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heartfullofleeches · 2 years ago

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Yandere Show Host (oc) x Gn! Co-Host Reader

Word count:3.k

Warning: cheating, psychological horror, body horror

“It’s cold up here…”

Cool tiles cradle you, curved edges gliding against the back of your legs as you pull them to your chest. You cover your knees with the hem of your shirt, trying to fight the cold in any way possible. The harsh wind slapped at your face and arms; world at your feet from the edge you sat on. You wanted to feel like you were on top of it all. To shout and feel like you mattered to the universe; but it was hard to do so with no comfort at the end of your cries – neither below nor beside you.

“I think we should take a break.”

You ball your fist into your clothes. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it.

“You know I care about you. I just… don’t think I’m ready for this kind of commitment, yet. I’ll.. call you when I am.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket. He’s still right beside you, but so – so far away. You stare down at it, hoping; pleading for his ring tone to play. Praying he won’t leave you again to spend a night in another’s arms.

“Y/n, ugh- come on. Don’t do this.”

Your hands shake. It’s always your fault.

“We just need a little time apart.”

Always we. Your feet feel like they’re losing stability; slipping off to the abyss below.

“Y/n. Y/n?!”

Y/n?

You open your eyes. A fan hangs over a velvet ceiling, chandelier below swaying as it blows air down on you. Floral shaped glass that held identical lights as their bulbs. Satin pillows held your back, soft enough to lure you back to sleep near immediately – had you been laying on them completely. Your limbs hung off the side of the couch, neck supported by a hand at its base. The skin was so cold; draining your natural heat till it mellowed into a neutral temperature. The permanent smile on your co-host's face greets you as you turn your attention to him, shoulders rising with a laugh.

“What have I told you about sleeping on the couch, you silly thing.” Host chimes. “You’ll get a crook in your neck. Bad for the show and yourself.”

You sit up with his aid, stretching the exhaustion and ache away with a yawn. The rest of the room wasn’t much to look at. A tall mirror clung to one wall, dressing table pushed in front and light bulbs screwed into its golden frame. Vases of flowers and various cases of makeup lined the table, the latter hardly ever put to use. A rack of clothing stood not too far off, every article tailored to your measurements as apposed to posted to Host’s lanky, slightly built frame. Lastly, there was a grey door, covered by sheer curtains and your name bolded in cursive across its wood. A place where your near every desire lied.

“I'm sorry. Yesterday had me a little more winded than usual.”

“Should we take a break for today then? We can have a good show any day, but a spectacular one only happens when you’re feeling 100%”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

“Wonderful. Shall we get ready then?” Host offers his hand, lifting you to your feet effortlessly. You walk over to the table, taking a seat upon the cushioned chair in front of it. Host tends to your hair, combing out your bedhead with his long fingers. Gentle strokes that fall down to the nape of your neck; relishing in the life beneath his fingertips. He hums to himself, satisfied with his work. With the fact he had such a stunning co-host. His chin rests atop your head; head tilted towards the mirror at you. In the corner of your eye lies your old phone dormant on the edge of the table. It vibrates with the arrival of a call.

“Absolute perfect! Everyone’s gonna love you out there.”

You flash a tired smile, ridding yourself of the hallucination as you look away. How long has it been since you became his co-host? You couldn’t remember. Time stood still for the most part; your only notion of it bring a bell that would toll before the start of each show. It was frightening at first. As a contestant, your time was spent cowering under the audiences' awaiting gaze; but upon your glorious win they did nothing but sing praises to the heavens – celebrating the new permanent figure on their stage. Though he’d never tell another soul, Host walked you through everything until that point. A bit of a cheat, sure, but he knew you’d be wonderful at everything after. They loved you, eternally – even when there were those days you wondered what life was like back home.

“What’s with that look? Do you need something?”

Host snaps his fingers, a stage hand appearing front the shadows. They looked so close to human; differences spilt only when given a long glance. Crooked hands carry a tray; skin an even deeper grey than his. Their neck was a few inches too long; face blank except for a pristine smile – just like your dear Host. He takes a pitcher from the tray, pouring you a glass of water into a cup that wasn’t there moments ago. His hands rest on your shoulders, smoothing the knots in your joints.

“Please let me know what you need.”

You look down. “I was just wondering…if anyone missed me back home.”

The ice in the glass settles. Silence kicks in too long to be comfortable, before Host’s body begins to shudder once more. It quakes with the force of his laughter. His form hutches over yours, trying to keep the laughs inwards to his best extent. He wipes an imaginary tear from an imaginary eye before addressing you again.

“Of course they miss you! You’re bound to be the highlight of anyone’s day, Y/n, but you must remember, this is home now. You’re no bigger of a star to anyone than us.”

“I.. I know, but I cant help it sometimes, y'know?” You say, offering a small chuckle of your own.

Of course he knows. He knows everything about you. Fears, likes and dislikes, – regrets. Your every dream; both in regards to what you desire and those images in your head. If it weren’t for his permanent smile, he’d be grinning with anticipation for what he had in store.

“Yes, I understand, dear. Just know that you belong here, and we’ll never let go.”

His hands clutch the sides of your arms, head angled awkwardly in the mirror. Just – staring. An alarm rings from nowhere, shutting off abruptly after the third buzz. Host clasps his hands together – you jumping at the sharp sound of his palms meeting. He smooths his slick hair back further and pulls your seat out for you.

“Well that’s our cue! Ready to give our fans another great performance?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Wonderful. Let’s get to it then.”

You stand to your feet once more, joining Host at a large curtain on the other end of the room; stage lights seeping from beneath the fabric. He exits before you, getting the crowd nice and warm up before your entrance just as he always did.

“Gooood day, lovely viewers! Welcome back to another show with your truly; your forever host – Host!”

The audience cheers. Shrill cheers that become muffled beneath the soundtrack playing around.

“Yes, yes. Hello to you all too. And what a delight greeting it has been so far. We can’t forget our wonderful co-host though, now can we? Give it up for our better half; the lovely as ever, Y/n!”

That’s your mark. The curtain bends under your hand, parting before you can even push them aside. The mutters from the crowd begin. As soon as your legs sweep over the stage floor their voices rise. The headlights blind you momentarily as you step out fully; wrapping you in a daze that felt like waking on another world. Your attire changes under the darkness behind your eyes, microphone in hand; and posture straightening as you greet your adoring fans.

“Greetings, everyone! It’s a pleasure to see you all again.”

The shouts from the crowd are just as; if not more appraising as they were for your partner. You smile and wave; soaking up the attention. Host couldn’t be more proud.

“I think we’re ready to begin another fabulous show. And quite a special one we have today. Y/n, do you know what today is?”

“Uh.. Wednesday?”

Host laughs, followed by a few chuckles from the audience.

“Oh, Y/n. Wednesday was last month. Today is the one year anniversary of you being our gracious star!”

The lights flicker off, returning with a central beam pointed directly at you. A banner hangs over head; congratulating you on the anniversary in bold, red lettering. Balloons and confetti fall around you. The audience hollers in cheer.

“We do love our co-host, don’t we now? Unfortunately, it seems to me that they don’t understand the lengths of our affection. By the end of today’s show I think they’ll have a change of heart.”

Your throat feels dry. What was he on about? Keeping a straight face, you smile into your mic.

“Thank you, all so much. You’re too kind..”

“Haha. No, Y/n, I think you are.. Let’s bring out our contestant!”

The room goes dark once again, more abruptly than the last. When everything settles, the layout of the stage had changed. The vacant area to your right was now blocked by a half wall you could see around if you peak – screen above showing all you needed to see. A large red heart was pastured to the wall behind, three chairs and a podium placing in tow. A landline phone was placed on a stand, as well as one on the podium. Shadows sat to each chair, dim lighting concealing their faces. The fourth stood at the podium, writhing around in place with muffled cries. You could see the outline of fingers over its mouth; the silhouette of more limbs encasing its body and keeping it in place.

“The game of this episode is all about missed connections. In our lives, we make so many new ones, we have to snip the old to make room. No matter how strong the cord may be. Our eager bachelor here knows a lot about that, which is why he’s perfect for our show! Put your hands together for, S!”

Illumination returns to the other half of the stage. The arms around the contestant vanish with the glow; leaving a blindfolded and shaken up man in their stead. Beads of sweat drip from his temple; him squirming in place like he was trying to get off the podium, but was unable. His hands were stuck to the surface no matter how hard he pulled. He was dresses in a letterman’s jacket, the embedded S pealing from the stitching – just like you remembered.

“Host?...”

His glance falls upon you for a single second, before he faces the crowd like nothing happened.

“Quite a looker, isn’t he? Our helpers for today thought so too at one point.”

“H-hey.. hey, what the hell is this? Where am I?!”

“Speaking out of turn are we? I wouldn’t advise that, unless you want to face a penalty. “

The man clams up, shaking like a dog in rain.

“Onto the rules of the game. One by one, our helpers will walk up to the phone and list a few things about themselves. It’s our contestant’s job to remember a single fact about them – their name. Three rounds for three members of his past. Simple enough, right?”

“Please.. I don’t know what I’ve done, but-"

Host lends into his microphone. “Shut up and play by our rules or face punishment like every other rule breaker. ..Let’s bring out our first assistant. Walk on down, A!”

The shadow in the seat closest to the telephone stands up. Their appearance becomes visible as they step into the light. They appeared to be a normal human being; all up to the left side of their face. It was smudged like someone rubbing off make up; lips stretched to their ear and eyelid permanent closed from the abnormality. They pick up the receiver, phone on the other end ringing in response. The constant quivers more, refusing to answer.

“Pick it up.”

The function in his arm is brought back as he hesitantly picks up the phone, putting it to his ear.

“H…ello?”

“We met a weekend in February. I blew you a kiss, you slipped your phone number into my pocket. They had no clue while you held their hand the entire time.”

“Fuck… fuck! Um, February.. R… Riley! Your name is Riley!”

“Corrrect!” Host exclaims. The man breathes a sigh of relief as the crowd cheers. You stare at the ground. Overtime you grew a numbness to the contestants and their cruel fates. You had to, if you wanted to keep your sanity; but this was too much. Too close to home. Home you foolishly believed to be yours alone for years. It feels hard to breathe.

“Everything alright, Y/n?”

“Yea.. Yes just….” You force yourself to bright up. “Excited for our guest getting his first question correct.”

“Glad to hear it! Onto the next one.”

The assistant at the stand leaves and the next makes their appearance. Body littered in bite marks; namely the neck and chest area. They ooze with a black liquid, dripping onto the phone as they take hold.

“We hooked up in the bathroom of the local theater. I saw you leaving a movie with your arm around someone thirty minutes later. You called me the next day. Who am I?”

The man’s lip quivers. “I.. I..”

Steps draw near him. The assistant peers over his shoulder, receiver still in hand. The cord slaps against his neck, tightening as their breath hits his face. They repeat into the phone, unable to take otherwise.

“Frankie.. Oh, god.. Frankie.”

His shoulder heave at the second round of applause. Tears fall from beneath his mask; rambling to himself as his nails rack against the podium.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-“

“Marvelous! Only one round to go.”

The process repeats. The final assistant walks to the stage. Their skin a pure black, eyes crossed out with a red, crayon like ink. The same ink was sprawled over their chest like an crude, anatomically accurate heart; bleeding down their torso. Their lips moved unnaturally as they spoke, like a frame by frame picture.

“I was the one who you came to most. You promised we’d be together eventually. I smiled when they went-"

“Blair…” The answer comes out in a quiver. He can’t bring himself to say more. He falls to his kneels; forces holding him like a puppet on a string allow him his moment of weakness. Your own legs feel like they’ll give out as well.

“Annnd there we have it, folks! Our contestant has finished all three base questions, but there’s still the bonus around for him to complete.”

“No, no, no. No, fuck you! You said I only had to do three! You lied!”

“Now, now. When did I say “only? Let’s get too it.”

The lights flicker yet again. There’s only a chair on stage, you now in it, and under the crowd's perpetual stare. They feel closer than normal, faceless grins shifting further upwards; socket-less eyes wide open and trained on you. Host appears on the screen above, speaking for the final assistant.

“We met in high school.”

“No.. please..”

“I was the one that learned to sew when you couldn’t afford the jacket for your team.”

“Not you… Anyone, but you.”

“I was there for you when your mother died. Covered your shifts for you and took care of you when you were sick.”

“You can’t be here..”

“You abandoned me everytime I poured my heart out to you.”

“I was scared…”

“Who am I?”

“Don’t make me say this..”

“Who. Am. I.”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

Wrong answer~

Suddenly, everything returns to normal – as normal as it could be in this twisted place. The assistants are back, all staring past you at the contestant. He rips the blindfold from his face, looking around the room. Fear streaked his face as his eyes fell on the assistants, and you before them; silent and in tears.

“Y/n… Is that really you?”

You turn away. The assistants stand.

“Y/n! I’ve looked everywhere for you. It’s me..”

He steps off the podium towards you. They advance.

“Everyone else gave up, but I still search. I’m sorry for everything done. Please… I love-"

They grab onto him. Arms around his neck, torso, legs. Their skin melts into his; merging as they begin to drag him off stage.

“Y-y/n help! I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please!”

Your eyes remain on the floor. Even if you wanted to save him you couldn’t.

“I didn’t want to say that! The blindfold! Y/n!”

He’s gone. You’re alone once again. During the whole event the audience remains silent. You don’t know what to do.

Finish the show. It never starts. It never ends. Without you.

“A-and that brings us to the end of another show with your host, Host. And me as your co-host – Y/n!”

The crowd goes wild. It’s a standing ovation. Their hands clap like fireworks popping in your ears. Their praise rang to the high heavens. Howls, whistles, holders; all in your name for another amazing performance. Confetti falls in your hair, roses and other bouquets of flowers at your feet.

The set up is gone. It’s just you, Host, and your adoring fans. One arm snakes around your waist as he proclaims into the microphone.

“Is that all you got for our shinning star? Give it your all!”

An encore of approval, from the people whose love for you knew no end. The people who depended on seeing you every day and never tired from it. You relish in the saudade of their praise; raised further by one new member of audience who could finally give you the love he never could before.

2K notes · View notes

tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

I haven't seen much people requesting for snake bby so obanai x demon reader pls?Reader is like a succubus type of demon and when sent on a mission to kill her he falls into her clutches and it ends with smut 👀

‘in my dreams’ / Iguro O. x Reader

PLEASE STOP SLEEPING ON THIS MAN

warnings: NSFW, Obanai is a boob man, dream fucking?

words: 2,793

(a/n): I might’ve gotten carried away a bit

He’s always heard that sharks can smell blood on the water.

He isn’t a stranger to blood himself, used to the sightly images of gore and the rancid odor. It’s simply another part of his hellish life, bearing witness to mutilated remains of bodies and hunting down their killer.

It’s all in a day’s work.

It’s strange, though, when there aren’t any bodies to be found. Rumors of disappearances plague the night, travel from lips to ears, slowly spreading throughout the small town.

Takahashi’s daughter disappeared last night.

The doctor’s oldest son? Haven’t you heard? He’s gone.

For such a large number of people to be suddenly up and vanishing, it’s no wonder concerns have risen. It’s why Obanai’s here in the first place, determined to sniff out the culprit and promptly execute them. He’s dealt with similar cases before – finding the missing persons, only to find their remains or couple of bones – but this time… Well, it’s weird, to say the least. Not one person in this town knows where anybody could be, no strange sightings or feelings, nothing.

And, if Obanai is going to be completely honest, it’s infuriating as hell.

He’s not a patient person in the slightest. Perhaps that’s his curse and the sole reason why this case isn’t going anywhere; still, with the lingering danger hanging over these poor people’s heads, he needs to end this quickly. And so, cooped up in a small room at the town’s inn, he pours over his scribbling of notes, wondering just what kind of force he’s dealing with.

A demon’s nature can vary, depending on what kind you encounter. Obanai’s had his fair share of strange interactions – whether it be demons with multiple arms, pygmies, the facial features of a fly - he's nearly seen at all. But to take victims without leaving a single trace? That's where things get complicated.

"Dammit," Obanai grumbles, dragging a hand over his face. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue in concern, sensing his owner's unease.

This isn't going anywhere. The amount of time or effort spent trying to figure out where everyone has vanished isn't amounting to anything. How could this be? Obanai isn't some low level slayer, for gods' sakes - he's a Pillar. It shouldn't be this hard to put two and two together, yet here he is, staring blankly at his collected information. The idea of sending his crow to summon for help crosses his mind, but he hastily throws away the thought. No, that's not how this is done. He isn't willing to give up so easily.

As the hours drag further into the night, Obanai grows restless, twitchy. His striped haori sits to the side, folded neatly along with the shirt and overcoat of his uniform. Kaburamaru is already fast asleep, coiled into a tight circle at the edge of the futon. The wooden hatches of the window hang open, the night breeze drifting into the room with the sound of a singular solemn cricket.

A long, ornate kiseru dangles between his spindly fingers; it’s a rare occasion whenever Obanai smokes, so much to the point that the ones closest to him don’t even know he possesses such a fine pipe. He takes a slow drag as his he stares up at the moonlit clouds, the chilled breeze whipping the choppy strands of his hair against his bared cheeks. He wonders, truly, just how the hell he’s supposed to get to the bottom of this case if he can’t find anything to work with.

Perhaps the gods heard his woes - or he’s finally lost his mind - for an intoxicatingly sweet scent fills his senses.

Jasmine.

As far as Obanai knows, he hasn’t seen any jasmine plants when he came into town. This had to mean something - it had to. Opting his kiseru for his blade instead, he easily slips out the window, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Taking off into the night, he races through the town’s streets, eyes darting back and forth for anything out of the usual.

He comes to an abrupt stop when the scent of jasmine grows even stronger. He’s sure now that whatever he’s been looking for is here. A slight shuffling catches his attention; whipping his head to the side, a wooden hatch to a window bangs against the side of a house, but there’s no one to be seen on the other side.

“Found you,” Obanai breathes.

Rushing over to the house, he drops into a crouch as he creeps closer to the window. Jasmine floods his senses, the irresistible aroma gripping onto his consciousness and practically demanding for him to come closer. Swallowing thickly, he ignores the sudden wave of heat flushing over his body as he peeks into the darkened room. A family of five lays on the floor, their bodies moving gently with the deepened breathing of a heavy slumber. Even now, Obanai has to resist the urge to shut his eyes and succumb to the flowery scent.

Although the room is dark, he can make out a strange pillar of smoke; ah, so that’s where the origin of the smell is coming from. Is it some type of mist demon? Flower? He isn’t entirely sure, but he doesn’t have the time to care. He needs to get rid of it now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes his blade, not wanting to attract attention to him yet. It’s a wish in vain, though; as soon as his blade is hanging in the air, the pillar of smoke rushes towards him, slamming into him and sending him flying. Obanai grunts as his back hits the ground, the sharp edge of rocks biting into the skin.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to sneak up on others?” a low, creamy voice drawls. Goosebumps break out across the surface of Obanai’s skin and a shiver races down his back. The smoke dissipates, then, revealing a feminine figure.

Obanai’s breath catches in his throat. This demon - you - are unlike any other he’s encountered. Immediately, his eyes latch onto the pair of horns protruding from your skull, pearly at the tip and then fading into ebony. You’re strikingly beautiful, facial features soft yet demanding. Embarrassment warms Obanai’s face as his eyes drift across the curves of your body; your breasts swell over the tight, strappy top while the entirety of your legs and hips frame the long loincloth-like garment between your legs. Both your arms and legs have the same pearly sheen towards the end, just like your horns.

By the gods, you’re ethereal, even if the claws on your fingers could easily tear Obanai’s throat out.

“So is breaking into other’s homes,” Obanai manages to croak. Bringing himself to a stand, he takes a defensive stance, his blade held out before him. He feels strangely heavy, almost like his body craves to stay flat on his back.

Much to his surprise, you pout at him, arms crossing beneath your chest and pushing your breasts further up. “But it gets so lonely at night, you know?” you say, that seductive lilt in your voice deepening. At that, you make a show of sweeping your eyes over Obanai’s bare torso, and a slight smile grows on your pretty lips.

Obanai clears his throat. He can’t let himself fall for your tricks, no matter how incredible you smell or alluring you look. If these are the methods you rely on, chances are you’re a weaker demon.

“What did you do with the missing persons?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“Missing persons? Is that what they’re calling them?” you say, a giggle following your words.

Obanai growls at your nonchalant confession. If there’s one thing he can’t stand about demons, it’s their inability of basic human emotion, the inability of compassion. Yeah, he decides that your head is going to look even better once it’s separated from your body.

“You see, pretty boy,” you purr, pressing a hand to your throat and dragging it downwards, brushing over a luscious breast and tracing over your exposed tummy, “in return for making their dreams come true, I get to have a snack.”

“Enough,” Obanai grunts, switching to an offensive stance. “Maybe I’ll be gracious enough to meet you in hell someday.”

Before you even have a chance to react, Obanai springs into action, launching himself off the group in a great leap, lungs tightening as he releases a breath form.

It doesn’t hit.

It doesn’t fucking hit.

In fact, you’re nowhere in sight. Instead of the dusty, moonlit road, Obanai finds himself in an onsen; a great bamboo pavilion stands tall above the pool of water, blocking the golden rays of sunshine from hitting him. Thin trees are scattered about the area, riddled with stone lanterns and garden rocks covered in moss. With a chorus of birds singing overhead, it’s like he’s in an entire new world.

Muttering to himself, Obanai scans his surroundings, wracking his brain and trying to figure just what the hell happened. One moment, he’s about to slice your head clean off and put an end to your terror - the next, he’s in broad daylight in some overt paradise.

“Your dreams are beautiful,” that wonderful, wonderful voice of yours speaks.

Whirling around, Obanai sends splashes of water flying. “What did you do to me?” he spits.

You flash him a sly smile. “Why, I merely put you to sleep, pretty boy. Can’t be much of a threat if you’re not wide awake, no?”

Obanai curses under his breath. Of course you’re a dream demon - no wonder why there hasn’t been any bodies turning up. If only he had acted faster, got here sooner, more lives could’ve been saved. With a huff, he slithers further away from you, sinking below the water until only his face can be seen. “So what now? You’re going to try to kill me in my sleep? That’s a low blow and you know it.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you shake your head. Now that the two of you are no longer shrouded by darkness, Obanai really gets a good look of how utterly stunning you are. Again, he curses himself out, calling himself a fool for thinking such things when he should be killing you instead.

“Your blade isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him, a look of mischief crossing your features. “Silly boy - this a time meant for the two of us, not for you to end my forsaken life. Allow me to help you... relax.”

As you step to the edge of the onsen, Obanai finally notices the feeling of water caressing his thighs, his bare buttocks. You just had to make him naked in his dream, huh? What are you trying to accomplish, anyway? His eyes widen incredulously as your hands find their place on your torso, slinking over the swell of your breasts and around your neck; with a simple tug, your top comes loose. You merely let the garment fall to the rocks below, a small ‘oops’ slipping from our mouth.

Heat immediately floods to Obanai’s face and his groin; his insides squeeze in on themselves and he swallows thickly, thankful for the hidden protection the water provides. The look on your face is simply irresistible. Hell, even your breasts are as pretty as he imagined-

Shit, he inwardly curses, I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

But oh, you’re just so tempting, your hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling your hardening nipples as you stare directly at his flushed face. “Pretty boy,” you purr, “what’s your name?”

“Obanai.”

It’s out before he even knows it.

“Obanai...”

He really likes the way it rolls off your tongue, the dark glint in your eyes as you say it. Perhaps you can tell by his reaction alone - or maybe you like saying it - but you repeat his name, once, twice, thrice, and fuck does it drive Obanai insane. And then you’re reaching down, unfastening your lower garment and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Obanai’s cock twitches at the sight of your glorious body, the soft curves and glowing skin.

“Naughty boy, my eyes are up here,” you say. Again, you squeeze those beautiful fucking tits, a soft groan spilling from your lips. Obanai nearly goes feral from the sound; without further thought, he wades over to where you are. Jasmine clings in his nostrils, clouds his mind in a delicious haze, and he loves it.

You’re all too willing to meet his touch, body slipping into the heated water as he wraps his arms around you possessively. His body kicks into autopilot, mind going blank as he presses his lips to your throat. He should rip your throat out with his teeth, but there’s something magical about the way you arch into his touch, breasts pushing lewdly against his chest.

“Fucking-”

“Yes.”

A breathy moan spills from your lips as Obanai kneads your pretty tits, long fingers gripping possessively, wantingly. It’s almost ridiculous how hard he already is, his cock sandwiched between your bodies. He jolts as your hands land on his face, thumbs brushing against the ragged scars lining either sides of his mouth.

“Don’t,” he grits, but it goes ignored. The air is sucked from his lungs as you brush your lips over his scars, murmuring something about how pretty he is before stopping at his mouth. You kiss him fervently, clawed fingers scratching his shoulders as you tongue the inside of his mouth. You swallow the husky groan that spills from his mouth, hand dropping down from his shoulder and wrapping around his hardening cock.

“Ah, shit,” Obanai murmurs into your mouth.

“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whisper, hand slowly jerking on his cock. His breathing picks up as you quicken your pace, the water rippling with the movements of your wrists. “Your wish is my command.”

“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease,” he pants, eyes practically glowing against the pink hue of his face. Ducking his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the wet warmth enveloping your breast and eliciting a delicious moan from you. Obanai wastes no more time, opting to prop you in his lap and pressing your back against a smooth stone. “I shouldn’t... but fuck...”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re angry with me anymore,” you husk in that damned sexy voice. A moan bubbles from your throat as Obanai starts rocking against you, cock slipping against your folds. It’ll only take a little push for him to fill that pretty cunt of yours, to stuff you full of his cock and fuck you raw. It’s what he wants.

“Shut up,” he grunts, mouth latching onto your nipple, his hand beginning to play with the other. A low, drawn out curse gets muffled by your chest as he finally slips his cock into you; it shouldn’t be physically possible, but your velvety walls seemingly clench around him and suck him in, your arousal making the slide impossibly easy. He hiccups on a breath, his entire body twitching as he pants.

“The thing about succubi,” you drawl, sharp nails tracing down his spine, over the muscles in his back, “is that we’re the demons of sex and dreams. Oh, pretty baby, how much I’ve lucked out. Everyone else seemed like an appetizer - and you...” You pause, suck air between your teeth. “You’re like the damn main course.”

A helpless little grunt graces your ear as you fuck yourself on Obanai’s cock. His hips match your movements, your sopping cunt eagerly sucking him back in and squeezing around him. You’re so damn wet that it’s infuriating; Obanai wants more, more of your touch, your voice, that sweet scent clogging his senses. He can’t bring himself to stop touching your breasts, whether if it’s his hands or mouth. They bounce with the erratic rhythm of your hips, way too beautiful and hypnotizing.

A breathless whine breaks through your cute little pants whenever Obanai smacks a hand against the ample flesh of your ass. “Is that you meant when you said you make others’ wishes come true? Have them fuck that tight pussy of yours? Huh?”

“Obanai, don’t be mean,” you pout.

“Says a fucking demon that eats people.”

You hiss as his cockhead hits against your g-spot. “I can eat you too, so don’t get cocky, pretty boy.”

Obanai clicks his tongue, his brows furrowing. “You better keep that promise,” he grunts, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He growls as your walls clench around him.

“If that’s your wish, Master,” you purr, a slight chuckle following your words, “then it is my command.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #obanai iguro x reader #iguro obanai x reader #obanai iguro #iguro obanai #request

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violetsoju · 4 years ago

Text

airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

��You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.” His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #hq imagines #dont worry guys im not bothered by the incident anymore #i just thought it would be funny to write about #small tiddy gang unite #and i finally have a piece thats not over 3k words omg #mini achievement unlocked 🔓

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quibblesandscribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Centaurworld Rewrite: A Serious Adventure AU - S1E1 Outline

I’m doing rewrite outlines, prepare for some AU. That being said, I still like several parts of Centaurworld a lot, namely Rider, Horse, Wammawink, and whatever the hell is going on with the Nowhere King, and hope there’s a second season to watch (which I will if Netflix doesn’t ruin our hopes and dreams).

Anyways, here’s like, a rewrite or whatever. I will probably post the outlines as I go, episode by episode. Will I get to them all? ADHD-willing, we’ll see. Also feel free to use these ideas/outlines? I don’t mind.

Also assume there are songs in this even if I don’t specifically mention all of them. Also I guess this rewrite kinda chains the 1st and 2nd episodes together as a two parter? Maybe, idk.

Also I’ll preface this with this too: I ship Wammahorse, yes I SHIPSHIP it. Moving on.

Some headcanons before we start:

Warworld (*the world Rider and Horse are from) is a Low Fantasy Setting, there IS magic, but it comes in two variations, either very subtle low-powered but relatively uncommon, or Terrifyingly Powerful and so extremely rare to the point that it’s not very well known and “just myths” (usually for Big Baddies)

Ideas for Horse’s Degree of Sapience Prior to Worldhopping:

A: Horse was just a regular, non-magical horse, and their exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld has essentially made them a Fully Uplifted Animal. - This is interesting, but ultimately a difficult idea to convey because it would require a lot more setup and wouldn’t exactly fit Horse’s characterization without some rework. This is an amazing idea, but I won’t be using it because it would slow things down too much.

B: Horse is a low-fantasy magic steed raised as warhorse/war asset, who is much smarter than your average animal steed/companion similar to a DND Ranger’s pets, or Mabari from Dragon Age, or a Ranger Horse from John Flanagan’s ‘Ranger’s Apprentice.’ The combined exposure to the Artifact and Centaurworld could account for her gaining speech and her body expressing limited physical adaptation to Centaurworld’s different physics (her body’s new extended range of motion for example) but of course I’ll be limiting this because having stakes make it more fun imho. This is my favorite, I’m using this.

Horse would’ve been considered a very valuable war asset (trained warhorses are like, historical ferraris, expensive as hell, i can only imagine what low-magical smart warhorses would be valued at), though still ultimately expendable for the war effort like anything else

Let Horse have horse behaviors (*can you tell I haven’t really left my horse phase behind lol)! Nipping and grooming behaviors as affection or warnings, ear positions to indicate mood, grazing to eat, laying down only when truly relaxed, sleeping standing up. COME ON.

Centaurworld is a High Fantasy world with an Absurdist bent but with darker undertones, similar to how Adventure Time is, with an extremely high saturation of magic, maybe you could even theorize that due to the Splitting of the Two Worlds that all the magic is being Dammed up in Centaurworld like a river or reservoir, this could be a future plot thread that could be picked up in a later season.

Basic Changes:

Durpleton, Glendale, Ched and Zulius are supporting cast, not main

Durpleton is less stupid and more of a Kronk-expy: a little dim but ultimately kind/means well, has at least 1 life skill he’s good at buried in there though for the life of me I can’t think of one right now.

Glendale’s Narrative Framing: Glendale is amazing, but the kleptomania will be allotted ONE (or two) joke mentions but narratively isn’t treated like one after, somehow establish that her kleptomania is directly intertwined with her anxiety levels. Are there other denizens of the Valley that know the Herd? Are they mad at Glendale for stealing things? Does Wammawink have to constantly run interference to cover for Glendale? Probably.

Make Ched look like less of a pointless asshole: Have him show concern for his friends’ safety and his suspicion of outsiders, AKA Horse. If he’s going to be a jerk, at least let it serve a purpose.

Zulius can stay roughly the same - Zulius is great okay, just don’t tell me there’s backstory and then NOT TELL OR SHOW US ANY CLUES about what said backstory/history IS! (other than forcing us infer/project the headcanon[?] that him and Splendib might’ve been exes, from how they act around each other without any other context/visual/or confirming exposition we literally know nothing other than Splendib and him split/had a nasty falling out and Splendib took the glittercats and the career in the divorce.)

S1E1: Hello Rainbow Road

Opening scene in Warworld

If these episodes were allowed to be longer (shuddup it’s my AU), have the scene open with Horse sees Rider comes running out of some underground castle ruin catacombs and ominous roaring and clanging behind her as she deliberately sets off a dungeon booby trap (arrows or fire) she must’ve avoided while dungeon crawling earlier, and Horse runs towards her and circles at a canter and then Rider does a Running Mount (mounting a horse while the horse is in motion) and shoots an arrow at that flies offscreen

Smash cut to the DRAWBRIDGE door falling and Rider and Horse come galloping out while dodging some javelins and arrows and 1.5 seconds later 1-4 armored minotaurs (the lizardmen?) riding some coursers (swift horses or horselike creatures idk have fun) gallop behind in hot pursuit.

WARWORLD CHASE/FIGHT SCENE

Rider and Horse take out 2 of the pursuers on the run have Rider stay on horseback, dodge and make 1 pursuer shoot/javelin another 1 into a nasty-looking fall, and then Rider nails another 1 right through the helmet visor with an arrow. Have Rider throw a smoke bomb or something at the 2 remaining ones trying to catch up.

2 Enemies left but Horse is forced to skid to a stop as the suspension bridge approaches, then a tense moment forced to walk in order to escape safely across the suspension bridge which Rider cuts once they’re across. Maybe have 1 of the minotaur pursuers having been on the bridge somewhat behind them before Rider had to cut the line, sending the enemy hurtling down below. The remaining minotaur scout stares at them ominously from the other side before leaving.

Have Rider breath a sigh of relief

Smash cut to Horse and Rider traveling across a wartorn landscape, start Horse’s internal monologue narrative until they finally get to the hill and see the ruins of their village

Everything from this point to Horse getting transported to Centaurworld is the same as canon

Not Actually a DREAMVISION SEQUENCE:

Shot/Animated from Horse’s 1st Person POV: Darkness, the sound of whooshing Horse falls, shimmering flash colors [if this were an actual show pls put a Epilepsy warning at the beginning of the ep], then a loud Splash as Horse falls into Dark Water. POV looks down and we see Horse’s front legs and a bottomless abyss below and a then flash of green and off-white from deep below, then look up to see blue light, see the swimming motions of Horse’s front legs and getting closer to the Blue Light

Horse wakes up, blinking, alone (no Durpleton)

Horse gets up looks around, doesn’t see Rider anywhere and starts makes Whinnying sounds (specifically, Whinnying is a social horse call, like specifically going, “Rider where are you!?” in IRL horse)

“And what are you supposed to be?” the “camera” wheels around to see Ched who has landed on Horse just within reach of her tail so Horse lets out a startled squeal (the Horse noise, not the human one) and does that thing where horses use their tails to swat away insects which sends Ched FLYING as Horse’s squealing morphs into her Talking/Yelling “what the heck is going on?!”

Horse does what panicked horses do, she runs

Horse stumbles into meeting Durpleton, who freaks her out more

Meeting kinda the same as canon but with less constant emphasis on reminding the audience that the writer’s can’t write comedy

Wammawink and Horse meet, Ched flies in and goes “hey that asshole kicked my a-I mean attacked me, but I totally beat ‘em.”

Horse tries to leave, discovers the Barrier, tries to get through, fails multiple times, but only 3-4 attempts shown with time passage show by the time of day changing, have Horse’ talking to herself a bit about how utterly weird the talking words thing is, that this is a “human” thing why is this HAPPENING she needs to get back

Waste less time on the visual gags of the Barrier repelling Horse, also get rid of the Tree Catapult scene because it doesn’t jive with Horse being a horse, why do they know how to make a catapult? Also because I hate how it basically shows us that Horse has no physical danger or chance of injury from being FLUNG around like Pokemon’s Team Rocket.

Have the rest of the centaur Herd come up to and talk to Horse while Horse is trying to get through the Barrier, and Horse talks about the outside and her world and doing things, squeeze in some convo about how there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld and how Horse thinks that that “freedom must be nice.” Anyways these conversations are what has Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton at least considering the ups of leaving.

Durpleton: Durpleton approaches Horse alone and asks about where she’s from, what’s home like, expositiony bits for Warworld and how much Horse needs to get herself and the Artifact back to Rider; Horse should say something offhand, like how she dreamed about exploring the world with Rider after the War seeing new things together, to which we’d cut to a shot of Durpleton looking thoughtful, before asking a completely unrelated question before Horse asks to be left alone. He doesn’t go originally, but gets distracted by something (butterfly?) and trots off.

Wammawink, Ched & Glendale: Atop a hill, Wammawink looks up to see stormclouds gathering off in the distance and comments that they’re going to be in for some rough weather, then goes over to offer Horse food, but gets distracted by some other Valley Denizens who are mad suspicious that Glendale is responsible for something of theirs that’s missing. Leaving Wammawink to go off and have to run interference leaving Glendale to approach Horse alone. Horse will learn that there’s no (current) war in Centaurworld but there was one historically, and Glendale will offhandedly mention that they’ve stolen everything from everyone in the Valley at least 4 times and with the unspoken implication of boredom. Ched will butt in and heckle Horse like, “could you leave any quieter?” and Horse sniping back, ears pinned back and animated horse stress behaviors. And Horse’s last failed attempt at passing the Barrier has them drop the Artifact, and we get a shot of Glendale spotting and eyes widening at seeing the Artifact unattended on the ground, then we get a smash cut of Glendale getting herded away by Ched.

Zulius: Goes over to ask about Horse’s avante garde accessories (her bridle, saddle & armor[barding]), makes comments on her style/aesthetic and asks where he could find some. Horse loses her patience, and says that she Needs to concentrate on getting back to someone they care a lot about and could you please just go away?

Horse: (voiced as a rhetorical question) “Haven’t you ever wanted to go back to someone you loved before?”

Zulius gets a Look on his face, then he’d puff up, cover up the Armor Piercing Question’s effect on him with more bluster and then turn away as it gets later

Around sunset, Horse finally gives in to go ask Wammawink what’s up, and how can they leave.

Wammawink tries to feed them and convince them to stay, but Horse waves her off and moves away while muttering something about coming up with a plan

Speaking of plans, the Herd excluding Wammawink (& Ched) start talking about being bored, and mention Horse saying stuff about exploring the world (taken out of context, deliberately)

Wammawink, smelling the ugly head of discontent, sighs in defeat at not being able to recruit this new outcast in the Herd and approaches a grazing Horse and says she’ll help her through it with her magic(not admitting that the Barrier is her magic working in the first place because it’s not relevant right now okay) but then we get the “What’s magic?” bit from Horse and the rest of the Herd butts in with the Song. They wander off to go to bed afterwards, and Horse wants to go Now but Wammawink says that she’ll help Horse leave the Barrier but only in the morning because “you look tired”

Horse: “That doesn’t matter.” *awkward silence*

Wammawink, sadly: “Of course it does.” *Horse has already walked away*

The sun finishes setting as the wind blows the plants and through Wammawink’s fur (ominously) and she shivers, going back to the campfire

DREAM SEQUENCE: It’s dark, then we get a flashback dream of a younger Rider and Horse, idk a memory of something to showcase them either while in training or really show their Bond okay? End with them sitting around a campfire with other young soldiers and horses, someone is humming something (the first few bars of the Nowhere King’s Lullaby, no actual words yet). Then Dream!Rider turns to face Horse and asks, “how could you?”

Horse: “How could I what?”

Dream!Rider: “How could you leave me behind?” (The humming grows louder, there’s a lute being played, growing discordant)

Then Horse starts calling into the darkness/void, “I’m coming back for you, Rider! Just hang on, alright?!”

Rider: “Oh Horse, it’s already too late for me.”

“Rider!” Horse yells as they jolt awake, standing, because horses typically sleep standing up.

It’s dawn but the wind and stormy weather signs are picking up but not here yet, Wammawink walks Horse to the edge of the Valley barrier and tries to convince Horse to stay here where it’s safe, but Horse refuses to be deterred

Brief shot of Glendale hiding a bunch of things from her Tummy Hammerspace in order to simulate the feeling of stealing things again later, including the Artifact which falls on the ground

A shot of Durpleton seeing and picking up the Artifact and spotting Wammawink and Horse some distance away going toward the barrier’s edge

Wammawink hangs back on a hill, glowy hands and the magic wall flickers and disappears, and Horse immediately breaks into a gallop and disappears into the forest, Wammawink sighs and turns away

Indeterminate amount of time later, Wammawink recasts the Barrier, and Durpleton misses breakfast so Wammawink enlists Ched to help her look for him because Ched can fly

Cut to a shot of Horse dropping from a canter to a trot on the Rainbow Road, it’s grown darker and the stormclouds are in the sky. Distant thunder booms overhead, and a few scattered raindrops start to fall

“Heyyyy! You forgot your necklaceeee!” a shout from behind

Horse looks back and sees a running Durpleton holding the Artifact, and stops, he catches up to Horse and is gasping, “Wow, you run fast, hoooo, *deep breaths* you’re really *another gasp* athletic! Anyways you forgot your Necklace.”

Durpleton ties the broken string into a necklace around Horse’s neck and Horse thanks them and wishes them a safe journey back to the Valley, but as this happens the rain gradually falls harder. Then the sounds of the Rest of the Herd finally catching up happen, and Wammawink mother hens Durpleton and wants take everyone back home but then a loud BOOM of thunder and lightning overhead, and then it starts to Pour down rain, forcing Horse and co to find shelter until it lets up. Maybe have someone mention something about landslides being a possibility? Durpleton asks how they found them so fast, dim remember, then brief flashback.

FLASHBACK: Wammawink and co searching and calling out for Durpleton everywhere in the Valley, and realize that he must’ve followed Horse for some reason when Zulius FINALLY shows up and mentions that he remembers Durpleton saying he was gonna give Horse back her necklace. The recast Barrier is brought down and they leave the Valley to bring back their friend.

Back to the present where the group has taken shelter as the storm picks up more, and thunder booms overhead, Horse has some nervous horse body language going on, then we get to hear her mutter-singing or humming the “I never fear the drums of war” to calm herself down, but with more stanzas please, when asked she says it’s a battle hymn that Rider sang.

If Horse was humming, Wammawink could ask why she doesn’t sing, she’s sure that Horse has a lovely voice

Horse goes “I’m a horse, I don’t sing.”

Wammawink tries to be encouraging, Horse is resistant

Wammawink invites her to eat (AGAIN) but Horse still turns her (love and affection) down (AGAIN!) and says she’s fine with grazing and Glendale pipes in excitedly that they have decided that they want to travel with Horse (Ched pipes up that he didn’t agree to this) but pls help us convince Wammawink and Horse protests but someone points out to ask “do you even know where you’re going” and they have a point

Horse acknowledges this and relents, states some stuff about how she’s not going to slow down much however. Then Glendale, Zulius and Durpleton rejoice, Ched acts tsundere, but Wammawink looks nervous and wrings her hands together and relents that “they’ll go with Horse as far as the nearest Shaman” and Ched will go, “hey don’t you know he-” and Wammawink shushes him quickly with a gigglecake

Wammawink doubles down on the mother henning behavior

Horse doesn’t eat Wammawink’s gigglecakes but grazes by herself nearby, occasionally answering a question or two when engaged by the others (not Wammawink) and Wammawink mentions how the weather probably won’t let up for very long and they should take it slow and that Horse should bundle up

Horse disagrees but its bedtime and a bedtime song occurs in the backdrop as a restless Horse struggles to stay alert and awake but eventually falls asleep

VISION SEQUENCE: A shimmer of soft blue light, then shots of Rider ducking and weaving, her sword flashing as she tries to weave her way through a horde of enemy soldiers, blood spatters, then an enemy archer takes aim at a fleeing Rider, and Horse calls out a warning.

Rider turns her head with a surprised look on her face suddenly just enough that the arrow buries itself into her shoulder instead the middle of her back and then she stumbles, one of her arms going limp, but everything goes dark before we can see if she fell

Everything goes dark and the din of war fades away, we get a shot of Horse’s hooves splashing and making ripples into dark water but the camera doesn’t follow her, we hear Horse’s cries for Rider fade, growing further and further away

Still dark, but in the silence we hear distant sound, drip, drip, drip, drip.

Then the episode ends and the credits roll.

#centaurworld #centaurworld spoilers #centaurworld wammawink #centaurworld rider #centaurworld horse #centaurworld headcanons #centaurworld au #centaurworld rewrite #centaurworld a serious adventure au #wow I suck at naming things #centaurworld season 1 #fixed the ending scene order #your welcome

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

rusting wheels ; clark kent x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 1,627 words

summary — in which clark kent has had a rough day.

warnings —swear words, angst?? fluff?? mentions of liquor, mentions feeling worthless and sad.

pairing — clark kent x fem!reader

a/n — not the longest fic i put up but i’ve been going through a writing dry spell 😭 i’d appreciate some feedback and asks/messages are open! if you follow me, please state your age/age range in your bio. i will block you if you follow me and don’t have your age/age range in your bio!!!

tagging —@la-cey @melancholyy-hill @pedropcl @beck07990 @doozywoozy

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

When he returned from the dead, Clark did not expect to feel this meaningless. He died to protect others from the danger that Doomsday brought upon the citizens of Metropolis and the reason he was brought back was to prevent a catastrophic event from occuring to the entire world. It put a pressure on him just as much as it drilled the idea that that was all he was good for — putting out fires that were forced upon his shoulders and deemed his responsibility.

After preventing a bank robbery that would have escalated to a hostage situation due to the presence of civilians who were unfortunately present during the whole incident, he decided to take a stroll first before heading back to his flat. Having changed from his superhero attire to casual clothes, he aimlessly roamed around Metropolis to calm himself as there were still faint remnants of adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Entering the dimly lit establishment, he appreciated the fact that it wasn’t crowded. A shy dozen — and that’s including the staff that were working there — were present and allowed him to not wallow in his usual spot by the booth and instead take up a spot by the bartender, thus allowing him to be served faster.

“Rum please,” He smiled at the bearded bartender who nodded and prompted to prepare it; once the crystal glass slid over to him, he downed it all in one go. “One more,” He demanded and the bartender had to take a double look — there was a high percentage of liquor in the rum he gave him and it was a surprise to him since it physically looked like he wasn’t fazed by it.

“Yikes man, seems like you needed that one badly,” That comment came from his right and surprised him, as he looked over he noticed a woman who was smirking at him as she drank a little bit of her drink, “You alright over there?”

Taken by surprise with how genuine her concern sounded despite the words she chose to suggest otherwise, “Honestly? No, I’m not,” He downs only half of the liquor before completely turning to face her, “I’m sorry I might be raining on your parade.”

She shook her head and waved at him, “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t interested hm?” Clark flashed her his pearly whites as he smiled as he replied, “Well how about we talked about something else?” He nodded and was about to speak when she quickly cut him off by saying, “Let’s start with your name then; unless you want me to call you mine?”

There was a blush creeping on his cheeks but he tried to ignore it as he held out his right hand and introduced himself, “Name’s Clark, Clark Kent,” She said her name as she shook his hand while adding, “Who knows? Maybe you might be moaning that out loud later on.” Liking his response to her own pick up comment, she nodded as she moved to close the distance between them and sit on the bar stool directly beside him.

“So Mr. Kent, I don’t think you’re a frequent patron of this bar huh?” Nodding as he gulped down his third drink, “Never been to this bar before — let alone this neighbourhood.” She nodded as he observed his tense figure; so she decided to lighten up the mood by jokingly implying, “Aren’t you glad you’re having your first time with me?”

Giggles erupted out of him when he understood the slightly dirty implication of her choice of words, “It depends,” He shrugged before ordering another round of drinks, “You haven’t really shown me anything yet.” It wasn’t just his words that wounded her ego, but also the way he relaxed his back into the chair and looked at her in a nonchalant manner.

“Is that a challenge?” She scoffed as she reached for the pocket of her coat and handed cash to the bartender, “For our drinks,” She told him before hastily wearing her coat, “Come on with me then.”

There was a puzzled look on his face as she was standing on her feet and crossed her arms at him, “Well? Why aren’t you getting up then, Clark?”

“Where are we headed to by the way?” Despite the indications of uncertainty in his tone, he was walking behind her as he too was draping over his thick, brown coat over his muscular frame. A delectable shiver ran down his spine when he felt her hand wrap itself around his wrist as she led them out of the establishment.

“Where’s the fun in telling you where we’re going huh?” She smirked at him and the journalist didn’t find it in himself to prevent himself from chuckling too as he shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know; who’s to say you won’t take me someplace so you can kill me?”

She stopped walking as she stared at him with an “are you kidding me?” look and scoffed, “I don’t need to see you in action, but your physique is all the proof I need to know that you are someone I do not want to fight against.”

For a second there Clark was anxious that she knew about his superhero persona; but he took a peek in her mind and she was not thinking of such a thing. And as she led him by the hand, she stopped in front of a small wooden dock which was right by a small pond , “You brought me here?”

Sheepishly nodding, she sat down and pat the spot next to her, “Sorry if it wasn’t as big as you hoped,” Feeling him take the spot up she then looked at him with an apologetic glint in her eyes, “This is just the spot I usually go to when I need to calm down and relax.”

Silently, he took in his surroundings — there was not a lot of noise that distracted him from his own thoughts, the serene landscape was highlighted with its local, beautiful trees matched with the flower bushes that were scattered around the small area pleased his blue eyes. A small smile rested on his lips as he gazed at the ducks that were swimming around the pond before looking at her, “How’d you find this place out?”

“Was walking around the city after a bad day,” She sighed out as she recalled how every single aspect possible of her life turned against her, ultimately leaving her in a bitter mood, “And since I didn’t want to sulk around in my apartment, I went for a stroll. Luckily, my feet dragged me here.”

“And you’ve been coming here ever since? To just take a step back and breathe?”

She nodded as she looked at him with wonder, “Exactly like that; are you a mind reader of some sort?” Her elbow playfully poked his stomach and they both laughed at each other's childishness.

“Thank you,” Clark spoke after a few moments of silently staring at the way the stars shone in the sky; puzzled with what he was grateful for she spoke up, “For what?”

“For trusting me enough to show me this special place of yours,” He explained with a serene expression on his face, “I’ve been going through a rough patch myself.” Saying it out loud somehow made the last Kryptonian feel better. Closing his eyes to take a deep breath in, he found himself sharing what he has been bottling up, “Girlfriend broke up with me, work’s a pain in my behind, I’ve been doing a lot of,” He paused for a moment as he tried to think of a word to describe his world-saving activities involving the Justice League, “Some volunteer work and just,” A shaky exhale escaped his lips before he let out the final factor that has been taking a toll on him, “I’ve been feeling useless and worthless.”

Seeing the way how dejected he looked — paired with the way his voice cracked when he mentioned the final sentence — made her heart ache for him as she reached out for his hand, rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb, an effort to rid him of the negative sentiments he had.

“From what I see, you’re trying too hard and too much to be someone people expect you to be,” Her other hand reached up to his face as she wiped away the stray tears that inadvertently escaped his eyes. Her lips stretched out to a small smile, “You’re a kind man and you’re pushing yourself too much. You spend so much time looking after people that you don’t even take time to tend to yourself.”

Hearing someone see his efforts made him feel validated; as he looked at her, Clark felt stronger despite having just been vulnerable and open with her. “Thank you,” He smiled with glossy eyes, “That meant so much to me.”

“Well I’m glad that I somehow got to make you feel better, Clark.”

He chuckled to himself before fully turning to face her, “You know I’m much more fun and lively than I am right now?” Shaking her head she then lightly hit his arm, “Yeah? So far you haven’t really shown me anything yet.” Her smirked

Realizing that she had used his own line against him, he smirked at her before pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “Yeah? How ‘bout you let me take you out for a date then?” Biting the insides of her cheek to prevent the wide grin from erupting free.

“Well Mr. Kent, I look forward to going on a date with you — I bet that you can’t top off this amazing view of the lake though.”

#quietmyfearswith #please dont steal my work thank you #clark kent x reader #clark kent x fem!reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x fem!reader #kal el x reader #kal el x fem!reader #clark kent x reader fluff #clark kent x reader angst #clark kent angst #clark kent fluff #henry cavill x reader angst #henry cavill x reader fluff #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill angst

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pumpkinov · 3 years ago

Text

Where the Dust Settles

I will probably move this to Ao3 when I have a way more solid idea of my plot, but for now, it goes here. Mostly so I don’t lose it.

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 1. Why do you only call me when you’re high?

Portia observed the Third Rail with a headache forming. Her and Preston had arrived around midday, greeted by Fahrenheit. The relationship forming between the Commonwealth Minuteman and the settlement of Goodneighbour was a point of pride for the General. They were welcomed warmly, and their brief meeting with the Ghoul Mayor who ran the town had been pleasant, if frustratingly shortlived. But as the weather soured, most of the town had gathered in the bar. And it was cramped.

Ensuring that Preston was indeed distracted by Magnolia, Portia slid a cigarette out of a pack someone left on the table and headed to the door, abandoning her coat for the sake of an unobserved getaway. She nodded at Ham as she headed up the stairs, and slipped out the door.

She instantly regretted leaving her coat behind, the wind was frigid and there were clumps of watery snow on the ground. She could see her breath as she dug around in her pockets for a lighter. She came up empty, and was about to head back inside, defeated, when a weight hit the wall next to her. Hancock twisted the wheel of his lighter and held it in front of her, rolling his cigarette between his thin lips as Portia drew the smoke into her lungs.

He lit his cigarette, and flicked the lighter closed, sliding it into his jacket in a movement so fluid it had to be practiced. They smoked in companionable silence for a moment, Portia leaning her head against the brick wall. She eventually rolled her head to the side, fixing her eyes on her silent companion. His face in the portrait was familiar now, dark eyes, noseless and scarred.

“I wish you’d change your mind about joining us in Diamond City.” She commented. “You’re the only leader of a settlement not coming. And the Minutemen could use you.”

He slid her a look, a smirk twisting across his face, “There’s not enough caps in the whole Commonwealth that would convince me to go inside the Great Green Jewel again.”

“Nothing could convince you?”

His eyes slid down her frame, and the smirk widened “I’m sure something could.”

Portia rolled her eyes, and elbowed him. He laughed roughly, and took another deep drag of his cigarette. “Besides Sunshine, I’ve already built my personality around one hat. I don’t think even a ghoul with my kind of charisma could make those minuteman specials work.”

Portia smiled around her cigarette for a moment, “Don’t let Preston hear you say that. He’s very proud of his hat.”

“And yet the General doesn’t wear one.” Hancock breathed a plume of smoke out, tendrils escaping through his exposed naval cavity.

Portia didn’t reply, just smiled and watched a handful of small snowflakes begin to fall around the streetlight. Another freezing night.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t come to this meeting in Diamond City.” She said, flexing the fingers that weren’t clamped around her cigarette. Her fingertips were turning red. “I’ve seen your diplomacy in action, Mayor. I’ve stepped over the dead body of your diplomacy.”

He laughed deep in his throat at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself General, Finn was on thin fucking ice before he decided to shake you down. I didn’t stab a man for a woman I’d just met.” He finally turned his head to meet her gaze, his black eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, smugly. “I’d strongly consider stabbing a man for you now, given the right incentives.”

Portia took her final drag of her cigarette, and dropped it onto the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. She looked back at Hancock, and breathed her final lung full of smoke out.

“Let me guess, Mayor Hancock, would that incentive happen to be wildly inappropriate?”

His eyes flashed. “Not wildly. Perhaps not for polite company.”

Portia rolled her eyes again, and stuffed both her hands under her armpits. She glanced back at the metal door leading into the Third Rail. She really wasn’t ready to return back to that crowd yet. Hancock seemed to sense her hesitation, he tucked his hand back into his jacket and produced another cigarette. She accepted it, stamping her feet a little to get warm.

“Is there any polite company in Goodneighbour?” She busied herself with lighting the cigarette with Hancock’s proffered lighter, waiting for his usual flirtatious quip. Instead, when she looked up to return his lighter, she saw him watching as Daisy appeared around the corner, wrapped in a scarf and jacket.

“There’s some.” He said quietly. Portia hummed in agreement, waving as Daisy approached.

“Quittin’ time?” Hancock asked her, offering Daisy his arm. “Would you do me the honour of letting me buy you a drink?”

“John Hancock I’ve told you a million times, I’m too old for you.” Daisy laughed. He groaned in response, placing his free hand across his heart, closing his eyes dramatically.

“And I’ll keep asking, let a ghoul dream!” He pitched his cigarette butt and opened the door for her with a flourish, then glanced back up at Portia. “Same again?”

“Mayor Hancock I told you, we can’t be out late, Preston and I are due in Diamond City early in the morning.”

He grinned at her. “So, same again?”

“Hancock!” Portia smiled despite herself. “This happens every time! I’ll take a bourbon and Nuka.”

“For Pete’s sake Hancock!” Ham called, “In or out man, the wind is friggin’ freezing!”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Hancock called through the door, before looking back at her.

The playful, flirtatious grin he usually held was gone. His face was serious, his eyes still. Portia felt her stomach lurch up as she recognised the look as straight lust. She stared back at him, heart all of a sudden pounding in her throat. She snaked her tongue out, to wet her all of a sudden dry lips. Hancock’s gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, before catching himself. He pulled the smirk back, but his eyes kept their intensity.

“I’ll give you a second alone.” He rasped, “feels like you might not get much of that these days, General.”

Despite the heat rising from her core, Portia grabbed ahold of herself, and smiled. “Bourbon and Nuka, remember?”

Hancock nodded and closed to the door, leaving her to the whirling wind, and her thoughts.

She crushed the half finished cigarette beneath her heel and headed back into the crowded bar, finally defeated by the snow now lightly falling. Preston was at the bar, talking animatedly with Magnolia. The place was crowded, and she had to squish herself past several people. They all turned and stared at her as she passed, and the heat was rising in her face again. Portia never quite felt comfortable in crowds like this. She finally reached Preston, who turned and beamed at her. “General, did you need a drink?”

“No, thank you, I think the Mayor -” She was interrupted as Whitechapel Charlie slid a glass of bourbon and nuka in front of her. “Oh, thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass, and swirled the liquid around.

“I’m just going to freshen up” Magnolia drawled, draping an arm across Preston’s shoulder’s as she rose from her stool. “Don’t go anywhere.” She drifted off in a cloud of perfume, leaving a rather dazed minuteman in her wake.

“You still in there Garvey?” Portia smiled against the glass as she sipped her drink. God bourbon was so sweet. She didn’t really know why she drank it.

He smiled rather bashfully, shaking his head. “She’s really one hell of a woman.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,’ Portia dropped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn in after I finish this - do you need anything else before I go?”

“You won’t stay until she finishes singing?”

“No, I’m beat.” She took another mouthful, just trying to get rid of it now. “But you stay out, just don’t be too hungover for our council meeting tomorrow.”

He grinned at her, “you really don’t trust me, do you General?”

“Preston,” Portia fixed her eyes on her friend, raising an eyebrow, “I trust you to the ends of the earth. I would walk through fire for you. I would, and have, trusted you with my life. But I do not trust you not to get carried away drinking with a pretty woman.”

He laughed out loud at that, wrapping his hand around the neck of his beer bottle as he threw his head back. “Honestly, probably a wise choice.” His eyes sparkled a little under the light. There was a joy she hadn’t seen on his face … ever. Preston had been by her side every step of the way, from the day she thawed out to now. He’d helped her find her son, and destroy her son. He’d helped her mourn her husband, and helped her survive in this new, strange world. Portia would sooner have set herself on fire than quash the happy, slightly drunken glow he was developing across his face.

“Have fun, Preston.” She squeezed his shoulder and moved away, taking a large mouthful and wincing as the far too sweet alcohol burned her tongue. God, why did she always ask for Bourbon, she fucking hated bourbon.

She reached the coat racks at the back of the bar, and started looking for her coat. She drained the last swallow of her glass, and without looking plonked it down on the nearest table.

“Sneaking out without saying goodbye, General?” A familiar rasp came from her left. Portia bit her lip, and pulled her attention away from the overstacked rack of coats. “As if anyone could leave without saying goodbye to you, Mayor.” Hancock was leaning against a chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, grinning like he always did. “Do you need another drink?”

“No, thank you but I have to go.” She finally spotted her coat, and yanked it out of the tangled mass of fabric. She slipped it on over her shirt, and turned to face him. “Thank you, though. For meeting us, and hearing us out.”

His eyes softened a little. “I appreciate the invitation General. What you and the Minutemen are doing is impressive, joining the Commonwealth together like this. But I can’t go back there.”

Portia tightened her jacket around her, as Hancock swallowed the last of his drink and straightened up. “Come on, I’ll walk to you to the Rexford.”

“You don’t have to -”

He cut her off, offering her his arm. “It’s part of the Goodneighbour hospitality.”

The soft snow was swirling in the wind now, and Portia braced herself against the chill. It seemed to have no effect on Hancock, whose arm she clung to. He was so warm, even through the fabric of his jacket. Portia had to admit it was pleasant - the square was completely empty except for two of the neighbourhood watch, who nodded at them as they passed. The fresh air was refreshing after the stale smoke and beer they’d been breathing at the Third Rail. They reached the doors of the Rexford, and Portia turned to face him.

“Last chance, Mayor.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes as the wind whipped his jacket around his legs. “Are you sure you won’t come with Preston and I to Diamond City for this meeting? Every settlement group is sending a representative. It’s important.”

The wind had picked up now, and she had to lean in closer to him to hear his response.

“General, you really keep pushing this. Are you sure you don’t just want my company?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile bubbling to the surface despite her annoyance. “Hancock, really. Goodneighbour deserves a voice. Your people deserve a voice. You deserve to be there. If you’re not there, then Goodneighbour; your people? They stay disconnected from the rest of the Commonwealth.”

He fixed his eyes on her for a moment. “You really want to have me in Diamond City?”

She touched one of the buttons on his jacket, just needing a moment without his strange, black eyes boring into her. “It’s only fair, after everything.”

He shifted slightly closer, and her skin prickled. “OK, fine. I’ll come.”

She glanced up at him, a smile breaking across her face. “Excellent-”

“But,” he interrupted, his face still serious. “I will not be coming as part of your Minutemen. I respect your organisation General, but Goodneighbour is for the people, by the people, and I will not come shackled to your cowboy hats and holier-than-thou ideologies.”

She blinked, a little taken aback at the roughness under his usual rasp. “Of course, Mayor. The only shackles will be ones you attach yourself.”

A smile spread across his face at that comment, and Portia cursed herself. She shouldn’t have said that. It was just very hard not to flirt with him, despite his radiation ravaged face.

“I feel like the Minutemen and I may have very different ideas on the best use of shackles,” he murmured, now reaching a hand up to brush against the fingers she’d left on his button. His hands were so warm, and she resisted the urge to melt into his touch.

“Sorry to disappoint Mayor, but I leave the shackling to Preston.” She desperately tried to wheel it in, the air was too intimate now.

He was still looking at her, his eyes hungry. He moved to kiss her, and Portia put a hand against his chest. He stopped, still smiling down at her. The heat coming from him was insane, her fingers spread against his chest.

“Mayor, I don’t mix business with, well, thirty seconds of staring at the ceiling.”

He tilted his head back and laughed at this, heartily. It eventually turned into a cough which took a few seconds to get under control. When he finally regained composure and looked back down at her, there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, Christ Sunshine.” His tone was of amusement, he seemed completely unfazed at her rejection. “I only do business with pleasure. As for ceiling staring, it’s not something I’ve personally experienced, but I’m sure I could find some referrals if you’re concerned.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of her hand; before stepping away from her. The cold wind rushed in to fill the spot where he’d stood, and Portia felt a chill wrap across her.

“Goodnight, General.” Hancock slid a cigarette into his mouth, and turned around. Portia called out to him as he disappeared towards the Third Rail.

“See you in the morning, Mayor!��

There was no way he’d show.

#fallout 4 #fanfic #John Hancock #Hancock #hancock/sole survivor #hancock/female sole

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silky-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Just a Bad Day (Corpse and Friends/Reader)

Genre: Light angst, Fluff, sort of Platonic but you could take it otherwise

Words: 1628

Related Songs: PETIT BISCUIT - Sunset Lover https://youtu.be/wuCK-oiE3rM ZYAN, Sia - Dusk till Dawn | slowed https://youtu.be/7LLKAL6ERDA

Summary: (Y/n) has a bad day and her friends are suspicious

Disclaimer/s: Depressive episode, slight anxiety, big sad :(

Notes: I left out what it was that made the Reader upset so you can let it be whatever you want :)

———————————————————————

"(Y/n) you're fine, you don't even have your webcam on today, you'll be okay." Rae teased you softly, getting a couple chuckles from the few people that had joined the Among Us lobby a bit early.

She had overheard your quiet mentions of being nervous and having your webcam off, both due to the fact that you had a bit of a hectic day and didn't have time to make yourself presentable. It didn't bug you that she responded with a joking tone, she wasn't aware of the tear streaks that framed your cheeks and red, puffy eyes you just couldn't hide with the high quality camera you have. She didn't know, no one knew, how were you supposed to be mad about that?

"Ha ha, yeah... guess you're right." You plastered the most fake smile you've ever made to your face to at least make it sound like you were happy. Thankfully, it seemed to work as the conversation moved on without you.

Less fortunately, your fans were a little more perceptive, although you should have expected that considering that some of them watched you on a daily basis. Your chat was filled with near exclusively kind remarks, from a modest 'Are you alright?' to full on paragraphs that passed by a bit too fast for you to get through more than the first few words. You muted yourself in the discord chat so only your audience could hear you, reassuring them that you were fine, no matter how much your broken tone betrayed you. It didn't work as well as you wanted, but that wasn't their fault.

Soon enough the whole gang was together and ready for the game to start, they sounded excited. It was nice to hear that your bad mood hadn't leeched onto your friends, that was the last thing you needed right now.

A deep sigh came from your mouth as you saw the red lettering fade in and off of your screen, "Dammit..." You weren't ready for an imposter game, you were sort of hoping that you could go a whole stream without one actually. Even worse, Corpse was your partner, which meant you'd end up dragging him down with you.

The game began, the layout of the Skeld loading in and the colourful avatars of your friends scattering to do their assigned tasks. You did yourself a favour and didn't move right away, giving yourself a second to take a deep breath and at least attempt to put some effort into doing a good stream. Your fans deserved it, they were all so nice and had been so supportive, they didn't need to be worried about you.

Unfortunately, when you did move, your partner had unknowingly sabotaged the reactor the second before you did anything, making it look a lot like you sabotaged it yourself. It wouldn't have been a problem if Toast hadn't been passing by the second you did. You went to kill him, but since you were both right next to the emergency button, there wasn't anything you could do in time.

The pit of anxiety in your stomach only grew as the animation flashed across your screen, you didn't even know how you were going to defend yourself. As the voting screen came up you only felt worse, no one had even died yet, so you were going to be the first one out on the first game. Great.

"So (Y/n), did you just sabotage reactor?" Toast piped up the second he had the chance.

You were silent as everyone did their played up reactions for the camera, trying to use that time to think of something. It didn't work to say the least.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Your words didn't sound even slightly convincing, not to mention the tired tone of voice you couldn't seem to get rid of that did nothing for you.

Before Toast could get too far into his rebuttal, which didn't really matter after your lame defence, your partner piped up.

"Hey Toast, was anyone else near you guys?" His low tone said nothing of his intentions, you were jealous.

"No, it was just the two of us in cafeteria." He responded, not sure where Corpse was going with this.

"So, technically speaking, it could have been you and nobody would have seen it except for (Y/n)?"

The gasps that followed in response to the new idea were small, but promising nonetheless, even if they were more as a joke than an actual response. It was because of that fact that you were so surprised when the vote ended up being skipped, only two people actually voting for you, one of them being Toast.

You felt a twinge of relief, maybe you could still win this, maybe you could actually have a good night to make up for the terrible day you had.

...

It hadn't even been a minute when you accidentally killed Toast in front of Poki and Jack.

As the meeting started, you tried to say something but you just couldn't seem to get any words in by the time everyone had voted except for you.

"So (Y/n) first and then Corpse?"

You didn't even know what to say.

"C'mon (Y/n), just vote, it'll all be over soon."

What was there to say?

"(Y/n)?"

Why were you taking this so hard?

You quietly clicked on the checkmark to vote for yourself as fresh tears began to spill over your cheeks. You hadn't said anything during the meeting and, seeing as your avatar was now floating through space, you wouldn't be able to say anything now. Useless...

Your chat was going crazy now, flooded with concerns and kind affirmations directed towards you. Your gaze drifted over them mindlessly, not taking anything in, it just looked like a big white blur.

By the time you shook yourself from your dazed state, Corpse's avatar was just finishing it's trip across the screen, floating hopelessly through space as yours had mere minutes ago.

The defeat screen only hammered in how stupid your mistake was as it came and went, just as everything else had without any input from you. The conversation picked back up quickly, jokes and teases were exchanged, you couldn't even make out what they were saying until the attention was put on you.

"You okay (Y/n)? Not feeling too into it today?" Toast's remark was clearly a joke, just a little jab to get a chuckle like usual.

Unfortunately, you weren't feeling like usual tonight.

"No..."

It was almost pitiful how broken and sad that one word came out. Your voice had even cracked as you spoke, you figured you must have been just depressing to listen to. If you weren't downright embarrassing you probably seemed like a child for not keeping it together like the others did when they were upset.

Surprisingly enough though, that's not what happened.

"Wait really? Crap I'm sorry."

"Oh no, are you okay?"

"Do you wanna stop playing?"

It was stupid, but for the first time that day you felt okay crying. So you did.

"I'm sorry... thank you..." you mumbled, using your sleeves to wipe your tears, "I just had a really bad day, but I... I still wanna play with you guys I just..."

Damn it, what did you do to deserve friends that cared so much about you?

"I know what to do." Rae spoke up, her grin shining through in her tone, "Group hug!"

Her avatar ran over to yours, nestling herself beside you in a sort of makeshift hug. Everyone else followed suit shortly after, and soon enough you were in the middle of a little circle, fitting perfectly in the middle.

A small sob-like laugh broke free from your lips, "Damnit, you guys are the worst." You joked with a smile, chuckling at the childish but heartfelt display.

The night only got better from there, and even though you weren't at your best, everyone was even nicer than usual and it helped to turn that bad day into a pretty enjoyable night.

After about an hour you decided to stop your stream, deciding to cut it short for the sake of your mental health.

"Yeah I think I'm gonna get going too." Your farewells seemed to spark a response from someone else.

"You too Corpse?" Jack piped up, somewhat confused as he hadn't mentioned anything earlier about doing a shorter stream.

"Yeah, I got some stuff to do, don't worry I'll still be playing with you guys on Friday."

"Alright, well see ya both later!"

"G'night!"

"Have a good sleep!"

"Feel better soon (Y/n)!"

You sighed gently as you disconnected from the discord call and the Among Us server, leaving your audience with the usual 'Stream Starting Soon' screen that you didn't feel like changing.

"Well, that's about it for tonight." You spoke, taking a minute to read the chat silently before continuing, "Thank you guys for all the support, I know I didn't say much tonight but I read a lot of what you were saying, it's really appreciated."

A buzz came from your phone, you picked it up and smiled at what you saw.

Corpse

[ hey, wanna talk? ]

You said your goodbyes to your chat and shut off the stream, grabbing your phone and heading straight to your room. You hadn't even made it to your door by the time you were dialling your friend's number. Flopping down onto your bed, you put your phone on speakerphone and felt a warmth fill your body as a familiar voice filled your room.

"Hey."

"Hey." You responded, turning to your phone even though neither of you could see each other.

You supposed today wasn't so bad after all.

#corpse #corpse husband #corpse huband x reader #corpse x reader #x reader #self insert #angst #fluff #my writing #me when writing anything: :( but also :)#oneshot

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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

Text

draco malfoy x fem!reader

part one: Broken

Warning: Angst, swearing, spelling and grammar mistakes

Summary: You finally decide to confront Draco his absence and find out his secret. fluff at the end.

A/N: Sorry if it’s a bit slow at the beginning, but I really like how this one ended up.

enjoy <3

___________________________________

You sigh as you continue to flip through your charms textbook, you had a big test coming up and you wanted to make sure you did well. Taking a look out your room’s window you break into a grin watching the snowflakes fall from the sky, you try your best to resist the urge to run into the snow, turning back to the textbook in front of you as a distraction, but when you kept reading the same line over, and over again, you give in and start to pull on your winter jacket, boots and a warm hat. Smiling to yourself, you hurried out of your common room door and ran through the halls until you finally felt the cool wind on your face.

Walking towards your favourite spot by black lake, you take in the gorgeous scenery. The trees in the forests were all ridden with bits of snow and icicles hanging down the branches, the lake had not yet frozen over but the snow and greenery around it made it seem like a muggle Christmas card, there were also little first years running around having a snowball fight, laughing happily. Flopping down on your back into the fluffy snow once reaching your destination, you enjoy the feeling of the cool snowflakes falling onto your warm cheeks. As you continue to lay in the winter wonderland your mind thinks back to the winters you and your family would stay at your cabin up north, your mother would always build large snow figures with magic, as you and your father always stared in awe at them. Since your father was a muggle, you also picked up on their traditions too, baking little cookies being your favourite. As your mind seems to perk up at all the happy memories, you replay a certain one in your head, the day Draco confessed his feelings for you in your fourth year.

“C’mon Dray, it’s just a little snow please.” you practically begged, giving your best puppy eyes to the grey eyed slytherin in front of you. “y/n you know I can't say no when you give me those eyes.” Draco sighs exasperated. “ so it’s a yes then?” you raise your eyebrow hopefully, Draco seems to debate this in his head before silently agreeing. You squeal with excitement telling him to get dressed in something warm before meeting by Black lake, before kissing his cheek and running off. Draco has to splash cold water onto his face to get rid of the blush. When you arrive outside you see the handsome blonde leaning against a tree, smiling as you got closer to him. “So, what did you have planned?” Draco asks, wrapping one arm around your shoulder. For the rest of that day you spent your time showing Draco all the different ways to enjoy the snow. You made snow angels with him, showed him how to build a snowman, (which he found rather ridiculous, but didn’t complain when he saw the look of pure joy in your face) had a snowball fight with him, and just sat in each other's embrace watching the snow fall. It had become slightly dark by then and you were still wrapped in Draco’s arms, he looked away for a second from the falling snow and his eyes fell to you, and you took his breath away. Your h/c was a little messy, but still framed your face perfectly, you had a faint pink blush on your skin and your nose was bright pink. You looked so perfect there in his arms and he knew he was a goner. “H-hey, y/n?” He started, trying to build up his courage. “What’s up Dray?” you ask cluelessly. He looked deep into your eyes and got lost in your e/c orbs, his confidence dwindling, he decided to just get it out. “I...I fancy you y/n. I have for a while, you’re so beautiful, kind and so smart. I just wanted to let you know.” He confessed, turning away bashfully. When you didn't respond he grew scared, did you not feel the same? He was about to apologize when he felt you lean towards him and close the small gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a short chasté kiss, “I fancy you too Draco, have since our first potions class together when you asked for my help on the essay.” you say truthfully. Draco’s mouth drops open, but it is soon replaced by a huge grin as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a kiss again, filled with snow, lipgloss and feelings coming out. You spent the rest of the night in the slytherin common room with hot chocolate, blankets and cuddles by the fire.

You bring your hands to your face and rub the tiredness out of your eyes, slowly drifting from the memory and back into reality.

Another month had passed since Draco broke up with you, you’d gone two and a half months without speaking or seeing the man you love. It hurt really bad that Draco didn’t even look at you anymore, and it confused you to no end.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a loud voice. “ I’m telling you two! Draco’s working for Voldemort!” You stiffen at these words, what the hell were they talking about? “Oh shut your trap Harry! You’ve been going on about this for days! I get you don’t like Malfoy, but this is getting out of hand!” That was Hermione’s voice, why did Harry think Draco would be working with Voldemort, that’s impossible… You keep still and continue to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Don’t you find it suspicious how much Malfoy has been avoiding us? What if he’s planning something?” Harry explains. “Forget it Harry, you know that prat’s been ignoring us because we’re friends with y/n” you could almost feel Hermione’s eye roll from here. “She’s got a point Harry…” Ron agrees. Harry seems at a slight loss of words and you choose then to take your leave, pulling your hood over your head to avoid being noticed and shaking your head at the golden trio’s antics.

Heading back to your common room you suddenly feel a slight shiver running down your spine, finally taking notice that the coat you were wearing was now very wet. Sighing, you shrug it off and quickly rush to the y/h common room to drop off your coat and change out of the cold clothing, swapping out your soaked outfit for warm sweatpants and casual shirt, running a brush through your hair before heading back to the great hall for something warm to eat. Taking your usual spot at the y/h table you start to sip on a mug of warm tea, letting the warm creamy taste of the milk and the sugary sweetness consume your body. You take a couple bites of shepard’s pie, you weren’t hungry, but you knew Hermione would be fretting over you if you dared to skip one meal, sometimes you wondered if Mrs. Weasley was rubbing off on her. Poking at your unfinished pie, you take a glance up to see if any of your friends are around, scanning the long tables around you, hoping to find a familiar face among the sea of people. While your eyes scan down the slytherin table, your eyes stop wandering and you’re met with those piercing orbs you missed so much. You felt your heart skip a beat and you tried to manage a small smile at him, but as your lips tug up Draco abruptly stands up and quickly exits the hall. You felt your heart drop, so many thoughts consumed your head, so many questions, insecurities and doubts, but you snap back to your senses and immediately storm out after him.

You had had enough, you could understand if he didn’t want to speak with you, but this was getting infuriating! What had you done so wrong that made Draco dash out of the hall after just making eye contact with you! You tail him from a distance, walking down several hallways and corridors, pushing past people until there weren’t any students around at all anymore. To stay hidden you’d hide in an alcove for a bit until you were sure Draco hadn’t sensed he was being followed. You continue down the last hall seeing a distinct flash of white enter a deserted boys washroom, storming in a minute later, you were about to raise your voice, but what you saw broke your heart all over again.

Draco was hunched over a sink his head drooped between his shoulders, his eyes were red and glassy, his hair was a mess and from up close you could see his sick face and very prominent bags under his eyes. You hid behind a pillar in the large room, unable to find your voice looking at Draco’s vulnerable form. As Draco straightened up a bit you could understand why he chose to come to such a deserted area, you heard him mutter muffliato in a small voice and a second later he began to cry. Tears filled with sadness and agony flowed free down his face, and strangled cries came from his mouth. He started hitting the edge of the sink with his fists, but Draco seemed numb to the pain, you could swear you heard a crack, but you were unsure if it was Draco’s hand or the sink he was beating. His sobs turned to screams with one word coming out like a mantra. “Why?” You began to walk slowly towards him, but the screams didn’t stop, he had still failed to notice your entry. “Why did this have to happen to me?! I don’t want this! I can’t be without her!” he screamed before you heard him whimper into his sleeve, tears began to form in your own eyes and you pushed back your nervousness, rushing towards him. “Draco!” you finally call to him and pull him towards you, hoping to hold him in your embrace. He stiffens and flinches away from you, a look of terror on his face. Brushing off the feeling of hurt as you step closer to him, you begin to speak, “Draco you don’t have to avoid me, please, tell me what’s going on! I’m sure I can help you.” you try to reason with him. “ y/n. You need to leave. Get out of my sight. Now!” You could tell he was trying to be cruel, but the breaks in his voice gave him away, you began to feel your own tears stream down your face. “No Draco, please don’t push me away, I’m here for you no matter what, you know I care about you.” You take another step closer to him as he takes a step back. Tears reemerge from his eyes and you reach out and wipe them away with your thumb, ignoring his tense features. “Please leave y/n, leave me, I don't want you to get hurt.” he whispers, removing his left arm from behind his back. “Dray, what on Earth are talking abou-” your words catch in your throat as you look down at Draco’s left arm, in dark ink that seemed to stare into the pits of your soul was a skull and snake tattoo. The Dark Mark. “Oh Draco…” you say taking his forearm into your hands. He lets you. “Go on y/n, run away, scream, tell everyone!” Draco’s soft voice raises into a yell, and as you look into the eyes you fell in love with, you can see the broken man inside him. “Draco-” he cuts you off. “What don't you understand y/n, I have the fucking dark mark on my arm! I’m helping a madman kill innocent people, I’m a bloody monster!” He’s sobbing now, and has fallen to his knees. You fall down with him and search his face. You search for any sign of dishonesty, any sign of hate, rage or evil, you’re unsuccessful. There is no sign of a monster. You only see a boy, a scared and innocent boy who doesn’t want or deserve the pain he is going through. You see Draco, the man you fell in love with and will love forever. You bring his wrist to your lips and kiss the ink on his arm. This shocks him and his mouth falls open, just like when you told him you also fancied him that winter 2 years ago, you smile at him. “Draco, this mark doesn’t define you, from what I’m hearing, you don’t want to hurt anyone or stand with Voldemort, you said it yourself you don’t want this, and if you were forced into this, I don’t care, Draco I love you, you, a tattoo doesn't change that if you don’t agree with the beliefs that come with it. It doesn’t have to change who you are.” you spill out truthfully. You reach out and hold his face in your palms and staring into his beautiful eyes, this time he doesn’t pull back.

“Y/n-” he stutters out. “Yes, my love?” you respond. He pulls you into him, wrapping you in a tight embrace and burying his face into your neck. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He murmurs against you neck. You start to feel tears running down his cheeks again, this time it’s not sad or angry tears, but happy and grateful ones. You return his embrace, rubbing his back soothingly and drawing patterns in his shirt. This beautiful boy has cried too many tears in his life and didn’t deserve an ounce of the pain and sadness he’s had to go through, you know he needs to get it out though, so you sit there in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ears and reassuring him you were never going to leave his side, he began to let apologies fall from his lips. whispering that it was all his fault and he was being stupid. You shut him up with a long passionate kiss, hoping your point was getting across. “Draco, you weren’t being stupid, you were trying to protect me, and I’m so grateful for that, I just wish you’d know you didn’t have to break up with me to protect me, we can work together.” you murmur against his lips with a smile. You feel him nod before he presses his lips to yours again and seals a wordless promise. A promise to stay, to fight, and to protect you from your side until his dying breath. You were his reason to stay strong and push through hard times, you were his hope that everything would turn up alright, you were a light in the dead of night guiding him out of dark times. With that kiss he sealed a wordless promise, a wordless promise of love.

@kitty7864 @lord-byron

#draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco angst #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #hermione granger #draco fluff #fluff #angst #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years ago

Text

satori - park chanyeol

⇢ prompt Let’s make it forever.—sequel to greatest gift ⇢ pairing chanyeol x female reader ⇢ word count 14.3k ⇢ genre fluff & smut ⇢ warnings explicit sexual content, small dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (just 3 don’t get excited), unprotected sex, creampie, mild cumplay?, i think that’s all this is basically pwp but somehow 14k words ⇢ summary It’s been a little more than two years since you and Chanyeol started dating and you have never been so happy. Perhaps you are just blinded by love, but things are perfect and you cannot help but think it has something to do with having the love of your life always by your side. You also cannot help but think this kind of love lasts forever.—established relationship!au ⇢ a/n ok i really wasn’t planning on writing a sequel to greatest gift but then like 1 person asked me to & then i was inspired by 170727 kokobop chanyeol watch the fancam dudes that’s the exact outfit he wears in this & have been listening to forever religiously & really just wanted to write pcy saying ‘nice skirt’ so here we are. u don’t need to read greatest gift to read this but u will have more background info ab characters & relationships. ok that’s all from me, i really spilled my heart out into this one & am very proud so i hope u love satori as much as i do! ♥︎

In the midst of your monotonous Pinterest scrolling, the unlocking and opening of the front door tears your attention away from the video that so enticingly grasps your attention, no matter how badly you wish it to finish. Glancing up, you first look to the television, where your fourth episode of Property Brothers drones on, flickering light into the otherwise dark room. Then, it is Toben who catches your eye, head lifting from his position by your feet at the sound of the door clicking shut. So quick is he to abandon you, excitedly leaping down from the sofa to greet his human. In all honesty, you do not blame him; he simply is not as lazy as you are on this dreary Friday night.

Well, perhaps not so dreary anymore. Sure, the unremitting, hazy rain and grey clouds beyond the warm confines of your apartment beg to differ, but inside, the sun itself has entered.

“You know what’s sad?” You call out to him, lips quirked in amusement.

“What?” He answers from down the hall, followed by the rustle of his jacket as he hangs it onto the coat rack. The familiar deepness of his voice alone is enough to put you at ease; instantly, you feel like putty against the pillow propped beside you when you imagine his humored smile. At the sound of Toben’s nails scratching against the hardwood as he scurries back into the room, you take one last lingering glimpse to the video that has been playing on loop on your phone.

“I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Making his way down the foyer, he laughs. Barely a low chuckle, mostly out of confusion at your out-of-the-blue statement, but this makes you crack a smile nonetheless.

“Why should you know how to tie a tie?”

You know he is finally here without having to look up. You can feel it, the way his presence beckons for your attention effortlessly, tugging at the strings of your heart and the cords to your soul. The way the room seems to instantly grow warmer, brighter, the way just seeing his frame, tall and regal in your peripheral vision, is enough to have your legs quivering with the need to have him closer. “I don’t know,” you snort, turning to look at him at last, “wouldn’t it be cute if I did your tie before we went out?”

“___, how often do we go places where a tie is necessary?” Chanyeol muses, though you don’t exactly pay any mind to his reasoning. It’s not that you are ignoring him, you’re just… taking time to engrave this image in your mind, just like every other day. He’s beautiful, you distantly note, the epitome of your dreams standing at the entrance of the living room like a beacon, blue light from the TV flashing against his oversized olive-green sweatshirt and hair falling in floofy curls over his forehead. His hair.

His hair.

Somewhere in between you slowly blinking at him in the dark and leaning forward to turn the light on, he asks how your day was. Now, this goes ignored, brain preoccupied trying to fully process the fact that his hair is pink.

“You— what? When?” Overlooking his question, you sputter, “I thought you were at work!”

Amused at your baffled astonishment, Chanyeol kicks his sneakers off near the shoe rack before making his way over, stifling a laugh at your rendered silence. “Do you like it?” He asks, scooping your legs up from the sofa so he can crash down close beside you, quickly laying them over his lap.

Pinterest ‘how to tie a tie’ video long forgotten, you toss your phone onto the coffee table and lean forward, grasping his face in both hands in order to lower the crown of his head to your nose. With only a single inhale, the accumulative scent of bleach and hair dye and everything salon nearly has your eyes watering before you drop your hands. At that, you lean back far enough to fully admire him in the light, cheeks and lips puffy from a long day, skin glowing with the remnants of misty rain, but the hair. Oh good God, the hair. A shade somewhere in between bubblegum pink and your favorite lip gloss, it has your insides alight with butterflies in seconds.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome,” you finally sigh, burying your face into your palms. The anxiety that had begun fizzing in his nerves from your scrutinizing is immediately extinguished, replaced with a fresh wave of pride to his ego and, well, absolute adoration for you.

“Is that a yes?” Chanyeol laughs, loud and boisterous as he bends to awkwardly lie against you, paying no mind to the way the furniture creaks as he wiggles his way into the small space. “Duh,” you scoff, moving your arm so he can better nestle his long ass self between your legs, “I thought red was my favorite, but now I’m not so sure.” When he laughs again, you feel it in your soul, the vibrations resonating within you and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer. Once he’s caught on that you desperately, always, crave for such proximity, Chanyeol instantly shimmies his way up, dimple prominent when you cup his face one more time to press a welcoming kiss first to his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “I missed you.”

“I bet I missed you more,” he replies once satisfied five kisses later, turning his head to rest against his favorite pillow, aka your chest. Knowing you will never win in any such argument like this with him, you bite your tongue and take to combing your fingers through the freshly colored strands of hair, cringing at the thought that it won’t be this soft after he’s washed it. “So, what made you do this?”

He shrugs, half of his attention paid toward the renovation reveal displayed on the TV. “Thought I’d switch it up for Easter, so I just went before heading to the studio.”

“What did Jongdae think?” You wonder with a laugh. Out of all Chanyeol’s friends, Jongdae was never one to go for the extravagant hair colors. Orange was the extent of his spectrum, and even that was short-lived. “Said he liked it, then called me an Easter egg, so who knows,” he grumbles, clearly troubled by his friend’s lack of an immediate, one hundred percent approval. This in itself is enough to make you laugh, but you choose to change the subject for the sake of Chanyeol’s immeasurable ego. “Speaking of,” you hum, enamored with just the sliver of his face you can see from this angle, “how’s the album going?”

“It’s good,” Chanyeol hums, chin digging into your sternum when he turns to look at you once more, “Jongdae is gonna start recording on Monday.” As he says this, he stretches his arms above your head before flopping them down by your sides, one cold hand sneaking under the hem of your crew neck to splay against the warmth of your back. Now, this is mutualism at its finest: with the two of you seemingly always running at an internal temperature too high, you both are feens for a cold touch once in awhile. So, as Chanyeol gets to warm his hands up, you, too, benefit with the coolness against your burning skin. It also may have to do with that time he had ice cubes against your—

You shake your head to rid the tantalizing memory.

“I’m so excited to hear it,” you whisper without meaning to, perhaps reduced to mush at your current intimacy, “with his voice, knowing you wrote the majority of the album. Ah, it’s gonna be beautiful.” Pushing his bangs back and giving his scalp a good scratch all the way to the nape of his neck, you add with a wrinkle of your nose, “I wish it was you, though.”

Chanyeol lets out an amused snort, one eye peeled open to glare at you for disrupting the drowsy daze you have cast him under. “But you already have my singing all to yourself, you don’t need an album,” he mutters, voice marbled with sleep and your fingers twitch with the need to trace the swell of his pouty lips. You do it, anyway, and receive a chaste kiss to the pad of your thumb in return.

“How was the museum?” He asks nearly ten minutes later, stirring just slightly to stretch the arm not curled around you up and past your head. You were under the impression he was fast asleep if the shallowness of his breath was anything to go by. Perhaps not. “Slow Friday, as usual,” you sigh, aching to stretch, too, now that the weight of having a grown ass man on you has finally taken its toll, “had a live animal show with the barn owl and Branch, again.”

“Branch is the new opossum, right?” Chanyeol questions, suddenly pushing himself up enough to sit back on his heels. He must have noticed your stiffness. Offering him an appreciative smile, you lean up and fluff the now squashed pillow beneath you before flopping back down on your side. “Yeah,” you hum, pulling him down to rejoin you, “he’s cute. Imprinted, too, so he loves cuddles. Almost as much as you.” It’s awfully cramped with your back pressed up against the leather and Chanyeol flush against you, but you would never complain about having him so close. You usually can’t get close enough.

“I’ll never forget the raccoons. They were so cute,” Chanyeol hums, reminiscent to the singular time your boss allowed you to sneak him in to meet all of the museum’s disabled animals. With his hipbone pressed against the curve of your stomach, he slots one long leg between your own, surely building his nest even though he should eat and shower before getting comfortable. “That was fun,” you agree, pausing for just a moment when his hand, large enough to cradle half of your face, comes to do so. “They were hella messy though, ugh,” grumbling, you return his previous gesture and press a kiss to the palm of his hand when his thumb goes about running along your bottom lip, “I’ll never forget the time Lavender shit in their enclosure asI was cleaning it.”

Chanyeol frowns, brows quickly drawing together and the sudden change in his expression certainly throws you off guard. “Don’t talk about raccoon shit when I’m about to kiss you,” he murmurs, leaning up on one elbow to ever so slightly hover over you.

“Oh?” You chuckle, dragging your hands up the ridges of muscle in his arms to link behind his neck. “I didn’t know that was your plan.” Like this, you still can’t fight your smile at just how well the pink hair compliments the warmth of his honey complexion.

Lips jutting out in a deeper pout, Chanyeol slips his hand under your shirt to grab ahold of your waist. “That’s always my plan,” he sighs longingly, finally swooping down to capture your lips in a kiss powerful enough for the world around you to fall away.

When you wake, you come to realize three abnormalities.

First, your pillow is not where it should be. Flat on your stomach and limbs spread like a starfish, you raise your head just enough to catch the corner of said pillow staring at you sadly from the floor below.

Second, you are cold. This, you have no one to blame but yourself, having torn your clothes off in a hurry and fallen asleep soaked in the warmth of one another. Now, with the blankets only coming up mid-back, you cannot fight your shivers at the cold air against your bare skin.

And lastly, Chanyeol is still awake.

It takes several moments for you to come to your senses, feeling as if you have awoken from a season long hibernation, the haze and confusion of having abruptly awakened rendering you incompetent when it comes to gathering your wits for several moments. Finally, once you have realized where you are, you first take to wiping at the drool that has pooled directly onto the sheets and, consequently, crusted onto your cheek. Nice. Pausing just a moment to collect your disoriented thoughts once more, you then lean half your body off the bed to retrieve your pillow with a grunt, and, just a little further away, your shirt. On your way back up, you catch the time on your nightstand shining an angry 2:43 am at you.

“What are you still doing up?” You ask, voice groggy and thick with sleep once you have flopped onto your back, chest heaving with the unnecessary effort you just had to exert in the middle of your weekend slumber. Squinting past the shine of the bedside lamp he’s kept on and the bright screen of his laptop, you recline just enough to see that he’s… online shopping?

“Baekhyun showed me this really cool site for colored contacts,” Chanyeol explains, then, after turning to you with furrowed brows and a worried pout, “did I wake you?”

God, you’re confused, brain in no state to try and figure out why he’s looking at colored contacts at almost three in the morning when he had fallen asleep with you no more than four hours ago. “No, no… well, actually, I don’t know, I think I just woke up on my own,” you murmur, sitting up to pull the crew neck over your head, “why… why are you looking at contacts, again?”

The rasp of his chuckle is enough to draw you closer, rolling to meet his side and pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Baekhyun said blue contacts with pink hair is a good look, so I’m gonna order a pair,” he whispers, lifting his arm despite your grumble of protest to curl around your shoulders and tug you close. The white light from his laptop is a bit too harsh on your eyes, but you manage to keep one half open to peek at the selection. Then, “You’re so weird. Go to bed.”

“I will, after I order,” he whispers for the sake of letting you fall back asleep, yet you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, whatever,” you grunt, turning onto your other side but still latching onto his arm, “get me a pair, too.”

For the brief time in between living with college roommates and then moving with Chanyeol, sleeping in on Saturday mornings in the comfort of your own apartment was always your favorite. No obligations, no work, and certainly no one to disturb you. Whether you finally rolled out of bed at ten, one, or four o’clock--- it didn’t matter. If you had plans at night, you still had plenty of time to get ready and you were in a much better mood to socialize than the other days of the week. Sleeping in on Saturdays till whatever time deemed sufficient simply brings about a whole new level of comfort and consists of several factors at the root of such leisure.

This list certainly became askew, however, once you and Chanyeol began spending nights with one another. Before, simply waking to a quiet apartment, ceiling fan humming and sunlight trickling through the bottom of your blinds was your favorite part of the week. But waking up with the love of your life curled into you certainly makes this experience all the better. And at this point, it seems as if waking up with the warmth of Chanyeol’s breath against the nape of your neck will remain at the top of your list forever.

So, for that to be absent is enough to startle you into an upright position only seconds after you have opened your eyes. Palm coming to slap against the deserted Chanyeol-indented space of mattress beside you, you stroke up and down the sheets, once, twice, before the lingering warmth on the pillow and sheets eases your nerves. Spinning to catch the time, you squint as if that will kickstart the drowsy parts of your brain to comprehend 12:37 pm and all the possible reasons why he is not here with you before tossing the blankets aside and rising with a much-needed stretch.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight seeping in from between the blinds, you first reach for your underwear tossed haphazardly by the window before half-shimmying them up your legs and half-hopping to the door. Perhaps he’s in the office, you wonder, stepping into the foyer but alas, the door remains open and the lights off. Just as you’ve wandered into the living room, scratching by the front door to the right of you is immediately followed by the lock clicking open and, seconds later, Chanyeol has returned.

You’re a little thrown off. Sweatpants, wrinkled t-shirt, moccasins, and a terribly cute case of bedhead, it seems as if he just rolled out of bed seconds prior. But in his hands, he holds two full grocery bags and Toben’s leash.

“Good morning,” he smiles softly, eyes puffy with sleep. Yep, definitely just woke up. “Mom called,” he explains, lifting the bags before passing them to you so he can unhook Toben, “said something about… someone else not being able to cook a main for tomorrow... so she asked if we could do the Easter bread and brought all the stuff for it.” He explains as you rummage through the groceries. Milk, yeast, a carton of eggs; all things you have here, but Mrs. Park’s kindness never fails to surprise you. “Ah,” humming, you make way for the kitchen counter to set everything down, “I was very confused.”

“Sorry,” joining you in the kitchen, Chanyeol curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to kiss your temple, “I didn’t want to wake you.” Lining all the dry ingredients up for later, you hand him the rest to put in the refrigerator. “Well, thank you,” flashing him an appreciative smile, you finally take to rubbing your eyes as it seems you won’t be going back to bed anytime soon, “do you want anything to eat? I can make eggs if you make pancakes.” Crust sufficiently wiped from your eyes, you lean against the cabinets and glance to Chanyeol, soaking in the way he seems to glow in the sunlight illuminating him and the messy curls of pink hair. Ugh. He’s the worst.

“Breakfast sounds good,” he agrees, gaze flickering down to your bare legs for hardly a second before taking two short steps closer and suddenly, you’re not so sure he means eggs and pancakes if the way his eyes darken is anything to go by.

“You should probably put some pants on, first,” Chanyeol rumbles with a thoughtful rise of his brows, one hand anchoring onto the curve of your waist while another dips into the waistband of your panties before letting it slap back against your skin.

Despite the burning desire that flares in your abdomen at the daring move, you jut your chin out, eyeing him contentiously. “Oh! You’re right,” smirking, you force yourself to avoid making eye contact in order to calmly slip out of his grip, “let me go grab some sweats.”

You’ve hardly made it to the dining table by the time he’s back on you, reaching for your wrist and spinning you to meet his chest. At the near growl that escapes him, you quite literally quiver from head to toe. “So funny, I forgot to laugh,” Chanyeol grumbles, gripping the back of your thighs to help you onto the wood before diving in to kiss you.

It quite literally sucks the life out of you, but then again, that’s every kiss with him. “I thought it was pretty funny,” you giggle before he really has you loopy on the taste of him, but it doesn’t take long for your jaw to slacken, allowing him further access. So quickly you fall under his spell, fingers curling into the hairs at the nape of his neck and legs coming to wrap around his waist when the kiss turns into nothing more than a clash of teeth and tongue. It doesn’t take long for him to rid you of your shirt, either, or have you lying back before him as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way down from your throat to the waistband of your underwear. Christ, this poor table.

Good thing this is the only such meal ever eaten here.

Out of fear that he would stop once you mentioned anything, you have never complimented Chanyeol on his shower singing. Sure, you have heard him loud and clear throughout your home and sometimes even when he’s secluded in his office, but something tells you singing in the shower is different. You wouldn’t necessarily call it an invasion of privacy considering no such privacy exists in your relationship by now, but you simply do not want to mention it because knowing him, he subconsciously will either sing quieter or amp it up knowing you are listening in. And you don’t want him to change what he’s already doing.

With your back facing the bathroom door, you remain in the same position Chanyeol left you in, on your side with your head on his pillow rather than your own. You should probably get out of bed soon, anyway, the colon between the ten and forty-three on the clock blinking at you in judgment, but listening to Chanyeol sing along to a fourth Radiohead song with the luxurious smell of him around you is a much better alternative. You have plenty of time to get ready, you tell yourself, nestling deeper into the pillow, only seconds before Chanyeol’s singing ceases as he turns the water off. Frowning, you take this as your cue to give up any possible five-minute nap and return to your side of the bed to retrieve your phone.

“Are you up?” Chanyeol calls from behind the door just as you have opened up Instagram. “Yeah!”

He opens the door at your confirmation, showering steam and light into the otherwise cave-like bedroom. “I’m gonna have to leave soon,” Chanyeol says once you have rolled over to look him, towel wrapped snuggly around his hips and Q-tip in ear, “Mom is in her usual panic and asked if I could help her out.” Frowning, you flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “What ever am I to do without you for two and a half hours?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he hums, making his way over and leaning over you, arms coming to rest at each side of your head. You twitch when a droplet of water running down his jaw falls onto your cheek. “G’morning, by the way,” he mumbles against your lips after coming closer and you graciously return the soft kiss he offers you. Of course, you pull him back for a second, much deeper one, smiling when he ever so slightly shifts when your fingers come to trail up the toned expanse of his stomach, hand coming to cradle his jaw.

You pull back with a sly smile when his tongue threatens to push past the seam of your lips. “Do you know what you’re wearing?” You ask, ignoring the betrayed look in his eyes when you sit up and nudge him out of the way. “No,” he grumbles, returning to the bathroom once he realizes he is not getting anything more than a kiss. Stifling a laugh, you swing your legs over and sit on the edge of the mattress, watching him comb product through his hair. After two showers, it already seems to have lost its initial pop of color. Sad.

Rising with a stretch, you head toward the closet and stop along the way to pull a pair of sweatpants up your legs—just so he doesn’t get any ideas—and flip the closet light on before opening the doors. At the sound of the hairdryer roaring to life, you take to sifting through the shirts he has hung up, trying to avoid the blacks as this is his family’s annual Easter get-together. It certainly is not as extravagant as Christmas, but Chanyeol is a man of style and you know he prides himself showing up as best dressed. Going something pastel would be a nice change for the spring season, but yet again… you linger on a navy button-up. The white decal means he could wear white pants, but it is a little casual, barely a step up from a Hawaiian shirt, but maybe he could wear a nice jacket with it.

Plucking it by the hanger, you turn toward the bathroom and hold the seemingly unworn shirt out to him as he moves to the last section of damp hair. “This, with white pants? Do you have a jacket this color?” You shout over the hairdryer, reaching to brush away a tuft of hair falling in his eyes. Chanyeol considers it for a moment, gaze flickering back to his reflection before nodding to you. “Yeah, in the other closet, though. Thank you,” you just barely hear him but smile nonetheless, stealing the dryer from him to direct the hot air toward the back where hair refuses to lay flat.

Passing it back to him when you’re done, he only does one more run through before switching it off and moving on to gel just to assure the hair he has combed back stays up and away from his forehead. “You look really handsome with it parted like that,” you compliment, staring up at him with wide eyes and you mentally slap yourself at how flustered you sound. Dating for over two years and you still can’t get a grip. The look on his face makes your embarrassment worth it, though. “I had no idea how the back looked, so thank you,” Chanyeol chuckles, rinsing residue gel off his hands before unplugging the hairdryer and ushering you back into your bedroom. Not without another kiss, of course. As a treat.

Hooking the hanger with his shirt onto the doorknob of the closet, you take to undressing as he does the opposite, tossing your sleep apparel to the hamper and only stopping to help him redo the buttons of his shirt he so kindly misaligned. “I’m gonna get in the shower,” you hum, goosebumps coming in waves when his hand comes to glide against your bare skin, starting at your waist, up the curve of your breast, over your collarbones and finally cradling your neck, “I’ll see you in a little bit?”

“Yes ma’am,” he affirms, ducking to peck the corner of your mouth, “I’ll get an Uber so you can have the car?”

“No! You drive, don’t you have to pick stuff up? I’ll Uber,” you offer, wrapping your arms around him and blinking up at him with your chin sitting on his chest. When he shakes his head you realize, as usual, there’s no point in arguing. “It’s fine,” Chanyeol grins, pinching your side, “no one else gets to drive my girl but me.” Rolling your eyes to counteract the heat that flares its way up your neck, you pull away, smoothing out the wrinkles you made in his shirt. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t forget a jacket.”

“I won’t,” smiling, he leans over to give you a proper kiss this time, “see you at two.”

Once the Park family, as well as distant relatives and close friends, found out you and Chanyeol were together, things certainly changed.

You were no longer simply Seoyun’s best friend. Everyone knew you at that point, sure, accepted the fact that where Seoyun went, you followed, but dating Chanyeol had all the stage lights pointing to you. You couldn’t necessarily understand why that came to be, but assumed that it simply had to do with how popular he is, even in his own family. For someone not nearly as outgoing as Chanyeol, the news came as a surprise to many on that monumental Christmas party two years ago. Others, however, apparently had their bets on when the two of you would finally crumble for years.

Chanyeol’s mother, for example, was one such person.

For as many things that went wrong this morning, from your straightener not heating past one-fifty, to having a breakdown over what to wear, and even messing up your eyeliner one too many times, you have somehow arrived seven minutes early. Before you left, Chanyeol had called, too, asking you to pick up two bottles of soju and a bag of glass noodles because 1) him and his cousins already managed their way through a bottle and 2) the noodle pack his mom picked up was half the serving she needed. This alone tells you you’re in for a long night.

Christ, it would have been nice if he was here to open the door for you, though. With a heavy grocery bag, wrapped Easter bread, keys, and handbag threatening to slip off your shoulder, it takes ample effort to safely hook your pinkie finger around the grocery bag so you can lock the car. Then, you manage to open the storm door with your elbow, seconds away from dropping the Easter bread in the endeavor. Chanyeol claims he forgot it on the counter. Luckily, the maroon front door with its pretty spring wreath has been left ajar, and it isn’t until you have finally slipped your way inside does someone realize whoever’s huffing and puffing out there needs help.

“Here, I’ll take this,” he offers in a rush, further opening the door to accommodate the two of you and taking the bread from your arms.

“Thank you,” you smile, wiping your boots on the welcome mat before looking up to your knight in shining armor.

Oh. Oh.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” you chuckle, squinting at the ridiculously attractive stranger. Phew. There’s no way you would have missed such a face in all your years with the Park family whether Chanyeol was the apple of your eye or not.

“No, you haven’t. This is my first rodeo around here,” he grins brightly. His smile makes him even more attractive, if that is possible. “I’m Jongin. Nice to meet you…?”

Oh. Oh.

“Jongin, as in Kim Jongin Park Seoyun’s boyfriend?”

“Yes…?” He trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You apparently know me, yet I don’t know you.”

“I’m ___,” you laugh, stepping past him and leading him out of the front foyer. When you glance back at him, you can see the gears turning in his brain before an excited expression of recognition flashes across his face. “Oh! Oh, shit. You’re the infamous ___. Christ, sorry. Hi.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing, but then again, I have no idea what that woman has said about me,” laughing, you pause to wave to some of Chanyeol’s cousins in the family room before continuing with Jongin to the kitchen, “don’t trust anything she says. I promise I’m nice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, though, Mr. Jongin.”

“Ah, you as well,” smiling softly, he seems quite overwhelmed at the Park’s rowdiness, gaze anxiously flickering around the crowded room as he ever so slightly steps closer. You distantly wonder why Seoyun would leave him stranded, but that’s not your problem. “So, if you are ___, does that mean you’re…”

Like some sort of cartoon, Jongin trails off just as both of you find Chanyeol in the crowd, beer in one hand and bowl in another as his mother deposits what looks like mussel and scallop shells into it. Maybe it’s your automatic Chanyeol-tunnel-vision, but even in the midst of the busy room he seems to be the rising star, standing tall and regal by the counter, laugh booming over all the noise and simply glowing in the warm wash of light. He managed to find a navy jacket practically matching his shirt, too. Dear God. “Yeah,” once you finally tear your gaze away to turn to Jongin, he’s already watching you, smiling at the way you so lovingly looked at Chanyeol. “I’m the lucky lady.”

“Hey, he’s the lucky one,” Jongin adds, nudging you with his elbow. Seoyun certainly got a good one. “Speaking of lucky,” you start, craning your neck to search for said girl, “where’s S—”

“___!”

You are so kindly interrupted by your intoxicated boyfriend shouting for you across the room. Flushing in embarrassment and trying to ignore all the heads that turn in your direction at the sudden announcement of your arrival, you reclaim the Easter bread from Jongin’s arm, offering him an appreciative bow. “I’ll catch up with you later. Tell Seoyun I was looking for her.”

At his affirmative smile, you suck in a deep breath before spinning around and maneuvering your way to where Chanyeol and his mother stand by the oven. “I was wondering where you were,” he greets, setting his beer down to take the bread and soju from your hands before squashing your nose in a deep kiss that his mother and family really did not need to see. Blinking at him in surprise, you don’t even bother asking him what the hell that was about and turn toward Mrs. Park instead, who has just finished wiping her hands before opening her arms for you.

“It’s wonderful to see you, love,” she hums when you wholeheartedly accept her embrace, arms coming to wrap around her. “You too, Ma,” pulling back just enough to look at her with a brow raised, “I hope he helped you enough before he started drinking, or do I need to have a talk with him?”

She laughs, plucking up a wooden spoon to stir what looks like kimchi stew. “No, he helped a great deal. Vacuumed before anyone arrived and helped make a few things with his sister,” she explains, gaze lighting up when you pull the pack of glass noodles from the grocery bag. “Oh! Thank you so much, dear. I was so angry when I saw how little was in my bag,” then, turning to yell out over her guests, “Yura! Come finish your japchae!”

“Go grab something to drink, ___. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so, there’s plenty of appetizers out already. Thank you, again,” Mrs. Park grins brightly at you, squeezing your hand before returning to chopping vegetables. Crumbling the plastic grocery bag in your hand, you turn to Chanyeol who appears to be deep in conversation with a couple standing across from him, but you can tell by the way he keeps grazing over the appetizers on the counter next to him and avoiding eye contact that he is in desperate need of an escape. This being said, he still jolts in surprise when you return to his side, one hand curling around his bicep as the other glides down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his. The woman droning on pauses her chatter at this, the corner of her lip twitching up and she takes this as her cue to move on, offering the two of you a wink before dragging her husband, assumingly, out to the back patio.

“Ugh, thank you,” Chanyeol grins once the door shuts behind them, looking down at you with puckered lips, “I missed you.” Snorting, you let go of his arm to move to the now open spot beside him, eyeing all the pickies laid out in front of you. “Was going to make fun of you, but I missed you, too, so it looks like we’re both clowns,” you sigh, grabbing a fork to stab into a slice of mozzarella. Chanyeol stays quiet, opting to fondly watch you instead, smile only growing when you try one of everything. “Oh,” you remember, pausing to swallow the last bit of spicy chicken, “I’m glad you found a jacket. You look great.” You kiss the tips of your fingers, waving them just for emphasis.

Chanyeol’s grin is instantaneous, stretching his arms in front of him and literally checking himself out in front of you. You’re not judging, of course— if you looked half as good as him all the time, you would do the same. Plus, navy does wonders against his skin tone. “Thank you,” arm curling around you, he gives your side an affectionate squeeze, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

Smiling at his compliment, you continue to make your way through the appetizers. Plucking up a cube of cheese, it isn’t until you have bitten half do you realize your mistake. “Ew,” you cough, sticking your tongue out as if that will rid your taste buds of the sharp provolone flavor. Nose wrinkling, you hold the other half out to him, “Here, you like fancy shit like this.” What you certainly do not expect is for him to go right ahead and bite the cheese straight from your fingers, lips just barely wrapping around your thumb. Despite the way your stomach swoops at the action and the way he stands back to his full height, lids hooded and gaze dark, your first instinct is to look around you, heart racing at the thought of one of Chanyeol’s aunts or uncles watching him eat cheese from between your fingers. Christ, it sounds even worse when you think about it.

Swallowing past the sudden dryness in your throat, you tell yourself you know this dance— you know how to handle Chanyeol just as much as he knows how to handle you. Slowly turning back to him, all you offer is a challenging rise of your brow before reaching for a different cheese, trying to ignore the way your pulse races just by having him close.

As you search for a cracker, perhaps even a pretzel, you see from the corner of your eye how disgruntled he is with your reaction, considering you with a flare of his nostrils and a pout of his bottom lip. Plan B, it is.

Squeezing your side harder, Chanyeol leans in close this time, brushing hair away from your ear with his other hand before whispering, “Nice skirt.” Now, this certainly nurses a much better effect, the richness and deepness of his voice alone dripping like chocolate into the very core of your being. It’s only a two-word compliment, yet you practically choke on your mouthful of food. When he tugs at the hem of the plaid wool skirt you wear, two thoughts momentarily cross your mind: 1) the compliment is nice, especially since you were worried it was a bit shabby looking but 2) he may just be saying that to get a rise out of you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, summoning the courage to slide your palm from the waistband of his slacks, all the way up his chest to finally cup his jaw before standing on your tippy-toes, pushing yourself to meet his ear. The ball is in your court, now. “Bet you’d like it better if it was off, no?”

You don’t miss the way his breath hitches, grip on your waist tugging you closer and you distantly hope it simply looks at if the two of you are deep in conversation. Over cheese and whatnot, of course. “Don’t tempt me, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, “I’ve fucked you with my family just beyond a door, you know I’d gladly take you on the counter right now for everyone to see your pretty pussy.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Alarms. Panic. Shit, now you’re wet. What have you started? Maybe you don’t know how to handle Chanyeol as well as you think— he undoubtedly has your tongue tied now. You can’t even begin to think of a response that doesn’t involve tearing off the lace shirt you spent so long ironing for him to fulfill such an alluring threat. He must feel how you tremble against him, heat burning from the inside out and suddenly he’s withdrawing, regarding you with his own challenging brow raise, eyes dark with hunger as he awaits your response.

“Hey, Chanyeol! Stop hiding ___ from me!”

The relief you feel comes in cooling waves, jerking you out of your trance and you turn just in time to see Seoyun stop in front of you, finger jabbing into Chanyeol’s chest. “Can’t you back off for like, two seconds?” She barks, oblivious to his heavy breaths. Then, pulling Jongin who was hidden behind her to Chanyeol’s side, “You two, meet. Talk. Do the bro thing while I drink some mimosas with my girl.” Oh, good. You sure could use one of those. Or two. Or three.

Chanyeol puts his arms up in defense, glancing at Jongin who only shrugs in identical stupefaction. “Perfect! Okay, see you guys later. Don’t bother us, we have girl things to talk about,” Seoyun threatens, shooting a second cold glare to Chanyeol before softening up and smiling softly. Then, she’s dragging you toward the back door, hardly giving you time to look back at Chanyeol.

When you do, you know that threat won’t be forgotten easily.

After ‘dinner’ sometime around three-thirty, the hours start to blend together, four turning to six, and then all of a sudden, it’s eight o’clock. Family gatherings seemingly always go like this—when you were kids, this was time spent running around outside, about the house, playing games or opening presents (depending on the occasion). Now, this is when things mellow down; from chugging mimosas with Seoyun in the backyard, you now opt for wine, just to seem sophisticated, and the atmosphere is much calmer. Peak adulting, right here.

While many family and friends leave once the post-dinner sleepiness fades, close relatives remain, gathering together and using the time to share stories and life updates. These are always your favorite times with the Parks. And even though Chanyeol is on probation, sitting on another sofa across the room for the stunt he pulled earlier—no, the other stunt, where he held your thigh during dinner but kept inching up until his fingers brushed along your panties when his aunt was sitting right next to you—tonight, in particular, has been one of the best nights spent with your second family.

Every so often, usually when you are PMSing, a dreadful thought enters your mind and always returns whenever you are with Chanyeol’s family: you love them just as much as you love him. It was Seoyun, not Chanyeol, who introduced you to them first, and you have spent more than a decade growing up with them. It goes without explanation that you consider them as your own family now, too. So, what if you and Chanyeol broke up? You are an adult now, so it’s not like Seoyun would ask you to join her for the company like she had when you were kids, and it wouldn’t make sense for Chanyeol’s parents or aunts and uncles or grandparents to invite you… You would not only lose Chanyeol, but your family, too, and that’s enough to make any grown woman cry.

So, looking around the living room full of many people you have grown to love, you try to make the best of it. Not that you think you and Chanyeol are going to break up, no, but it is an inescapable fear that you will never be able to simply ignore.

But you can brush it aside for right now, at least— especially when you are curled into Mrs. Park’s side with Seoyun’s head on your lap.

“Are you guys gonna get married?” Your best friend asks, completely out of the blue. You just finished ranking your favorite teas, now we’re talking about marriage? “Um,” you cough, glancing up to Ma for help but she’s looking at you with an identical expectant rise of her brows. Must be a Park thing. Christ, what is this, the girl’s gossip table in fourth period lunch? Still… are you going to get married? You can’t necessarily answer that on your own. You have no idea what Chanyeol is planning for his future, sure, you’d like to get married, but you are also not in any rush, and—

“Yes,” is what you say, before your mind has even caught up. “Wait!” You quickly add on, smacking a palm to your forehead. Then, “Yes… I’d like to get married. But I don’t know if he wants to, and even if he does, we’re in no rush, he’s been busy producing and…” Trailing off, your gaze has somehow wound up to the ceiling, and when you glance back to them, their features have noticeably softened, eyes glossy with joy.

“I love him, a lot,” you say, quieter, gentler this time, zoning in on Chanyeol across the room and his pretty smile and the way the whole room seems to light up when he laughs. “If he wants to get married, I’ll marry him. And if he doesn’t… well, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait forever, for him.”

“My boy is more than in love with you, ___. You’re his whole world,” Mrs. Park says and when you tilt your head up at her, the look in her eyes suddenly makes you want to cry. Again. It’s from the wine, you tell yourself. “If he doesn’t put a ring on it soon, I’m gonna fuck his shit up,” Seoyun snaps, the alcohol in her system clearly doing the talking here as she stares absentmindedly up at the popcorn ceiling. Laughing, you slap a hand over your mouth, expecting Ma to reprimand her niece for such language in front of her. Instead, she joins in and soon enough, the combined laughter from the three of you has all of your earlier worries washed away.

“What’s so funny, ladies?” It’s Mr. Park here to interrupt this time, an amused smile forcing a dimple in his left cheek. “Ah, nothing, honey,” Ma coughs out one last giggle before reaching for her husband’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Just making fun of Yeol.”

“Oh, my favorite. What did he do this time?”

“He hasn’t asked ___ to marry him yet,” Seoyun pipes up from your lap, head tilting further back so she can look at her uncle.

“Why do I keep hearing my name over there?” Chanyeol shouts, leaning up far too quickly from his relaxed position and you can tell by the way his head bobbles that he has had one too many drinks with his uncles and cousins. Looks like you better slow down if you want to get home safely. “Because you’re paranoid!” You shout back, scrunching your nose at him because you know he knows you’re right. Frowning, he motions with two fingers that he will be watching you before returning to his own conversation.

“So, you met Jongin,” Seoyun starts once Mr. and Mrs. Park have fallen into a separate discussion beside you. You’ve had this conversation twice, already, but you don’t mind having it again.

“I have,” you hum, softly adjusting the weight of her head on your thighs so you can sit more comfortably, “I can’t believe you guys have been friends since university and this is the first time I’m meeting him.”

“Well… it’s not like we hung out all that much. We haven’t been in touch for a while,” Seoyun mumbles, eyelids fluttering closed once you begin combing through her hair.

“I refuse to believe that. There’s no way you would have given up a man that good-looking.”

“Hey!” She grumbles, smacking your knee. “He was abroad senior year! And then life just kind of took over. He had a girlfriend for a while after graduation, too. We only started talking again when I bumped into him in Target last year.”

“Mhm, sure,” you hum, looking up to find him. Your heart does somersaults once you find him seated on the same sofa as Chanyeol, cool as a cucumber compared to how overwhelmed he seemed earlier. “I’m happy he seems so comfortable with the family. I’m happy for you, too.”

The playful gleam in her eyes softens as she leans up, sitting up to face you properly. Then, squeezing your hands, “I’m happy, too. Ever since you and Chanyeol started dating… I wanted what you had so, so bad. And I know we’ve only been together for five months, but I’ve never been so happy with someone.”

“Do you love him?” You whisper, searching her face when she turns to look at Jongin across the room. You can see it— the look in her eyes, the complete and utter adoration and admiration. You see it because you’ve felt it, too. You’ve felt it looking at Chanyeol, and you’ve felt it when he looks at you.

“I do. I love him a lot, actually,” Seoyun finally admits, turning back to you and for the first time in years, you see genuine tears trail down her cheeks. “Oh, no,” you hush, dabbing under her eyes to make sure her mascara doesn’t run, “shh, don’t cry. I know they’re happy tears but your makeup looks too good for that.” Pulling her into a hug, you cradle her head into your shoulder and hope no one is looking at her strangely.

“I know,” Seoyun hiccups, squeezing you tightly, “I’m just so drunk and happy for you and for me, I couldn’t help it.”

Laughing, you push her back before cupping her cheeks, wiping at the stray tears. “It’s alright. Crying when you’re happy is a good thing. It means you’re doing something right, Seoyun.” Smiling despite the wetness of her cheeks, she straightens up, dabbing away tears under her chin before cupping your face as well. “Thank you for being such an amazing best friend all these years,” Seoyun says, reaching forward and planting a hefty kiss to your lips, “but I think it’s time for us to go home. Show Jongin how much I really love him.”

When she stands, you’re still trying to process the unexpected kiss she just gave you but brush it aside for now, considering you’ve kissed plenty of times in your years of friendship. “Alright,” standing up after her, you give her one last hug, “text me when you get home.”

“I will. You have a good night too, ___. Chanyeol’s been eating you up alive for the past hour,” winking, Seoyun finally turns away to bid her farewells to the rest of her family. Speaking of Chanyeol… you step around Seoyun and make your way toward him, desperately trying to ignore the way his gaze travels slowly up your approaching form.

“Hey,” he greets when you reach him, tugging you by the wrist to sit on his lap. Luckily, the family surrounding him are turned the opposite direction toward the television, leaving your intimacy to go unnoticed. “Hi,” you return, arm draping over his shoulders and fingers burying into his hair. “You ready to head home?” Chanyeol asks, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer so he can nestle into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m ready when you are,” humming, you take to tracing patterns against the skin of his neck, resting your head atop his as your eyelids threaten to flutter shut.

Reaching for your other hand, Chanyeol brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Y’know, nothing makes me happier than seeing you cozied up with my mom.”

“Well, I think she was pretty impressed by our fantastic Easter bread.”

Snorting, he brings his head back to look at you. “It was pretty good,” he agrees. Then, cradling your jaw, “But it’s more than that. Having the two most important women in my life get along so well means so much to me, ___.” Bringing you closer, Chanyeol finally kisses you, soft and slow and when your eyes close, you feel right back at home, warm all over and overflowing with ardor. “Come on,” nuzzling the tip of your nose with his, “finish your drink and then let’s go home.”

“We need to plan things more often. Mom and I want to see you more than once a month,” was the last thing Mr. Park said to you before you left for the night.

“I love you very much, sweetie. Keep in touch,” Ma had whispered in your ear as you hugged her goodbye.

This is all you can think about as you drive home. Chanyeol was much drunker than he led on, so with him knocked out in the passenger seat, head against the window, you’re left to your own thoughts. The soft lo-fi Chanyeol begged to put on the radio before he passed out doesn’t help, either, but the overall peace and quiet is enough to have you dwelling over your night.

This week leading up to Easter has been especially rainy, too, and even now as you lower the cruise control to sixty-five, hazy rain begins to set on the windshield. Switching on the wipers, you steal a quick glance to Chanyeol who stirs once you move back into the middle lane. And as much as you want to reach over and hold his hand, you don’t want to disturb him.

Maybe it has to do with all the time spent catching up with Seoyun, but you’re left in an overly nostalgic, sentimental mood.

There was quite a lot of talk about love tonight. What Mrs. Park and Seoyun dumped on you about marriage certainly threw you off. Sure, you definitely have imagined marriage and Chanyeol in the same picture, but it was never a topic either of you openly discussed. It just never came up. Despite the fact you have been dating for over two years, sometimes it feels as if you’re still in the honeymoon stage with how perfect things have been. You’ve had your fair share of fights, sure, but nothing ever large enough to have you questioning your relationship. Your mother always told you living together, managing finances together, and raising a child together (Toben) is the true test of love.

But you and Chanyeol have done all that already. You’ve been living together for quite some time, and there’s nothing he does that makes you want to rip your hair out like some couples seem to experience. And, while he does tease you over little habits, he has never mentioned something that seriously infuriates him, either. The two of you share everything at this point, and you can’t imagine marriage seriously making all that of a difference.

Just the life-long commitment.

But when you look at him now, you realize there is no other way you would want to live out the rest of your life. You can’t imagine ever finding someone after Chanyeol, someone you could possibly love more— as you’ve said from the get-go, it’s always been him. From the time you first thought he was cute in sixth grade, to senior year when you realized you loved him, to Christmas two years ago, to now, there’s no one else you would or could ever devote yourself to.

It’s always been him, and it will be forever.

“Chanyeol,” you whisper, then, realizing such gentleness will not wake the giant, you reach over to pat his thigh. “Chanyeol, we’re almost home.”

Chanyeol grumbles, a deep, growling noise that supports just how far gone he is. “What time is it?” He asks groggily, stretching his long limbs and cracking his neck from side to side. “Almost ten,” you hum in reply, quickly glancing to the time on the dash before taking one last turn onto the street of your apartment complex. It’s strange to see the city so dead on a Sunday night.

“___,” Chanyeol groans somewhere behind you as you hurriedly make your way through the parking lot. It was not this cold earlier. “Why are you walking so fast? I thought heels made people slow.” Stopping, you look down to your high boots, realizing that in your rush to get inside you had not even realized just how sore the bottom of your feet are. “I’m cold,” you whine back, bouncing on your toes and crossing your arms in an attempt to contain some body heat as Chanyeol sluggishly makes his way toward you. Maybe if you hold his hand or something he’ll move quicker.

“Come on,” you mumble, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him along.

You don’t get there any quicker.

You barely manage to open the door with the way Chanyeol clings, hugging from behind and nearly tripping you with those clumsy feet of his. “Chanyeol,” you whine for at least the fifth time, borderline annoyed but watching him scowl at the eight stairs he has to climb like they’re some sort of math problem is quite amusing. “Come on, you big baby,” you decide to meet him halfway, reaching out for his hand and hauling him up with you. When you finally make it to the top, he’s reduced you to a giggling mess and uses it to his advantage, pushing you toward the wall.

“I’m not a baby,” he huffs, breath heavy with the amount of effort he just had to exert. “Yes, you are. C’mon, when we get inside, I’ll swaddle you in your favorite blankie and read you a bedtime story,” you taunt. Still, you find yourself spreading your legs just a tad wider for him to slot his thigh in between, his nostrils flared and frown deep as he towers over you, caging you in.

He chooses not to verbally reply. Instead, one rough hand anchors itself to your waist while the other slides to cup the side of your neck, thumb tilting your chin up to meet him. No matter how much alcohol may run in your systems, kissing Chanyeol will always be the one constant neither of you could ever miscalculate. It simply is an all too familiar doing, one you’ve spent days and weeks and months practicing until it became a subconscious reaction. It is a beginning and an end, your unraveling and your reawakening, an elixir that creeps its way into the very marrow of your bones and blossoms like a spring flower in your lungs.

You intended to string him along until sobriety finally brought him to his senses, but you think this is manageable, something to tease and dangle over his head before deserting him despite the way every fiber of your being craves for him. You can picture it— the confused anger flashing in his eyes when you push him away to continue down the hallway, fire in his veins dwindling to nothing but embers as you discard him for the third time tonight. And so, you press into him with equal force, desperately clawing to have him closer and swallowing his gasp when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips. Despite the heavy taste of liquor on his tongue, Chanyeol finds this rejuvenating, finally, he has you, fist bunching into the fabric of your shirt as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. He turns into something fierce, addicted to your taste and your touch when your fingers toy with the tips of his ears before raking through his hair and, suddenly, you feel as if you have lost the upper hand.

The hand cupping your jaw drops, trailing dangerously down the side of your thigh before wrapping around your knee to hike your leg around his hip. It is when he presses into you, growing erection doing nothing against the thick fabric of your skirt but still alarmingly there does the steadfastness of your plan falter, the idea of bunching your skirt up to your waist and letting him fuck you right there at the top of the staircase seeming all too tempting.

When he moves to press a sloppy kiss below your jaw, then on the other side of your neck, it buys you enough time to gather your thoughts. Because even though the nip of his teeth and the warmth of his tongue against your skin has wetness pooling between your thighs, it is not nearly as distracting as his mouth on yours. “Chanyeol,” you gasp still, fingers digging into his arms to ground yourself. He merely hums in reply, kissing his way down the column of your throat as he gives your right breast a firm squeeze. Your head thuds against the wall the farther you tilt back, granting him more access and breathing coming in sporadic bursts. It takes quite the strength, but, with the mental image of what’s to come once you actually make it inside encouraging you to do so, you gently push him back at last.

First, worry flashes across his face, suddenly fearing that he has somehow hurt you. But when the side of your mouth ever so slightly tips upward and you step around him to advance further down the hall, there is a mixture of betrayal and frustration flaring in his veins but overpowering desire, too, because he simply loves this game you’ve decided to play.

Racing to unlock your apartment before he can catch up, you excitedly jam the key into the knob just as Chanyeol has reached you, arms circling your waist to spin you around. “You’re driving me crazy,” he groans, guiding you into the apartment and kicking the door closed behind him. As soon as it clicks shut he is back on you, forcing you against the wall because he knows you like it that way, knows you like it rough and knows you like his manhandling. “Yeah?” You ask, though it comes out more like a hiss when he continues his assault on your neck like he never stopped, further bruising the delicate skin there and causing your heart rate to steadily pick up. “How so?”

Ignoring your innocent inquiry, Chanyeol returns to your mouth, tongue battling against your own as he pulls you flush against him, sandwiched between his sturdy chest and the wall. His other hand travels delicately beneath the hem of your shirt, palm burning impossibly warmer against the heat of your skin and it isn’t until he brushes the underwire of your bra does he pull back, satisfied with the way your lips swell. Then, leaning close so his breath fans over your ear, he whispers, “You’ve been rather naughty all night.”

You don’t tremble like he expects you to. You don’t stare back at him with wide, hungry eyes like he expects you to. In fact, you don’t react at all like he expects you to. Instead, you seem to snap out of your lustful daze, eyeing him with a rise of your brow and the straightening of your posture.

“I’ve been naughty?” You scoff, finger jabbing into his chest and, from the total one-eighty in your demeanor alone, Chanyeol stumbles back. “I think you’re mixed up.” Like a puppy desperate for your affection, he cautiously follows you out of the foyer and into the living room.

“I don’t think I was the one who offered to fuck you in front of all your family, or had my hand down your pants during dinner, now, was I?” You sneer at him, struggling to walk to the bedroom while simultaneously zipping down and kicking off your boots. “I—”

Chanyeol begins, taking a hesitant step after you. Beyond the harshness of your words, he knows this is all part of your game, and it’s turning him on more than he’d like to admit, especially when you won’t let him touch you. “No,” you cut him off, standing in the doorway and watching with a stifled smile as he slowly edges closer, “you, sir, need to drink some water before coming any closer. Sober up, think about what you did tonight, and maybe I’ll consider forgetting it happened.” “___,” Chanyeol whines and you almost expect him to stomp his feet like a child, “you’re killing me.”

“Good. Now you know how I’ve felt all night,” flicking the light on, you set your boots down by the closet and keep your eyes trained on him, assuring he stays put, “go on, then. Don’t look so sad, water’s in the kitchen. I need to wash up.” And with that, you retreat into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and trying to erase Chanyeol’s pout from your mind.

In all seriousness— you really do want to wash your face. The thought of having to get up later or even falling asleep with makeup on makes you shudder, and so, you take your grand old time treating your skin, just to make him suffer awhile longer. As you are scrubbing your face over the sink, you hear Toben bark, followed by the soft clinking of his leash. Seconds later, the front door opens and slams closed.

Good, you think, feeling triumphant. Patting your face dry with a towel, you give yourself a once over before swiping a cotton round wet with toner over your skin, simultaneously trying to calm your nerves while also conjuring up what is to come.

God, he really has had you riled up since his first words in his parent’s kitchen, you realize with a cringe as you quickly undress, tossing your clothes into the hamper. Slipping into your simple bathrobe, you turn the overhead lights off in favor of the much softer bedside lamp before flopping belly side down on your bed. Instantaneously, images of Chanyeol flash into your mind, first, simply how godly he looked tonight, tall and lean and yours, then, the look in his eyes when he whispered about fucking you in the kitchen, and later, the teasing drag of his fingers against your panties. All of a sudden, you feel inflamed with desire, clenching around nothing at the thought of such long fingers burying inside of you.

Breathless, you reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction. Seoyun, you remember, clicking on her text from earlier confirming she was home. Sending a few hearts back, you have just opened Instagram and liked a studio picture from Jongdae when the front door opens, Toben’s yapping signaling for a new swarm of butterflies in your gut. Outside of the bedroom walls, you hear Chanyeol’s shoes clunk against the wall as he chucks them off, Toben’s leash unhooking, the living room lights being flicked off. Then, the steady footsteps as he nears your room.

“Can I come in?” He asks from the doorway, the rumble of his voice making a home in your heart.

Chuckling, you turn to look over your shoulder at him. “Yes.”

Stretching to plug your phone in on the table, you realize he’s still playing it careful, managing to only close the door behind him and set a bottle of water on the dresser. “Come here,” you invite at his lack of an advance. He seems startled, an internal battle raging in his heart as he wants nothing more than to jump into bed beside you, but also fears that you will string him along once more. So, he approaches slowly, choosing to sit by the foot of the bed and refusing to look at you, instead leaning over to yank his socks off.

Suppressing a grumble of protest at his distance, you struggle to sit back on your haunches, fingers moving to quickly untie the front of your robe. Chanyeol visibly relaxes as you make your way over, scooting further back to allow more space when you swing one leg across his lap in order to settle on his thighs. His Adam’s apple bops seeing you are totally bare, robe just barely covering your breasts. Avoiding eye contact just yet, you lean forward, pressing a delicate kiss below his ear and humming in appreciation when he tilts his head for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper after having your own turn of marking his soft skin, palms sliding over his chest to push his jacket from his shoulders, no matter how alluring he looks in it. “To be completely honest, I really just wanted to wash my face.” Furrowing your eyebrows in concentration, you make slow work at the buttons of his shirt next. “And,” you add, lowering the volume of your voice as if telling a secret only he’s allowed to hear, “I wasn’t in the mood for drunk sex. I’ve been wet for you since four o’clock. I wanted to savor tonight, yeah?”

Once you’ve popped the last button open, pushed the soft fabric from his shoulders and littered his exposed skin with soft kisses, you finally lift your gaze to his face, heart nearly stopping beneath the darkening of his stare. Just like that, Chanyeol sees it as his cue to take over, pouncing like a cat on its prey, opening your mouth with his own and bringing you closer with a firm grip on your ass. “I should have just fucked you when I had the chance,” he practically growls, pulling his arms out from his shirt and jacket and pushing the robe from your shoulders, hands cold from being outside and summoning goosebumps to rise along your skin.

One such hand slides up your spine before wrapping around your nape to tilt you back, body curved to give him room to duck down and kiss along your collarbones, sucking harshly at your skin to assure deep purple marks by morning before enveloping a nipple between his teeth. “Ah,” you hiss, nails digging crescents into his arms as you grind down on him, “I wouldn’t have been able to look your parents in the eyes if you did,” then, choking on a moan as he rolls your other hardened bud between his calloused fingers, “plus, I still would have been thinking about your fingers all night.”

Chanyeol groans, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. “My fingers, huh? What about them?” He hums with faux innocence, securing a grip on your thighs before flipping you onto your back in order to hover above you. He doesn’t let you reply, however, latching his lips to yours and quite literally sucking all the air from your lungs with the way his tongue wraps around your own. “Yes,” you huff when he pulls back, fingers threading through pink hair and hips rising to brush against his when he begins his journey downward, “thinking about them stuffed inside me and— and then,” you stutter, back arching as he kisses his way straight down the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts, the swell of your stomach, simply sucking at the same marks he made yesterday, “and then, your dick.”

“See,” Chanyeol mutters with a click of his tongue, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and shimmying them down your legs, “I know how dirty you are.”

“Yes,” you whimper, spreading your legs for him as he throws one over his shoulder, “you make my life really difficult like that.”

“I know, baby,” he hums, then, watching with a smirk as you jolt with him blowing cool air directly to your clit, “I always make it up to you, though.”

There simply is not enough time to think of a reply before Chanyeol has his mouth directly where you need him, flattening his tongue against your slit and licking upward, drawing a wanton moan deep from your throat. Relief, finally. Any witty reply quickly wiped from your brain, all you can focus on now is the warmth and wetness of his tongue, circling your clit before dipping between your folds.

“Chanyeol,” you rasp, one hand anchored into the comforter and the other clutching his hair to contain the way you quiver, “please.”

He hums, the vibration strumming right against you and winching the knot forming in your abdomen impossibly tighter. “Please what?”

“Fingers,�� is all you manage to get out, seeing stars with the way he sucks at your clit. He wastes no time contemplating your helpless gasp, immediately shifting his position in order to grant such a wish. In fact, he wastes no time easing into things, either, pushing two fingers into your seeping cunt without so much as a warning. It tears a shaky moan from you, nerves aflame with the new but oh so welcome intrusion.

“Christ, ___,” Chanyeol hisses, immediately adding a third finger and pausing to watch his digits sink in to the knuckles, “your tight little cunt is practically sucking me in.” A shaking and gasping mess, all you can offer is a breathless yes, walls clenching in need of more friction. Sensing this, Chanyeol gets right back to work, hand rocking against you, fingers dragging in and out, rubbing upward and against that hidden gem of a spot. “Oh, God,” you keen, thighs reflexively squeezing the sides of his head when he swirls his tongue over your clit in all sorts of shapeless patterns before tightly sucking at it once more.

“That’s it, baby,” Chanyeol soothes as he forces your legs apart, eyes glued on the mess he’s made, juices smeared even at your thighs with the way his fingers curl into you before nearly pulling out entirely. “So greedy.”

“Chanyeol,” you whine, hips raising to follow the movements of his tongue when he returns to your clit, “so close.”

“Mhm,” he groans against you, insistently flicking at the bundle of nerves and adding his pinky finger to the stretch. Chanyeol relishes in the way you practically swell beneath him, nails scratching against his scalp at the addition and the way he scissors his fingers. It is with one last upward curl and draw of your clit between his lips does your orgasm hit you, an intense wave of heat that has you arching into him and red speckling your vision— even though your eyes are screwed shut. It takes several moments to come down from the high, core throbbing in the aftermath and nerves seemingly frayed at the force of it all.

And yet, he has not stopped.

“Chanyeol,” you gasp, voice taut as a result of your previous silent scream, “f-fuck. Christ, I can’t.”

Chanyeol only hums in reply, a mere dismissal as he knows you can handle it and is more than happy to continue. Pulling his fingers from your soaking cunt with a lewd squelch, he grasps your thighs and spreads them further, lapping hungrily at the messy aftermath of your orgasm. Ignoring the way your body shakes and the powerless mewls escaping your lips, Chanyeol continues right where he left off, this time, however, with his tongue stroking gently between your folds and his thumb drawing soft circles over the hood of your clit.

Given no time to settle, the inferno blazing within you quickly roars back to life once the near-painful sensitivity fades, leaving you subject to the overpowering pleasure pumping through your veins. “God, Chanyeol,” you whine, loosening your grasp on his hair once you realize the iron grip you were holding for the entirety of your climax, “f-fuck, you’re killing me.”

Smiling against you, Chanyeol begins to feel impatient, the restriction on his erection borderline painful. This being said, he picks up his tempo once more, one hand keeping your hips down while the other spreads open your folds, giving him unhindered accuracy to press his tongue against your clit, draw circles, triangles, figure-eights— before you’re coming undone in no time.

Biting your bottom lip to taper the near scream that threatens to tear from your throat, you have no choice with the way Chanyeol holds you down but to fall face-first into your climax, tumbling over the edge at an alarmingly fast rate. Your second orgasm comes much easier and much quicker, body still recovering from the first, and it leaves you simultaneously jerking away but locking him in. Chanyeol is just that good.

It almost feels as if you are floating through clouds as you come back to reality and part of you wonders if that orgasm lasted a few seconds or an hour. You can’t tell. But coming back down brings an onslaught of sensations; first, the complete and total mess in between your legs, the result of two orgasms sticking to your thighs like syrup. Second, the soothing massage Chanyeol rubs into your thighs and hips, fingers digging deep into your muscle and aiding in your return from Heaven, you think.

And third: Chanyeol still has his pants on.

“How are you?” He asks, lips curled into a smirk because he knows how good it was, but likes the validation. When all you offer is a small noise of protest, Chanyeol understands this to be your wordless way of asking him to come up, and he does so immediately. “I think I just saw God,” you say once he’s settled on his side next to you, cringing at the coarseness of your voice. With a dreamy sigh you smooth over his pectoral, the dip of his collarbone, the protruding tendon on his neck, before cradling his jaw and leaning over to press your lips to his.

Slow to start, you take ample time simply to savor him, the taste of you, and to show your appreciation for not one, but two orgasms. A renewed sense of urgency, however, appears to take over, and you suck in a heavy breath through your nose when Chanyeol pushes himself to hover above you, hand wrapping around your knee to throw your leg over his hip. Palms deserting their spot beneath his ears, you quickly make work to the button of his pants.

“Goddammit,” you hiss after several unsuccessful attempts, growing just as impatient as he and pulling back to focus on such button, then the zipper, “I hate buttons.” Laughing, Chanyeol leans up to tug his pants and boxers down his thighs, cock springing free against the toned panes of his stomach. “I can tell. Patience is a virtue, you know?” He teases, settling more comfortably between your spread legs and kicking the last of his clothes to the floor.

“Don’t you dare try talking to me about virtue when all I can think about is you rearranging my guts,” you grumble, eyes screwing shut and missing the way his eyes darken when he presses the head of his cock against your clit. “Purity is a virtue, too,” Chanyeol continues to tease, finally angling to your entrance and just barely pressing in, “I don’t think God would be too happy with that mouth of yours.”

“Please shut the fuck up and— ohh, shit,” before you can finish your sentence, Chanyeol has finally rolled forward, dragging past your walls and filling you to the brim in one flawless push. Then, once you have adjusted to the forever startling swell of his cock within you, “We can go to confession after you’ve fucked me.”

Chanyeol lets out a noise somewhere in between an amused snort and a groan, mind effectively having already gone off the deep end and focusing on the tightness of your slick cunt and that alone. “God, ___,” he hisses, drawing back to leave only a lonely inch within you before thrusting forward again, drawing a series of moans from your lips, “never get enough of your tight little pussy.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage, struggling to soundly wrap your legs around him with all your muscles reduced to jelly with him filling you so deliciously with every thrust. With the fire in your stomach roaring to life and consuming you whole once more, you will yourself not to come so soon, attempting to open your eyes after several futile blinks and focus on him. Perhaps this is not the best thing to do, however, considering the image of him glowing with a sheen of sweat, eyebrows furrowed, face flushed and hooded eyes boring holes into you only prompts you to tighten around him and ‘squeaking noises’ he always likes to tease you about to slip past your lips.

“God,” you whine, leaning up and placing a desperate kiss to his top lip but flopping back down at the uncomfortable angle, “God, I love you.” Chanyeol visibly softens at this, the sharp snapping in and out of you slowing into deeper, more languid strokes. “I love you more,” he sighs, brushing away hair that has stuck to your sticky skin before kissing you properly. There’s something different about this kiss— for you, at least. Perhaps it has to do with all the talk and sentiment of the night, but a feeling beyond your every day, established love seems to wash over you.

It leaves you gasping and licking into his mouth, desperately trying to cling to the feeling, to put a word to it until finally, you realize, it’s always been here and will forever stay. It seems to resonate in your core, not physically but in your soul, something beyond logic and more of an opening of a door to tranquil waters. It leaves you lightheaded, the staccato of his heart pressed against your skin and the connection of your bodies the only things keeping you grounded because this feeling, this overwhelming, beautiful feeling makes it seem as if you are the center of the universe, just as Chanyeol is the center of yours.

“I’m close,” he hisses, two simple words breaking into your satori and hurling you back into the euphoria that fizzes up your spine and fills your bones. “Me too,” you gasp, breathless from the loaded emotion heavy on your mind and your heart and the quickening of his cock, brushing at the deepest part within at every stroke. It has your head falling back, eyes rolling and back arching when you squeeze around him, muscles contracting with such overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins like electric waves.

“I love you,” you repeat when you fall into your third orgasm, eyes squeezing shut despite your best efforts at keeping them open in order to watch as Chanyeol, too, reaches his high and comes into you with a harsh stutter and load groan. It simply is so powerful you practically feel as if you have just been brought back from the dead, body bucking beneath him like a whip as the toe-curling feeling explodes within you like a firework show. Chanyeol seems to share in such experience, usually not the most vocal but he can’t seem to keep to labored breathing, biting into your shoulder as his seed comes in hot spurts inside of you. You say it every time, but this, truthfully, was the best orgasm of your life.

It takes several moments, minutes, even, to come down from your highs, bodies seemingly in overdrive with such a feeling warming you from your head to your toes. But, just as all good things come to an end, you eventually force your eyes open once you’ve gotten over feeling as if you might pop, blinking past the tears that at some point accumulated. Chanyeol has his forehead rested against your shoulder, heavy inhales and exhales slowly calming as his heart, too, returns to its normal beat. It isn’t until you raise a weak hand to stroke his hair does he tilt his head to look at you, eyes shining like stars with the tired smile he gives you.

Brushing mused pink bangs from his eyes, you crane your neck to kiss his forehead, his nose, and finally his lips before letting your head fall back with a sigh. He returns your affection with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, shakily leaning up to pull his now flaccid cock out of your raw cunt. He’s quick to move, however, fingers coming to press against your folds as if to plug any of his cum from leaking out. You twitch, still way too sensitive and you mentally cringe at the thought of going again— to be frank, you’re pooped.

Still, you lie there quietly, body cooling down as Chanyeol continues to stare as if daring your cunt to let any of his seed slip. After a few more silent moments of this, however, you force yourself to lean up, knowing if you stay like that for any longer, you’d be asleep in minutes. Chanyeol lets out a quiet grunt of protest as such movement causes the smallest gush, fingers swiping against your folds to collect your mixed cum before pushing it back in with the gentlest touch. You sigh at the feeling, clutching at his arm and suddenly, a part of you wishes you weren’t on birth control.

“I felt you,” Chanyeol finally says, voice tight as if he hasn’t used it in years. Such an ambiguous statement, but fortunately, you know what he means without needing him to explain it. You only nod at first, searching his face and finding only the utmost truth. With a gentle hand tracing his jaw, you move in closer to press a soft kiss to his lips before curling into his side. “And I felt you.”

Chanyeol thinks he would look ‘strikingly handsome’ with pink hair, wearing his blue contacts and his baby blue tie.

You think he would look just as handsome as a brunette, without the contacts, and a matching grey bow tie.

Chanyeol thinks you’re lame and just petty because you wouldn’t be able to tie his tie when he gets dressed.

However, with blonde hair slicked back, just his prescription contacts, and baby blue tie, he also happens to think you are strikingly beautiful walking up the aisle. So much so, by the time you are there in front of him, he already has tears streaming down his face.

With your hands in his, you think this kind of love lasts forever.

638 notes · View notes

oikaw-ugh · 4 years ago

Note

HI told u im gonna req smth 👀 may i request headcanons of oikawa, bokuto, and tsukki catching their crush (or s/o, u choose!!) sing and play their guitar in secret? 💞 no pressure 😗 thank you very much!!! -🥧 (i think u'll know who's this tho HASHAAHA)

+ omg forgot to mention: i chose them since they're kinda the expressive/teasing type so if that interaction happens with the reader that would be LOVELY 💞 THANK U AGAIN -🥧

OMG WHO IS THIS 👁️👄👁️ I'M KIDDING AND YES I DEFINITELY KNOW YOU UWU 🥺✨

Oikawa, Bokuto, and Tsukki catching their s/o sing and play their guitar in secret.

God knows how much I love to write but I CRINGED WITH THE OVERFLOWING KILIG 'CAUSE SOMEONE REQUESTED (AGAIN) AND I'M EXPLODING!

I'm actually very nervous right now but anxiousness and procrastination is my profession so 👁️👄👁️

Oikawa Tooru

Ah, my first love.

Oikawa, after his volleyball practice, went to your classroom to fetch you since you didn't really like watching his practices and matches with all the fangirls around 👀

Usually, group of students tend to stay at their classrooms after class to finish stuff or just to chill (so me) so most likely, you’re never alone.

So Oikawa is surprised upon arriving at your room only to see you all alone as you sit on the teacher's table with this guitar on your lap.

You actually brought your guitar for a group performance in a subject (JHS feels ✨)

"Ikaw ang Binibini na ninanais ko" kidding. You definitely sang an english love song not that HAHAHAHAHA (sorry LSS)

He didn't announce his arrival, you know? He hid his self at the doorway, staring at you (like a stalker-) as you drown yourself with your guitar and your voice.

Listening to you was 👌 so good and before you knew it, you earned yourself a fan.

Silently, he took his phone and was aiming to record your guitar session.

But lmao Tooru had the flash on his cam on

Surprised, you looked at the doorway, only to see your boyfriend peeping like a creep.

"Tooru, what are you doing?"

"I was trying to record you." 👁️👄👁️

The fact that your boyfriend saw you playing the guitar and singing made you blush. You placed your guitar on the table-

"No! No! No! Don't stop, Y/N!" Oikawa stops you as he runs towards you.

"But it's embrassing"

Now he's mad at you. He glues his hands in his hips like a mother, "Non-sense! You're so good, you can pass as an artist!"

That makes you more embarrassed honestly but he keeps on showering you praises to the point that you can no longer tell if they were real or just bluff.

He will definitely bug you to continue playing your guitar even though you made excuses but he's not buying them.

"Play this song!" "Do you know this song?" "Play this song next!" He says that while his phone is recording you.

In the end, it became a live performance of you and Oikawa as your audience. He has this grin in his face as he rests his chin in his palms, the other hand holding his phone, looking as if he is being lulled with your voice and your guitar.

After he's finally had enough of listening to you, he'd give you a tight hug after you zipped up your guitar case. Kissing the top of your head, he'd shower you praises again as if the praises earlier weren't enough.

"You're so good, Y/N, you should've told me you can sing and play the guitar." "I'm gonna brag about this to Iwa-chan and the rest tomorrow." "Can I post your video at my IG?"

Bokuto Koutarou

Another first love

Singing and playing the guitar are hobbies you don't really share with other people.

But when your classmate brought their guitar to school, you couldn't help but to give in to the urge to borrow.

Your classmates were totally in awe as they hear you sing and play. This makes you feel so flustered but sistz, we stan an individual who shows the world their talent! 🥺✨

Anyways, it has became a ritual for you and your boyfriend, Bokuto, to eat lunch together at your room. Most of your classmates eat at the cafeteria and Bokuto hated the thought of you eating alone so...

Waiting for Bokuto to arrive, you took your classmates' guitar and started to get familiar with it by playing simple chords and humming in to a familiar song.

"Oh, Binibini, just touch my body" kidding(2) you're singing a love song.

Getting in to it, you kind of forgot that you were in your classroom and not in your room. So the moment you heard Bokuto's energetic scream, you felt your soul try to astral project.

"Y/N! You actually play the guitar?!" Bokuto screamed as he ran towards you.

"Yes, Ko-"

"PLAY A SONG!"

"But, Ko-".

"PLAY THIS SONG! PLAY THIS SONG!"

In the end, you couldn't help but to give in, especially with how persistent Bokuto is. You started playing the chords of a familiar song.

"Sa 'yo lang ako babayo" HAHAHAHA JOKE LANG. AKOLANGBANANDIDIRISAKANTANGTO?

You couldn't see it but Bokuto is in awe with how beautiful you sang and how good you were at playing your guitar.

He falls silent as he takes the empty chair beside yours, scooting as close as he could next to you so he can hear your voice clearer.

"Ko?" You asked him when you stopped playing and yet his wide eyes are still staring at you.

The heaven knows how Bokuto was so close to switching to his emo mode when you no longer sang. But in the end, he thought of an InCrEdIbLe idea:

"Y/N, I think you should be the one playing at our wedding." 👁️👄👁️

Now this makes you laugh as you blush with his sudden suggestion.

He insists you sing another song but you reprimanded by saying you two haven't eaten your lunches yet. He had his arguments set but in the end you won.

Or so you thought. Because the moment you two started eating, he didn't stop asking you questions about this new discovery of his.

"When did you start playing and singing?" "Who taught you to sing and play?" "Do you love it?" "Do you have fun?"

"Why do you have the voice of an angel?"

Even when you two headed out of your room to buy yourselves some drinks, he still was asking you and giving you ridiculously cute ridiculous ideas.

"You should play during our matches next time!"

"But, Ko, that would be in the gym and it would be too loud for you to hear."

"I'll make the crowd stop cheering for me!"

Tsukishima Kei

This salty boy is a bully. Periodt.

So when he went to your place upon receiving your text and caught you strumming your guitar, instead of expressing his shock, he'd mock you instead.

"Eh? You know how to play that?"

You abruptly look at your doorstep only to see Tsukishima leaning lazily on the frame, his arms crossed.

You stopped from strumming and you placed your guitar on your side.

Now Tsukki scrunches his nose, "Why stop? Afraid to show me how bad you are?" He teases.

It's one of his strategic ways of making you do it without him having to confess that he wanted to hear more.

You rolled your eyes as you took your guitar again, willing to prove Tsukki's wordsare wrong. You strummed your guitar and started singing:

"Inisip ko kung bakit ganito ang langit, nilayo ako sa 'yo" (JEJEMON DAYS UGH) JOKE THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE SINGING. YOU'RE PROLLY SINGING AN INDIE SONG OR WHAT.

Immersing yourself on your guitar as you sing, you didn't even notice how Tsukki is already on the floor, his legs crossed, head lazily leaning on his palms as he tries to look unimpressed.

He wanted to take a video so bad but he's already made an impression that he hates it and he's not letting his pride go down so he enjoys you perform instead, casually wobbling your head with the beat, finding your voice perfect with the song.

He was so into your voice he didn't even notice you already stopped, with a teasing grin in your lips as you look down on him.

Tsukki: 👁️👄👁️ (I'm sorry for excessively using this emoji I just love it, it's such a mood)

"So? How was it?" You asked.

Tsukki looks away, hiding his blushing ears, "Fine. Fine for a beginner." He said that sarcastically but you knew better.

You were about to get rid of your guitar for real this time when he stopped you.

"Play..." He said, barely audible.

"Huh?" You.

"Play it one more time," he says, fishing for his phone, "I want to record it."

You blushed. Tsukki must've noticed how you got flustered with his words 'cause he has casts this offending look in his face again.

"I'll...record how bad you are, dummy."

266 notes · View notes

all1e23 · 5 years ago

Text

Honey & Whiskey [Pt.1]

Pairings: Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Summary: Falling was sweeter than honey and warm as whiskey.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Typical A/B/O dynamics.

A/N: I know I am your dealer for soft Bucky but I’m trying out some new product. Soft Billy Russo. Just take a little taste. I promise It’s worth it. This is largely a self-indulgent fic and also for my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

You heard his car in the driveway before you caught the sound of the front door. This probably wasn’t the way to handle something like this. Prominent families didn’t behave like this. They didn’t cause a scene, and they certainly didn’t question a match this good. It was hard enough to find an Alpha that came from a good family, but one who wasn’t a complete knothead and genuinely cared for you? That was next to impossible. You managed to find that one in a million, and here you were pulling a stunt like this.

When you were a little girl, you read stories about the princess finding her prince, being saved from the tower, and living happily ever after in a big castle. So, you waited for your very own to come. You waited and waited by your window, but your prince never showed. You stayed locked in your tower with no sign of a savior. As you became older, you realized you didn’t want to be rescued, taken from one dungeon, and moved to another. You could take care of yourself without an Alpha there to defend your heart and fight the evil queen on your behalf.

Turned out you could handle her on all on your own.

Then you met James one evening at a friend’s wedding. He was sweet. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a charming crooked smile. He offered to buy you a drink and didn’t flinch when you reciprocated with the second. It was easy with James right from the start, and your parents were thrilled. They were simply over the moon. He came from a long line of senators, and his family were members at the club where your father plays golf. Everything was perfect. It was all working out the way it was supposed to, and in one short week, you would be married and bonded to James.

In the two years you’ve spent together, James has done everything he could to make you happy, not once has he abused his authority over you or made you feel as if you were less than him as his Omega. James has never given you a reason to fear him. Everything on the surface was perfect, but if you looked close, the cracks were easy to spot. Your heart had never had cause to race when he was near, and you never did learn what it would feel like to go weak from his touch.

It was doubtful you would ever know what it would be like to tremble from the brush of your Alpha’s fingertips. The odds you would find that love in this lifetime were slim, but if you stayed where you were, there would be no chance.

“Uh, Y/n…’ James stopped in the doorway to your shared bedroom and looked fairly amused, albeit confused by your attire. “What’s going on? Isn’t this bad luck?”

You glanced down at your wedding dress and grimaced. It wasn’t that the dress wasn’t beautiful, it was. It wasn’t you, though. It was huge for starters. Your mother had insisted this was the one from the moment it graced your frame. The skirt was so large you weren’t sure you would make it into the limo Saturday morning, and the bodice and lace sleeves were covered in so many crystals it felt like you were carrying an extra thirty pounds of glitter. This wasn’t the dress you pictured when you spent your days playing princesses in your bedroom, and all of this felt wrong.

You looked back up at your fiance, who was by your side in an instant when he saw fresh tears falling down your cheeks. James quickly wiped them away with only his thumbs. No tender kisses brushed them away, his touch was gentle but not in a way that soothed the restlessness in your soul.

“Do you feel something seeing me in this? I mean, really feel something? Because I don’t feel anything when I put it on. I’ve been trying so hard to feel something, anything but... I don't."

James tossed his keys on the dresser and stuffed his hands in his pockets now that he realized what this was. It wasn’t a simple case of cold feet or some cute moment you were going to bring up at the rehearsal for a quick laugh during toasts. He didn’t look mad, he was disconcerted, and you couldn’t blame him for that.

You didn’t fully understand why yourself, so you couldn’t expect him to.

“Okay. What is this, baby? What’s going on?”

As good and kind as James was, it wasn’t there.

“I’m not in love, and I don’t think you are either.”

The confirmation you needed flashed in his eyes. He didn’t feel it either. You stepped forward and held your hands out for his. James placed his hands in your hands without any hesitation, his fingers tightened around yours the longer the silence stretched between you. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when his eyes opened again, there was something different about them. They were filled with acceptance and a little bit of relief you knew he wouldn’t want you to see.

“I do love you, and I would take care of you,” James offered as if he was giving you one last opportunity to change your mind. One more chance to do the right thing.

You kissed his cheek and pulled your hand back from his hold, leaving the three-carat oval cut diamond resting in his palm. People lived that lie every day. Your parents, James’s parents, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was the foundation on which most of the marriages you knew were born. Its prevalence among your social status was hefty and typical, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

It wasn't a lie you could spend the rest of your life telling.

“I know, but I want more than that. I want to feel it.”

-----------

“Okay, May. I am out of here,” You chirped. It had been a long, exhausting day. You worked a double shift after one of the other waitresses, an Omega, called out claiming she was in heat, but this was her third heat in four months. It was entirely possible that she was being truthful and not using her designation to get extra days off so she could play house with that Beta she’s been dating since Halloween. Maybe she was a medical marvel, and her heats really did come three times as often as every other Omega on the planet.

All you knew for certain? Your bed was calling your name, and you could not wait to get out of this diner.

“The rush seems to have died down, and I am dead on my feet, so I’m leaving before we get the late dinner crowd, and you beg me to stay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Always complaining,” May teased with a grin and a motherly gleam in her eye. “Take your cut from the tips, and then I want you to eat and get some sleep. You can come in for the dinner shift tomorrow.”

“You gonna clear that with Roger?”

May rolled her eyes at the mention of your boss; Alpha and every bit the knothead prick.

“I’ll deal with him. Don’t you worry about it.”

"Hey, Y/n.” You glanced at Karen, who had a taunting smirk making her pale cheeks flush, she was pointing to the far back of the diner with her order pad, and she mocked with a teasing grin, “Look who it is! Your boy arrived just in time to see you off."

Your eyes followed her bright purple pen, and your knees went weak the moment you laid eyes on him. You didn’t know he was coming tonight. It’s been four days since you last saw his pretty face (not that you were counting or anything!), and you hadn’t realized how much you missed him until that moment. The handsome, dark-haired Alpha was sitting at one of your usual tables and looked uneasy, his leg was bouncing up and down at a vigorous pace, his dark blue hoodie pulled up over his head, and he was wringing his hands together as he scanned the small diner for you -- what you hoped was for you anyway.

"Don't get any ideas about that, Alpha." May Parker huffed.

The older Omega was a little cynical from the cards life had dealt her, and from the second you showed up looking for a job, she took it upon herself to look after you the way a mother would. It wasn't as if your mother had any interest in your life at the moment, not after you embarrassed her and left a black smear on your family’s name. A mark didn’t suffice for the choices you made. Your actions affected everyone in the family, bled onto the very fabric your ancestors stitched together, and made a tear that thread and needle could never mend. Apparently, you should have married even though you weren’t in love and simply found a way to fall in love with James after vows and rings were exchanged.

At least May understood your choice, and you couldn’t blame her for the fire in her eyes and the ice in her touch when it comes to Alphas; life had not been kind to her. Despite losing her true mate at a young age, only to end up with a sad stand-in for the man she lost. He abused his designation and using it to control her and her son. It took years to rid herself of him, but she built a nice life without him. She obtained assistance from an Omega Shelter, went through therapy to break their bond, and even bought a place of her own. Even after all the good that has come over the last seven years, the clouded memories have left her jaded and wary.

"You need to find someone that will take care of you, and he's not it. You stay away from Billy Russo, you hear me? He's not a good Alpha. I’ve known him longer than you have.”

That was true. You’ve only been in the city for eight months and working at Sunrise Diner for seven. Billy was a customer long before you came around, but according to Karen, he would pick up an order to go, barely spoke to anyone, and never tried to get a table. May didn’t know him any better than you did. It wasn’t as if they had some long-standing relationship or history. You were grateful for the advice, but you could make your own judgments.

You’ve let someone else be your eyes and voice for far too long, and you weren’t about to allow yourself to repeat past mistakes.

Billy finally found you standing behind the counter, and the second your eyes locked his own lit up, his legs settled, and the smile on his face just about knocked you over. Your smile widened as you stared at each other for what felt like ages.

"Y/n, are you listening to me?” May snapped her fingers in front of your face, forcing your eyes to focus on her. “He's trouble. Ex-marine with more issues than one person can handle."

You tossed your apron under the register in the black bin that held all the dirty smocks for the night. You glanced at your reflection in the silver napkin holder, resting in the order window and swore under your breath. Your hair’s frayed and sticking out every which way, and your lip gloss faded the first hour into your shift. It was too late to do anything about that now. Not with May watching your every move and Billy sitting so close, his eyes trained on you now that he found you.

Having Billy watch you fix your lipstick because he came in would be an embarrassment you wouldn’t survive.

"That's why he should have someone he can lean on. We are friends. I have a feeling he needs someone that won’t judge him for a past he can’t change.”

"Trouble,” May huffed. “You're asking for trouble."

You practically skipped over to the table Billy sat at. Same one as always. The booth at the far back of the bright restaurant where he had a view of the bathrooms and the front door. He always sat with his back against the wall, and every few minutes, his eyes wandered over to the exit door on his right. You didn’t know what happened, but you knew it was enough to keep him on edge at all times.

"Hey, Stranger."

Billy's near-black eyes looked brighter now that you’re near, and he gave you that toothy grin that made your stomach flip.

"Hey, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

Billy has called you that from the moment you met, you weren’t sure why, but it made your heart race every time it rolled off his tongue. You have to admit you didn’t hate the feeling.

"You haven't been in for a few days. I was starting to think the mac and cheese scared you off."

That wasn’t really true. Though, you did question the state of the mac and cheese on a regular basis. The way the noodles all stuck together in that round ball wasn’t natural. This was more about you than sticky elbow pasta goop. You were slightly worried that he may have started seeing an Omega and would no longer be coming by for these late-night visits. Not that it was any of your business. It’s not as if you’re bonded or even potential mates. You haven’t spent a moment with Billy outside this diner. You had not an ounce of claim on him, and you certainly didn’t have a say in who he spent his days with -- or his nights.

Billy let his hood fall back, and he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. His scars were no longer as angry and red as they were when he first came in on that rainy Tuesday afternoon seven months ago. You can still recite every word he said to you that day like some silly school girl daydreaming about the cute boy in study hall. Some nights you did just that, on evenings when he didn’t come by or stayed far too late and left your heart aching for another ten minutes.

Scars or no, he was still the most handsome Alpha you had ever seen.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I, uh, it's been a tough few days is all, and I haven't had a second to come in."

You eyed him for a long minute, and you realized what he meant by a tough few days. More like it smacked you right in the face -- rut.

Did he share his rut with someone?

No. No, probably not.

Billy didn’t seem to give his trust freely, so you doubted he called a Service Center to help him through his rut. That didn't mean he didn't have an Omega in his life, one he trusted enough to share it with. It shouldn’t matter if he did, so why did you want to know so badly? It would be easier if you could simply scent him to find out. That’s what you wanted to do. You were aching to scent him right there in the middle of the damn diner in front of Karen, May, and anyone else that wanted to stare. You wanted to be sure there wasn’t a hint of another Omega anywhere near him, maybe leave a little bit of you on him.

What the hell was wrong with you?

You’ve never been this possessive before. Even with James, you never cared if he came home smelling like another Omega. Hell, you never gave it a thought. Billy wasn’t yours, and you needed to remember that.

"I’m glad you’re back. I missed you."

Billy tried to fight off his grin. He tried hard, but it still showed up brightly enough to make you simper. He must have liked that because his scent sweetened, and it was so thick it had your knees shaking. You stood up as straight as you could and locked your knees. Letting your legs give out over some handsome Alpha like a stereotypical Omega would be a shame you could never come back from.

"Is that right?" Billy drawled, smirking as he took in the tremble in your knees and the honey sugaring your scent.

"Yeah, you're my favorite customer,” you answered with a slight shrug. Billy chuckled and ducked his head to hide the pink spreading from his cheeks down his neck, but you caught the rosy hue regardless.

"Favorite." He recited the word as if he didn't like the way it tasted on his tongue like he was confused as to why you would use that word in association with him.

"Without question,” you assured him.

The hesitation in his eyes and confusion had your heart breaking. Someone along the way, recently or long ago, made him feel as though he wasn’t worthy of being someone’s favorite, of being that important to someone. The thought made your gut clench in the worst way. Billy was more than deserving of that title.

"So, I'm about to get off. My shift actually ended about ten minutes ago. Well, technically, my shift ended at two, not eight, but one of the girls is out making medical history, so here I am."

"Oh,” Billy murmured. He was disappointed, that was plain to see. The light in Billy’s eyes instantly faded, and he began to slide out of the booth. You had a feeling if he left now, he would end up picking tacos off the dollar menu at some fast-food chain, eating all alone back at his place. You couldn’t have that now, could you? Besides, friends have dinner together all the time. Isn’t that what Karen told you every time she had dinner with Frank?

Yes, friends could have dinner together, and it didn’t have to mean more than noodles and cheese.

”I can- I'll go eat somewhere else. I don’t want to keep you if you’re going home.”

You rested your hand on his shoulder to keep him from sliding out past you and shook your head, still smiling down at him. "Oh, no, you don’t. Unless you want to leave, of course. Food here isn't great."

Billy looked up at you, and his eyes have gone dark again, but it wasn’t in the way you liked. He was struggling to figure out what he wanted to say. You could see the moment Billy gave in to whatever it was, he was wrestling with and confessed, “I don't come here for the food.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you swore you could hear it in your ears. No doubt, Billy could pick it up in your scent. You never considered buying suppressants until you met Billy Russo. Then again, there were a lot of things you never considered until you met him. You blew out a shaky breath, and your words came out in as a stuttering mess, "Then… w-why do you come h-here?"

Billy held your gaze but didn’t elaborate further. It was probably for the best. If he had said what you thought could be the reason you might have melted right there at his feet and would have been forced to quit your job citing irremediable humiliation.

"Okay, um, well, I maybe thought I could eat with you? I haven't eaten since this morning, and I've been working all day, so I’m starving."

Billy frowned at that, and he quickly pressed for more, "You haven't eaten all day? So, that means you worked all day without taking a break?”

"Yeah, it happens. Some days it's really busy, and I don't get a second. Roger, our boss, he’s not great at following labor laws. If things get busy like they were today, there is no way he’s letting me take a break.”

If it was possible, Billy’s eyes blackened, and his normal candied scent turned sour. It was a subtle change to the whiskey and brown sugar scent you’ve come to know. He wasn’t on blockers, nor were you, it made his feelings easy to read. You weren’t sure he liked that fact at the moment. The scrunch of his nose and the wrinkle in his brow said he was trying to control his feelings to keep them hidden from you, or maybe he was attempting to understand whatever feeling was jumbled in his head.

“I don’t-- I don’t like that. You should be getting breaks so you can eat. You have to eat.”

You didn’t like it either, but there was little you could do. You had no way to prove that Roger refused to let you take breaks, and it wasn’t like he said he would fire you if you went on break. It only was heavily implied, and he knew when to use an Alpha command, with the tiniest drop in his voice, he had Omegas scampering to do as he wished. Thankfully, you have yet to be on the receiving end, and you had no intention of experiencing it. You needed this job whether or not Billy approved of your break schedule. You couldn’t do anything about Roger or your schedule, but you might be able to fix Billy’s spoiled mood and catch another glimpse of his pretty smile.

"How about you feed me then?" You suggested with a grin.

Billy’s frown quickly faded into a crooked smirk, a gentle chuckle followed, and everything turned sweeter. Whenever Billy was smiling, there was a little more sugar and a little less whiskey floating nearby, and it often left your head spinning for days after. You’ve never been one to fall for a sugar rush over a whiskey high -- until now.

"Okay, Sunshine. I can do that. Do you want to eat here or somewhere else?"

"Where are you most comfortable?"

"Where am I most comfortable…” Billy repeated the question, brows furrowed in thought, and he responded without thinking, “I’m most comfortable when I’m with you."

Billy quickly realized that was not what you meant when he looked up to see your eyes widen. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter as he tacked on an addendum, hoping you would ignore his first admission. "Nowhere that’s loud. Or, um, crowded. I’m not great in large rowdy groups. I need a place I can sit like this. My back against the wall and know my exits."

You knew that already and now you were mad at yourself for making him admit it out loud, but you had to confess not all of his revelation sounded so bad.

"I'll tell you what I live right around the corner. How about you come over, and I'll make you dinner?"

Inviting an Alpha you barely knew back to your place wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done. Everyone knows, Omegas at least, you never tell an Alpha your address until you’re courting, and you know what kind you’re dealing with. You couldn’t explain why but your heart and your head were telling you to trust him and when they agree on something you listen.

“You want me to come back to your apartment?”

Billy seemed to be questioning your judgment, but nothing felt wrong about having Billy in your home.

“Only if it will make you feel more comfortable. If not, I know a pizza place a few blocks away, but we will have to catch a cab.”

You truly didn’t mind either way as long as Billy was comfortable. He took a few thoughtful seconds before he nodded. “Your place is okay. If you’re sure, you want me to know where you live.”

You grinned and stepped back so he could stand. “Let me grab my purse, and I’ll meet you by the door, okay?”

Billy didn’t have a chance to answer because you were bounding off towards the counter and the group of nosy Omegas watching you both with interest. Billy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, watching you share a few hushed whispers with the older woman behind the register.

“You’re leaving together? Y/n, this is not a good idea. Why can’t you stay here together where we keep an eye on you? It would be safer that way.”

“I said I’m fine. I don’t need you to look after me just because I’m an Omega. I can handle myself, and I can handle Billy.”

“He’s not what you think. I only want you to be careful.”

You jerked your jacket out from under the counter and slipped your arms into the black puffy arms. You were already done with this. She didn’t know Billy any better than you did. Maybe she saw some things, or he came off like a typical asshole Alpha once when they first met, but the only conversation they have had revolved around grilled cheese sandwiches and you. You stopped in front of May, and you couldn’t keep the ice out of your voice even if you had wanted to. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he’s not what you think? I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, May.”

Billy glanced over your shoulder and back at you as you approached. “Everything alright over there?”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged as you stepped out the door Billy was holding open for you. “Co-worker drama.”

There were tiny bits of moonlight shining down on the sidewalk next to you. It was awkward at first. This wasn’t your normal dynamic. Billy came in and ordered the same grilled cheese and fries every night; not that you could blame him for that, it was probably the only edible thing on the menu. You would make some cute comment about melted cheese and Billy would give you that smile that set skin on fire, he left a tip that was always triple the cost of the tiny sandwich and promised to see you real soon. You knew the risks that came with what you were doing. You are breaking the first rule they teach you in Orientation class, but you didn’t care, and it didn’t scare you.

Billy didn’t scare you.

“You know you really shouldn’t invite Alphas you don’t know back to your apartment. It’s not safe. I could be anyone. I could be some asshole Alpha using that sweetness in your heart to take advantage of you.”

Maybe that was the thing that should scare you -- your blind trust for an Alpha you barely knew.

“No, you’re not, Billy.”

“Yeah? How do you know that, Sunshine?”

Billy was teasing you, the mile-wide grin on his face told you so. You shook your head and matched his smile. The answer was pretty simple, really. It was the one thing missing with James. You felt the tension in your shoulders lift, and you told him the only thing about tonight that mattered.

“I can feel it.”

Masterlist // Part 2

#Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader #Billy Russo x reader #Billy Russo x you #Billy Russo x yn #Billy Russo #A/B/O au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!billy #alternate universe

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hayjeon · 5 years ago

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You Set My Heart on Fire 01 [M] ft. Namjoon

→ fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.) → 10k words, part 1 | part 2 | fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.

Hi! this is a reupload, and i figured i’d vamp up the title and the header in the meantime! Thank you to the user who managed to save this just in time, after I accidentally deleted it T___T I am forever indebted to you, and I lost your username, so if you see this pls dm me i’d love to write something for as a token of my appreciation!

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as the lawyer continues to lay out the demands.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huff, glaring at the idiot gangster who’s at the other side of the room. He cringes a bit at your glare, nursing an ice pack against his bruised cheek.

“I swear, he slapped my ass! I was just retaliating!” You cry, frustrated. Your surgery chief huffs angrily at your behavior and you settle back, clenching your fists on top of the table.

The lawyer snarks back, “You also managed to cause damage to the victim’s body in the process. He’s demanding full reparations. Let’s see,” she muses, flipping through the documents spread out on the table between the both of you. “A broken nose, bruised cheekbone, fractured wrist from when he fell, and muscle strains on his lower back, and psychological damage from framing him for sexual harassment and from the physical assault. In total, it would amount the hospital to about $50,000 to cover the hospital costs and the time he would need to talk off from his job, and the continued physical and mental therapy sessions to follow for around 6 months.” She closes the file with a grin. “So, Dr. Y/N, what’s it gonna be?”

“Chief, I can’t believe we’re just losing to him!” You cry, following after Dr. Kim, who’s seething as he storms down the hall outside of the conference room.

He screeches to a halt, turning around with a glare. “Well, what do you wanna do?!” He throws his hands up in defeat, “You want to cause a whole legal issue? You know that there’s really nothing else we can do in this situation! It’s your word against his, and the video cameras only show proof of him passing by you, and then you throwing a big ass punch in his fucking face!” He cries, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.

“Look, Dr. Y/N, you did the right thing. The fucker deserved the punch, and you threw a good one. But,” he continues, placing his glasses back on his nose and patting your shoulder, “giving him the money is the best thing we could do for both the hospital and for you. So, just, take this next month off, get the community service done and then come right back. Alright? I’ll even let you head all the interesting cases that come into the operating room.”

He sighs, and walks off, leaving you behind. You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, fist clenching on the brochure of community service options for doctors.

The fucker had brought his girlfriend in during your shift at the emergency room, and while she was getting stitches for a cut that she got from a building collapse, in the craze of the emergency room, he was going around touching asses. You’d heard the nurses complaining about it, about how it was just a swipe of the hand that seemed like an accident, but multiple had the same experience from the same seedy-looking jerk.

When it was your turn to go up to the patient and explain that her stitches were done and she was alright to go home, he’d come up next to you and his knuckles grazed the skin of your ass. Sick of everything, you’d pushed him back and socked him straight in the face.

Later, from the cameras though, there was no visible evidence of him touching anyone, and it was your word against the clear security camera shot of you socking him right in his big ass nose. So you open the brochure and plop down at your desk to see what options there were. There were the general ones, where you could serve and clean up at a park or volunteer at a soup kitchen, and then there was a separate page for doctors who probably just wanted to maintain their skills in the field they volunteered in. You pick up the phone.

“What?” Yugyeom asks, “Chief seriously ended up giving you a probation period for community service?” He sighs over the phone, and you roll your eyes too.

“Yeah,” you huff, “which one should I do? I should sign up today, since it might take a bit to get approved and might as well start early so I can go back to work as soon as I get all my hours finished.”

He muses, probably scanning the picture you sent him. “Hm...well look, you can go travel to Africa or Cambodia or something. It’ll be like that one drama with Song Joong Ki in it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot military general. What do you think?”

“Too far,” you complain, taking a red pen and drawing a line through it. “Also, they don’t cover air fare or housing. Maybe something more local.”

“Okay, well then what about teaching kids in elementary and high school about general first aid and health? You can maybe meet a single teacher who’s good with kids. That’s kind of hot.”

“I fucking hate kids, Yug, you know that,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and crossing out that option. “Also, why are you trying to get me laid, you should be worried about your own empty gay love life.”

He huffs, “Well, bitch, if you’re gonna be so picky why’d you call. Just take the second to last one, the medic for the fire department! It’ll be fun, I know a friend who works in the one that’s close by to the hospital, so you can just commute from there and if you guys ever end up coming to the emergency room, you’ll see all of us there too.”

You hum, scanning through the brief description: Medic for the Seoul Fire Department. In-department housing and meals provided during both on-call and working hours. Needs basic EMT and paramedic skills. Must be able to handle emergency situations calmly and communicate with safety officers.

You purse your lips, scoffing a little bit at the emergency part. “Well, if there’s something I can handle, it’s emergency.”

He laughs, “What a downgrade...from a cardio surgeon to a paramedic. Jeez, you better get out of this one quick. Just make sure not to punch anyone during duty, and you’ll be fine.”

“Shut up bitch. Let’s go clubbing tonight. I need to let some of this stress out before I get trapped in there.”

The night was lively and the drinks kept flowing. Jennie and Jackson from Health and Nutrition, Sana from pediatrics, Yugyeom and Seulgi from Cardio, and even the oh-so-popular Jaebom and Jinyoung from general surgery came out.

You were dressed in the hottest dress you could find in Seulgi’s closet, and according to Yugyeom’s apparently “gay and therefore superior opinion,” your outfit and hair and makeup were basically a “straight guy’s ticket to bonertown.”

“Legit, how could you be so gay but also talk like such a frat boy at the same time?” You sneer, taking another shot of vodka.

He sucks on his lemon, and then flashes a smile. “It’s the best combination. I pull.”

He cocks his chin to a direction behind you. “Also seems like I was right, because you’ve been pulling too. That guys been staring ever since we got to the bar.”

You turn, blurry vision settling on a handsome, leather jacket clad guy that’s sitting with two other guys at the table. He’s looking now, eyebrow cocked and lip between his teeth. He’s not usually your type, but you feel it. This, was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

You get up, patting Yugyeom on the arm. “Thanks, I’ll take myself home tonight.” He whistles behind you as you try your best to make your way to the guy, but suddenly your drunk ass hobbles on your Forever 21 heels, and you topple to the side. All of a sudden, there’s a strong hand gripping your upper arm and pulling you up, and an arm wrapping around your waist to offer support.

“Oh shit, miss, you alright?” A low voice sounds right next to your ear. You look up, expecting to see the leather jacket guy, but this...this was much better. This guy was dressed in only a black t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. But his simple ensemble didn’t matter. He was tall, way taller than you in your tallest heels, and he smelled so damn good. His hair was slicked up and his skin absolutely golden. He wasn’t biting his lip or doing anything to try and hook up with you, but in seconds, you were sopping wet.

No, this was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.

“I will be,” you answer him, straightening up and pressing yourself up against him. “when you buy me a drink.”

He seems to understand what you’re getting at. He chuckles a bit, eyebrow quirking and you think it’s the hottest shit you’ve ever seen since waterproof scrubs. He helps you straighten up. “I think you’ve had enough drinks already. Can I get you some water?”

“Yes,” you breathe, but not letting go. “But only if you stay with me until I’m finished.”

He smiles, and keeps his hand on your waist as he guides you the bar and orders a cup of water. You sit on the single empty bar stool, and he stands, and you revel in the fact that even on this tall bar stool, he still stands taller than you.

You sip the water, and he leans an elbow on the bar, inches from you.

“So, what brings you stumbling into this bar?”

“I’m here with some coworkers,” you say, and he leans in closer to hear you over the loud music.

“Won’t they be looking for you?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You pout, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Hell no, I’m just worried.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.” You fire back, and he laughs again.

“You gonna keep laughing at my jokes or are you gonna ask me to come home with you?” You raise your brows as you sip your water, looking at him over the rim. His expression darkens, but the corner of his mouth sexily turns up.

“I might laugh a little more just to tease, I suppose. Helps build up for later.” He leans up, hand on the bar, but steps a bit closer to you this time. If you leaned up a bit, you’d kiss. He chuckles again, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up and kiss me already.”

He smiles and leans down, other hand cradling your waist as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling harshly when he slides his tongue into your mouth as soon as you open up for him.

He’s a good kisser. He knows how to move his lips, knows when to pull back to leave you wanting for more, and does that thing where he stops kissing to just peck wetly at your lips before sinking in for more. Hook, line, and sinker. You’re done. “Let’s get out of here, please,” you whimper against his lips, and he smiles, straightening up.

“As you wish. Oh, also what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you shout over the music. “What about you?”

“You can call me Joon.” He smirks.

The ride to his apartment is blurry, because all you remember is a lot of giggling and trying not to moan at how his hand is so big around your thigh that you have you physically restrain yourself from jumping him on the highway right there. The tires screech as he parks and you both laugh as you stumble into the elevator, giving the security guards watching the cameras a show when you straight up make out with him in the corner of the elevator, his hand up your dress and your hand up his shirt.

He pushes you against his closed door, dropping his keys and jacket on the ground as he undoes the zipper on your dress. You tug at his shirt, “Off,” you whine, and he smiles, stepping back to whip his shirt off with one hand behind his neck.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” you whimper, and he kisses you breathless. “You’ve been saying that all night. Creative, much?”

“Fuck off, I don’t do hook ups much and I’m just telling the truth,” you say, as he gathers you in his arms and literally picks you up and heads to his bedroom. His hands squeeze your ass as he makes his way over, and you catch a glimpse of a neat, tidy living room. His bedroom is clean too, especially for a bachelor. Navy blue sheets, sleek, black furniture, expensive looking place. He was literally so fucking hot.

He drops you on the bed and immediately drapes over you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. He slides his splayed palms up from your waist up to your breasts, mouth following the motion as he laves his tongue over your nipple, palm gently cupping the weight of your breasts in the grip between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. You preen at the sensation, back arching off the bed. “Pants off,” you pant, squirming underneath the warmth of his hands and mouth.

“So bossy,” he comments, smirking as he leans up on his knees to undo his belt. “I dig that.”

You lay back, taking the time to wiggle out of your soaked panties. You thank the gods you chose to wear your new set of lace undies because the rest of your drawer was basically an ocean of white granny panties. He finally drapes back over you, hand gripping your thigh to open you up as he mouths at your neck.

You retaliate by reaching down and gripping his cock, hand squeezing at his base. You can’t really see it because your face is nestled in his shoulder, but you can feel how hard and big he is. He groans at the sensation, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending tingles down your spine and your core clenching around nothing.

He props himself up as he looks down at you and slides a finger between your folds. Your yelp dissolves into a drawn out moan. “Oh my god,” you pant, as he slides the flat of two fingers over your bundle of nerves, “please don’t stop that.” You also work your fist over his cock, mouth blubbering nonsense into his neck. He moves the fingers down into your pussy, sliding in with practically no resistance and slowly drawing them in and out your wetness. You don’t really have much time to be embarrassed by the wetness you can hear, because Joon closes his eyes and bites at the soft skin at the top of your breast.

“Shit,” he grits, and he looks down to see the way your wetness glistens on his fingers, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you good?”

You nod eagerly, and you let go of him as he gives you a hard kiss on the mouth and slides a condom on while still fingering you. Its probably not porn-worthy whatever sounds you’re making, but it seems to do the trick because he kisses you even harder and then flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting in his lap. He cradles your waist and descends on your breasts again, tongue circling your sensitive nubs as you sink down on him inch by inch.

When you bottom out, you clench around him. He’s so long and thick, and it’s been a while since your last hook up. It borders on soreness, but the sensation of him moaning with your nipple in between his lips is enough of a distraction for you to work up the nerve to start moving.

It’s embarrassing how turned on right now you are, but Joon seems to be at the same level of deliriousness because he doesn’t stop touching you. From gripping your thighs, to groping your ass, sliding his hands from your waist up to your ribs, tangling in your hair, gently curling around your neck and tightening slightly, he’s literally everywhere.

“Fuck,” you cry out when one of his hands are around your neck, squeezing lightly. You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, and the new rhythm puts your clit in that perfect position to get stimulated by his pelvis, and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you that you find yourself hurtling over the edge much faster than you’d imagined.

He mouths at your cheek and ear, hand still around your neck when you cum, and suddenly he grips your thigh and presses you down against his pillows as he kneels in front of you and begins fucking you hard. The bed knocks against the wall, but you can’t care because the new position has your orgasm prolonged to a point that you’ve never felt before and your mouth just stays open in a mouthless cry against his chest as he tenses and finishes into the condom, mouth panting hoarse compliments into your ear. “Holy shit, your pussy feels so good. So tight, fuck.”

He pulls out and rolls over so he’s not crushing you, and you let out a final breath. “Wow,” you say, chest heaving as he ties the condom and throws it away. He props his head up on an elbow, grinning at you. “That good?” He says cockily, and you turn to lightly punch his chest.

“Don’t get too cocky. It was just one orgasm.”

“But also seems like the best you’ve ever had.” He adds. You roll your eyes and retort, “Well, that’s what you think--,” but your laugh dissolves into a moan again when he reaches over and pulls you underneath him to press a long, wet kiss to your mouth.

“Shut up,” he whispers between kisses, "and kiss me back already.” You smile as he kisses you, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. He growls, and moves to your neck. You sigh as he draws more open-mouthed kisses down your neck and torso, and again when a big hand splays over your thigh to hook it over his shoulder. He presses a peck against your folds and looks up at you, and you mewl as he draws the flat of his tongue thickly through your pussy all the way up. You’re a goner.

“I’m gonna make sure you never forget my name.”

The walk of shame isn’t so bad when you basically have no time to waste as you gather your things and glance once back at Joon who’s still sleeping before running down to his lobby. You don’t really care for the disapproving looks you get, as you rush to get into your uber, and immediately thank god that this particular driver offers you a tiny complimentary water bottle. You chug it down, and try not to throw up.

You literally hurtle out of the car when he gets to your place, making a mental note to tip him heftily, seeing the way he booked it when you asked him to hurry a little. You step into a hot shower and don’t even have time to pick up the dirty clothes off the floor as you quickly dress in a white shirt and navy skirt and run out of your apartment to the bus stop.

Thankfully, you make it on time to your interview, and even though the captain gives a small disapproving look to your wet hair tips, he gives you a huge, bright smile when you tell him you’re a cardio surgeon “taking a break.” When you told him that you used to work as a paramedic before medical school a few years ago, he basically hired you on the spot, babbling on about how much he loves people with more experience.

“So, miss Y/N, what are your interests, your hobbies?” Hoseok trails like a little puppy after you as you walk down the hall from the Fire Captain’s office to your team’s multipurpose room. You frown at him. “Eh,” you brush him off, “not much.”

He smiles, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to stand up tall, “Well, doctor, I love lifting weights and saving damsels in distress. What are you doing later, say, around 5?” You turn on your heel, and he bumps into you, scuttling backwards at the glare you have on your face.

“Look, honey,” you sneer, stepping towards him with a scowl, “You’re cute, but I’m hungover.” you say, scanning him up and down, “And I’m only here for a month and I swear if I have to spend the entire 30 days having you chase me down like a little pet, then I’m probably going to just jump off a building. Okay? So do me a favor, and stop asking me out.”

He gawks at you, and then recovers. “Wait...you’re only here for a month?”

Rolling your eyes, you resume walking towards the wait room. He wasn’t going to stop. “Yes, I’m here just to serve a short community service sentence.”

He hums, following your footsteps again, grinning. “Okay, fine. I won’t try to ask you out. I’ll just keep replaying the part where you said I’m cute over and over again in my head.” He winks at you lightheartedly.

“Here, let me introduce you to the guys.” He walks a bit faster than you as you approach the room, and creaks the door open and lets you in.

As soon as the door swings open, your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight in front of you. In the room, theres a half naked guy digging through the refrigerator, his firefighter’s outfit hanging around his hips. A pair of muscular large ones are wrestling in the corner, also only decked in sweatpants low on their hips. One lounges on the couch in a pair of glasses and a plain white t-shirt and navy uniform pants and boots, while a similarly dressed shorter one is asleep. A tall one is in the corner playing with a tiny puppy. All six of them swivel their heads towards you when you enter.

You wave awkwardly and take a step back to leave when Hoseok bounds in after you and throws an arm around your shoulder, announcing proudly, “Hey guys, this is the new medic hire! Dr. L/N!”

The one closest to you gives you a smile, taking off his glasses and setting his book aside to reach out a hand. “Hey, I’m Seokjin, captain. Nice to meet you doctor!” He smiles and you make a note of how hot he looks in glasses and how broad his shoulders were.

“You can just call me by my first name, y/n,” you shake his hand, “Likewise.”

Another one that was digging through the fridge approaches you with a piece of gummy candy hanging from his lips. His face is sharp, but he breaks out in a huge smile that lights up his face. “Taehyung! Hi y/n, welcome to Unit 55!”

You shake his hand too, “Thanks. Do you have any firewomen?” You glance around as the pair who were wrestling stop their antics and approach you shyly. The taller one shrugs, his muscles rippling as he does and you make a huge effort not to stare. “No, honestly it’s really hard to find a firewoman these days and they probably don’t like spending time with all guys like us either.”

Taehyung leans over. “That’s Jungkook by the way.”

His partner punches Jungkook’s bicep and turns to you with a show-stopping smile. Oh. The girls would swoon for both of them, you note. They’ll have no problem finding firewomen who want to spend all day with them. “I’m Jimin. And even though this idiot makes us sound like a bunch of goons, it’s just rough being around 7 guys all the time for girls probably. But we’ll do our best to help you get comfortable around here. We’re really fun, I promise!”

You frown, glancing around the room and counting the people you’d met already. Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. Which left just the one still asleep somehow through all the commotion on the couch. Seeing your eyes trail over him, Seokjin looks at you over the rims of his glasses, pointing at the sleeping figure with his chin. “Oh, yeah. That’s Yoongi. Good thing he’s not awake cause he’s really grouchy, but he’s also a really good driver so we keep him. You should meet him later when he’s done with his nap.”

You laugh a little, and nod. “And the 7th?”

Jungkook throws on a shirt as he talks. “Namjoon, our unit Battalion Chief. He’s not here right now, but you’ll be able to meet him later. He basically runs this whole thing.”

“Oh I see,” you muse, and give a tight-lipped smile. “Well, maybe I’ll start moving my things in soon. Can you show me my room?”

“Bitch,” Yugyeom sneers as he watches open-mouthed as the guys help unload your car at the station. “You didn’t tell me that all your co-workers were single, hot guys that walked around shirtless all the time.” He frowns at you, ignoring your eye roll, and then switching 180 degrees and laughing and smiling when Taehyung walks by with all your heavy trunks in his arms.

“Hahahaha, Y/N, you’re so funny,” he fakes, and then turns to you with a glint in his eye. “Maybe I should’ve punched that idiot in the face too and I would’ve been here instead.” He hisses, gawking at the way Jungkook and Jimin both easily haul your mattress up the steps. Shirtless, by the way. Again.

You sigh. “It’s only for a month. And honestly, you’re such a fake ass little bitch. You were the one trying to find me a man, and now that I’m surrounded by them, you resent me for it?” you huff. “Oh, Jin, those drawers just go in the closet, thank you.”

“No problem Y/N,” Seokjin grins, pushing up his glasses as he walks past you two easily, holding up the chest of drawers that took both you and Yugyeom an entire twenty minutes to shove in the moving truck. You give him a smile in return and turn back to Yug with a snort. “Wipe your drool.” You laugh, and he closes his mouth with a clack.

“I’ll literally visit you, like all the time, Y/N,” he whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh also,” he turns to you inquisitively. “What happened last weekend? Did you end up going home with that hot guy?”

You pull him closer. “Keep your voice down,” you hiss. “Yes. I fucked him.”

He whistles lowly. “He wasn’t that good?”

Sighing, you check to make sure all the other boys aren’t in the vicinity. “No, that’s the problem. He was too good. I can’t stop thinking about it. Haven’t had a proper orgasm since.”

He looks unsurprised. “Well, when’s the last time you got laid. College?”

“Shut up, asshole,” you frown, “It’s only been like...a few months.”

“Okay, so I guess we’re calling last year’s during our we’re-not-interns-anymore-party a ‘couple months’ ago. It was like 13 months ago.” He points out, and you glare at him.

“Fine,” you snap, “okay? It’s been, like a year. But he was really good, no matter how deprived I’ve been.”

Yugyeom still looks unimpressed, so you pull his sleeve down to whisper in his ear. “I had five orgasms that night.”

He straightens up, turning to you with wide eyes, “FIVE ORGASMS?”

You wince as chief walks by with a stern look, and you pinch Yugyeom in the side as you laugh, “Oh hahahaha, Yugyeom, you’re such a hilarious guy. Why would a patient even talk about those kinds of horrible things in the waiting room?!”

That seems to help as the chief’s expression lightens and he smiles as he grabs a cup of coffee and ascends the stairs again. You drop the smile as soon as the chief is out of earshot and punch Yugyeom hard.

“Little bitch,” you hiss, “are you trying to get me fired?”

He rubs the spot that you punched. “Ow, and no. I’m just shocked. Did you even get his number or something?”

You sigh, watching as the boys come back down to retrieve a couple more things. “No,” you say forlornly, “I literally had to run out for my interview. I only know his name, and I’m not even sure if its right.”

Yugyeom sighs, watching Jungkook and Jimin banter as they come back down.

“Well, at least you have guys like them to keep you company. Did you bring your vibrator along?”

You pinch him again.

With the help of the boys, moving in wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, the bunk rooms aren’t at all what you’d expected. It was less of a college dorm room style, and more of like a communal housing unit. Apparently, the Seoul station had updated their housing recently, so the inside looked like a newly furnished office hotel, basically.

Jimin was nice enough to move into Hoseok’s room so that you could have the corner room all to yourself, with a private bath attached. It was adequately sized, but there was a nice closet and twin size bed attached, which was an upgrade from the dinky communal on-call room bunk beds that the hospital provided for the residents to sleep in.

There wasn’t even much to unpack, besides a few articles of clothing, a desk and computer for you to do some catching up on hospital paperwork, a mattress so you could sleep on without knots in your back, and your toiletries. You had a uniform anyway, and you were pretty low maintenance. The hospital shifts didn’t really give much space or time to pay attention to your fashion sense or your looks, and it wasn’t going to change now, either.

You make your way downstairs after finishing, with the stairs of course. The boys had kept trying to convince you that you won’t die if you try the pole, but honestly you weren’t down to break your ankle, especially when you were expected to help during an emergency situation. The stairs were fine. You were only on the second floor anyway.

The boys are already eating in the large lounge, and you see that the sleepy fireman had woken up and had starting to cook.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls, scooting his chair over to make room for you at the center of their table. “Here!”

You smile and set down your phone, taking a seat as Taehyung brings you a tray. Its pasta and steak, with a huge side salad and green beans. You gape at the cook who’s still engrossed in tasting and perfecting the sauce for the pasta.

“Yoongi hyung’s a really good cook,” Jimin says, with a mouthful of salad and steak. With that, the man in question appears behind the younger firefighter and hands him a cup of water. “Don’t eat and talk at the same time. It’s disgusting.” He says with a curled lip, and then gives you a nod.

“You’re the new paramedic hire right?” He asks.

You nod, “Hi, yes. I’m Y/N.” He shakes your hand, nods, and turns away. “Not much of a talker, is he?” You say, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, “Yoongi’s not really an extroverted type. But he’ll warm up to you, just give it time.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You have to sit in your room for a couple hours though, watching boredly through the instructional training online lessons you had to complete before starting your first day. You’re close to dozing off when a soft knock sounds.

“Yes!” You sit up and turn, and Jungkook appears, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Y/N! What you doin’?”

You stick a thumb at your computer, “Training videos,” you sigh, curling your lip. “Why?”

“Oh, hyungs and I are gonna watch a movie. If you wanna come sit with us in the lounge and do your training or just watch with us, you’re welcome to!”

You pause. “Won’t it be loud? I probably won’t be able to get anything done.”

“I’m pretty sure Seokjin hyung has done basic training before. He can probably give you all the answers to those end-of-lecture quizzes.”

Now there was your incentive to go. You smile, standing up and closing your laptop. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Let’s go.”

He guides you down to where the lounge is and all the boys chime a nice “hello” or “y/n!” when you appear in the doorway. You can see that a new episode of Game of Thrones is on. You pad over to Seokjin and he smiles when you ask him for the favor, and moves seats to the couch behind so you can sit with him and watch at the same time.

The night goes smoothly, you tapping Seokjin everytime you finish a lesson and him pausing to quickly finish the quizzes, and you joining in with the debates about the show occasionally. Yoongi brings out some snacks, and eventually Jimin brings out a blanket for you, and by the end of the episode, your training is finished and you’re sipping on soda and eating pizza.

It’s nice, you think, a lot nicer than the hospital. You were used to the competitive nature of medicine. It was always competing against the other residents or interns to get a spot that had ridiculously low acceptance rates. There was always no time to relax. This wasn’t bad at all.

But you shake your head. This was temporary. A break. No need to get attached. They’re just being hospitable. You give a tight lipped smile as the episode ends and you take your laptop and blanket with you as you stand. “Thanks, guys, for inviting me. I’m gonna turn in tonight.” you say, slowly shuffling away. “Good night!” Taehyung yells, and the other boys chime in one by one.

You set your stuff down in your room and get ready for bed. Laying in your single bed, with no one else snoring or sleep talking, and with no post-surgery fatigue to get you straight to sleep, it’s hard. You end up staring up at the ceiling of your room, sighing as you try to think of the most boring topics in the world to try and get to sleep.

“Just a few weeks, y/n.” you murmur, turning onto your side.

You’re finally dozing off when suddenly, the intercom you had no idea was located right outside your door bursts to life. “Code 904B Building Fire. Code 904B Building Fire.”

You scramble up, throwing your covers back as you stick your head out into the hallway. The lights are flashing brightly, but you can hear the sounds of the boys in each room getting ready. The first one out into the hallway is Taehyung, and he jogs up to you. “Put on your uniform, y/n,” he pants, “and meet us downstairs as soon as possible. We gotta go, and since it’s a building fire, there might be a few injuries you can help us with.”

“Okay,” you nod, as the rest of the boys begin appearing in the hallway with navy shirts on and their firemen overalls already on. They one by one disappear down the pole and you scramble to get the paramedic bodysuit on. You pull on your boots hastily and then sprint down the stairs, and see the chief addressing everyone.

“Alright, Yoongi and half of you in car 1, and the rest of you in mine. Namjoon is already in his way from his meeting, so he’ll meet us there. Let’s go!” The boys break out into jogs as they hurriedly begin packing the hoses tightly and jumping into the cars. “Chief,” you call out, “Where can I go?”

“Go with Yoongi!” He yells, and drives off, sirens wailing. You jump into the first car and immediately you’re surprised when Yoongi, usually lethargic and slow, slams on the accelerator and your own truck bolts into life. Stumbling into a seat, you ask Hoseok, “So, this is how it always happens?”

He nods solemnly, his usual playful smile gone. “24/7. We gotta stay alert.” You nod. He points to a large, bright orange utility box in the corner of the bus. “That’s your medic kit. You can look through it now if you want, we’ll be getting to the site in a few minutes.”

You nod, perching the box on the seat next to you and digging through it. It was pretty basic, syringes, bottles of lidocaine and epinephrine for stitch jobs, synthetic thread, scalpels, bandaids, alcohol, gauze, and more. You were used to working with the minimum at the emergency room. And seemed like whoever was in charge of this box had kept it neatly and pretty well-stocked. You lock the box when the truck begins to slow, and look out the window to see the commotion.

A large building has caught on fire, and already there are two other trucks unloading at the site, their firefighters already hooking up their hoses onto the fire hydrants and assembling into position to enter the building for any remaining people. The whole area smells like smoke and through it, the glow of the orange fire against the night sky is barely visible.

Immediately as the truck parks, the boys in the vehicle spring to motion. Their uniforms are already on, helmets, gloves, and oxygen tanks and all. One by one they jog out the door of the truck and do the same, unloading the hose from the side of the firetruck and linking it easily to the fire hydrant and getting ready to spray down the building.

You pull your hair back into a ponytail and look around for anyone who might be in need of help. There’s already a few survivors out around the area in the grass, and you run over to a woman laying down.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” You say as you approach her and kneel next to her. Her husband is crying. “Sir! Is she okay? What happened?”

“P-please! We were just picking up our son and then the burning piece of wood fell on her leg. No one has been able to h-help her yet! Our son is still in that building, too!”

You unlocked your box and reassured him, “Okay, sir, I need you to calm down and help me. Someone will go find your son, but we need to help your wife right now. Do you have a phone on you? Can you use the flashlight? I need to see the area.”

He does as you instruct with shaky hands, and you carefully use the scissors in the kit to cut a strip down her pants. The burn is quite bad and covers a lot of surface area, in addition to having a huge laceration down her thigh that needs to be stitched up now, in case of infection or bleeding out. You frown, she must have been in a lot of pain.

“Ma’am, can you understand me? This is going to be a bit painful, but I need to sanitize the area.”

She’s just sobbing at this point, but you can make out some words. “Please,” she sobs, “M-my s-son!”

You lean closer, “Sorry? Your son?”

She sobs and nods, “H-he’s still inside!!” She pushes your hands away from her leg, “I won’t be treated until I find him!”

You sigh, turning around to see if there are any firefighters available. You see one coming out of the building to replace his oxygen tank. You run up to him, unable to see anything but his eyes through the protective gear he was wearing.

“Hey! Hey, this woman I’m trying to treat is refusing treatment until she sees her son, and she claims he’s still inside. Please, if she doesn’t let me treat it right now, she might have to amputate her leg.” He nods, and follows you to the couple.

When they see him approaching, the woman goes hysterical. “Please!” She screams, “He’s still in there, on the second floor. I haven’t seen anyone bring him out!”

“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to go back inside for him. You need to calm down, and let this lady treat your leg, or else it could get worse. You need to stay strong for your son.”

She nods, and turns to you. You spring into action, giving the firefighter a nod as he stands. You frown, his voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.

The lady begins wailing as the adrenaline fades and the pain of her injury begins to hit. You have her husband hold her hand as you pour some alcohol on the area and she wails as the open cut is cleaned out.

Quickly, you stitch up the wound and dress the burns so that they’re manageable. She refuses to take the ambulance to the hospital until she sees her son, so you coax her into just sitting on the gurney in the ambulance and wait for her son. You try and calm down the couple as you move onto address a few more people in the vicinity with minor cuts, scrapes, and burns.

Suddenly, you hear a commotion, and you turn to the building that’s now less of a bonfire and more of a quiet smolder, and the firefighter from earlier emerges with something in his arms.

The woman you had treated earlier immediately starts wailing and crying as the firefighter jogs over to you and her and sets a boy down onto a gurney. He’s unconscious, and the firefighter whips off his helmet as he addresses you.

“He’s breathed in quite a bit of smoke, and fell unconscious when I picked him up. He needs pediatric CPR!”

“Namjoon!” Hoseok cries out.

You gawk as you watch him yell instructions at you and the rest of the firefighters you’d met, brows furrowing and eyes widening as you recognize those slanted eyes, thick lips and angled jawline that you’d run your tongue over that one fateful night. It was Joon. He was a firefighter. His name was Namjoon.

“Y/N!” He grabs you by the shoulders, “Focus!”

You immediately spring into action, running towards the boy and checking his pulse. “Do you know how to do compressions on a pediatric patient?” You breathe, and Joon nods, throwing his helmet and his tank aside and opening the buttons on his uniform jacket before he climbs atop the gurney.

As he begins compressions, you deliver some shots on his arm and search his body for any large cuts or burns. You hook him up to an oxygen mask and turn up the machine to high. “Switch!” You call out, and your hands replace Joon’s as you climb atop him and begin compressions.

“One, two, three...” You count out, as other paramedics swarm around you to prepare him to be delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.

The boy stirs, and you stop compressing, and watches as he begins coughing, from deep within, and you help remove his oxygen mask and pull him up to a sitting position as he continues coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs. A paramedic gives him some water and after the boy finishes coughing, you help him sip some water as he recovers.

The others help usher him onto a gurney and also help his mother and father join the ambulance.

You watch as the blaring sirens fade away and sigh as the remaining firefighters douse the building in water and put out the flames. Your knees are feeling weak, your heart up in your throat, and your breath short.

Feeling a presence standing next to you, you turn and meet eyes with him. You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a once over from his ash-stained angular face to the bulky equipment and uniform lining his body. Probably from the boots he was wearing, he seemed even taller than from the club.

He gives you a cocky grin. “So, you’re a paramedic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, stopping down to collect your materials and all the wrappers of the syringes and needles you had used to treat your patients.

“Not a paramedic, a doctor. On voluntary community service.” You huff.

He stoops down too, setting his helmet aside to help with your tools. “No wonder you’re good with your hands.”

You stop, sitting on your haunches to give him a look. He does the same, matching your cold gaze with a smirk. “I think that’s very unprofessional, Mr. Joon.”

You stand, locking the paramedic box angrily and stomp away.

But he easily catches up to you, having those damned long legs of his, and follows you to your truck. It makes you angrier that he begins unloading his equipment and uniform off into the same truck you came in.

“I think, Y/N, the moment you started making out with me at that club, professionalism was kind of thrown out the window, don’t you think? You disappear that morning without a trace, and then suddenly you appear again at my workplace. Don’t you think I have the right to be a bit confused and curious?”

“Look.” You turn to him. “That was a one-night thing. I told you that I don’t do them often, and it was a mistake and I’m sorry, I won’t do that to you again. So just--” you throw your hands into the air, frustrated that he looked so goddamn good as he took off his thick outer coat and stood in front of you with just a black t-shirt and the pants of his uniform low on his hips. “--just pretend it didn’t happen. Just forget about it.”

You turn to walk away into the truck, but he stops you. “Wait! Wait wait wait, Y/N,” he turns to face you, the smirk wiped away and now brows attractively collecting in a frown, “For the record, I don’t consider that night as a mistake.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen as you frown up at him.

He doesn’t look away. The playfulness has dropped and he’s completely serious as his voice takes a lower tone.

“Sleeping with you wasn’t a mistake for me. Don’t apologize. I’ve only been able to think about you since then, and I don’t think that you showing up here out of all the other precincts or departments is another mistake, either. I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I want to be clear with you that my intentions are to get to know you better, and do it the right way.”

“Do what the right way?”

“Date you,” he says simply, like he was talking about the goddamn weather.

Literally, who was this guy? Your mind was completely blank. Like, who just says exactly what they’re thinking? How could he just be so...honest? What’s his game?

You blubber out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t date co-workers. Especially here. I’m only scheduled to volunteer for several weeks.”

He seems to gain a bit of confidence. “Y/N, that sounds more like an excuse, than it does a reason.”

You huff, blowing your hair out of the way. “Nonetheless, the answer is no.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”

And he does.

Every. Single. Day.

When you wake up, “Hey, Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

“No,” you’d say, roll your eyes, and spit out your toothpaste.

When you’re in the library, reading up on the latest studies. He’ll pop his head in and say, “Oh, Y/N, dinner’s ready.”

When you look up and nod, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

He’ll nod back, and then say, “Oh by the way, will you go on a date with me?”

You’d learned to just laugh it off or ignore him.

When you’re in the dining commons. You’ll be chatting with Taehyung about something and Namjoon will walk by, hand you a mug of coffee, and walk away without a word. When you lift the coffee up to drink it after Taehyung leaves for something, you find a slip of paper on the saucer.

Will you go on a date with me?

You crumple up the paper while maintaining eye contact and drop it into the steaming cup of coffee. Then, you stand, and pour the mug out into the trash, while he watches with an amused smirk.

The only times he doesn’t ask you out is when you’re on calls.

Over the next few weeks, you notice that Namjoon has three modes: 1) His Chief mode, 2) his off-duty mode, and 3) his flirting-with-you mode. Modes 2 and 3 tended to mix, especially when he was with you.

But whenever that light on the walls of the department begin to ring and flash, indicating an emergency call, Namjoon immediately enters his chief-mode. One time, he was in the middle of taunting you with probable bad-date ideas, the lights began flashing and you had watched as he shook himself out of his off-duty mode, and immediately started barking out orders to the group and you, responding to the dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It had happened in a millisecond.

You were in the lounge with Seokjin and Jimin, watching a movie while Yoongi dozed off in one of the couches. You had slowly begun to easily sink into this lifestyle. You guys were lucky if you got at least a few hours in between calls to relax, and since the most recent call was a small issue with some old lady’s cat up in a tree, Hoseok and Taehyung had volunteered to go on their own. It was a relaxing Thursday afternoon.

Like clockwork, right as you were almost dozing off, the lights began to flash and blare as your walkie-talkies exploded to life and the dispatch officer began reading out the issue.

The boys spring to life, immediately jumping over to the pole and going downstairs to change into their uniforms. You sigh and use the stairs to run down to the garage and get into your uniform, clambering into the truck as Namjoon begins listing out orders. It was a gas leak in a chemical factory, and they wanted the firemen to take care of it. You were only following for protocol.

“It shouldn’t be too complicated. Yoongi, did you contact the engineers to shut off the power?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah, they turned off all electricity, but they can’t turn off the gas valve. It’s stuck.”

“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to take care of. Jungkook, can you take care of that?”

You watch as the firetrucks pull in and follow the men into the warehouse. It’s completely dark but they all turn on their headlights as they treck through.

Namjoon leads them into the main gas chamber where one of the tanks is steadily leaking a stream of cold, compressed air out of it. Him and Jungkook immediately head over and begin working together to tighten the valve, while Seokjin begins looking for the pipe that leads into the tank.

You watch, boredly as the men do their thing, when suddenly, Jungkook yanks a bit too hard and both him and Namjoon are thrown back.

Jungkook immediately begins yelling out, and you scramble up in horror to see that he’d been thrown back into a piece of metal that was sticking out.

“Oh my god,” you cry out as you rush to his side. “Jungkook, hold on, I got you. Can you turn on your side so I can see the wound better?”

He moves while wincing in pain, but manages to maneuver so that the wound on his back is facing you. Using a flashlight, you make sure that the metal didn’t pierce any vital organs or arteries, and reassure him that it’s okay as you begin cleaning and stitching up the wound. After you’re finished, you look up to see Seokjin run into the room, and let you all know that he’d disassembled the valve and fixed the leak.

You sigh in relief as you cut the final thread and place some gauze over the stitches. Hoseok and Jimin had returned to help, and they throw Jungkook’s arms over their shoulders as they help him walk out of the building. You begin to pack your things, when you see Namjoon lagging behind the rest of the group, clutching his arm.

You catch up to him, “Hey, are you okay?”

He winces, but nods at you to go. “I’m fine. Catch up with the rest of them. I’ll be right behind you.”

You frown as you survey his features. The boys are now out of sight and you and Namjoon are the only ones left inside the chamber. “No, you don’t look very okay. Did you get hurt?”

He finally relents, groaning in pain as you guide him to sit down on some steps and remove his jacket. You gasp as his t-shirt comes off. Jungkook had been impaled when he hit the wall as he was thrown back, but it seemed that Namjoon had been in the direct line of contact when the valve of the pipe had blown off. It had sliced through his uniform and left quite a deep cut in his rib.

“Holy shit, Namjoon, you are not okay. Let me stitch this up right now.”

He shakes his head, “Let’s get out of here, first.”

You push him back. “If you keep moving, this wound is too close to your vital organs and it might cause infection or you might bleed out. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

He shakes his head as you begin unpacking your box of materials. For the first time in your few weeks at the department, you see a dark look of shame and regret written over his face. “I was the one who asked Jungkook to help me, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurt.”

You click your tongue at him as you clean the wound, apologizing as he hisses in pain at the contact of alcohol. “You know, you say a lot of stupid shit, but that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard you say to me. Ever.”

He laughs a little at that, wincing as it puts pressure on his side. You glare at him as you examine the wound and begin numbing the surrounding skin. “You’re a great chief, you know that. I’m administering some pretty heavy painkillers. Tell me when you start getting a bit woozy.”

He just silently watches you hover over his torso, squinting as you maneuver the hook needle and stitch him up. “I think that’s the first time you ever complimented me, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now your chief mode is off, I guess.”

He furrows his brows. “Chief mode?”

You nod, snipping at the threads as you begin another stitch.

“You have these modes you enter on the job. One of them is when you become this intense, no-nonsense leader, telling us all what to do and what to get done.”

He smiles, “And the other mode?”

“There’s two actually,” you say, still focused on his wound, “There’s one that’s always flirting with me, and there’s a third, where I can see that you really, really care for everyone on this team. That third one is the mode you’re in.”

“Are you maybe getting turned on by that mode, Y/N?” He winks at you, and you laugh, poking him in his side and making him groan out as you finish dressing the clean wound and help him get his uniform jacket back on. “Shut up, now your flirty mode is back on too.”

You’re cleaning up the materials in your box when suddenly, the lights come back on, bright white, and as you and Namjoon are squinting to try and reassess your surroundings, the huge gate to the chamber closes with a hissing noise and a loud clang.

“Shit,” you hear Namjoon cuss, and you scramble up, running over to the door and searching for a handle, a knob, or a button, anything to get it back open. You click your walkie-talkie, waiting for the static to sound to let you know that it’s communicating, but there’s nothing.

“No use,” he winces, zipping up his jacket, “The company probably just turned the electricity on when they saw some of the trucks leaving.”

You watch in horror as the vents surrounding you begin hissing and cold air begins drafting in. “What is this?”

“It’s a containment chamber for flammable chemicals, so I assume that it stays at a cool temperature. It’s fine, some of the boys will probably realize we’re here and be back in no time.” He lays down against the steps.

“Namjoon!” You scramble over, “Do not fall asleep, do you hear me? The temperature dropping is going to make your wound even worse. You need to stay warm, stand up if you can.”

He frowns, curling into himself with a pout. “I’m cold.”

You roll your eyes. It was the painkillers kicking in. He was getting lethargic, and it could kill him. “I know, you big fat baby, but if we don’t start warming up, we might die in here. C’mon, stand up.”

He begins moving around, although you instruct him not to stress his wound, he begins rocking around on his legs to try and make some body heat. You do the same, waving your arms around and trying to generate some heat.

At one point, you lose complete sense of time, and Namjoon wakes up from the initial wave of his painkillers to find the both of you huddled in the corner of the chamber, knees curled into your torsos as you shiver in the cold.

“Y-Y/N,” he breathes, and reality dawns on him as he sees the mist of his breath fan out from his mouth. “Y/N?”

“S-s-so cold,” you chatter, curling into him as he puts his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“D-don’t fall asleep,” he breathes, and you don’t respond, the chills rocking your entire shaking body as you curl into him further.

The walkie-talkie screeches for a moment, and Namjoon grabs it, responding back to the static. “H-hello? Anyone! Y/N and I are stuck in the main chamber! Temperature is dropping quickly. Hello?!”

The only response is static as he drops the walkie-talkie to just pull you in closer. “Y/N?”

There’s no response, and when he pulls back to try and look at you, your head lulls in his arms.

“Shit,” he mutters, “Y/N, Y/N!” He shakes you, but you’re completely unconscious in his arms. "Wake up!”

“No no no no no,” he chants, as he begins undressing, his whole body resisting the motions as he shivers in the cold, but he perseveres. He pulls his uniform open, baring his chest, and then proceeds to unbutton your uniform as well, baring a t-shirt underneath. He pulls your limp body close as he removes the t-shirt and then completely drapes himself over you, pressing your bare chests together as he pulls you tight against him, skin to skin.

He pulls the uniform tighter around your back so that you don’t lose any more body heat, when he finally hears yelling and pounding on the other side of the huge gate. He hugs you closer to himself before everything goes black, too.

#namjoon fics #bts fics #namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon fluff #fics #writing #mine #yay! im back!!!

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