwa as she does.

You chuckle as you notice Seonghwa stunned in his seat, looking like a kid who just got scolded.

"I'm betting my everything you'll love the food here." You ready your chopsticks, and with your other hand, start grilling the pork and beef. You expertly moved both hands simultaneously, the other mixing the sizzling stir-fried squid while Seonghwa watched you in awe, for the nth time today.

He just finds you interesting.

When finished, you put a mouthful on top of his rice and urged him to take a bite, giddy on your toes to see how he would react.

"Go ahead," You nod, waiting for him. He looks at you and the food suspiciously, and then around. God just please let it be edible. Seonghwa thinks, before finally picking up his spoon and letting the weird thing in his mouth.

You watch him as his suspicious eyes turned into wide ones, urgently taking another sweep of food. You chuckle, smiling proudly and taking your own portion. You began to eat quietly, only observing how the both of you finished in thirty minutes when you and Wooyoung usually finish the set in an hour and a half.

"Looks like you were hungry." You smile, looking at him finish his last bite.

"I mean, wow," He wipes his mouth elegantly with the tissue, tapping his tummy. "That was the most I've eaten for months," He was unlike the CEO who has been uptight and poised the whole time, but rather a kid who had just discovered his now new favorite food and restaurant.

He looks around and finds the owner still glaring at him but did he care? No. He raises two thumbs up and mouths a wow, pointing at a squeaky clean tray and grill. The owner only lets out a scoff, shaking her head.

"It looks like it's your first time eating like this, what life were you living?" You embarrassingly whisper, pushing his hands down.

"It is." Seonghwa mumbles, gulping down the glass of beer. "You see, I've always gone to fine hotels and restaurants and I didn't have the leisure to go around small towns so,"

You coo in disappointment, "You're just in the tip of the iceberg, then," You chuckle. "Let me pour you a glass. To thank you for employing me," You offer the can of beer, waiting for him to offer his own glass. When he does, he gets the can and waits for you to offer yours.

"To my new secretary," He raises his glass, and you smile.

"To my new CEO,"

"God..." You mumble, getting the hair out of your face as sunlight hits you. "My head fucking hurts..."

You grumble, throwing the comfortable sheets over your head and cuddling the warm pillow beside you.

Wait, sunlight?

And a warm pillow beside you? For all you know, your bed in Wooyoung's house only fitted your own body. And there was only a little window that sunlight doesn't even touch your bed.

This wasn't Wooyoung's house. You open one eye to inspect, your eyebrows meeting the first thing in the morning.

"Oh my god." You whisper, hand flying to your mouth to shut the fuck up.

It wasn't a warm pillow. It was a body.

Scratch that, your new boss' body.

You did not just sleep in one bed with your boss. You were still in denial when you slowly took the sheets off of you, sneaking out of bed.

You take a glance to make make sure if it was indeed your boss, taking the sheets that covered his face too.

You gasp, confirming it when his face becomes clear, sleeping sweetly and tightly. You mock cry, hitting your head as you get your purse and your shoes, tippy toeing out of the pension he owned. At least you were both still fully clothed.

You just pray to the gods no one saw you.

You remember getting hellbent drunk with beers last night, calling a designated driver to drive the both of you home with Seonghwa's car. Apparently, you had asked the driver to wait for you while you walked an almost sleepwalking, drunk Seonghwa to his flat and to his room, but he only had a waiting time of thirty minutes so when you didn't show up, he parked the car and left.

When you got to his flat, you threw him to his bed as he cradled his own blanket. His bed looked so comfortable and you swore that you were just going to try lying on it for five minutes.

That five minutes turned into the whole night.

"Where the hell did you stay?!" Wooyoung welcomes you, hitting your shoulder. "What happened? Did you get the job? Why do you have a bedhair? Where did you sleep?"

"I got the job! I have ten minutes to get ready so I'll answer all your questions later. Wait for me!"

It was one whole hell of a story to tell when Wooyoung's the recipient. He keeps on talking backin the middle, talk shit about his boss and how proud he is of you for finally landing a job- the direct secretary of the CEO at that.

"Good morning, sir." You shamelessly greet, handing him a cup of coffee while you tailed him to his huge office.

"Well aren't you very polite now," Seonghwa takes a seat in his office chair, leaning his head back and eyebrows met in between due to the aching head he had after waking up with an alarm.

"I have to keep my job now, don't I?" You smile, the default one you always held. "Would you prefer a hot coffee? I can make you one right now," You offer, heading to the side of the coffee maker in his office to make one for him.

"I drank too much last night I don't remember a thing. Did you get home safe?" Seonghwa's voice was laced with worry, watching your back.

You chuckle nervously, slightly trembling as you make your way to him with his cup of coffee. Careful not to spill it, you put it on his desk.

"Of course I did! Haha!" You reply, clapping even. "I had so much fun, I didn't even get drunk so I was able to go home," When you see Seonghwa nod, you internally sigh in relief. Clasping your hands, you smile again. "Please give me something to do now, dear CEO. This is the day I've been waiting for,"

"Oh yeah?" Seonghwa held a devious smile, standing up from his seat and walking up to a tall shelf of files and files and files. He picks, one, two, three, four, five thick documents and hands them to you all at once, making you stumble on your feet. "I need reports of these documents by tonight. And if ever I need you, I'm ringing this bell. Have you introduced yourself to everybody? Make sure you're getting along with everyone. With your attitude, I think you're going to need it." Seonghwa taps the top document in your hands, making his way to his seat back again.

He feigns ignorance by raising his brows, as if asking you what had you stunned on your place.

"I think I'll do just fine, Mr. Park. Shouldn't take advice from yours truly now, should I?" You smile, difficulty making your way out of his office.

After settling on your large table, you sat comfortably on your seat.

"Wow. Okay, this is really happening." You whisper, in awe of your own table, own nameplate, and the pile of work you're about to do. "I'm doing it. I'm working," You whisper in disbelief, internally screaming and punching the air continuously for about a minute before slapping yourself back to reality, starting your work.

In the other side of the window, Seonghwa watched you in amazement, chuckling. Such a peculiar attitude you had, it kept him in his toes.

"Done!" Not even three hours in, you had barged in his office, putting his files back to his table.

"That's a day's worth of work of a secretary. What do you mean you're done?" Seonghwa had his CEO mode on, making you politely smile. He began to run through the files, analyzing your work.

Peculiar, and good at work.

"That's a day's worth? What secretaries have you been having?" You furrow your brows, skeptic. "I'm just naturally good at work. I told you, you won't regret hiring me. Is there something more I should do?" You smile, waiting for him to finish scanning your work.

"Incredible. You may now go home," Seonghwa nods in acknowledgement, and you crane your neck. "What?"

"...That's it?"

"Well, I don't have any more meetings schedules today, don't I?" Seonghwa confirms, setting the files in the side with a sigh. When you nod, he nods as well. "There's your answer. You can now go home."

"It's not even twelve noon, though?" You question, taking a double look at your watch. "Give me work worth of my pay, I'll feel guilty if you let me do that alone," You demand, even offered your hand to him.

He chuckles, "That's what good workers get. Early leaves." Seonghwa just looks at you with a smile, but you only pout, looking at your offered hands. You still wait for him, and he finally looks around. "I really don't have anything else for you to do though..."

"Then we can't do anything about that," You disappointingly lower your hands, finally bidding goodbye and thanking him for today. "You can call my phone number if you need anything. Please make sure I have a lot to do tomorrow," You chuckle, heading to the door. You hear him chuckle before you closed the doors behind you, heading to the marketing department. "Woo!"

"Oh, you're here," Wooyoung exclaims, side-hugging you and leading you to his table. He was about to leave for lunch break. "What do you mean you're done?"

"He said he gave me a day's worth of work. And he really didn't ring the bell so no one disturbed me so," You explained, bored. "I really don't have anything to do now."

"You can help me with mine," Wooyoung slyly offers, making you squint your eyes.

"No thanks. This is a blessing, I guess," You take a bite of your lunch, while Wooyoung delves into his. He looked more in a rush than you, since he still had work to do. "Can I ask you something?"

"Aren't you already asking?" Wooyoung's childish remark makes you roll your eyes.

"What time does Seonghwa usually leave work?"

"For what, you're going to tail him?"

"Wooyoung," You grunt, slapping his arm.

"I don't know. You should ask the security. We all leave before him. I've never seen him leave work before us unless he's been out since noon for meetings and events and such,"

You nod, finally letting Wooyoung eat in peace. After you're both done, you let Wooyoung get back by himself to his department as you head to the entrance security, asking around. Only to find out that he usually leaves late at night, from nine to even midnight.

You pout, checking your phone. He hasn't really texted you anything he needed or called you for something, and it's just two in the afternoon.

"Maybe he's just cutting me some slack since it's my first day. I should just take it," You breathe out, heading out of the office with your things.

You were wrong. It's been two whole weeks and you've constantly been getting early leaves because you finish early. And Seonghwa has not been giving you more work unless needed- but still, you were able to complete and finish it earlier than expected.

"I can't keep doing this," You pout. "Another early leave? Aren't there more works to do? Reports? Client appointments to make? You're just going to make me leave again? Can't you just make me clean your whole office? Make you coffee? Anything?" You ramble, feeling guilty.

"That's not a secretary's work," He snorts, standing up. He stretches his upper body and you can't seem to tear your eyes off of him while he does so, reminiscing how warm he felt that one morning. You shake your head to reality when you realize he's working towards you, holding your shoulders.

"Come on, I have four more hours before my shift ends!" You protest, but he only twists your body to face the door, and leave you out of it.

"Your work's done, y/n. Thank you for today, I'll see you tomorrow." He softly smiles, and you're out of the door. You face him, almost pleading. He softly shoos you away, and the door is closed.

You throw a simple tantrum outside his door, feeling bored two minutes after your work was done. And just like clockwork, whenever you're done for work, you come to the marketing department to cause chaos in Wooyoung's table while he worked.

You even fell asleep beside him.

Meanwhile Seonghwa, an hour after shooing you, peeked outside to see if you've gone home, and seeing you gone, he chuckles to himself. If you were going to go home anyway, why were you even giving him an earful?

"God, you're so adaptive. You sleep anywhere," Wooyoung shakes you awake, and he's standing up with his things. "Should we go home? It's nearing dinner,"

"Oh..." You stretch, checking your watch. "You go ahead, I'll check on my boss first and see if he needs anything," You pat his arms, "I'll text you," When Wooyoung nods, you give yourself another stretch before heading to the elevators, bumping into hundreds of workers about to go home. At the highest level, there were three or four workers left that were already fixing their things.

"Excuse me, hi." You stop one of them, "Has Mr. Park eaten?"

"I don't think he has," They ponder, "I don't think I saw him gone out of his office after the last meeting before you left. That's it."

After thanking them and letting them go their way, you peek at the big windows to see Seonghwa still working, the brightness of the computer screen blaring at his face.

"He's so handsome," You admire for a minute, before going your way.

Seonghwa scratches his eyes as he heaves a deep breath, standing up from his seat after a while. He walks around, stretching here and there, and then standing up before the glass windows to see the view outside. The city was now in its rush hour, lights living up. Seonghwa almost jumps when he hears a knock, head whipping towards the door.

"y/n?" He squints, confirms it was you when you smile and make your way in. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left?"

"I didn't. I was too guilty to do so," You chuckle, getting the rolling tray table to the side. "I was waiting for you to call or text but I get nothing. What a work," You shake your head, and you reveal a plastic of lunchbox. "I was told you never left your office. So I'm guessing breakfast was what you last ate. Apart from that, hundreds of coffee and your unbelievably expensive chocolate candies you have in your refrigerator,"

Seonghwa almost hops at the sight of food, getting his chair and ready to dig in. It was a scrumptious meal, making Seonghwa exclaim in happiness.

"This is from that restaurant, isn't it?" Seonghwa says in between bites, gulping down the food. You chuckle, nodding. "I missed it. Thank you for bringing it for me," Seeing Seonghwa eat so deliciously makes you smile, admiring him once more. "How about you, have you eaten?"

"I did, before getting here. With Wooyoung," You reply, roaming around his table. You see countless of drawings of clothing styles paired together, one catching your eye. You crane your neck, thinking about something about the clothes. "I think it would be better with nets topped with it..." You whisper, and Seonghwa whips his head to you.

"What was that?" Seonghwa asks, and only did you realize what you were doing.

"Nothing." You smile, showing him the papers. "Beautiful, Seonghwa. I think you're doing great," You place the papers down neatly, careful not to ruin it in any way.

Seonghwa takes your compliment to heart, making him stop munching. He smiles, genuinely. To hear a compliment when he's struggling the most and is not very confident in his own work makes him choke up, but he endures it.

He doesn't know whether it felt more genuine because you were more genuine than you sounded before, always sarcastic and work-driven. Or if it was how you used his name so freely and comfortably that it seemed more genuine to him.

Nevertheless, he liked it.

"You're done? You must've been very hungry," You question, peeking at the almost clean lunchbox. "Stop overworking and digesting too much coffee. Neither is good for your body," You help Seonghwa clean the table up, earning silence.

"Wait for me, I'll drive you home." Seonghwa quickly picks his things up, shutting the computer down.

"What? Your driver?"

"It's beyond working hours," He chuckles, "And I always go home late. I can drive myself home,"

"So the rumors were true," You gasp, feeling a bit sad about his situation. "But don't worry taking me home, it's just one bus away,"

"No, let me. You've been waiting for me and even brought me dinner, I owe you." He insists, taking his bag. "Let's go"

You quietly follow him to the parking, thinking about how hardworking this man was already. He deserved his spot, he deserved everything with all the work he's been doing. What he doesn't deserve was this inevitable situation, wherein all creatives were in a slump.

"Please," You realize Seonghwa had been holding the passenger's seat for you, and you look at him in question. "What, you're planning to sit at the back? Make me your driver? Your boss?"

"No- I mean, I can just-"

"Just sit," Seonghwa urges, pulling you closer and pushing you inside. You grow uncomfortable at the situation, uneasy at your seat. "Want me to buckle your seatbelt as well?"

"No, I can do it myself," You quickly buckle your own seatbelt, watching Seonghwa close your door and jog to his seat. "You know, I can drive you rather,"

"You can?"

"...If I had a driver's license, that is." You shyly giggle, looking outside.

Seonghwa almost pulls you in to pinch your cheeks, but he stops himself. He finds you so cute when you giggled, finding it hard to hold himself. He busies himself with the GPS, getting your attention.

"Input your address now, it's getting late,"

"Ah, right," You scoot closer to the GPS, putting in Wooyoung's address and smiling. "Thank you," You say, before he starts the car and whispers a shy 'weicome.'

You quickly send Wooyoung a short message informing him of your whereabouts.

"You live close by," Seonghwa starts a small talk. "I live just down the street,"

You look at Seonghwa to react, but god the way his sleeves are pulled up and how his vest hugged his figure so perfectly made him look so ethereal.

"...here," You hear Seonghwa's voice zoom back in to reality, making you jump in your seat. "We're here."

"Sorry, I was zoning out," You apologize, looking around and indeed was outside Wooyoung's house.

"I figured," Seonghwa laughs, "I was just babbling around," He looks around as well, seeing how all the lights inside are blaring. "You must be living with someone? Or you just really leave all lights on?"

"Ah. Yes, I live with Wooyoung," Seonghwa's eyebrows furrow, looking at you rummaging your phone to send a text. "Thank you very much for driving me home, please do go home safely. I can't ask you to send me a text when you're home, that'll be too... much for a secretary, wouldn't it?" You chuckle, hopping out of the car.

After thanking him again, Seonghwa urges you to go inside before he speeds off, watching you go inside safely. He peeks inside, using his height as a plus to see up the gates. Wooyoung welcomes you outside and you jump right in his arms, and he sighs.

Right. Living together in one roof, dinners and breaks together. he might have just gotten his heart broken a bit with the information.

Seonghwa gets home safely and loosens his tie, plopping on his couch with a thud.

He looks at his high ceiling, stares. It still brings him to a smile thinking about your effort a while ago, stretching his arms and resting it in his forehead.

He likes you. Of course, as a secretary. Nothing more. Should be nothing more.

But when he sleeps tightly while thinking of you, the sleep he's been wanting for a few years now, so peaceful and deep, he rethinks again. Maybe, just maybe, a little more than just a secretary.

"Good morning!" You welcome, handing him his usual morning coffee. "You slept in today? That's a first," You chuckle, tailing him to head to his office.

"That's a first for me too," He mumbles, steps quick as he's late for about an hour already.

"Why are you in such a rush? You're the president here, no one's going to scold you," You try to keep up, almost tripping on your own feet. He doesn't even give you a glance since he step foot inside, making you pout.

"I've got tons of work to do, you're my secretary. I think you should know that," He sighs defeatedly, which makes you shut your mouth. He makes his way elegantly through his office, immediately opening his computer and getting to work.

After seeing him in his office, you quietly do your own work in your table, stealing glances only here and there inside the office. When you hear a beep from your machine, you jolt up and run to his office.

"Hi, sorry. I need you to do more reports, here are the files." He stretches out more documents, and you quickly hug it to your chest. You wait for a minute or two for him to even glance at you, but to no avail. You awkwardly make your way out of the office, getting to work.

When it's lunch time, you finally stand up to stretch your body and leave for lunch, intentionally dragging work to be able to stay longer. You peek inside to see Seonghwa still in his place, drawing different designs and looking at his computer.

"Woo," You say, taking a bite of your food, "Your boss is so complicated, do you know that?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

"One day he acts close, the second day he's so distant. Or is it just because he's late today? Catching up with lots of work?" You crane your neck, clicking your tongue.

He scoffs, putting his spoon down.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know that you've been spending more time with him than me these past weeks?" He puts on a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey! That's because it's literally my work?" You protest, taking the last bite. "Also, all this time I've been getting off work early, I go home and rest!"

"That doesn't count, I'm not home." Wooyoung shakes his head. "If you weren't home though, you're waiting for him to finish work. You don't think I know that? You sneak out after having dinner with me, saying you need some air and then come back almost midnight,"

"That's... because!"

"Don't try explaining, I understand. Our president's very likeable. Handsome and successful. He just has his bad days," Wooyoung states as a matter-of-fact, nodding.

"What, like being late in his own company?" You roll your eyes, pushing your tray.

"He's never late. Maybe that's why,"

"What's wrong with being late? There was a time I was never late too!"

"Why are you getting mad at me, I'm literally just stating facts here and trying to console you!" Wooyoung and you have been unconsciously raising your voices, making you apologize around immediately.

You meet Seonghwa's eyes in the entrance, making you jump as if a deer caught in headlights. You don't even know but you feel guilty, looking right at him with apologetic eyes.

He just ignores and turns his back on you, going his own way. You quickly grab your things and drink Wooyoung's water, glaring at him as you try and catch up with Seonghwa.

"Weren't you going to go grab lunch?" You ask, feet busy.

"I was. I didn't like the menu," Seonghwa replies, rushing back to his office.

"Should I get you lunch outside?"

"There's no need."

"I insist. I still have ten minutes for my break. I can get you something you want. There's a lot of restaurant near anyway,"

"y/n, there's no need. I'll just continue my work,"

"Still, you should eat."

"I said there's no need, y/n." His voice wasn't loud, but stern and strong. Just like you viewed him before you worked for him. His look was cold, as if you had just touched a sensitive button for him.

You felt small at that moment, shuffling your hands in awkwardness and shame. You may have felt too comfortable with your boss in such a little time.

"Alright, sorry." You mumble, eyes falling down in an instant and politely apologizing. You step back to reach for the door handle and invite yourself out.

Seonghwa beats himself up right when the door closes but wakes himself up immediately. He's got no time for anything else but his work. He has to work.

So when he glances outside the windows to look at you, he brainwashes himself that he did nothing to be apologetic to you and proceeds to work.

"Here are the last reports, is there anything more I can do?" You confirm, and only with a shake of a head he shoos you off. You politely, once again, bid your farewell and immediately take your leave, heading straight to Wooyoung.

It was the first time you had finished work right before designated off work time, Wooyoung already preparing to go home.

"Why do you look so down?"

"Nothing," You smile, tailing him home. Wooyoung doesn't press on it, changing to a different topic. You stop when you realize you're in front of the restaurant you always eaten dinner.

"I think I'm gonna pass, Woo. I can accompany you eat though,"

Wooyoung ended up only ordering a take out, feeling sorry with the thought of eating alone in front of you if you weren't going to eat. He doesn't ask any more, you were probably going to tell him if you can't handle it yourself.

"I'll take a walk around first, Woo. Clear my head," Your feet ends up in front of your company, hand holding a plastic of food. "What the hell am I even doing here,"

You sigh, heading inside and to his office sneakily. You hesitate whether to bother him again and make him eat dinner, because he may skip both lunch and dinner at this point.

When you peek inside the windows, he was focused on his work, holding a paper up to see if any new ideas will pop up if he stretched it out through the light. Again, you sigh, leaving the company all at once when you realize that you might step beyond the boundary once again.

Seonghwa groans in frustration as he sets the paper down, no new ideas popping up. He decides to call it a night and starts packing up, turning the computer off.

When he turns the knob and felt it heavy, he turns to look at the plastic left hanging on it.

You skipped lunch so please eat dinner. I'm saying this with the sense of responsibility as your secretary. Don't overwork and sleep tight. y/n.

He read the note and left him with a smile, taking the plastic with him as he goes home and eats it deliciously. To be honest, he was quite expecting you to be waiting for him once again like how you did last night. But after his burst out, he realizes that maybe it was too much that he was even expecting that from you.

The food was great, it would've been better if you were there, though.

This continues on for the rest of the week. Leaving food in his door, Seonghwa expecting to see food once he leaves work, Seonghwa and you only talking when you need it for work. That's it.

You don't cross the boundary once more, doing your best with your work until your first paycheck.

"A million?!" You blink rapidly to see if you were only dreaming, looking at your bank account with previously only a dollar and sixty-seven centavos.

"A million?!" Wooyoung exclaims when he hears you, rushing to your phone. "What the fuck?! You're a millionaire within a month?!"

"What the fuck! Must've been an honest mistake, I got to text Seonghwa,"

"Keep it! God-given blessing, duh!" You roll your eyes at Wooyoung, immediately asking Seonghwa to call you once his schedule is free. "You and your reasons, you just want to talk to him!"

"Well, who doesn't?!" Clearly, yes, you're only making up reasons to gain just a minute of extra attention from Seonghwa, and you don't put effort into denying that. "Shush!" You shut Wooyoung off when you read Seonghwa's message that he's free now, immediately dialing his number.

"Hi. You know what, could you please go to the office now? I'll be waiting. Sorry if this is sudden," Seonghwa initiates, and you hear a sigh. "I just have one more document to do and then I'm free,"

"If you have something to do, it's fine. I'll be there tomorrow anyway. It's nothing to rush."

"It's okay, I have something to confirm too and I need it tonight. Only if it's not a hassle though,"

"I'll be there in twenty."

You know softly and peek inside, seeing Seonghwa solemnly napping in his desk, head over arms. Papers were scattered around his table, two empty cups of coffee at the side, monitor still blaring. You walk quietly, making your way to admire his face a little longer.

You smile, wanting to trace his sharp features, craning your neck to get a better view. Your eyes follow his eyes, nose, lips, and then the table.

What the fuck.

Your eyes widen at the realization, stunned in place. At the same time, your nervous, heavy breathing wakes Seonghwa up, opening his eyes and blushing when he realizes how close you were.

"Why are these here?!" You exclaim, snatching three, four, five papers from the table. Seonghwa sighs when you finally got space between the both of you, taking a minute or two to calm himself down before he answered you.

"I was finding the invitation for tomorrow night's event, saw those on your drawer." Seonghwa explains, while you gawk at your drawings. When you were bored, you tried mix and matching different styles of clothes, designing them, and drawing them to life. "Did you make these?" He leans back in his chair, swiveling to your side.

"Ye- No? I don't know? I mean," You ramble, shaking your head. You take a deep breath, thinking how to excuse yourself out of the situation.

There was no way out.

"Look, I just made those when I was bored. It's shit." You wave your hand off, hiding the papers behind your back. "Let me go get the invitation and I'll be off," Before you take a step away, Seonghwa stands up in his place and walks toward you.

When he's a step away in front of you, he stops, tucking his hands in his pockets and stares down at you.

"Were you initially planning on applying for designs?"

"No." Your quick reply makes him squint his eyes, waiting for you to continue. "Where would I get the confidence for that?" You scoff, "I told you, I needed money to continue my masters, I have a degree in business marketing. Why would I apply for something not in my field?"

"Because you don't need a degree for that. All I need is creativity and originality."

"Just let me off, sir. I told you, these were made during breaks, you don't need to put much thought on it,"

"Now I'm a sir?" Seonghwa scoffs, taking a step closer and leaning to meet you eye level. "If those were made during breaks, what more could you do if you're paid to do it? Something you really love doing, getting paid, seeing your works being brought to life, and getting credited for it,"

You gulp, realizing that Ha, Seonghwa isn't dumb to connect the dots. With the way you denied your works, bragged your unrelated degree and how you avoided the topic, for sure it was something you'd keep in the dungeon because you didn't realize you'd be much closer step to one of your unrealistic dreams.

You were just a broke college student taking a LOA because of a crisis in financial status two months ago, who knew you'd be working in one of the biggest fashion brands in the world? When you thought you've had let go of your useless talent and dream long ago already?

"I'll get these," Seonghwa reaches for the papers you hid behind your back with a smirk while you had your guard down, showing it to you. "Let's get you home."

You stayed quiet the whole ride, thinking of what Seonghwa had said. Were your works really just acknowledged by the one and only? Works that, for you, even made half-heartedly? Should you have applied for creatives than marketing? Should you have never even hidden your talent and skills?

If you hadn't, then where would you be now? What would you be now?

"We're here." Seonghwa turns on the hazard, removing his seatbelt to take a good look at you.

"Ah," You mumble, removing your own. "Thank you." You were about to open the door when he stops you, tugging your sleeve.

"I mean what I said with your works." He starts, "I have a spot open in the creatives in case you want to, but no pressure." You nod quietly, mumbling another thank you. You open the door and leave, standing safely beside and waiting for him to drive off.

Before he does, he rolls the windows down and smiles at you softly.

"Meet me tomorrow at the entrance of Lotte Mall at eight in the morning if you have the slightest interest in it," You nod once again, pushing through a smile before he asks you to leave first.

You open the gates to the house, seeing the lights still on, Wooyoung must still be waiting for you.

"Hey," You call softly, landing in the couch. Wooyoung was preparing hot tea for you, asking you to wait for a second. When he skedaddles to the living room with the tea, he immediately notices your expression.

"How did the salary talk go?"

"Oh, went south," You chuckle, taking a sip of the tea that warmed your insides. "I didn't even get to bring it up,"

"What happened?! Are you fired?!" He exaggerates, slamming the table. You chuckle, calming him down.

"No, but he found my drawings I did during break and long story short, said he has a spot open in the creatives." Wooyoung's shoulders drop when he realizes that you, Seonghwa, and him had messed with a sensitive spot of yours, making you think of countless possibilities.

But at the end of the rainbow, he thinks that this might be a good shot at rekindling your dreams.

"y/n... Don't you think it's worth the try?" He takes your hand and caresses it, "Park Enchante is literally offering you a spot because the president liked your work! It's a great steppingstone, a large one at that!" Wooyoung tries to be optimistic, at the same time realistic. "You've always been the talented one, y/n. Don't you think you didn't have to dig up that dream you once buried because Seonghwa already did it for you?"

You stayed quiet all this time, but tears were already forming in your eyes and in no time, flowing.

Seonghwa dug up your dream for you, Wooyoung rekindled it, and it was now up to you to keep the dream going.

"Are we waiting for someone, sir? The tailor for your suit should be inside," His driver holds the umbrella up for him, already been standing outside the entrance of the mall for a good five minutes or so.

"Just one more minute," He looks at his watch, which read 8:13, and around. You hadn't given him any text, but he waits in case. He sighs when the clock ticks another minute, ready to go in when he hears quick heavy steps, revealing a fresh-from-a-run you.

"I'm here! I'm here..." You catch your breath, holding your arm up high while your other assisted your body to your knees.

Seonghwa's smile grows big, and his driver takes a double look because he hadn't seen his boss smile like that the past 5 years he's been working under him.

"You can leave now, y/n will stay with me," He smiles brightly at the driver, patting his shoulder as he walks closer to you.

"Lotte mall is such a long ride from home, why would you pick this one amongst all the other?!" You're still catching your breath, holding yourself from hitting him.

"Let's head inside, it's much warmer there and we could get you a drink." Seonghwa lends you a helping hand, stretching his arm out for you to hold on to. "My favorite tailor is here, that's why I picked this one," He leads you to a shop after resting for a while, proudly pointing at it.

As you head inside, you see various of designs of suits and blouses and shirts and different kinds of clothing for men that god, you just want to try and match different things and style it your own way and everything.

He watches you be in awe as your eyes roam around, seeing your eyes sparkle just like how his did when he first step foot in this shop.

"Your suit's ready sir, this way please."

"Wait for me here, I'll get out once I'm done," You only nod at him and roam around the shop while waiting for him, styles catching your eye.

"Seonghwa definitely fits this shop," You mumble, a smile on your lips.

"I'm ready," You hear Seonghwa from behind, and you turn to look at him.

God. He's so beautiful.

He presented with a simple suit, but with a turtleneck inside, necktie loosely worn, vest tightly hugging his figure and coat only hanging on his broad shoulders. He had loose, leather trousers that fit just perfectly the style of the top, making you gawk. (for reference: that one golden hour concept photo outfit)

It was such a simple outfit for someone like him, but Seonghwa radiated so much charisma, elegance and of course, superiority.

When you realize you were staring too much, which made Seonghwa almost twirl in his place in shyness, you smile smugly.

"Nice. Screams so much like you," You bluntly compliment, but Seonghwa knew better that you meant so much more. He knows that eyes will never lie, speaking as someone who speaks with various fashionistas every single chance he gets.

"Thank you," He mumbles, fighting his own demons to smile so wide. "Now, it's your turn."

"My turn? My turn for what?" You question, but he only pushes you out of the shop after loudly thanking the tailors once again. "For what, pres?"

"Your outfit." You both stand outside a humungous branch of Park Enchante, lights shining brightly to welcome you.

"For what?! Look, my bank account can't handle a single thread in your store, what the hell am I even here for? I know you just paid me a million, which I have a question for another time, but here?! And for what?!"

"Don't worry about that," Seonghwa shakes his hand in front of you, urging you to come in with him. You had no choice but to tail him, a habit you built for the past two months.

"This, this this..." Seonghwa was literally picking everything his eyes land on, making you try this and that and playing dress up with you. "No, no, no. Skip that," And of course, a lot getting rejected.

"Seonghwa, may this be the last one or I swear to the heavens I am passing out inside this fitting room right then and now," When you open the door, it takes Seonghwa a minute or two before he claps slowly, and loudly.

"That!" He points, "That's your outfit," He proudly stands up to walk closer and take a good look at you, swirling you around. He smiles proudly and sighs, pushing your shoulders to a well-lit full body mirror. "You look amazing," He sweetly smiles, making you feel all giddy inside. "I'll be at the counter. You don't need to change back to your clothes," He pats your shoulder and leaves, making you take a good look at yourself.

He was right. You looked amazing. The outfit was literally made for you. You smile as your hands roam around it, admiring it.

"Right." You mumble, patting at yourself. "Amazing."

"Let's go?" Seonghwa asks, carrying the paper bags which consisted of both his and your clothes from a while ago.

"Shouldn't I go change? What's this for anyway?"

"For tonight." He explains, shaking his head when you try to get the paper bags from him.

"And why do I get one as well?"

"Because you're coming with?" He rhetorically answers, as if you should've known.

"For your information, my dear CEO, the event for tonight will be private, consisting of directives of Park Enchante only. No outsiders allowed," You explain, "Now I'm going to change back to my clothes because there is no way I'm getting this just because you're the owner,"

"I'm the owner, I could do what I want." He stretches his arm up high, making it impossible for you to reach the paper bags. "And I'm the CEO. I could invite who I want. Now let's get going because one, I'm hungry, two, we'll be running late for the event if we don't eat now and go for the event."

"Oh my god, what am I even doing here," You quietly stand in one corner, seeing Seonghwa mingle with other directives in the small hall.

The event was meant for a small, formal gathering for a supposedly, announcement that will be made by the CEO himself. But an hour in, Seonghwa still hasn't made any move to pronounce anything.

"Hey," Seonghwa pulls you to a table, handing you a drink. "You look stunned." He chuckles.

"Of course I will be," You say through gritted teeth, smiling sarcastically. "What the hell am I even supposed to do here?"

"You're the star of the event, actually."

"The what?" You dramatically sigh, having enough of his bullshit. Fine he looked gorgeous, with his hair done immaculately and his outfit god made for him, but you were done with his surprises.

He pulls out a paper and a pen, softly smiling at you. You realize that he wasn't joking, making you furrow your brows.

"What's this?" Before you focus on the paper, he takes your shoulder and makes you look at him. He notices a stray hair and tucks it behind your ear, smiling once again.

"There is absolutely no pressure in this, y/n. If you don't agree, this gathering will just be a gathering. We'll act like nothing happened and you'll continue to be my secretary for as long as you want, get paid as much as you want."

You see where this is going, making you sigh.

"But if you agree, I will stand up for you among these people to announce that I have seen one of the best works I have seen my entire life, coming to collaborate with Park Enchante to produce the best works in the industry. How does that sound?"

You stare right at him, as if he just said the most ridiculous ment in the whole of your existence. You had not seen this part coming. You thought it would only be a you and Seonghwa talk, but he had other plans.

At the same time, although you have already decided only this morning, being questioned like this wasn't part of your plan. You still had your doubts, your insecurities, your overthinking to even come up with a final answer.

And as if Seonghwa read your mind, "I'll be here to help you. We can help each other grow, and I can offer you the free of contract. You can stop whenever you like, and I will support whatever decision you make."

You stayed quiet, tears forming once again. Before it even falls, Seonghwa had already wiped them off your eyes, and pulled you in for a hug.

"You can leave if you want. We will forget this ever happened." Seonghwa's words made you shake your head, pulling back to face him. When you smile, the heaviness on your chest leaves.

"Are you sure this is without pressure? You just told me I'm the star of the event," You squint your eyes at him, making him chuckle.

"Okay, maybe with a bit of pressure. With your talent, I don't want it to either go to waste or to be of another brand's hands," The thought made him shiver, as you let out a hearty laugh.

With a breath, you pick the pen up and sign both copies of paper, making Seonghwa exclaim exaggeratedly and punch the air, earning a lot of weird stares.

"Yes! Finally, everyone!" He shouts, holding the paper in his hand and leaving the other copy in the table. He gives you a tight hug before leaving to the stage, tapping the mic to finally announce you as an official creative and still secretary.

While everyone is still in doubt, Seonghwa goes on a rave about how amazing your works he discovered are, emphasizing that you only did it on your breaks.

Embarrassed, you hang your head low and apologized for the commotion he's causing, glaring at him and mouthing for him to come down.

Making his way to you, he was stopped by a few directives for a small talk about the announcement and honestly, you couldn't care less about what others say. Seonghwa believes in you, the Park himself in Park Enchante. What could others hold against you?

You sigh in relief as the other copy of paper you signed caught your attention, scanning through the pages of paper until you're in the last.

This contract is only for the purposes of having an agreement, but the client is of free-employment role.

The client's status will be (1) Direct Secretary of the President of Park Enchante; (2) Creative Fashion Designer and Stylist of Park Enchante.

And optionally, (3) To be Park Enchante's President's personal company for as long as the client wants.

The client's assistance over the last two months has been much appreciated by Park Enchante's president. The president owes the client tremendous gratitude since the president recognized and valued even the modest efforts the client made over the previous two months.

By signing this page additionally, the client grants Park Enchante's president into their personal life in return for their services.

You scoff at the amount of ridicule the 'contract' was oozing of, but at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat.

"Ridiculously childish," You mumble, yet the smile can't be wiped off your face.

"Oh, you read it," Seonghwa's smile falters a bit, seeing how you reacted to it. "You don't have to mind that, you know,"

"Isn't this abuse of power?" You shake your head, waving the paper in front of him.

"Hey, it says there optionally," Seonghwa pouts, "As long as you signed the first page as our creatives, everything's good," Yet he can't help feel his heart break a bit at the thought that slipped his mind- Wooyoung. "It's my company, my contract, I can alter it as much as I want," Seonghwa mumbles like a little kid talking back.

You scoff at his words, "Ah, so you don't want it signed?" You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "I was more than willing to let you in my personal life though," You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "What do I do with this copy, then? It's already signed,"

You see the process of Seonghwa getting bewildered, to his eyes shining bright as it beamed at you, realizing what you had just said as his smile grows wider than it already was a while ago.

"Really?" Despite the excitement and the shock, his voice was sweet and soft. Delicate, as he steps closer to you and cups your cheeks.

"Really, Seonghwa." You mumble, smiling at him. You stretch your hand out to ask for the other copy, but he only pulls it and engulfs you in a warm, tight hug.

"I've been holding my feelings off for so long," He whispers, breath hitting your neck, "Now we're even bonded through paper,"

"I will stay to company you to my deathbed, Seonghwa." You chuckle, still finding it ridiculous at how you find the contract still ridiculously sweet at the same time. "But please, do not ever do that again. If you're going to ask me out, ask me out like how a normal person will,"

"What's a Seonghwa if it wasn't for my self-made ideas?"

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

[miley1442111]

birthday blues part 2- s.reid

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

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

summary: spencer makes a choice that leaves you alone on an important day and causes something in your relationship breaks.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: birthday blues, spencer's an ass, cursing, talks of breaking up, no happy ending :(

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

You walked to your favourite coffee shop the next morning, trying to get everything out of your mind. Your family had texted you over and over last night, wondering why you’d cancelled, and god, you felt awful for cancelling on them. 

But really, it wasn’t your fault. It was Spencer’s. A part of you wanted to just throw him under the bus and tell your parents what he did, but the other part, the part that was head-over-heels in love with him, made you feel like a bad person for even thinking that. 

A buzz in your pocket made you startle back to reality. You had your coffee, you were sitting in the sun and thinking over everything. 

Spencer ❤️: Can we talk soon? I’m so sorry and I love you. 

You sighed and put your phone down. The storm inside your head raged on, confusing you more and more. It had been months and months of this. He was never there. He wasn’t ever there for you either, when you truly thought about it, you realised that when he was there, he was unloading everything off of him onto you, or you two were having sex. Which was fine, for the most part. But, you wanted a real relationship, you wanted someone to be there for you, and you deserved it. You’d spent your whole life letting other people speak for you, you’d spent your whole life letting other people make your life harder just to make theirs easier. Enough was enough. 

You: I think it’s best if we don’t.

Spencer read it immediately and his heart sank. 

Spencer ❤️: What do you mean???

You: I mean that maybe we should see other people. 

Spencer ❤️: Why would we do that?

You: Because I’m sick of being second-best to everything and everyone in your life. You knew it was my birthday, you knew what it meant to me to let you meet my PARENTS, and you still didn’t have the fucking decency to show. I don’t want someone who brushes important things off. 

Spencer hadn’t slept a wink. He’d thought your relationship had been good, great even. What was all of this about? You were breaking up with him? Had he really fucked up that badly this time? He knew it was your birthday, yes. He knew it meant a lot to you to have him meet your parents, yes. He knew he had been putting your relationship on the back-burner for a while now, and yes, he felt bad. 

But come on, his life was difficult enough.

Spencer ❤️: Please can we just talk?

You: About what?

Spencer ❤️: Us?

You rolled your eyes as a tear finally slipped past your waterline. He really was just so… unknowable. How did you ever think you’d figure him out? How did you even think you’d be able to help him? To fix him? 

You: I don’t think there is an ‘us’ anymore. We want different things, and we’re both too stubborn to change. Don’t call me and don't come by my apartment. 

Spencer ❤️: Please can we talk about this. 

He was begging, and he didn’t even care. He wanted you- no, needed you. This wasn’t fair, he had to have a chance, you needed to give him a chance, at least.

You: You’ve had enough chances Spencer. 

As if you’d read his mind. He’d had a lot of chances, you were right. But he just needed one more, and he’d never fuck it up again, he swore. 

Spencer ❤️: Please Y/n, I’m sorry. 

You: Not sorry enough. 

And you blocked him. Fuck him. He didn’t deserve you. You deserved so much better. 

But Spencer Reid, he had a plan.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

@hiireadstuff

taglist for this au:

@bringitonhomejohnb

@cat-lockwood

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!