#i was about to post this with her having two right feet :( im sorry mrs adler. but rest assured i fixed it in time <3 ily
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"They turned me into a monster, Arthur. But my memories of him, they still pure"
#sadie adler#red dead redemption 2#rdr#rdr2#red dead redemption fanart#red dead redemption fandom#rdr2 artwork#fanart#artists on tumblr#my art#mrs sadie adler ily <3#its 1:14am of the day this is scheduled to b posted. here to let you know i realized like 20 mins ago that she had two right feet literally#i was about to post this with her having two right feet :( im sorry mrs adler. but rest assured i fixed it in time <3 ily#also tumblr user hillbillyhipster84 i love you and i want to talk to you about karen and paca so bad bc YES i have written things abt them#but bc this is a sideblog and i can't respond to comments directly from this same sideblog i can't reply but pls feel free to dm me or#send in an ask i love you <3 sending you kisses and smooches
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thank god for bikes | arthurtv
inspired by @mrstelevision 🤍
face claim: steph bohrer ♡
request: here !
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📍 london
liked by gkbarry, max_balegde, and 98,302 others
y/nsworld about last night ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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user1 i'm in love with you
gkbarry cant believe i didn't even get photo creds ↳ y/nsworld please forgive my sins oh great gkbarry
user2 y/n!! i think the guys u mentioned on ur twt was george clarke and arthurtv!! arthur posted on twt about george getting hit by a bike on a wall!! ↳ y/nsworld !! let me check his twt <3
liked by y/nsworld, wroetoshaw and 29,492 others
arthurtv first pic taken moments before disaster (at least this one won't leave a scar)
georgeclarkeey don't know what was worse, the bike ptsd or you dribbling down your shirt ↳ arthurtv your mum doesn't mind my dribbling ↳ y/nsworld the dribbling was funnier to watch tbh ↳ georgeclarkeey take that mr television
gkbarry i didn't even notice it was you guys hiding in the corner ↳ georgeclarkeey just wanted some alone time with my boyfriend x ↳ arthurtv stop telling people i'm your boyfriend!!
👤 max_balegde liked by max_balegde, arthurtv and 38,028 others
y/nsworld wine in coffee cups and classic literature in a park, my idea of heaven ꕤ
max_balegde got home off my head and now andrews mad i've ruined dinner plans ↳ y/nsworld andrew baby im so sorry :( ↳ andrew_spanndy could never blame you xx ↳ max_balegde god just date her already wooooow
gkbarry regret introducing the two of you, my poor ears will never recover from this ↳ y/nsworld thats your fault for putting two professional yappers together xx
arthurtv pretty sure that's bride you're reading... wouldn't call werewolf smut classic literature ↳ y/nsworld and how do YOU know what's in the book? 🤨
👤 arthur_tv, max_balegde liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 30,395 others
georgeclarkeey totally normal photo to promote the newest useless hotline ep x
max_balegde rip my purple crocs... can't believe y/n stole them right off my feet... ↳ user2 !!! y/n at the arthurtv podcast recording?? my y/ntv senses are tingling ↳ user3 i'm pretty sure she was there bc her and max are friends... ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ user2 they've never randomly had their friends at recordings, dw you'll join the y/ntv cult soon
📍 ibiza
👤 georgeclarkeey, chrismd, arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, y/nsworld and 45,028 others
arthurtv thank you spotify for inviting us out! (photo cred: y/nsworld)
user2 i am going to scream from the rooftops, y/ntv'ers unite!!
y/nsworld should receive compensation for having to look at george's bare grippers the entire weekend ↳ arthurtv will bring round some wine this weekend ↳ y/nsworld good boy ↳ user2 ... y'all are fucking with me atp
📍 ibiza
liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 83,028 others
y/nsworld beach bum 𓇼
gkbarry happiness looks so good on you ↳ y/nsworld i love the bones of you
user2 !! WHO TOOK THE PHOTO I FEEL INSANE ↳ y/nsworld my friend! :)
📍 ibiza
liked by y/nsworld, georgeclarkeey and 49,204 others
arthurtv decided to stay in the sunshine a few more days :)
user3 user2 i fear you may be onto something ↳ user2 i'm gonna eat glass. like i am actually putting shards in my mouth rn ↳ y/nsworld omg pls don't
y/nsworld looking good mr television ↳ arthurtv why thank you miss world
liked by arthurtv, max_balegde and 83,028 others
y/nsworld use code ynsworld for 15% off ⋆⭒˚。⋆
max_balegde leaving my bf for you rn. ↳ andrew_spanndy not if i leave you first ↳ y/nsworld i can date both of you at the same time xx
arthurtv djsidjief djg ↳ y/nsworld you ok mr television?
y/nsworld didn't even think about what i was wearing when i went to go see mr hill sing about cold coffee, sorry guys you got the wrong arthur xx
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👤 y/nsworld liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 93,294 others
arthurtv someone forgot to change over to their finsta so i guess it's hard launch time... somehow got the most gorgeous girl on earth to agree to date me, must be my fantastic sense of humour
y/nsworld lbr most of them already knew, we weren't exactly subtle ↳ arthurtv speak for yourself xx
theburntchip it's the big ol' hog you got in them trousers ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ arthurtv ah yes forgot about that
max_balegde take care of her or me and andrew are snatching her real quick ↳ y/nsworld ... i may have to do some rethinking
user2 i can't believe i was right... VINDICATION ♥️ arthurtv, y/nsworld
👤 arthur_tv liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 104,845 others
y/nsworld told him i forgot to change to finsta but really i just wanted to show that i bagged a hottie ✮⋆˙
georgeclarkeey still can't believe you snatched him from right under my nose ↳ y/nsworld we're still in the honeymoon phase so i may give him back x ↳ arthurtv what the fuck
gkbarry crying into a pint of ice cream thanks xx ↳ y/nsworld you know you're the love of my life xx
y/nsworld also user2 sorry for gaslighting you xx ↳ user2 i have never been so happy to be gaslighted could do a happy lil cry ↳ y/nsworld our fave y/ntv'er we love you ♡
#arthur tv imagine#arthur tv x reader#arthurtv imagine#arthurtv x reader#arthurtv fluff#arthurtv fics#arthur frederick imagines#arthur frederick x reader#arthur frederick fics
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Hiii i saw your requests are open. So i have a little something. So, I've had this daydream about post-war levi, where he has a cozy little tea shop. The reader, who is a law student, goes there to study quite frequently. She basically went there for the ambiance and kept going for the owner, if you get me :p. So yeah, it is obvious to lev that she has a crush on him, and you know you know, they talk and all that and one thing leads to another. I hope this isn't too detailed. You can let out anything you're not comfortable with, of course. Lots of luvv ~~
bruh i seriously i have an issue with tumblr. they deleated my draft i had for this. BUT ANYWAYS HIIIIIII, you’re the first person to have a request everrrr! Im so happy someone finally submitted something! I hope this is something that you like, i wish i could’ve wrote more but i am busy with finals (fucking kms). I hope i can expand on this soon though:)
nothing nsfw for now but hopefully we’ll expand on that as well 😏 Also mind the grammar or errors of any kind, I am not an english major for a reason.
You sat in a chair at a small table against the window of the little tea shop in town. Your books scattered around the table, but with no actual work getting done though however. You’re attention was on the man behind the counter with his back facing towards you making a tea for a fellow customer.
This isnt isnt the first time you’ve been at the tea shop. You started coming just to study and enjoy a tea or two. Now you stay for a completely different reason, or well person. You couldn't help put stare at his defined back, his sleeves rolled to his forarms and hands moving with skill.
Unknown to you, Levi could feel your stare, and has been feeling them for months. He could feel you staring at him right now, he tries ignoring it but in the end he always turns around and makes brief eye contact with you. You quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact and pretend to work on whatever was in front of you.
You keep working, sort of, while stealing quick glances to the man. This goes on until it starts to get dark outside and you can tell the owner is starting to clean up the shop. He slowly finishes wiping down a table next to yours and you try not to stare by pretending to work. He slowly makes it to your table now and clears his throat looking at you.
You peek up through your eyelashes before he starts saying something.
“Miss, the shop is about to close.” He says softly, looking into your eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll clean up and get out of your way.” You replied back to him, starting to pack up your stuff into the your satchel. He nods at you as a thanks, but not before setting something on the table. Confused, you pick it up.
‘come to the shop on Sunday, 6 o’clock’
You think for a second, wondering why you might have gotten this. Then your brain clicks, the shop is closed on Sundays. Heat starts to rise to your face as you look over to the man again, he’s back behind the counter, back to you cleaning tea cups. You grabbed your satchel and walk over to the counter, this time your the one to clear your throat.
“Um, can I ask you your name sir?” You ask him politely. He turns around, cup and rag in hand.
“It’s Levi.” He responds, while still cleaning the cup. You nod your head at his response, shifting on your feet nervously.
“Can I ask why you left this note Levi.” You prompt him, saying his name with a soft tone. This time he sets the tea cup down and leaning on the counter slightly.
“Well I was hoping I could see the pretty girl thats always in my shop, but on her own.” He replied with a bit of red on his cheek as well. You hum at his answer, thinking about what you’re going to respond with. After a moment of silence Levi opens his mouth,
“If you’re not comfortable-“
“Ok, Mr. Levi.” You interrupt him before he can get his full sentence out. He stares at you for a second and nods his head.
“Ok then, I’ll see you sunday then?” He clarifies.
“I’ll see you on Sunday Mr.Levi.” You smile at him, a small blush on your face. You turn around and start to walk out the door, the little bell atop it chiming when it’s opened. You turn your head over your shoulder one last time and wave at him. Levi gives a small smile back, hands returning to clean tea cups. Walking out with a blush and a smile on your face you have one little thing on your mind now, nothing related to school work.
You have a date this Sunday.
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#attack on titan#attack on titan x reader#levi aot#aot x reader#post-war levi#livanswers#ily
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haven't been on here for like a week but im testing through your blog to catch up on what i missed and i have to know about the sungyoon werewolf thing please
welcome back! I wish I had the mental strength to take a break from this hellsite 😅
ok so this was actually the first draft of this blurb, where an anon had asked for sungyoon + werewolf au, but I decided this was a bit too long and would turn out to be a full fic (if I had the time and motivation) rather than a blurb, so I scrapped it and posted the other one. it's basically the same au -- reader is the new assistant to a hotshot ceo and meets his newest project: a humanoid superweapon genetically modified to be stronger, faster, fiercer etc etc. sungyoon is quiet and scary, but reader sees the humanity in his eyes or something cute like that
technically it's not a real werewolf au, it's just called that because it's what the anon asked for and I did not deliver lmao
I didn't have much written, so I'll just insert what I had under the cut!
"How often does Mr Jeon personally oversee projects?"
Beverly is quick to shush you as you struggle to keep up with her pace, walking a good two or so meters behind Mr Jeon and the project team leader he's conversing with. You doubt either of them heard you, nor care about what you have to say, but you keep your mouth shut and make a note to tone your voice down -- you can't have Beverly thinking you're not fit to take over for her, even if it's just temporary.
"Sorry," you whisper, bowing your head slightly as you walk. You've got your little notebook out, the page you're on almost filled with illegible scribbles detailing everything you need to know about working as Mr Jeon's temp secretary slash personal assistant slash yes man.
- always be an hour earlier than Mr Jeon - always get up at least 3.5 hours before you have to be somewhere - never put your phone on silent!! - schedule time off over 2 months in advance + always be available for emergencies even when off the clock -- always on the clock? - dress well but never to draw attention - be prepared for anything! nts: ask what "everything" is?
Beverly's short heels click evenly on the linoleum floor, and you look down at your black sneakers. Yeah, they're not exactly top-drawer, but you thought they were at least the opposite of attention-drawing. Though, now that you think about it, even nice running shoes might draw more attention than dress shoes when you're a secretary slash pack mule for a multi-millionaire.
In your moment of introspection, you somehow manage to trip over your own feet while you're looking at them. Neither Mr Jeon nor the team leader make any sort of indication that they notice or give a damn, but Beverly shoots a look over her shoulder that screams, get your shit together. You try to clear the embarrassment from your face without a sound, and you shuffle up to Beverly's side again with your notebook at the ready.
"What do we do during these kinds of meetings?"
Even though you thought you whispered that quietly enough, Beverly glares at you like you just stepped on her toe. She slows her gait slightly and watches the way you scribble in your notebook as she answers. "Stay close by and listen. Follow the conversation but do not join it. If you're needed, you will be addressed."
You frown at that. You've been hearing a lot of stuff along the same lines; don't speak unless spoken to. How does Beverly tolerate being treated like she can't have opinions? She seems like such a made, confident woman to you. Maybe she's just telling you this since you're only starting out. After all, you're still shadowing her right now, and you've only been doing that for two days before this.
"Write down anything important," she continues.
Mr Jeon and the team leader stop momentarily at a door, so you wait until they walk through and get ahead of you two before whispering, "How do I know what's important?"
There's no denying Beverly doesn't even try to stop herself from rolling her eyes at you with a quiet but undeniably tired sigh. "Just write everything down."
You press your lips together but just look down instead of saying anything else. Instead, you walk slightly closer to Mr Jeon, writing down things like dates and times, something called "Project Y", and the fact that Mr Jeon likes his eggs over-medium. Either he and the team leader are friends, or Mr Jeon is just the charismatic type. You suppose he has to be -- you don't reach the top of the business ladder without a little ass-kissing (and nepotism).
So focused on writing down everything "important," you almost walk straight into a swinging door because of course Mr Jeon doesn't bother holding doors open for secretaries, and like underlings see, underlings do, so the team leader doesn't hold the door either. Only Beverly is your saving grace. Even though she probably thinks you're nowhere near qualified to take the reins of her job while she takes maternity leave, she -- maybe -- feels some empathy for you, at least. She catches the door right before it can clock you in the nose, whispers at you to pay attention, and ignores when you mutter under your breath how you can only pay attention to so many things at once.
But you're going to have to learn how, if you really want to snag this job and the doors it's going to open for you in the future. You didn't even apply for this gig, sincerely surprised when the interview happened and Beverly told you your dad set it all up. Surprised at the interview, not the rest -- your dad would totally spring something like that on you. And sure, you'd heard of Jeon Industries before, but not on the level where you'd ever thought you'd work there. It's a giant in weapons production. You still keep stuffed animals on your bed. Proudly, but still.
It seemed like Mr Jeon had completely left the selection process to Beverly, but you doubt she picked you for your not-so-stunning resumé. Maybe it was your personality... no, even you have to laugh at that. Personality only matters in movies when it comes to jobs like this. You really don't know what led you to shadowing Beverly for two and a half days, but you're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth here, especially when you're still on unemployment.
"Just this way, Sir."
You snap back into it, cursing under your breath at the lost thirty seconds when you could've been writing shit down. Beverly eyes you from her periphery, and you know you've been docked yet another point in her mental checklist. You seriously have no idea how many more chances she's going to give you.
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Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)
i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!
pairing: Harry x actress!reader
word count: 3k
warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)
SERIES MASTERPOST
masterlist
“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”
“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”
“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.
“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”
You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.
“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.
“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”
“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”
Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.
Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.
Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.
“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.
“I’m suing them. All of them.”
“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.
“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.
“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.
“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”
“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”
“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”
His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.
You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.
You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.
Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.
“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.
“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.
“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.
“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.
Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.
“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.
“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.
The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.
“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.
Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.
“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.
“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.
“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.
The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.
“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”
“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.
“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”
Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.
“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”
“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”
“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.
“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”
“Yeah?” you chuckle.
“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”
“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”
“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.
“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”
You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.
“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.
“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”
A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.
“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.
You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.
“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.
“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.
“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”
Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.
“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”
“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.
You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.
You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.
“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.
His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.
“Ready to feel good?”
“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.
“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.
“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.
He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.
His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.
“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.
“Never, Darling.”
And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.
When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.
Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.
“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”
“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”
Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.
When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.
“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”
“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.
“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.
“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”
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#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles never have i ever#harry styles series#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles x actress!reader
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until you came along. [ b.b ]
a dad!bucky barnes x fem!reader wherein bucky finally gets to meet his little one.
WARNING: bucky hinting about his past but aside from that nothing else! maybe this fic giving you baby fever idrk, time is set somewhere after the events of tfatws, and lowercase intended!
A/N: hi my baby fever is torture and im dragging you along with me. dad!bucky has been stuck in my head for so long now and i’ve been feeling guilty abt not sharing that with you. please reblog the post, it really means a lot!
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if someone was to tell bucky from a few years back he would be an expecting father, he would probably chuckle bitterly as he turned down the idea; but here he was now, rushing in the middle of the car-filled streets of new york, to finally meet his new born baby.
he cursed under his breath as the cab he was in turned into another corner that had cars barely moving, fingers drumming against the sides of his thighs as he tried to calm himself down, his right arm pulling out his phone to see multiple messages from your mother, asking where was he as you were already in active labor一 that was several hours ago.
he and sam were on a mission, taking down some mafia gang that wanted to smuggle in illegal goods in trade for stolen a truck filled with stolen vibranium; his mind replaying how he didnt want to leave the hospital and stay by your side, but you pushed him to go, not expecting that the infant would arrive later that day.
as soon as he saw the tall building of the hospital you were at, he paid the driver and got out of the car, sprinting all the way to the entrance where his father-in-law was waiting, “i’m so sorry i couldn’t come sooner一” were the words that left bucky’s mouth until he was cut off, “it’s alright, you should head up, your little one’s waiting upstairs.” your father said, patting him on the back as he motioned with his other hand to go.
weaving his way inside, he quickly found your room and composed himself, standing up straight as he caught his breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on his clothes before slowly opening the door, peeking his head through its crack to see your sleeping figure on the bed, your mother sitting right by your side.
“bucky!” your mother quietly greeted, standing up to give him a hug. her smile was wide as she stared at his almost organized look, his hair still in a disarray from the rush he was in moments prior. “both of your angel’s are sleeping as of the moment, you should get some rest too, son. me and f/n will go home and set everything up for the baby” she calmly said, motioning the seat that she was previously in.
a small smile formed on his lips as he nodded, wanting to actually take a seat and be with you. “thank you for looking after her, ma.” he answered, hugging the woman tightly before letting go, waving his had as she left the room.
he quietly walked over and took a seat, observing the small sleeping figure inside the clear bassinet next to your bed, tears forming up in his eyes to see such a peaceful little face. gently raising a single digit over the crib, he gently caressed the baby’s hand which held onto his finger, “hey there, little one. I’m your dad.”
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you stirred awake, body feeling extra sore still from giving birth, you were about to open your eyes when you heard bucky’s voice, “... and i was probably more scared than your momma could ever be at that moment, my little angel.” you opened your eyes a little to see bucky carrying the infant in his arms, sat down, slightly facing the window.
the warm rays of the early sun peeked through the blinds of the window, illuminating the peacefulness displayed on his face, “when your momma said that she had a suspicion you were in her belly, she was scared that i would leave ‘er, since we weren’t even into a year of dating一 little did she know that i feared what would become of us.”
your heart broke silently as you tuned into his confession to the baby, “i’m way older than your grandma and grandpa, i’m afraid that i could never see you grow up, i’m afraid that your momma would leave me for someone younger, that could be better a dad than old me.” his voice was soft, fragile almost as cradled your son.
“but i set those fears aside when i saw you sleeping in that crib of yours, lookin’ so angelic as you slept. i could have only wished to start a family before since i… i was considered to be someone so dangerous; i’ve always thought i would never find love but momma came along and proved me wrong, and now you’re here with me.” bucky continued, raising the small babe up to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“i’ve seen so much on this earth that i thought i’ve seen everything it has to offer. your dad’s cool since he got to fight such a big alien and so many bad guys before but i never really realized how much of life i missed until i saw you open your eyes and look at me. i’ve never deemed my life so… worthy until i you and momma came along.” bucky finished, bringing up his flesh hand to wipe the tear that had managed to escape, sighing softly.
you also brought a hand up, wiping the tears that you didn’t even notice away before quietly calling out your husband’s name, making him look back at you with a big surprise, quick to get on his feet and sat by your bed, his flesh hand holding onto yours as he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. “how long have you been up, darling?”
you smiled tiredly, “just enough time to hear you ramble on to your son.” your tone light and teasing, making the latter chuckle in embarrassment that you had caught him being so soft, “who knew mr. bucky barnes could be such a softy.”
“for someone who just gave birth, you sure are in a teasing mood, baby.” he groaned, shaking his head at your antics. “i’m sorry i couldn’t be here for you when this little troublemaker arrived, y/n.” bucky apologized, looking at you with a small yet disappointed smile. “i knew i should have never taken up that mission.”
you squeezed his hand, shaking your head firmly. “no, james, don’t ever blame yourself for that.” you started off, “i said that you should go一 besides, you’re here now, with me and our little prince and that’s what matters.” you reassure him, bringing his hand up to your lips to place a gentle kiss on his already healing, bruised up knuckles.
bucky sighed softly, knowing better than to argue with you about that, “i know better than to argue with you about that, y/n.” he retorted softly, heart filled with love as his vision bounced from your featured to the sleeping one in his arms, gently exclaiming, “my god, i love you both so much.”
you laughed softly, warmth spreading throughout your body at the sight of the, now two, men in your life, “and we love you too, bucky. we love you too.”
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fics#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x fem!reader#marvel#mcu x reader
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The Proposal , Lets fall in love for the night [o.w]
A/N- The reader is 19 and Oliver is 20. He’s already been recruited to a team for quid ditch while the reader finishes their last year of hogwarts. This is a non-voldemort a/u.
Warnings- just fluff, super cute fluff.
y/n-your name
y/m/n-your middle name
y/l/n-your last name
“Can i take my blindfold off now?” you whine. It was your five-year anniversary with Oliver and he had a whole thing planned out, from the entire day down till your outfit. You hadn’t seen him all day and he left you nothing but a note in your dorm telling you to slip on the white dress and matching silver heels in the box [whatever you say the man had good taste] he left and meet him outside the common room at 5pm. Once you were ready you went and were met with Fred, who proceeded to blindfold you and take you to Oliver so you knew absolutely nothing. And that’s how you found yourself in his position, hand in hand with none other than Oliver himself blindfolded walking to god knows where.
“Not just yet, darling.” he chuckled , carefully guiding you.
“I love you Oliver , but if I have to wear this for one minute longer we are over.” You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it but you needed that blindfold off.
He chuckled again , “Almost there love-” taking a short pause, “- okay, we’re here now.” He proceeded to take you blindfold off but not before a song started playing. “lets fall in love for tonight and forget in the morning-” you gasped when the blindfold came off, taking in your surroundings. You were standing on the bridge where you had first kissed him, yes you because even oliver who was super confident was way too nervous to actually make a move on you. This same bridge shared all your big moments, its where he first asked you out, its where you first told him you loved him, the feeling was mutual of course. He had somehow managed to cover the gorgeous light wood railings of the tiny bridge in white fairy lights, illuminating the place. You turned around to oliver who was dressed in a white button up and black formal trousers and kissed him. You grabbed his face and kissed him. He was startled but kissed you back immediately. You broke the kiss and touched your forehead to his “This is gorgeous babe, i love it.”
He chuckled and said, “your squishing the flowers darling.”
“Oh. Shit-” you stepped back and looked down embarrassed , “-sorry.”
“Don’t be.” he handed you your favourite flowers [a/n- my favourite flowers are white roses, so that's what im basing this on but feel free to picture your own!], and kissed you again.
He bowed down dramatically, “May I have this dance , your grace.” He said referring to Bridgerton ,the show you two had finished a week ago after which you had taken to calling each other your grace, thinking it was funny.
You bowed back. “You may, your grace.” you said chuckling. And there the two of you were dancing on the bridge to finneas sing. It was your song, yours and olivers. You rested your head on his chest and he swayed. He turned you around, your back to his front and you hummed. His warmth seeping into you. Suddenly, he stepped back and you whined, he chuckled once again, “Just a minute, love.” and you hummed in response leaning against the railings of the bridge admiring the view of the water and the purple sky. Autumn was setting in and you couldn't be happier.
He came back and handed you a glass of rose champagne leaning next to you with his hand on your waist. You both took and sip and you hummed to the wonderful taste. After a couple of minutes , he cleared his throat and you looked at him.
He took your hand and took a couple steps back. He seemed a little nervous but then looked at you. Clearing his throat again he said , “ Okay, so i had a whole speech prepared and i was going to say a lot of things, i can't remember anything right now. So, im just gonna say something and hope it comes out right -” you interrupted him before he could say anything ,”Oliver?”
He lifted a hand so as to shush you and continued, ”Darling, I love you. I love you so much that I can't explain it. I love going to sleep right next to you and i love waking up next to you. I love your laugh and i love your voice and i love you. You take my breath away.I think i might love you more than qudditch, actually no, i dont think, I know that I love you more than quidditch. Every time i look at you, i want to be near you. I want to spend my entire life with you. I want to build a future with you. I want to take every next breath with you, i want to grow old and grey with you.-” He took a deep breath , by this time you already had tears in your eyes anticipating what was happening. He continues,” - And I- and i- It is one thing to meet a beautiful woman but to meet your best friend in the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart.” He grinned referencing to Simon’s speech about Daphne in Bridgerton making you laugh. He took another deep breath , “ When i first started playing, i didnt think i would ever experience anything that would ever compare to how i felt when i picked up the broom. I never thought i would find love because quid ditch was my entire world and then there was you, equally as fast. Equally as cunning, equally as sharp as me on the broom. Thats when i knew i loved you, when i first saw you on that broom.I knew then that nothing mattered as long as i had you. That even if i didnt have quidditch and i had you everything in the world would be okay. y/n y/m/n y/l/n , will you do me honour of marrying me, of becoming Mrs. Oliver Wood and being with me for the rest of my life?” At some point he had sat down on one knee and was now looking up at you holding out a gorgeous engagement ring.
You wanted to play with him and say no but the emotions of the entire ordeal had completely overtaken you and you ended up saying ,“yes, yes, yes ,yes, yes i’ll marry you.” He picked you up and spinned you not before placing the ring on your delicate finger, huh that's why Angelina wanted to get her nails done with you. After placing you on your feet he kissed you. “Really? You want to marry me?” he asked resting his forehead against yours. “Of course i want to marry you dumbass , and even if i didnt after that speech who could refuse.” you chuckled and he joined you.
After a couple of moments of staying like that you took a deep breath, “I guess this would be the perfect time to tell you that im pregnant?” you said looking into his eyes. The second you finished that sentence fireworks burst around you. You looked up in awe but only for a second before oliver turned your face to him, he eyes glowing .”Your pregnant?” and you nodded. “I’m going to be a dad?” he asked again.
“Mhm, i found out this morning. I guess that's what you get for making your girlfriend, well now fiancee pregnant baby” you said laughing at him. He grinned before jumping up and down. He stopped and kissed you, his hands going to your belly. “This is the best day ever, the most perfect, goddess-like woman agreed to be my wife and im having a baby!” his excitement had you laughing.
After a moment you said, “So about those fireworks-” he looked down sheepishly, you smacked his chest “-Oliver how many people did you tell?” you said feigning accusation. “might've told everyone in the castle.” he mumbled under his breath. “OLIVER-” he broke you off before kissing you again.
You broke the kiss ,”that was a good way of shutting me up, love.” he chuckled, ”I know, can’t wait to use it a lot more when i finally marry you.”
As you two headed back to the castle , finneas remained singing ,”lets fall in love for the night.”
a/n-i hope you liked this, its my very first time doing something like this. Also i know the ending is kind of crappy but i can't think anything else.
*Do not post my stuff anywhere*
ignore tags-
#oliver wood#oliver wood fanfiction#oliver wood fluff#oliver wood imagine#oliver wood imagines#harry potter fluff#oliver wood x y/n#oliver wood x you#oliver wood x reader#draco malfoy fluff#cedric diggory fluff#fluff imagine#blaise zabini fluff#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy imagine#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x yn#draco malfoy x you#harry potter smut#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley smut#fred weasley imagine#hogwarts boys#cedric diggory fanfiction#george weasley smut#george wealsey imagine#oliver wood smut#weasley
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lilies & lilacs pt. i
SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.
pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader
genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.
word count: 5.6k+
warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.
author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included
lilies & lilacs is copyright 2020 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.
The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.
During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.
Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.
“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.
“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.
“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.
Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.
Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.
His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.
His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.
And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.
Two. Weeks.
How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.
As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.
Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.
“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.
“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”
“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”
While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.
Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.
“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”
.
.
The task was easier said than done.
Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.
Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.
Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.
All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.
“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”
Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.
“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.
Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.
Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.
Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.
That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure
“You alright, sir?”
His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.
“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”
Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.
“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”
Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.
“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.
Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.
Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.
Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.
“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.
Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.
“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”
“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.
With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.
The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.
During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.
Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.
Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.
Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.
Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.
N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.
He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.
He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.
.
.
It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.
“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.
With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.
You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.
“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.
“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.
Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.
You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.
Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.
You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.
Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.
“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.
“How may I help you this evening?”
“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.
Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”
Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.
He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.
That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.
You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.
Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.
Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.
“Those are very pretty.”
Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.
The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.
“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.
“You do excellent work here in your shop.”
Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”
After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.
The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.
You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.
“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”
“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”
“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”
“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.
“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”
“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.
What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.
You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”
“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.
Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?
As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.
“Sir, I’m not su—”
“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.
Desperation.
This man seemed desperate for some reason.
“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.
“Two weeks,” he answered.
Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.
While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.
You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?
Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.
“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.
“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.
“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.
“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”
There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.
“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”
It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.
“Please be the florist for our gala.”
The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.
“I’ll be in your care then.”
With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.
Todoroki Shouto — CEO
“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.
“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.
Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.
“I’ll see you then.”
After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.
You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!
A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.
Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.
“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.
“We have our florist.”
#bnha x reader#todoroki x reader#bnha imagine#todoroki shouto x reader#mha x reader#bnha fic#todoroki fic#todoroki imagine
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Hard to Love [18/?]
Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader
Words: 1140
Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.
Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.
A/N: This chapter will be in Chris’ pov! I’ll try and publish the next chapter tonight but no promises! I think the only reason I’m getting chapters out so fast today is because they’re so short ha.
Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8 @raabrakha
I placed my hands on my hip and looked at the clock on the wall for the third time in ten minutes. She had been gone for a few hours and I had begun to worry. I felt instant regret with our fight, not meaning anything I had said. I let my anger get the best of me which was the reason why she left. I didn’t think she would be gone all night, she had to come home.
Right?
Sighing, I looked over towards Dodger who was sitting at the door with sad eyes.
“I know bud, I miss her too.” I admitted while pulling out my phone.
As soon as my fingers went to click her name, a loud knock on the door got my attention. Tossing my phone on the couch, I sprinted to the door hoping it was her.
“Mr. Evans?”
I looked at the two officers that stood on my doorstep, fear sinking deep in my gut.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Do you mind if we step inside? I think it would be best for you; no prying eyes,” One of the officers motioned towards my neighbors.
I let them in with a nod, Dodger smelling their boots.
“Can I ask what this is about?” I questioned.
One of the officers, whose badge read Officer Ramirez, pulled out an evidence bag from their jacket.
“Does this look familiar to you?” She asked.
My hands shook as I took the bag that had all of Y/N’s belongings that she left the house with; phone, wallet, and keys.
“It’s my girlfriends,” my mouth ran dry. “Is she alright?”
“Can you tell us where you’ve been tonight?” The other officer, Officer Paulina, asked.
“Here,” I motioned to my living room. “I’ve been waiting for my girlfriend to come home.”
“From work?” Ramirez asked.
With a regretful sigh, I ran a hand over my beard. “Uh, no. We had a fight and she stormed out. That was a few hours ago.”
“What were you two fighting about?”
I shifted my eyes over to Paulina. “Do I need my lawyer here for this conversation?”
Ramirez could tell the tension between Officer Paulina and I so she stepped in. “What my partner is trying to say, is that we have reason to believe your girlfriend was abducted tonight.”
“And you think I had something to do with it?” I questioned, getting defensive.
“Look, we know who you are and you’re in the public eye. You can tell us if the breakup went bad and wanted to hide the evidence,” Paulina said, rubbing his rather large beer gut.
“You’re insinuating that I had something to do with my girlfriend disappearing?” My voice raised, unable to control my anger.
“Why don’t we talk over here,” Officer Ramirez gently grabbed my elbow and led me towards my kitchen.
I was so deep in anger at the officer blaming me for Y/N disappearing that I hadn’t let the words sink in until that second.
She was abducted.
“Did you,” I stammered over my words. “Did you find her body?”
Ramirez shook her head. “No. We only found her belongings. Someone a few blocks over called in that they heard a female scream and found this outside on their lawn.”
She motioned towards Y/N’s things.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed, trying to control my emotions.
“Do you have any idea who would want to hurt Y/N?” She asked.
Suddenly, everything that happened to her the past few weeks and earlier tonight started to fall into place.
“Yeah, she has an abusive ex husband. She believed that he has been stalking her the past few weeks. Her tires were slashed earlier tonight.” I mentioned.
Ramirez raised her brows. “You didn’t call that in?”
I shook my head, embarrassed. “We had a fight about it and she left before we could even talk about what happened.”
“Do you have the ex’s names?” Ramirez took out a pad of paper and a pen.
“All I know is Chad,” I also told her about where Y/N came from, hoping that gave her some more information.
“Thank you, Mr. Evans. I’ll keep in touch if I hear anything. I’m going to leave my card in case you hear from her,” She placed a card on the kitchen island. “I’m sorry about my partner.”
I gave her a small smile, letting her know it was alright, and showed her and her partner out.
Alone again, I refused to break down as I stared at Dodger. His eyes were broken and lost, knowing that something wasn’t right. Something was wrong.
My shoulders crumbled, fear that I may never see Y/N again, and I let a few tears roll down my cheek.
Thirty Hours.
Thirty long fucking hours without Y/N.
She was still missing with no contact from her. I sat by my phone all night, hoping either she or the officers handling her case would call with some news. My eyes were still dry, not being able to break down and cry. I needed to stay strong for when she returned. She would need me to help her heal.
The daylight shone as I walked out of the police station, the sun burning my eyes. The sidewalk was bustling with people and I knew that a group of them had seen me walk out, so it wouldn’t surprise me to read whatever rumors they had posted online.
Officer Ramirez had shown me surveillance video from a stop light at the street Y/N was taken from and I watched in horror as someone knocked her from behind with a bat, her limp body crumbling to the floor. Her body was dragged to a car a few feet away and thrown into the trunk. The license plate was removed from the car, her abductor knowing exactly how to hide; the brim of his hat hung low over his eyes.
It didn’t matter. I still believed Chad had taken her. My skin crawled at the thoughts of what he was doing to her.
They were still trying to track down the car and would call once they found it. Officer Paulina had stressed not to get my hopes up.
“Typically by now, their body usually washes up ashore.”
It took every fiber in my body not to knock him on his ass right there. The only thing stopping me was the fact I was in public and I wouldn’t put it past any one of these officers to sell this story to the press.
“If you have any questions regarding my involvement or if I hear any word of this in the press, my attorney Mr. Barber will be in contact.” I spat before storming out the the building.
My car was parked in the parking garage, away from the public eye, and when I was finally alone in the small metal cocoon, I finally let myself break down. Tears welling in my eyes, my body shook with loud sobs. I smacked the steering wheel, a loud scream ripping through my chest. The realization that I may never see Y/N again was an always looming thought but knowing that it was a good possibility had broken me.
After a few moments of weakness, I let out a few breaths to control myself before I sped out of the garage towards our home. I needed to pull myself together for her. She would come home, I know it. My love for her would bring her home.
#chris evans#chris evans angst#chris evans smut#chris evans reader insert#chris evans and reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans x yn#chris evans and yn
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Duff (6)
jaebum au series
one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight masterlist
pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now “ plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: im sorry for posting after so long. i got busy with new year celebrations and then started struggling with a creative blog. not edited. hope y’all enjoy it! <3
“So, how is it working for the hot new Director?” Naina asked, watching you take a bite of the fries on your plate. You narrowed your eyes at her anticipating face, waiting for any drop of new information.
You frowned at her instead, “Naina, you ask me this every time we meet.”
Naina only pouted in reply, before picking up a fry from your plate and popping it into her mouth. Before you could complain, she lifted up a quarter of her wrap and dropped it on your plate, “I only ask because you never know when situations can change. One day your secretary and boss, and the next day, you both are hooking up on his sexy desk.”
“Did you just call his desk sexy?”
“Come on,” Naina blew gaping at you as if you were the one insane. “Have you seen that majestic dark wood slick piece of beauty?”
“Oh my god, the Director’s desk right?” Pam settled next to Naina. Naina gave you a told you so look, and you just rolled your eyes at their antics. You didn’t say anything as the other two ladies drifted into a conversation about how sexy furniture could be.
You would have normally joined them, and told them about the three thousand dollar coffee table at Heather’s apartment. But you couldn’t participate in their conversation. Not when your mind was elsewhere; somewhere so much more interesting and sexier than furniture.
What Naina had said had planted another seed in your garden of fantasies about Jaebum and you.
This time you imagined yourself spread on his dark wood desk. Your bodies holding on to each other, desperately trying to get closer as he fucked into you.
You swallowed, as you popped a fry into your mouth, making you choke. You coughed a few times to avail before your hands reached out to your friends who turned towards you with wide eyes.
God, this was so embarrassing. You were going to die from choking on a piece of fry at the company cafeteria.
“Y/n!” Naina and Pam panicked, jumping in their seats. They held your hand staring at you horrified and lost. You had such idiot friends, you were truly about to meet the devil any second now.
Suddenly, you were pulled up from your seat and arms wrapped around your waist. You felt the person behind you press into your stomach from behind, making you heave. The smell of rose and vanilla enveloped you as you felt softness behind you.
“One more time,” a smooth voice grunted into your ear. You nodded, frantically, before the person pressed once more. The piece stuck in your throat flew out. You fell forward, your arms catching the table in front of you. Arms covered in a grey jacket held you steady as you caught your breath.
You heard claps, and you were so embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” You turned around and your breath got caught in your throat from the beauty in front of you. Her almond-shaped eyes crinkled as she gazed at you with concern.
Her pouty pink lips drew into a straight line before her fingers gently brushed the hair from your face. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, before you nodded, holding in your breath, “I’m okay. Thank you.”
The goddess in front of you smiled, her short hair brushing her shoulders slightly, “Chew your food properly, doll.”
She shot you a wink and walked away with ease and confidence. You remained standing there, your hand over your pounding heart.
“Wow,” Naina gasped from behind you. You slipped into your seat, seeing their face mirror your awe, “I think I'm in love.”
“Me too,” Pam and you replied.
//
You walked into the office after two quick knocks for the sake of formality, and to piss of Jaebum.
Jaebum hated it whenever you did something that an employee was supposed to do, especially when no one else was around.
Jaebum’s office was supposed to be empty with just him sitting on the couch, he worked from.
So imagine your surprise when you walked into his office to find Jaebum and the gorgeous woman from the cafeteria tangled into one another.
You noticed how she was slightly perched on the dark wood of the sexy desk your friends had gushed about. You noticed how Jaebum’s hands spread on her back, and how her head dipped into his neck.
“Oh,” was all that left you. You didn’t know if you should walk back out or stand there until they noticed your presence.
Jaebum noticed you immediately and untangled himself from the woman instantly. You bit your cheek to hold in the urge to roll your eyes. He was going to pretend that you didn’t just walk into a moment in case you went back and reported to Heather.
Typical.
All men are trash.
And you knew Jaebum was just like everyone else already. You knew that the moment he decided to jump the boat from you and Heather literally five minutes after meeting you. He was no different to every other sleazy shit head to walk this earth.
The caught look on Jaebum’s face told you couldn’t hide the distaste from your face as your eyes settled on him.
“Hey, it’s you!” Her smooth voice chuckled, “You work for JB?”
“Everyone here does,” you gave her a curt smile back.
She could have saved you from hell but that didn’t excuse whatever her and Jaebum were up to before you walked in.
Your eyes drew back to Jaebum. The top button of his shirt open, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed. Biting your tongue, you tore your gaze away from him and the mess he echoed.
“She’s my assistant, y/n,” Jaebum finally croaked out. His eyes watching you.
You looked at the iPad in your hand instead of the pair in front of you, “You have a meeting with Mr Mark Tuan in twenty minutes, and dinner with Jackson Wang at eight.”
“No mister for Jackson?” the lady rose an eyebrow at you.
You gave her a polite smile, “No.”
She held your gaze for a moment longer, before turning to Jaebum. She let out a sigh as she hugged him once more. Jaebum hugged her back hesitantly this time, aware of your dark eyes watching them.
He patted her back twice and she moved away.
“It was nice seeing you after so long, JB,” she smiled at him. Jaebum smiled back at her this time, nodding in agreement. She patted his shoulder before picking up her bag from the chair next to the desk. “Oh, before I forget, guess who is back in town and wants to get into business with you?”
Jaebum frowned, and you watched the pair, almost sulking from your corner.
Her smile brightened with secrecy that made you listen intently, “Park Jinyoung.”
Your heart stopped.
“Hey y/n!” You blinked back to reality to find Jaebum in front of you. His eyes staring into yours as he rose his brows in question, “You alright?”
The grimace formed on your lips before you could hold it back. You didn’t even know what you were feeling but it wasn’t pleasant.
You felt it towards Jaebum and how he was hugging that girl. Not because of your feelings, but because he was with Heather.
Not that you had feelings for him or anything.
God, this was so confusing. On top of that, he was back in town.
You felt your frown deepen into a scowl as you glared at Jaebum.
You hissed at him, making him jump back slightly, “Get ready for the meeting. I’ve sent you the report for the meeting already.”
He opened his mouth to something, but you cut him off, “With notes, sir.”
You turned and began walking out of his office.
“Y/n,” Jaebum called out, but you ignored him.
//
Your foot kept tapping against the carpeted floor as you watched the numbers increase on the screen. You hadn't been able to keep still since the moment you heard the news.
Im Jaebum was no help either. All you wanted was to be left alone but he kept on trying to talk to you or kept on sending you to get coffee.
He didn’t take a single sip of those five iced americanos he ordered. All the cups piled on the floor next to the couch he sat on watching you with those dark eyes.
As soon as the clock hit seven-thirty, you called for Jaebum’s driver and rushed out of the office. You didn’t head home, you didn’t even consider going home for a second. Your feet without hesitation led you to Heather’s apartment.
You entered the code, your birthday, and entered the chilly room blasting with the AC high.
“Heather, I need wine and a good movie for crying. You won’t believe what I just- oh MY GOD- AHHHHHHH!” A bloodcurdling scream escaped you, as you fell onto the wall behind you.
When your scream settled as you took in the figure standing in the pink robe belonging to your best friend, you straightened, confused.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” You sneered.
“Wow, such a kind greeting for me,” Bambam rolled his eyes, before continuing to sip the glass of orange juice in his hand. You stared at him, your mind puzzled and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.
“So what’s the tea?” Bambam smacked his lips before licking the droplets of juice remaining on them. He slammed the glass on the white marble, grinning at you. “Why do you need wine and a sad movie? Time of the month?”
“Why- What- How- Pink robe?” You stammered over your words pointing at him. Bambam stood there as if there was nothing weird about this situation. As if standing in nothing but another girl’s pink robe in a stranger’s kitchen was a normal occurrence for him. Your eyes narrowed at him, “Where’s Heather?”
“Y/n!” Heather appeared through her bedroom door. You took in her wet hair and silk robe, your eyes going to Bambam’s also wet hair. You frowned in confusion, and a fire blazed inside of you as an evil thought sprouted somewhere in the back of your mind.
Did they... Are they cheating on Jaebum?
Jaebum’s face from that night at the club invaded your mind. The smile on his face, the look in his eyes as he watched Heather with such softness, “It’s good she gets to live her life how she wants to.”
God. God.
What do you do?
You glared at Heather. Your eyes burned with betrayal from your friend and the anger that spread through your veins as you thought of Jaebum. You couldn’t bear to even imagine the sight of him heartbroken, defeated and cheated. You would rather the world end than see him like that.
“No, y/n!” Heather huffed taking a step towards you. The droplets from her long ember hair darkening the pink silk wrapped around her body. She took a step towards you and you almost took one back. But your feet remained still, as you saw the panic in her eyes, the desperation, “Let me explain.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that he is homeless?” You grunted at a dressed Heather sitting in front of you.
Bambam sat somewhere behind you, snorting, “I’m not homeless. Just low on cash and have no place to go.”
“That is literally homeless,” you turned towards him, giving him a smile.
“Basically,” Heather nodded, ignoring Bambam’s protest in the background. “I’m letting him stay here for a few weeks until his apartment problem is sorted out. I’m living at home anyways, but I came here today because I spilt coffee all over myself.”
“Oh,” you nodded. You weren’t completely convinced. She could’ve gone home, it was just ten minutes away. And why was both of their hair wet from the shower, when there is only one shower in the apartment. Maybe she might have kicked him out of the shower pulling ownership rank.
You had to believe her. There was no other explanation. The alternative was too cruel, and you would rather believe this than consider the dangerous alternative.
And how could you possibly not believe her? You knew Heather would do this in a heartbeat for anyone, she would do so much more then let others stay in her house. She had done the same for you once upon a time, she had done so much more.
She was even willing to buy you a house and you had to talk her out of it.
Yeah, there was no way anything was going on between Heather and Bambam. Whatever she said was the complete and absolute truth, there was no other alternative explanation needed or present.
Heather would never hurt someone else purposefully, she was pure and kind. She was not you.
“How come you’re here?” Heather asked, changing the subject.
“It’s nothing,” you shook your head.
“She's lying,” Bambam butted in. “She came in asking for wine and a movie that will make her cry. Something happened, or she’s on her period.”
Heather turned to you with a grave look, “What’s wrong, babe?”
You glared at Bambam, before turning to Heather. You let out a sigh as you picked your fingernails nervously. Heather instantly took your hands in hers making you meet her concerned green eyes, “What’s wrong?”
You frowned. Your lower lip trembling, “It’s -”
Ding Dong.
You and Heather turned towards the door, and then at Bambam. He let out an exhausted sigh, before he getting up, groaning.
“What am I meant to do? Send them away or- Oh, it's JB,” and without hesitation, he let the dark-haired male in.
Your frown deepened as you glared at the doorway he appeared through. His eyes landed on you right away and stayed on you. You held his gaze, your face darkening into a glare.
His rosy lips parted, his dark eyes filled with desperateness and despair as he held your gaze. It was as if all he saw in the room was you; as if the rest of the people, all disappeared.
It terrified you. It terrified you how this single moment made your heart flip and race. He terrified you.
“Oh good, you’re here Jaebum,” Heather spoke from behind you, and finally, Jaebum looked away from you. But it didn’t stay there, his dark eyes fell back on you, watching you intently.
Was he scared you would tell Heather what you saw in the office?
You scoffed at him, shaking your head as you looked away from him.
“Take Bambam out for a bit,” you heard your best friend’s sweet voice tell her boyfriend.
“I’m not a dog!” Bambam protested. Heather laughed behind you, but Jaebum and you didn’t as much as attempt to smile. Your eyes glittering with fire remained on him before you smirked at him.
You noticed his jaw tightened.
He was so pathetic.
You couldn’t believe you were worried about Heather cheating on him when he was almost dry humping another girl in his office. Well, you didn't see the humping, all you saw was the embrace, but you never know.
You can never know with guys like Im Jaebum, with their bad-news piercing and bad fuck-boy ways.
“Come on, let’s go,” Bambam began dragging Jaebum away, making him look away from you. “Clearly the ladies want us out.”
The door clicked behind them, and you felt your throat dry up.
Heather felt the tension too. She gently placed her fingers under your chin making you meet her gaze, “Now tell me, why do you need a sob night?”
“Heather,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it would escape out of your chest. Your palms clasped sweatily, as you fisted them in your lap.
Two thoughts bounced around in your head, debating which one do you tell her.
Do you tell her about Im Jaebum who might have cheated on her if she hadn't walked in? Without any proof, without any certainty?
Or do you tell her what you wanted to, what had been bothering you since the afternoon?
“Heather,” her name left you shaky and weak, you gulped, your throat dry, “he’s back, and I might be seeing him around.”
Heather looked at you confused, and you continued, “He wants to get into business with Jaebum, and I'll have to be there.”
“Who, y/n?”
“Park Jinyoung,” you held in your breath.
Rage blazed through her emerald eyes matching the fire of her ember curls. She shot up from her seat, her fists clenched on her sides, “Fuck off if that asshole thinks he can come anywhere near you.”
You snorted, “He isn’t trying to come near me, Heather. He’s trying to do business with Jaebum.”
“I’ll talk to Jaebum to-”
“No.”
“No?”
You shook your head, “No, I can do this.”
Heather looked at you for a long moment.
You leaned into her, letting her engulf you into her arms, “Just let me be sad tonight and get ready for tomorrow.”
“My baby is all grown up,” She kissed your forehead, pulling you closer to her, “I’m so proud of you, but I’m always here for you.”
You nodded, you knew that.
The door of the apartment opened and you slightly turned to find Bambam walk in with four bottles of wine, “Are you guys ready to cry?”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but giggle as he popped one open and offered it to you.
“Fuck yeah!” Heather cheered. You all turned to her, surprised. Heather didn’t talk crude, but tonight she didn't care to act proper. She just rolled her eyes, “Tonight, we are improper human beings.”
Bambam turned to Jaebum who stood a few feet away, “You in?”
His dark eyes travelled to you once again. After a long moment, he nodded, finally, tearing his gaze away from you and to Bambam.
“Good, go get the glasses,” Bambam ordered him laughing. He turned to the front and pulled out the remote, “Notebook, Titanic --”
“One Day,” you say.
They all gasp and stare at you. You just shrug and take a sip of the wine.
“You really chose heartbreak today, huh?” Bambam snickered, pulling up Netflix. “One Day it is. Jaebum get the tissues ready.”
#duff#im jaebum#lim jaebeom#im jaebeom#lim#im#jaebum#jaebeom#got7#got7 Jaebum#got7 jaebeom#got7 series#jaebum series#series#jaebeom series#imagine#jaebum fanfic#got7 smut#fanfic#smut#got7 angst#angst#fluff#cheating#jaebum angst#jaebeom angst#ceo#imagine angst#kpop#jaedaddy
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Love and Hate (The Best Boys)
dude come on. you said you’d upload the next chapter on christmas and now it’s been a whole week after and it’s still not out. :(, hi! when are you posting the next chapter of tbb??, tbb????, Are you posting the next chapter of best boys soon? I miss her, when will you be posting the next part of the best boys series??, Ok I’m over TBB I’m just gonna say she ends up with Blah Blah and they live happily ever after, the end. Thank you for the amazing read, it has been fun❤️, TBB is literally the last series I have to finish before I can finally peace out of the shithole that is the OBX fandom for good but like no rush or anything baby❤️,When do you think you’ll be posting the last chapters of TBB?, Hey queen how’s the writing for best boys going,
Series Masterlist
SHES HEREEEE
Yes, im aware this chapter is all over the place. I went through writing four different versions of this chapter and this is the one that I decided to go with. I know that this one is kind of a little ahfioshviowenvionae but it all comes together next chapter (I already started writing the next chapter). Im so sorry that this is so late. I’ve been having issues for a little bit. My grandfather and my dog passed away and I recently had a relapse and I think that’s why it was taking me so long. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3
Warnings:Nothing really, swearing and unedited. Also im sorry if you dont like this chapter but like....yeah.
You were awoken to the sounds of screaming.Topper ended up at the foot of the bed, Kelce still clinging onto you.Rafe was absent from his spot but the mattress was still warm and had a slight dent which let you know that he hadnt been gone long.
You had spent most of the night trying to find the perfect spot on the mattress, one arm thrown over kelce and your heel against the back of Toppers thigh.It seemed like it hadnt been a super long time since the sun had risen which meant that it was probably around seven in the morning by now.
Your heart was thumping in your chest, trying to pay attention to what the voices were shouting.Something about a mess and irresponsibility but you couldnt hear much besides that.Rafe stomped up the stairs, opening his door.He was shirtless, face red from yelling and his eyes slightly watery.You sat up, making Kelce grumble.
Rafe’s jaw was slightly dropped, his nose beginning to run and his body trembling.“Hey, what happened?”You asked, gaining Kelce’s attention.Topper’s eyes opened slightly, looking over at Rafe.The tall boy didnt say anything, he just dragged his feet across the room and sat back on the bed, mumbling.You were hesitant to grip his hand, squeezing lightly.
He just stared at a wrinkle in the blanket but the sound of something breaking downstairs told you that it had been more than just bickering.Kelce was worried, knowing that his parents had gotten home late last night and would see the mess he had created. “He doesnt want me living here anymore.”Rafe spoke up, a few tears rolling down his cheeks.
You pulled him closer to you, arms around his shoulders as he sobbed, your fingers rubbing against the back of his neck.He squeezed you tightly when he head footsteps coming up the stairs, silently praying to any god that would listen that it wouldnt be Ward.Kelce’s phone kept buzzing but he ignored it, knowing exactly what it was.
He knew that it was coming and he would be lying if he said that he didnt expect it, nervous the whole night as he waited for his phone to blow up.“What are you gonna do?”Topper asked.As much as you wanted to scold him for asking that when Rafe clearly didnt want to talk about it it was still something that you had also been wondering.
Rafe didnt answer, taking in a deep, shaky breath that hurt his ribs before picking up his head and looking over to his friend. “I dont know.”He admitted.His voice hurt your heart, the realisation kicking in that there wasnt really many places that he could go.
Kelce’s phone buzzed again, all of your eyes falling on him.He sighed, glancing at his screen.He had missed calls from his parents, dozens of text in all caps telling him to come home immediately. “They found the door.”He replied, keeping his voice calm.A new wave of silence washed over the room, not knowing what to say to that.
Your eyes watered as you remembered how simple life was a few weeks ago, all of you eating breakfast, watching criminal minds and laughing as Topper recorded it all on his snapchat.Now everything was completely falling apart.You didnt say anything, trying to think of a solution.Rafe couldnt go to Kelce’s house or Topper’s house since Topper’s mother had one of those security cameras outside of her home and she’d recognize him immediately.
She was still pissy about Topper’s accident, she’d explode if he let friends over. “SO what happens now?”Topper asked.You were all out of ideas.A simple drive or icecream or a movie couldnt solve any of this. “I mean...think about it.We’re adults, right?Child protective services cant stop us if we leave.”Kelce muttered.Rafe nodded, snapping his fingers.
“Yeah, yeah!You’re right.”He agreed, causing your eyes to widen.They were acting insane. They couldnt be serious about just getting up and leaving forever, right? “No, no hes not.We cant just-we cant just leave!”You exclaimed.They were actually going crazy.How could they even think like that? “Why?What do you have here, (Y/N)?”He asked.You paused, thinking about it.
You didnt really have anything.You had your house of course but other than that you had nothing but memories and your boys.You didnt want to admit that he was right, letting out a quiet sigh. “But leaving forever isnt the answer.”You muttered.Rafe rubbed your back, shaking his head. “Doesnt have to be forever, baby.”He answered.
“But- but just cause we arent kids doesnt mean we cant be registered as missing people.They’ll come after us.”You told them.You knew that nobody outside of this room actually cared about you enough to report you as missing but you were scrambling through your thoughts, desperately hunting for a reason to stay on the shitty island that you had learned to love so much.Topper shrugged, not really caring.
“Guys, guys. Okay, look. You’re all fucked, ill admit it. But thats fine! Are you guys forgetting that I still have a house- you guys can just stay there until this whole thing blows over just like you always have!”You reminded them, hoping they’d agree. “This isnt gonna blow over, (Y/N). I cant come back here.”Rafe told you, becoming aggravated.
“THEN MOVE IN! All of you guys, you can just move in, okay? You dont have to leave- I still have my moms money! We’ll figure it out as we go and…. And it’ll be fine.”You insisted. “Move in with you?”Rafe asked. You nodded, wiping your nose. “You practically live with me already, it wont be that different.”You told him, gripping his hand.
It was a messy blur as Rafe packed his things, grabbing anything that he thought could be important. A photo of his mother, his birth certificate and diploma, laptop and ipad, the Frozen ll record. Kelce and Topper just watched, neither of them ready for anything like this so early in the morning.
Maybe if you werent so tired and upset you wouldnt have said it, but here you were in Rafe’s truck, a dufflebag full of his things at your feet with the boys in the backseat as he drove to your house, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as the thoughts finally took over his brain. Kelce had got aggravated and shut down his phone entirely, staring out the window.
The last thing you were expecting was to come down your road only to see a car that was practically falling apart already in your driveway, a tall man with his hands over his forehead as he tried to look in your windows. “What the fuck….”Rafe muttered, reaching for the door handle when you gripped his hand. “Dont, we dont know what he’s doing.”You told him, hoping he’d listen.
Turns out he wasnt the one you had to worry about, Kelce swinging his door open and sprinting up your driveway before anyone could even stop him. Wherever Kelce went Topper went, the boy struggling to get the seatbelt over his cast before jumping out of the truck and nearly falling into a puddle. “ESCUSE ME! MR SIR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING LOOKING IN MY HOUSE?”Kelce shouted, purposely making his voice deeper.
The man turned, confused as to why two half asleep teenage boys were walking towards him. “Your house?”The man asked. “Yes, sir. You ever heard of a gay couple before?”Topper asked, making Kelce break character for a moment.
“Well, no, its not that. Its just that I thought this was someone elses house.”The man muttered, confused. You had slid down your seat, hoping that the man wouldnt see you. “He’s about to leave.”Rafe whispered.
“Who’s the other guy in the car?”The man asked, pointing to Rafe’s figure. Kelce glanced over at Topper with wide eyes, trying to think. “Our son.”Kelce replied, cringing the moment he said it. The man only looked more confused, looking between the two boys. “How old are you guys?”The man asked, clearly not buying their story.
“Excuse me? Are you saying that we’re too old to have a son? I did not spend years training for a medical degreee to have some random old man come and tell us how old our son can be!”Topper exclaimed. “I didnt spend years trying to find a surrogate and figuring out a way to make a robot nanny for this!”He sighed, trying his best not to smile.
“Could you please leave the property before we call the police?”Kelce asked. The man was beyond confused at this point, quickly making his way to his shitty car before slowly backing out of the driveway, eyes still scanning the area before he gave up and went down the street.
You let out a sigh of relief, moving to get up when Rafe placed his hand on top of your head to keep you down. “Hes coming around again.”He whispered to you, taking in a shaky breath and holding it in his lungs as the car passed a second time. Topper and Kelce were standing by the door, staring at Rafe almost as telling him to get out and make a run for it.
“Open the door in 3...2…”You didnt wait, jumping out and running towards the house, typing in the key pad as quick as you could, Topper’s hand pushing you inside. “Here he comes again!”He exclaimed, coming in right behind you along with the others before Rafe slammed the door shut and locked it, letting out a laugh.
“Oh god, that was scary.”He chuckled. Kelce and Topper nodded as well, eventually laughing. “Was that my dad?”You asked. “Maybe.”Topper answered. Now that you thought about it, your dad didnt same important. Nothing did. You lived on a huge rock that’s floating around space and you’re concerned about your dad when your boyfriends best friends are moving in.
“What’d you tell him?”You asked. “We told him that we’re a gay couple, Topper’s a doctor and Rafe is our child.”Kelce replied. You giggled, snorting. “I mean, as you should.”You replied. “Hell yeah.”Kelce grinned. Topper tapped at his arm. “Bro, you wanna get married?”Topper asked. Kelce laughed again, nodding.
“I’ll get baptised and get you guys married!”Rafe volunteered, all of you turning to look at him. “Did you just say baptised?”Kelce asked. Rafe nodded, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that not the right word?”He asked. Topper shook his head. “The word is ordained.”He informed the tall boy. “He’s trying his best.”You replied, sitting down on the chair that you werent used to sitting in.
“You think he’s gonna come back?”You asked. Topper groaned, sitting down. “Well, I hope not. I dont want my husband and I to have to fight him.”He grinned. You rolled your eyes, changing positions in the chair. “Did he look like me?”You asked, leaning your head against the arm rest, groaning when Rafe pushed your legs aside and sat down with you.
“Not really… he had rat tails for eyebrows.”Kelce replied, putting his fingers over his eyebrows. “Do I have rat tail eyebrows?”You asked, grinning when Rafe reached forward and poked your eyebrow, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “You wish.”He replied. “Fuck off.”You answered. “Dont be fucking rude.”He grinned, kissing you quickly before pulling away with a small smile.
You were shocked, trying to hide your surprise. It wasnt like you werent used to kissing Rafe by now, it was just that he had never done it in front of the boys before. They looked nearly as confused as you, the thought of Rafe kissing you in front of them never even being a concern until now. They were used to him getting most of your love and attention but that had just stirred something within them.
“So how are we gonna do this? I dont know about you guys but im not going back to my house anytime soon.”Kelce announced. Rafe lifted his head, looking over to the boy. “You could always sneak in your own window to grab your things...maybe wait until theyre at work. What about you, Top?”Rafe asked, turning his attention to the blonde boy.
“What do I have at my house that I need? Like, really need.”He asked, grinning when none of you could answer. “Problem solved.”He replied. “What time is it?”Rafe asked, breaking the silence. “Ten.”Kelce replied, closing his eyes as he leaned against the couch. “Im going upstairs to take a nap then.”Topper yawned, slowly making his way down the hall into the first floor guest room.
It was arguably the worst since it also worked as your moms office, a queen bed pushed into the corner. You wiggled out of Rafe’s grip, smiling when he whined. You went into the kitchen, grabbing a poptart. For the situation you felt rather calm, opening the silver package and taking a bite of one of the sweet pastries.
The energy in the house felt different than it had yesterday. You werent sure why, maybe it was just the comfort of knowing that the boys were going to be living with you now and you wouldnt have to worry as much about Rafe or Topper’s relationship with his mom.
“So how are we gonna handle this?”Kelce asked, confusing you. “The house, I mean. You have this whole house and like...30 million dollars. We can literally redecorate however we want, maybe even clean out your moms office if youre okay with it.”He suggested.
You nodded, the idea of getting the memory of your mother cleansed from your life sounded appealing. His excitement took over as he opened his amazon prime app, looking for new decor. “How do you feel about your moms room?”He asked, not wanting to push your limits. You shrugged, swallowing part of the pastry. “Shes not using it.”You replied, surprised by how morbid you sounded.
He simply nodded, shifting in his seat as he added things to his cart. “Can we redo your room? It’s been the same color since we were fourteen.”Rafe suggested. You shrugged, not really caring. You didnt spend a large amount of time in your bedroom anyways. You scrolled through your phone for a few minutes, seeing a little red bubble next to your messaging app that let you know that you had gotten a text. Curious, you opened it.
As soon as you saw who it was a pit grew in your stomach, eyes widening. It was her. “Sweet words, (Y/N).”The text read. You knew that it was your uncle just trying to mess with you but it still caused your anxiety to skyrocket, deciding to block the number and place your phone between your thighs, taking in a deep breath through your nose.
Topper dragged his feet, coming out of the room with a frown. “That’s the most uncomfortable bed in all of history.”He muttered, sitting down on the couch instead. “You can go upstairs.’You reminded him, feeling your phone buzz against your inner thigh.
He just hummed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “How long was I in there?”He asked. “Literally not even ten minutes.”Kelce replied, still scrolling. “Did I miss anything?”Topper asked. You didnt reply, breaking off another piece of the poptart. “We’re gonna redecorate the house.”Kelce answered. Topper nodded, lifting his head.
“Does that mean that office too?”Topper asked. You nodded, staring at a spot on your carpet. “Does that mean we get to open the file cabinet in the guest room?”He asked, all of you looking over at him. The thought made you feel nauseous. Even if she wasnt here to yell at you you knew that opening the file cabinet would still scare you anyways.
“If theres a dead body in there I swear to god-”You muttered, earning a chuckle from Rafe. “A body couldnt fit in there.”he replied, making your eyebrows furrow. “How do you know where bodies can fit?”You asked. “No, no. Like, its not….well...maybe a raccoon body.”He admitted. “Rafe!”You exclaimed, smacking his thigh.
He rolled his eyes, pulling you into his lap. “There’s no raccoon body.”He answered. “I think theres a raccoon body.”Kelce replied. “Theres not.”You answered. Topper grinned, skipping into the room and beginning to open the cabinet, the three of you following him. “Okay, who votes raccoon body?”He asked, his hand on the knob.
Kelce raised his hand, grabbing your arm to make you hold your hand up as well. “Ready?”Topper asked before pulling the door open, looking into it. His face fell immediately, not expecting this. “What?”You asked, stepping past Kelce and looking into the cabinet.Guns were being held by small metal pieces, multiple clear bags full of plants and needles on the floor, bullets on sashes hanging with the guns.
The two of you just stared, ignoring Rafe and Kelce until they came up behind you, equally as confused. “What the fuck?”Rafe asked, seeing the bags. Kelce slammed the doors shut, locking it. “We’re not telling anyone about this, right?”He asked, looking at all of you. “What are we gonna do with all that? We cant just keep it here!”Topper argued.
Rafe shrugged, resting his elbow on your shoulder. “We smoke the weed and throw the guns in the river, obviously.”Rafe answered. “We’re not smoking weed, Rafe.”You answered. “Well your mom didnt have a liscense to carry, right?”Kelce asked. You shook your head, figuring it would be hung up somewhere in the house to remind you of the power she had.
“Right, okay. So we cant call the cops and we cant keep it here.”Kelce answered, clicking the lock on the cabinet. “What’d your mom even do for a living?”Topper asked. You frowned, thinking back. You never really knew what your mother did, you just stayed quiet and hoped you wouldnt make her angry. She’d disappear for months, money would appear in your bank account, she’d pay the bills aned thats all you needed to know.
She’d have long phone calls with people in her office, grounding you if you even dared to listen. “I dont know.”You replied, cringing at how stupid you sounded. “She has these cabinets all over the house, doesnt she?”Kelce asked. “The one in her room is actual files.”You told him, hoping that there were no sorts of hidden things in her room.
“Should we go check?” Rafe asked, out of the room with a grin before any of you could even answer. You sighed, slightly annoyed that he was treating this like a scavenger hunt. “Its been here this whole time, im sure nothings gonna happen.”Kelce assured you, patting you on the shoulder before his fingers tickled your arm and wrist, gripping your hand and bringing you upstairs.
“I ordered some tapestries, succulents, fake vines and some new blankets for our new movie room.”He told you, nearly slipping up. “Movie room?”You asked, nearly slipping on the stairs. “Your mom has a big tv, I figured it could be like a second living room if you’re comfortable with that.”He answered, pausing at the top of the stairs so he could wait for you.
Rafe was in your mother’s room, carefully pulling on the drawers, eventually finding out that the top one was locked. He looked over at you, silently asking if you knew where the key was. You shook your head, letting go of Kelce’s hand and opening the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
Your mother kept most of your medical documents and anything like that to herself along with basically everything that proved you existed. Baby photos, ultra sounds, old school tests. “We could just move it into the other guest room.”Rafe muttered, hoping he wasnt making you upset. You ignored him, looking through all the little colored tags, your eyes falling on a silver tag, your eyebrows furrowing. No other ones had that color.
You picked it up, sitting down and reading it over. The words were all bundled together, ink scratches and smudges told you that it wasnt a serious document. The only word you could make out was ‘arsonist’. Nothing else was eligible. “Can we take it right now?”You asked, placing the paper on the floor and closing the drawer. Rafe nodded, Kelce grabbing one side while Rafe grabbed the other. Topper grinned, leaning against your mothers unused desk.
“I would help but my arms broken.”he laughed, watching as Kelce struggled, walking backwards. “Some moral support would be great.”Kelce rolled his eyes. You grinned, slowly clapping. “Great job, guys. You’re doing great moving that illegal file cabinet.”You held back a laugh. They turned carefully, shuffling as they eventually got to the guest bedroom.
“How do you feel about this?”Topper asked, sitting down on the chair. You sighed, shrugging. “I mean, you know. Its not that I dont love the idea of you guys being here but like… its the circumstances.”You answered, sighing when he pulled you closer with his good arm, rubbing your back. “Thanks a lot for this, though. Like in all seriousness im really grateful that you’re in my life.”He blushed, looking up at you. You smiled, kissing his nose lightly.
“I mean, I do provide you with half of the drama in your life.”You giggled, kissing him gently. “Where does the other half come from?”He asked. You shrugged, sighing. “Probably you.”You answered. “I cant believe you’d say that to me! You know im at a bad place in life and you put me in this terrible situation when you know that!”He fake cried, bursting into laughter.
“Kourtney dont laugh at me!”You exclaimed. You felt a vibration under your feet, hearing a loud, dramatic sigh and the sound of skin colliding. They had successfully moved the file cabinet, the door closing as their loud footsteps hit the floor as they entered your mother’s room again. Rafe took a moment to look around, sometimes forgetting that the room even existed.
It was the biggest room in the house, the ceiling going up at least twenty feet with only glass separating the room from the outside world. His mind wandered, thinking of all the fun nights the two of you could have in here watching the stars or listening to the rain.
The bed was large and still, the blankets and sheets unwrinkled and untouched. He understood why you were creeped out by the house now, feeling like he didnt belong in the room. You all took turns trying to figure out what the writing said, eventually deciding that it probably wasnt even in english. “Should we put it through google translate?”Rafe asked, staring at the paper.
Kelce shook his head. “Nah, its not reliable. I tried using it for spanish class in freshman year and I got detention.”He replied. “Well thats definitely not spanish. Maybe its like…. Ancient text.”Topper suggested, causing you to frown. “I highly doubt that my mother would know an ancient text.
Maybe we should just leave it.”You answered. Although you werent exactly satisfied with it you just didnt feel like spending your time trying to decode a random paper. They didnt seem satisfied either but didnt want to push you, putting the paper down on the desk where it would be safe from your footsteps.
Of course the boys just couldnt stay at the same place for long periods of time, deciding to suggest that you guys go out to a store to get some paint for the boring walls. You agreed, the four of you getting into your car instead of Rafe’s truck, locking all the doors and windows before you left.
Kelce didnt suggest a McDonalds run which caused you to frown, knowing that he was probably too stressed to want to eat. You guys went into Walmart with one goal, heading right for the paint section and looking at the wall of colors. “Lets get four colors and kind of just make it up as we go.”Kelce muttered, looking at all the different shades.
“We could all pick one out.”Topper suggested, reaching forward and picking a bright green. You agreed, picking a shade of light purple, watching as Kelce picked the color toffee biscuits and Rafe went for cotton blue. You doubted any of the colors would actually look good together but that wasnt the point of the project.
It was more about making the room look fun rather than nice. Kelce grabbed a few large paint brushes, the four of you leaving before you could get distracted by anything that you didnt need. Topper decided to get right to work, spilling some paint on the floor as he dragged the brush along the wall, creating bright stripes.
“I have an artistic vision! Trust the process!”He exclaimed, feeling your judgemental eyes on him. You didnt say anything, watching Kelce struggle to connect his phone to your speaker, playing the first song on his playlist.
Line without a hook. Topper looked over at you, almost like he was silently asking you if you had told the boys about his top secret playlist. You shrugged, not wanting to give anything away to the others.
“Oh my god, I love this song.”Rafe dunked his brush in the light blue, making a smiley face on the wall. “Can I paint an onion?”He asked. You raised your eyebrows, not understanding why he wanted to put an onion on the wall.
“Ogres are like onions! We have layers!”Kelce laughed. “Who is we? Are you an ogre, Kelce?”Topper asked, not taking his eyes off of the bright stripes, painting a circle on the top. “Topper Harry Katherine Thornton, are you painting a penis on my wall?”You asked, connecting the dots.
He grinned, ignoring you. “Of course not.”He replied, painting frantically so that you couldnt stop him, green drops rolling down the wall. You picked up your paint brush, painting two circles quicklly before pushing the brush into the center of each, laughing to yourself.
“Guys, really?”Rafe asked. “Cant we make the wall wholesome?”He asked. You shook your head, a smile on your face. “Says you of all people, Rafe.”You shook your head. “She got you there.”Topper replied, dragging the brush across the painting and blending it out so there was no longer a penis on your wall.
“What are you doing now?”You asked, wanting to one up him. “What are you doing now?” He mocked you. Somehow you ended up splashing Topper with paint and getting tackled into the mattress as he held the paintbrush over you, trying to get the bright green liquid on your face while you held his arm back.
“Im gonna murder you!”You laughed, rolling over under him so your face was against the mattress. “Im gonna paint your hair!”He laughed, holding the brush just above it. “Topper, dont mess with her hair.”Kelce took the brush away.
Topper groaned, falling next to you on the mattress. His eyes were closed, the sun from the window casting a beautiful glow over his face, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth. You pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, your arm resting on his torso.
It didnt take long for painting to be forgotten, a few cheap bristles sticking to the wall with messes of colorful lines and unfilled shapes. The song changed, followed by a loud gasp from Rafe. “This is my favorite song!”He smiled, hitting his knees with his fists repeatedly.
He didnt know what about it made him so happy, whenever he heard it it reminded him of you guys. “You know what we should do?”Topper asked. “No.”Kelce replied while Rafe rewinded the song to listen to his favorite part again.
“We should make soup. Like, spicy soup with potatoes.”He replied, mouth watering. “We could just order soup.”Kelce replied, not in the mood to go downstairs and hunt for ingredients. “Order soup from where?”Topper asked. Kelce simply shrugged, shifting around and putting his arms under his body.
That had been a week ago. Since then a lot had happened. You guys had developed a system, Kelce could do his laundry on Saturdays, Rafe on Mondays and Topper’s just got mixed in with yours.
It was a love and hate relationship to have them there with you. You didnt regret your decision but sometimes things would get difficult. Grocery shopping was the worst since nobody could decide what they wanted and you had all agreed not to eat out as much.
“We need an actual meal, we cant just eat chips for everything.”Topper would grumble, realising he didnt even really know how to cook. That just lead to late flights of searching for recipes o pinterest and watching Gordon Ramsey tiktoks until they decided to try and make bake and shake chicken. That didnt really work out well, having to open all of your windows and get the smoke out of your house.
Then you guys decided to take a new approach, finding a ton of frozen pizzas and ingredients for sushi. Kelce was the only one who had any idea of what he was doing since he had always been talented in the kitchen, specifically with breakfast. That became more of a safe meal for you guys, making extra food in the morning to eat later for dinner until you got sick of toast, eggs and bacon.
Kelce ended up banishing you all to the pool so that he could decorate properly, vines hanging from the door ways and landscape tapestries hanging in your living room, hallway and your mother’s old bedroom. “How long do you think he’s gonna be?”You asked, floating on your back in the shallow end, letting out a yelp when Topper grabbed you and dragged you to the deep end.
“I dont know, probably like three days.”He replied, finally letting go once you were in the middle of the pool. “We could survive three days in the pool.”You replied, watching Rafe shake his head. “With my allergy to the sun?”He asked, making you turn over, going underwater for a moment. “You dont even sunburn.”You told him, splashing water in his direction before swimming away quickly so that he couldnt get back at you.
Kelce kept getting calls from his parents that were asking him to come home but he never did. They knew where he was, if they wanted him back so badly they’d drive over and take him away. “Guys, i’ve finished my creation.”Kelce announced, coming outside. “So we can come in now?”Topper asked, gripping the ledge of the pool and pulling himself out, falling onto his stomach as he struggled to get up.
“Yes, you can come in now! Hurry!”Kelce yelled excitedly before going back inside, waiting impatiently for you guys to hurry. Rafe helped you out of the pool, tossing you your towel so that you wouldnt trail water through your house. “Guys! Come on!”Kelce shouted again, the three of you walking across the hot pavement quickly.
“I’ll clean up the water after- just come see what I did!”He said again. You rolled your eyes, walking into the house. Goosebumps formed on y0our skin from the cool air, eyes widening as you looked at the kitchen. He had bought a plaid tablecloth for the table, vines hanging from the ceiling and doorways, a tie dye tapestry hanging in your living room. It looked like he had taken the time to wipe down every surface and vacuum any mess of broken spaghetti or eggshells that had been kicked under the fridge.
“Do you like it?”He asked, unable to read your shocked expression. “Kelce, im gonna be honest with you. I feel like im in pixie hollow right now.”You grinned, making him smile. “I think thats a good thing- but upstairs is better!’He exclaimed before making his way up the stairs. He was right.
There were marble heart shaped tiles hanging on the walls of the hall, a sign on the new hangout spot that was made out of drift wood. He opened the door, revealing bean bag chairs on the floor, a new carpet, a light yellow canopy hanging over the bed that had all new sheets and blankets on it as well.
He had even somehow managed to fix the paint on the wall so that there were different colored polka dots all over it. The boys seemed equally impressed, still taking it in. You hugged Kelce, not even caring that you’d get his clothes wet. “So I did good?” He asked, hugging you back. “You always do good.”You replied, feeling him hug you tighter.
“So you’re happy?”He asked, letting out a small sigh when you nodded. “I am happy, Kelce.”you replied, kissing him lightly. He smiled against you, taking in a deep breath. “I found a new recipe for fancy grilled cheese.”He told you, kissing your forehead. This was something that you loved about having them live with you.
@sweetlittlegingy @nicolefarley603 @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @newsies-yeet @butgilinsky @jjjmaybank @gracelovesbroadway @one-stella @spn-marvel-nerd @lovelyelinor @chinamolina602 @sexytholland @28cnn @popcrone818 @fttayla @cherryobx @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @drewstarkeyobx @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @jjtheangel @jj-iz-bae@sunwardsss @meaganjm @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @natalie-kate-98 @nxsmss @broken-jj @joshy-obx @classygirlything @annmariek8 @stupidpendeja @killjoyybsinner @pink-meringues @outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @simonsbluee @deionswannabegirl @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off @abbiesthings @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @dmonchld@annmariek8 @harryswigss @ibookofstars @lostaurorax @cheshirecat107
#topper x reader#topper thorton x reader#topper thorton imagine#topper thorton smut#topper thornton fluff#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron headcanon#kelce smith#kelce imagine#kelce x reader#kelce outer banks#the best boys
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What’s Up Danger
Summary: a new town and a new life for Y/n brings unexpected chaos, besides that of high school, to her life.
Warnings: umm blood, fighting, Xiaojun may be the bad guy but I still love him, this is long as shit
Rose: IM BACK BABY!! This is the first fic I’ve posted since November. So yay welcome back kiddos. Enjoy!
———
Well this was a nightmare.
It was your first day at a new school, and you had no idea where the hell you were going. You’ve found all of your other classes rather quickly. But your sixth period chemistry class seems to continue to elude you. After ten minutes, you finally found the science hall and checked your schedule for the right room. You found it and put your hand on the doorknob, bracing yourself for the embarrassment.
You walked in the room in the middle of the teacher talking, all heads turning towards you. You sucked in a breath, already feeling your hands starting to shake.
“Your late,” the teacher snapped. You mentally rolled your eyes at her attitude.
“Sorry, I’m new,” you said. Your voice wavered a bit and you cleared your throat before continuing. “I couldn’t find the room.”
“Well, that’s fine, just don’t make a habit of it,” the teacher said after clicking her tongue. “You can sit next to Mark over there.”
You looked to where she was pointing and saw a kid with round glasses who was sitting at a desk with no one next to him. He waved slightly to let you know that yes, this is where she meant.
“Yes, ma’am,” You mumbled. You quickly walked to the back of the room and slid into the chair next to Mark. You placed your stuff on the table and leaned back, letting out a breath. The teacher went back to her lecture about how the class was going to work for the year.
“Hi,” you heard from next to you. You turned your head and looked at Mark. He had a sweet smile on his face, his glasses falling down his noes a bit.
“Hi,” you whispered back. Mark fiddled with his pencil a bit, twirling it in his fingers and tapping it against his binder.
“I’m, uh, Mark,” he said. You quietly laughed a bit at the boy’s awkwardness.
“I know,” you said. Mark opened his mouth, it slowly falling into an ‘o’. “I’m Yn.”
“So you’re new?” Mark asked. You nodded your head a bit and smiled. “If you need help, I’d be happy to show you around.”
“I might take you up on that,” you said.
“Cool,” Mark chuckled out. He smiled at you one last time and turned back to the teacher before either of you got caught.
———
The rest of your first week at school went rather smoothly. Mark had helped you find your two other classes and by now you knew where they were. Also, you made a friend, Yeri, who was in your literature class. Things were going great.
Today was Monday, your second week of school. And though it was a Monday, you were rather excited. A few clubs started today, one of them being academic decathlon. You were practically sprinting to lunch to try and talk Yeri into joining with you. You didn’t want to be alone. When you got there you saw Yeri at your usual spot, who motioned you over.
You sped your way over to her, not exactly looking where you were going. When you reached the table, right before your seat, a body slammed into you. You stumbled, almost falling to the ground, but someone caught you. You looked up to see a tall, sharp looking boy, glaring down at you. His grip on your arm was like a vice.
“Watch where you’re going,” He hissed. Everyone around you was silent or talking in hushed voice. Yeri was on her feet, staring at him.
“Let her go, Xiaojun,” Yeri said. Xiaojun, as you now knew him as, kept his hand on your arm, holding it tight.
“What’s your name?” He said.
“Yn,” you said, quietly. Xiaojun smiled at you, but it was more smug than friendly.
“Well you better watch yourself, Yn,” He said. Suddenly a different hand wrapped around your other arm and tugged you back. You looked up to see Mark standing next to you, gently holding your elbow. His grip was comforting and not at all like Xiaojun’s.
“Leave her alone, Jun,” Mark said. You looked at Xiaojun who cracked his jaw and squinted his eyes at Mark. He stepped forward, toe to toe with Mark.
“Don’t try to be a hero, Lee,” Xiaojun growled. He pushed past Mark, bumping Mark’s shoulder. After another moment of whispers, the people watching went back to their usual conversation.
“Hey, you ok?” Mark asked. You looked back at Xiaojun’s retreating form, two other boys having joined him. You then turned your attention back to Mark, his eyes soft.
“Yea, yea,” you said waving your hand around. “Wouldn’t be high school without the ass holes, right?”
“You got that right,” Yeri said from next to you. She had sat down, continuing to eat her lunch.
“Thanks for the save, though,” You said. Mark smiled wide, his round glasses scrunching up of his face.
“Y-yea, of course,” Mark said. “Just keep away from Xiaojun.”
You smiled and nodded one last time. You could see the slightly pink tint on Mark’s cheeks as he quickly turned and went back to his table with his friends.
———
“Do you know how stupid that was?” Jaemin said when Mark came back to the table.
“I had it under control,” Mark said sitting down. Jaemin rolled his eyes and let out a huff.
“That’s not the point,” Jaemin said. “What would have happened if he punched you? If you punched him back, people would wonder why the nerdiest kid has a good right hook.”
“He wouldn’t make that big of a scene here,” Mark said. “Too many people.”
“Still a dumb ass move,” Jaemin said.
“It was kinda bad ass,” Jeno said. “The look on his face when he saw it was you.”
“Why’d you stand up for her anyway?” Haechan said. “You don’t even know her.”
“Yn’s in my chemistry class,” Mark said, turning around. He watched you talk with Yeri, your hands moving wildly. Mark turned back to his friends, a smile on his face. “She’s nice and doesn’t need Xiaojun messing with her.”
“Oooo, Mark has a crush,” Haechan said, wiggling his eyebrows. Mark rolled his eyes but didn’t object as he looked down at his lunch tray. “He’s not denying it!”
“Would you shut up?!” Renjun, who was reading, snapped from next to Haechan. The boy deflated for all of two seconds before repeatedly poking Renjun’s cheek. That got him a smack on the head with a rather thick calculus textbook.
———
Mark slid into the gym, five minutes late, for academic decathlon practice. He saw Renjun on the stage helping Mina set up the buzzers and waved at his friend. Mark then looked for Mr. Kim to apologize for being late and found him talking to you.
“Mr. Lee,” Mr. Kim’s voice boomed in the big empty gymnasium. The teacher had noticed Mark out of the corner of his eye, both you and him turning to look at the boy. “Late again?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Jung wouldn’t stop talking,” Mark said scratching the back of his neck once he reached the two of you. Mr. Kim waved him off and went to split up the teams. Mark then turned his attention to you, who never took his eyes off him. “I didn’t know you were jointing?”
“I didn’t know you were here,” you said, laughing slightly. “Well at least I have you. I couldn’t get Yeri to join with me, something about cheer squad.”
“Well, welcome to the team,” Mark said. He inwardly cringed at himself. Really, Lee? That’s the best you could do?
“Thanks, bud,” you said, punching Mark on the shoulder slightly. You giggled a bit and so did Mark, making him feel better.
“Yn, you’ll be on blue,” Mr. Kim called. “And Mark, since you were late, you’re captain of red.”
Mark hated being captain, and Mr. Kim knew this, so this was as good of punishment as any. Mark sighed and trudged behind you, who happily skipped up to the table and sat next to Renjun, who was blue’s captain.
“You’re one of Mark’s friends right?” You asked the boy.
“Renjun,” he said sticking out his hand. You shook it slightly and introduced yourself. He smiled and you after letting go, you returning it. “Ever do this before?”
“Two years at my old school,” you said, proudly.
“Were you guys any good?” Renjun asked. His voice seemed hopeful, eyes pleading.
“State champs my last year,” you said. Renjun smiled wide and put a hand over his heart.
“Thank god,” he said. “Maybe now we’ll actually make it to champs.”
“Alright first question,” Mr. Kim called. Everyone turned to him, buzzers at the ready.
Needless to say, your team absolutely creamed Mark’s.
———
Mark’s patrol was long and uneventful. Sorry, correction, Spider-Man’s patrol was long and uneventful. No chatter on Jeno’s police scanners, no spidy tingle, nothing. Mark climbed back in his bedroom through his window and slipped off his mask.
He flopped down on his bed and caught his breath for a moment. Swinging through the cold night air of September was not easy on his lungs. He almost fell asleep when the ringing of his phone made him jump off his bed. Mark scrambled to find it, ripping through his bag to pull the device out. He smiled a bit when he saw your name at the top of the screen.
“Hello,” Mark breath out. He held the phone slightly away from his mouth so as to not alert you to his fast breathing, which he failed.
“Hey, it’s Y/n,” you said. “You sound kinda out of breath there, Lee. You good?”
“Yea yea, great,” Mark rushed out. “Just... went for a jog.”
“Didn’t peg you for the athletic type,” you said. “Anyway, I need your help.”
“Everything ok?” Mark asked, slightly panicked at the prospect of you being in trouble. That panic immediately melted when he heard your laugh from the other end of the line.
“Yea, no, everything’s fine,” you said chuckling. “No, what I needed help with is history.”
“History?” Mark asked. As he spoke, he hit the middle of his suit on his chest, the material loosening. He slipped out of the sleeves, switching hands to hold his phone.
“Yea, I noticed at practice today you answered every history question correctly,” you said. “I figured you must be good.”
“My best subject actually,” Mark said, proudly. He heard you giggle as he stepped out of the tight spandex of his suit, leaving him in his boxers.
“Well, I’m shit at history,” you said. “And we have a test next week. Three weeks in and a test already is some bull shit. But I was hoping you could help me study.”
“Yea of course,” Mark said. He had pulled a pair of sweats out of his drawer and was attempting to put them on. He held the phone between his shoulder and ear, trying to get his leg in the hole without falling.
“Great!” You said. “Does tomorrow after school work? I figure since we don’t have practice.”
“Works perfectly,” Mark said, a smile spreading across his face. The city could survive a few hours without Spider-Man, right? “I’ll see you then.”
“Bye,” you said. Mark could here the smile in your voice as you spoke. He took the phone from his ear and looked down at your contact, a dumb smile on his face.
———
3:30. That was the time that you and Mark agreed to meet after school. It was now 3:57 and he still wasn’t here, leaving you in the library alone. Well, mostly alone.
You could hear shuffling behind some of the bookshelves, unable to see who it was. You continued to scroll through your phone and eat your grapes, praying Mark showed up so that you didn’t have to smack him in front of his friends tomorrow.
You noticed that the shuffling had stopped now. Footsteps started coming closer to you and you thought that Mark finally showed. You put on your best disappointed face, knowing it wouldn’t last long with the kind eyed boy.
However, when you looked up, the person in front of you was not Mark. Very much not Mark.
“Y/n right?” Xiaojun said. He had a small smirk on his lips, his hand stuffed deep in his pockets. His face was sharp and handsome, making you shift in your seat from the look he was giving you.
“Xiaojun,” you said quietly. He nodded slightly and pulled his hands out of his pockets. He placed them on the table and leaned towards you.
“You know,” he started. “Whoever stood you up is a moron. A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve that.”
“Did you want something?” You sneered. You could see Xiaojun lips twitch down for a second at your tone.
“Hey, Y/n!” A voice said. You looked up to see Mark coming towards you, Xiaojun turning as well. “Sorry I’m-“
Mark stopped when he locked eyes with Xiaojun. Mark’s usually soft and kind eyes, turned sharp and dark upon seeing Xiaojun.
“Leave her alone, Xiaojun,” Mark said, his voice low. You’ve never seen him like this and, honestly, it was kinda hot. Not the time, Y/n.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Lee. I was just leaving,” Xiaojun said. He turned back to you and winked before walking towards Mark. When he reached him, Xiaojun put a hand on Mark’s shoulder. He leaned in close to his ear, and whispered so that you couldn’t hear.
“Get in my way again, Lee,” Xiaojun said. “And I’ll squash you... like a bug.”
You saw Mark’s eyes widened at whatever Xiaojun said. Xiaojun patted Mark’s shoulder and walked away, his hands stuffed in his pockets once again.
“What did he say?” You quickly asked when Mark sat across from you.
“N-nothing,” Mark said. He looked up to see a disbelieving look on your face. “Really nothing. Sorry, I’m late, something came up.”
“Whatever, you’re here now,” you said. “Let’s start before it gets too late.”
Mark tried to stay focused during your study session, and he succeeded for the most part. Part of his brain was occupied by the bank robbery he stoped before coming here. Apparently, the city could not survive a few hours without Spider-Man. Another part occupied by what Xiaojun said.
Did he know? How could he know? What now?
———
“What do you mean Xiaojun knows?” Jaemin asked. Mark was currently on patrol, talking to his friends over the coms.
“He said he’d squash me like a bug,” Mark said, landing on top of a building.
“That is a pretty specific threat,” Jeno commented.
“Well you’re not a bug, you’re an arachnid,” Haechan said, his mouth full of chips.
“What?” Mark breathed out.
“Spiders are arachnids,” Haechan said. Mark could practically hear the others rolling their eyes. A loud smack could be heard followed by an even louder ‘OW!’
“If he knows, what does that mean for me?” Mark asked. The other end was silent for longer than Mark would’ve liked.
“Look if he knows, he won’t tell,” Renjun said. “He’ll just sound crazy cause, no offense, you’re you. Besides, this is too good of blackmail to not dangle over you.”
“I just wanna know how he found out,” Jeno said.
“Who knows,” Jaemin said. “That rich son of a bitch probably has eyes everywhere.”
Mark listened to his friends discuss how Xiaojun found out while he perched on the roof of a apartment complex. He looked out over the city for a moment before putting his head in his hands.
If Xiaojun knew, this didn’t only affect Mark. It effected his four best friends, his aunt, and you. The last thing Mark wanted was for you to get involved with Spider-Man.
With one last sigh, Mark stood and shot a web to swing home.
———
“Why are you always late?” You asked Mark. He had just walked into the library for your Thursday night study session. He didn’t even get the chance to sit down before you asked your question.
“Literally five minutes,” he said checking his watch. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, taking out his textbook.
“Your still late,” you said, opening your own book. “Trying to avoid hanging out with me?”
“No!” Mark exclaimed. He cleared his throat a bit and scratched his neck. “No, it’s, uh, not that at all. I was late today cause the hallway gets crowded and I’m coming from downstairs.”
“Ok, but that doesn’t explain why you were half an hour late the other day,” you said, pointing your pencil at Mark accusingly. “You made me wait and I had to talk to Xiaojun.”
“Yea, I’m still really sorry about that,” Mark said. “Can I make it up to you?”
“How?” You said, intrigued. You placed your chin in your palm and leaned forward a bit. Behind his eyes, you could see the gears in Mark’s head turning.
“Food!” He said. Mark was a bit too loud, as the librarian made a loud shushing noise at him. He whispered out a small sorry before continuing. “How about after we’re done here, we go get something to eat? My treat.”
“Like a date?” You said. You meant it teasingly but it came out like an actual question. Maybe you were hoping this was a date.
“Yea! No!” Mark said quickly. “I mean if you want.”
“I’ll go on a date with you,” you said. A smile spread across Mark’s lips as he giggled a bit. He cleared his throat and opened his history textbook to begin flipping through the pages.
“C-cool,” Mark said quietly.
———
“Good luck today,” Mark said from next to you. It was now the week of your history test. You and Mark studied all weekend and yesterday, Tuesday.
“Yea, thanks,” you said dryly. You trudged next to Mark who was walking you to your doom. Mark said that you were being over dramatic for calling it that but, were you?
“You’ll do fine,” Mark said. You both stopped a few feet from the door, you giving Mark a look of disbelief. “How about, after practice tonight, we go see that new movie? To get your mind off of things.”
“Alright, but your buying the popcorn,” you said.
“Yes ma’am,” Mark said, giggling. You smiled a bit at his silliness and rolled your eyes. “Now go ace that test!”
You grumbled about how hopeful Mark was as you turned towards the door. You walked over to it and spared Mark one last glance. He shot you a double thumbs up making you roll your eyes again, but nonetheless smile.
———
Standing outside of a movie theater, alone, in the cold was not pleasant. Mark said 5:30. You were there at 5:30. Still waiting at 5:50. And here you were now, at 6:05, no Mark in sight. You’ve tried texting him multiple times, each one going unanswered.
To Marker, 5:30: I’m here :)
To Marker, 5:35: I don’t see you
To Marker, 5:45: Hello??? Mark???
To Marker, 5:45: it’s been 15 minutes my dude
To Marker, 5:57: are you coming???
To Marker, 6:05: ditching me again are we??
Looking down at your phone, you noticed that he hasn’t even read them. You sighed and turned the device off, looking around the parking lot. It didn’t have many cars as it was Wednesday.
You figured by now the previews were coming to an end. And if you jogged, you could reach the next bus home in time. You texted Mark one last time before heading off.
To Marker, 6:07: never mind, I’m going home
———
Mark swung back into his room, panting for dear life. He clutched his shoulder feeling that the bone was probably dislocated. He took a deep breath to brace himself before...
Pop!
The sound of him successfully pushing his shoulder into place gave him a sense of relief. However, the pain didn’t, as he almost yelled out. Mark caught himself, remembering his aunt was right down the hall.
Mark stumbled over to his mirror to inspect the damage done. He took his mask off and looked at the ripped and tattered condition of his suit and himself. His left knee was entirely exposed, revealing a gash spewing blood. Along his right side, was a cut that wasn’t too deep but he would definitely have to stitch that up. His left bicep was also cut a bit.
What was that thing?
Mark had never encountered something like it before. This monster, this alien like thing, looked like the emo version of Spider-Man. Except instead of webs, it spewed this black goo. It called itself Venom, Mark remembered. Mark was snapped back to reality by the dinging of his phone. He turned towards it on the bed and picked it up. At the top, he saw seven texts from you.
“Oh shit,” Mark whispered. He looked at the time at the top of his phone, hoping he wasn’t too late. 6:07. “Shit, shit, shit!”
He unlocked the phone and went to read your texts. Each one was a stab to the heart as he read your confidence melting away. To Mark, ditching you, hurt more than any of his wounds.
To Y/n/n, 6:10: I am so sorry Y/n
To Y/n/n, 6:10: something really important came up
To Y/n/n, 6:11: please I’m really sorry
Mark sighed and continued to stare at the phone, waiting for your reply. After five minutes, he saw the read receipt pop up. But no message followed.
———
The entire next day at school, you tried your best to avoid Mark. You didn’t talk to him whatsoever and didn’t give him any reactions. Complete silent treatment. Admittedly, this was a bit childish. But you were still pissed that he bailed on you last night. This is what he deserved.
You received your grade for your history test that day. A big red ‘90’ was circled at the top of the paper. Once class ended, you were about to run and tell Mark only to remember you were supposed to be pissed at him.
“Please talk to me,” Mark said. You were now in chemistry, today’s class going unbearably slow. “Please I’m sorry. I know you got my messages.”
“And you got mine,” you said, not even sparing a glance. Mark shut his eyes for a moment, feeling stupid. Ok that one hurt, he thought.
Mark gave up after that and didn’t bother you the rest of class. In fact he left you alone the rest of the day. However, you didn’t miss the kicked puppy looks he gave you in the hall.
At the end of the day, Mark went looking for you as he usually walks you home even on days when you don’t have practice. However, he couldn’t seem to find you.
“Hey Yeri,” Mark called. The girl turned towards him from her locker, a scowl appearing on her face once she saw who called her. “Have you seen Y/n?”
“You’re an ass, you know?” Yeri said turning back to her locker.
“Yes, believe me, I am aware. I am the asshole of the millennia,” Mark said. “Just where is she? I usually walk her home.”
“She left already,” Yeri said. She looked at Mark who’s eyes were blown wide. “What, did you think she’d wanna go home with you?”
Without another word, Mark took off. He raced out of the building and onto the front steps. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.
What am I doing?
If you didn’t want to talk to him, he had to accept that. He would still try, but he shouldn’t go chasing you down. Especially not as Spider-Man. That would raise so many more questions than he was ready for.
Mark decided it was best to just get on with his patrol. Maybe he’d run into Venom again and he’d knock some sense into Mark.
———
“Stop!” Mark could here the woman’s yells from a mile away. Her voice sounded oddly familiar, making Mark speed up.
When he got to the alley where the yells were coming from, Mark froze. Currently, you were standing there, a knife to your throat, looking terrified.
This is why I walk you home, Y/n.
“Hey!” Mark called into the alley. Both you and the man’s heads snapped towards the sound.
“Spider-Man?” The man asked. Before he could say anything else, Spider-Man shot a web at him and pulled him forward.
Spider-Man then proceeded to punch the guy square in the nose. He effortlessly picked the creep up by the collar of his shirt and brought him over to the dumpster. Spider-Man threw the guy into the green box and closed the lid, dusting off his hands.
Spider-Man turned and looked at you, his body rigid. You didn’t know wether or not to run. Your legs wouldn’t let you however, so you stayed put and continued to stare at Spider-Man.
“Y/n are you ok?” Spider-Man asked coming over to you. You nodded your head as he held you by the upper arms, inspecting for any damage.
“Yea I’m fi- wait,” you said. You placed your hands on top of Spider-Man’s arms and looked him in the eyes. “How do you know me?”
“I-I don’t!” He said. His voice was suddenly deeper than it was two minutes ago.
“You said my name,” you pointed out. Spider-Man stayed silent for a moment, making strangled noises.
“Lucky guess?” He said. As he said the two words, his voice returned back to normal. It sounded oddly familiar.
You slowly lifted a hand and reached for his mask. Spider-Man was faster and he caught your arm in his hand. He moved it away from his face and looked at your shocked expression.
“Not here,” he said quietly. Suddenly, Spider-Man wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close.
“What are y-“ before you could finish, Spider-Man had shot a web out of the alley, sending you both flying. You let out a scream and clung to Spider-Man for dear life. Even with one arm around you and both of yours around his neck, you still felt safe in Spider-Man’s hold as he swung through the city.
Finally, the rush of wind on your face stopped and you could feel solid ground beneath your feet. You opened your eyes, slowly detaching from Spider-Man, and saw that you were on the roof of a building.
“Alright, who are you, for real?” You said, turning back to Spider-Man.
“Please don’t like, freak out or anything,” He said. You nodded your head, wondering who could possibly be under that mask.
Slowly, he slipped the red mask off of his head and held it in his hands. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at you. It was Mark. Your mouth fell open in shock as you took a step forward. Mark stood there, awkwardly bitting his lip, waiting for you to say something.
“Y-you’re Spider-Man?” You said taking another step closer.
“Yea,” Mark said, voice breaking. He cleared his throat, obviously a bit uncomfortable. “It’s why I was late to that fist study session. Also why I bailed on you at the movies. And I’m really sorry that I did.”
“No, I’m sure whatever it was, is way more important than me,” you said, waving him off.
“Nothing’s more important than you, Y/n,” Mark said quickly. His eyes slowly widened as he realized what he just said. Mark sputtered, looking for his words, when he saw you coming closer.
You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned up. Gently, you kissed his cheek. You pulled back and smiled at the blushing boy.
“Thanks for the save,” you said. Mark nodded as you began to pull away. Quickly, he caught your hands and pulled you closer to him. Mark leaned down and placed his lips on yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you quickly reciprocated the kiss. After a second though, Mark pulled back.
“S-Sorry,” Make said. “I shouldn’t have just done th-“
You grabbed the sides of his face and puled him back down, reconnecting your lips. Mark’s hands settled on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you soft and slow, bringing one hand up to your cheek. You both pulled apart after a minute to breathe. Mark looked into your eyes seriously for a moment before breaking out into a goofy grin.
“Let me take you out,” Mark said. “Right now.”
“Don’t you have superhero things to do?” You asked. Mark giggled and took your hands in his.
“I think I did enough superhero things for today,” he said.
———
When you walked into school the next day, Friday, you entered hand in hand with Mark. Literally no one was surprised whatsoever. However, that didn’t stop his friends from making fun of you. It probably encouraged them, actually.
“God, finally!” Heachan groaned from next to you. Him, Mark and Jeno were standing at your locker as you got your things. “It took you long enough!”
“What did?” Yeri asked, appearing next to you. She opened her locker and began exchanging her things for classes.
“Mark and Y/n are dating,” Jeno said.
“Wow, shocking,” Yeri deadpanned. You laughed and so did she as you both closed your lockers. You turned towards Mark who wrapped an arm around your shoulder, prompting Haechan to make gagging noises.
“Oh, stop it,” Mark said, slapping his friends shoulder. Everyone laughed as Haechan dramatically mocked being hurt.
———
After Mark dropped you off at home, he told you to be ready by seven for a date. He swung home, a big grin on his face, excited for tonight.
At exactly seven, Mark arrived at your house and rung the door bell. No one answered. He knocked on the door a few times and still no answer. He went around the side of your house and found the window that was yours. He looked around to make sure no one was looking and shot a web up and climbed through.
When he dropped from your window sill, Mark looked around your room in shock. Books and papers strewn everywhere. There was a broken shelf, its contents dumped to the floor. The one thing missing, was you. Mark stood in the center of your room, stunned. A sudden beep echoing through your room broke Mark from his trance.
Mark whipped around your room wildly looking for your phone. He dropped to the floor and found it under your bed. He pulled out the small device, the screen lighting up showing a text message from an unknown number. He unlocked the device, you having put his thumbprint in a while ago. Mark opened the text and felt his stomach drop.
From Unknown, 7:03: come get me
From Unknown, 7:03: address link
Mark clicked the link and it brought him to directions to a wear house. Without a second thought, Mark changed into Spider-Man and jumped out the window. He swung as fast as he could towards the wear house district at the edge of town near the docks. Mark got there and looked down at the phone, following the directions to the exact wear house.
Finally, he found the right one after five minutes of searching. Mark walked around the building and found a window to crawl through. In his haste, he not so gracefully fell through the open window. When he got up, Mark’s eyes immediately fell on you. You were sat in the middle of the room tied to a chair. Your face was covered by your hair, your head having fallen.
“Y/n!” Mark shouted running over to you. He got a few feet from you when a black figure dropped down in front of him. Mark stumbled back as the figure straightened up and whipped towards him.
Venom’s white eyes bore into Mark and he let out a vicious roar. Venom stalked towards Mark who was beginning to retreat. The monster roared again and chased after Mark. Venom caught up and grabbed Mark’s ankle and pulled him to the ground. Mark let out a yell and his back hit the stone floor. Venom jumped back down to Mark’s level and growled.
Mark shot a web up at the ceiling and swung over to Venom. Mark stuck out his feet and kicked Venom’s face as he swung by. Mark then swung back towards Venom and shot a web at him. Mark pulled Venom up and slammed him into the ceiling. He then yanked Venom back down and slammed him on the ground.
Mark landed gracefully on the ground and noticed Venom stopped moving. He seemed to be getting smaller but Mark didn’t care. He needed to make sure you were ok. He slid down in front of you and held you face in his hands. At the corner of your mouth, a bruise was forming. Another bruise formed at the top of your forehead. Other than that, you looked totally fine.
“Y/n, wake up,” Mark said, as he brushed some of your hair out of your face. He took of his mask and put it on the ground next to him. “Come on, Y/n.”
Slowly, you began to open your eyes and saw Mark come into view. A smile spread across his face as you slowly lifted your head.
“Mark,” you croaked. You fully lifted your head, which was throbbing, and looked around. Mark maneuvered himself to the back of the chair and untied you. He helped you stand up and held your hands. He pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.
“Oh my god!” You said pulling back. Mark looked at you confused until you pointed behind him. Mark turned around and looked at the floor where you were pointing. Laying face down on the floor was Xiaojun. Butt naked.
“Oh god,” Mark said. Mark quickly put his hand in front of your eyes. “Uh, just keep your eyes closed for a sec.”
Mark moved his hand from your eyes, and when he saw that your eyes were closed, he looked around the wear house for something to cover Xiaojun. He found a tarp and put it over Xiaojun’s lover half.
“Alright, you’re good,” Mark said to you. You opened your eyes and walked over next to him. Looking down at Xiaojun, he looked so pitiful.
“Why is Xiaojun butt naked on the floor?” You asked Mark.
“Uh, he was Venom,” Mark said.
“You mean that gooy black Spider-Man that’s been trying to kill you?” You asked. Mark nodded at you after a moment. He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed the police. He spoke on the phone for five minutes before coming back to you.
“Are you ok?” Mark said, putting his hands on your waist. He looked you in the eyes, his own full of concern.
“Yea I’m fine, just...” You trailed off. You stood on your tip toes and grabbed Mark’s face. You connected your lips, kissing him softly. After a moment you pulled back, both of you wearing matching smiles. “Just glad that you’re here.”
“I’ll always be here, right by your side,” Mark said. He leaned down and captured your lips again in a much more passionate kiss.
“Oh and by the way,” you said after pulling back.
“Hmm?” Mark hummed, slightly swaying you from side to side, a goofy smirk on his lips.
“Thanks for the save.”
#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct#nct 127#nct aus#nct au#nct dream#nct mark#nct mark lee#nct mark x reader#nct mark imagines#nct mark scenarios#nct mark lee x reader#mark x reader#mark x you#mark imagines#mark scenarios#mark lee imagines#mark lee scenarios#mark lee x reader#mark lee x you
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unless you take your army back
Hello and welcome to the sequel to my work i will make the sky collapse! You honestly do not have to read the first one to understand this one--the first was a Crutchie-centric whump-focused refuge story, and this one is about his recovery and Jack coming to terms with what happened (and maybe some,,, sprace).
So yeah! This is chapter one! Content warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter :) This is a queued post, so as soon as I have time to post it on AO3 I’ll update this with the link.
cw: blood, brief description of injury
~
On the same day they won the strike, there were a good dozen kids clamoring to be a newsie, appearing out of nowhere with the sole purpose of bothering Jack. He didn’t really want to care--they could be a newsie all they wanted--but the problem was they all needed a start-up fund. They all wanted Jack to foot the cost of their first papes and first week of room and board, and though he had just gotten a job offer and an improved living overall, he just didn’t have the time or money to train so many penniless kids. So he sent them to Spot Conlon, of course.
It was pretty clear that these kids all came from the Refuge, which had just been shut down by the governor. Jack had never been happier than he was when he saw the cop drag Snyder away in chains. The nagging question that was slowly coming to the front of his mind, though, was where was Crutchie?
Katherine had been here for the short celebration, but had seemed distracted and had left almost immediately, without giving Jack a chance to ask after his brother. He wanted to go look for the kid, comb through the Refuge and the streets surrounding it, but Davey had regretfully told him he couldn’t leave. He was the union leader, and a nice official union it was at that. He actually couldn’t even sell right now, he had to return to Pulitzer’s office and continue working on a bunch of paperwork registering the union or something. Pulitzer had told him that they would be working together occasionally due to his new position as leader of the Newsboys Union, which apparently meant that whenever there was a problem on either of their ends they had to include the other in their solving of the problem. It made sense to Jack, what he didn’t get was why he had to read a billion papers telling him it made sense.
Katherine did not ride with him and Mr. Pulitzer in the carriage back to his office, and she didn’t come and see him when he left late in the afternoon, but maybe she was just at work. There was a lot to report, after all. Jack wished it didn’t hurt. There was no way it was intentional, they all had a lot going on right now. It wasn't like he'd gone looking for her, after all. He'd see her tomorrow, cross paths on the way to work.
What with all the stressful arrangements and intense discussions, Jack was more tired than he usually was by the time he entered the lodging house. In later days, he wished that he had spoken to Mush, waiting anxiously outside. He wished that he had not gone with Pulitzer to his office, and instead sought out Katherine straightaway. Most of all, he wished that he had gone personally to the Refuge, made sure to set those kids free himself.
He didn’t do any of those things, though. Instead, he walked home from Pulitzer’s office, nodded to Mush, and went straight inside.
-
Katherine was there, which was odd, but certainly not unwelcome. According to Race, she had spent time with them without him, just celebrating with them and getting to know them all. That was fine, but most girls didn’t seek out a bunch of street rat teenage boys as preferred company.
Not only was Katherine there, but half of the newsies were seemingly just waiting by the door, dropping what they’d been doing and standing to stare at him. Sure, Jack was something of a celebrity now--and he had betrayed them more than once, which could be the reason also--but they looked almost guilty.
“Jack,” Katherine started, and Jack saw that sorry look on her face and his heart dropped. What could this be about? He’d been with Pulitzer all day, so it wasn’t like the old man had turned on them. Where was Crutchie? Was he--he couldn’t be. Right? No.
“Jack,” she said again, and now she was crying. Jack wanted to kiss the tears off her face, tell her she never needed to cry again, but he couldn’t. He had to know--his stomach was roiling, threatening to toss up whatever bite he’d eaten earlier. Something had happened, and it--it couldn’t be--
“It’s Crutchie,” Katherine said, and Jack had a brief moment of huh, so that’s how swoonin’ feels before he was on his knees. He can’t have died. Crutchie was--well, Crutchie. He was just as capable as any newsie, could sell papes twice as well as half of them, and was stronger than anyone Jack knew--certainly far stronger than himself. But if Snyder--if the Refuge--if--
“He’s alive,” Katherine hurried to say, kneeling on the floor beside him, and Jack let out a choked laugh, only just realizing he was crying.
“Ya couldn’ta said that sooner?” he asked weakly, and Katherine sniffled, trying to regain composure.
“He’s alive,” she repeated, “but he isn’t doing well at all. He wanted to see you, but I think he’s still asleep.”
In seconds, Jack was back on his feet, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling her towards the bunkroom. “I gotta see ‘im.”
He ignored her cries of “Jack, wait, you have to know--” and took the stairs two at a time, yanking open the door as soon as it was in front of him. The room was dead silent for once, and only one bed was occupied (despite the fact that he’d told Romeo to rest up today after the strike). Over by the open window on the far wall, a figure was laying in the only bed without a top bunk (the one that belonged to Jack, seeing as he was in charge).
Jack could barely hold back a retch as he came closer, seeing the matted hair crusted in blood, but sticking straight up, same as always. Crutchie was sleeping almost peacefully on the bed, the blankets tucked around him messily, as if one of the boys had tried his very best to arrange it like a mother would. His face was swollen and cut up, almost unrecognizable as his brother, though his neck was what caught Jack’s attention. A brownish-purple bruise in the vague shape of a gripped hand was found there, where the fingers had dug in marked by little round black bruises, a sick imitation of a constellation crossing his brother’s throat.
Jack’s fists curled into tight balls as he stared down at Crutchie, seeing red. The rest of his body was hidden by the covers, excepting a stiff arm that was tightly wrapped in gauze. The collar of his undershirt was the only part of his clothes visible, and it was stained brown and torn.
There were two sides of Jack warring for dominance. One screamed at him to storm down to the county jail right this moment and give Snyder everything he deserved. The other side tried to pull him to the floor, weeping at Crutchie’s bedside. Jack fought both, not wanting to seem weak in front of Katherine, who was watching him with that soft-concerned look on her face that he had already come to know too well. He needed to get alone, needed space, needed a moment to cope with what he’d just been confronted with so that he could best help Crutchie later.
Jack calmly left the room, replying something along the lines of fine, just need a minute when Katherine asked tentatively if he was okay. Then he walked slowly down the steps and through the main room, where all of the newsies watched him silently. He nodded vaguely in their direction. Luckily, none of them asked any questions. If they had, Jack wasn’t sure that he would’ve been able to hold back the sobs.
Finally he was outside, and here he could run. Run he did, all the way around the side of the building and up the fire escape, running and running until all that existed was the clang! of his feet against the metal and the wind rushing past his ears. Then he was climbing the ladder to the very top, where only a week ago he and Crutchie had woken, excited to start striking for real.
Jack had woken early that morning, and had taken the time to sketch out the New York skyline against the starry night sky. It was a frequent subject of his, but that morning he had filled in himself and Crutchie, sitting on the roof closest to the perspective, curled up and reaching toward the stars.
When Crutchie had gotten up, they had made mundane small talk, both trying to hide nervousness that showed too plainly. They eventually stopped talking around it, laughing and joking about it directly, before deciding--no, vowing--to not let the other come to serious harm or danger. Then they had gone downstairs, ready to wake the other boys and get on with the revolution.
The last promise--maybe the last one ever--that Jack had made to Crutchie, and he’d broken it not even hours later. On the rooftop now, Jack kicked the low wall angrily, then again and again. What was wrong with him? How could he focus so intently on these--these mundanities, paperwork and politeness and whatall, while Crutchie was suffering so? How had he not been here for him, when he arguably needed Jack more than anyone else at the moment?
He kicked the wall one more time, then threw himself to the floor. What kind of leader was he? He’d betrayed everyone, almost left Crutchie; then when he’d gotten his head on the right way, he hadn’t done anything to make sure the kid was all right!
“Jack?”
Katherine. She would come up here, tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want that. It was his fault, and he couldn’t have anyone denying it or he might just explode.
“Leave me alone,” he called back, barely keeping his voice from breaking. Silence, then a sigh and the sound of soft footsteps going down the fire escape. Good.
Jack drew his hands across his face, taking in a shuddering breath. He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t dream about leaving anymore, that would just make things worse. He had to be here for Crutchie, and the other boys. Prove that he wasn’t a scab.
He hadn’t eaten any supper, but he didn’t really care. It was dark enough that he shouldn’t have a problem resting. Add it to the tired ache in his bones and he’d be out in no time. He’d get up when everyone else went to bed, then he’d stay up the rest of the night with Crutchie, be there in case he had nightmares or woke up. He had to be there for him. He had to.
#newsies#livesies#newsies fanfiction#newsies fanfic#newsies live#jack kelly#crutchie morris#katherine plumber#we get to see so many newsies next chapter....#i love them all so much#this fic will fall mostly under hurt/comfort#while the last one was solely angst#i have an idea for a javid fic that may be coming later!#i'm not letting myself start it until this is over lol#i'm not done writing this fic#i just wanted to start posting before i moved#which happens next month#and hopefully i can finish it up before then#work on my javid fic on the way there#we'll see!!#idk how much writing time i'll have in college#mas writes#lmk what y'all think!#love you guys
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Voicemail. ~one-shot~
a/n: howdy babes, last night i was reading through @toothpastekissy masterlist, basically gobbling up everything and came upon Leaked Feelings! I loved the concept of it so I decided to write my own version :) lmk if y’all want a part two!
ALSO, i recorded myself singing both songs i wrote for harry,,,, if ya want to know the tunes i was thinking for them, comment if you want them and ill post em.
my masterlist
There they were.
The leaked files.
When you got a call at 4 am this morning, you did not expect your publicist to be telling you some of your exes songs were leaked.
“What’s that got to do with me?” You asked, still half asleep.
“They’re about you, Y/N.” Well now you’re awake.
“What?” You shot up out of bed, padding over to your white desk, fuzzy pink socks on your feet. You opened your laptop and jumped onto twitter, scrolling through with one hand while the other held your phone. #StylesLeak was trending worldwide, as was #Y/N.
HarryUpdates tweeted:
OMG OMG RED ALERT WE GOT LEAK SONGS Y’ALL
FineFuckinLine tweeted:
OOF, what the fucccccck did harry do to Y/N? These are all apology songs!!! No wonder the break up was hush hush
E!News tweeted :
Hey everyone! We know Harry Styles and Y/N L/N stans are up early this morning! Leaked songs from Harry sales have been put out on the web for everyone to see. The two singers had called it quits 3 years ago, but now they’re the trending topic again! #shipname is now trending #1 worldwide, I didn’t ever think we’d see that one again! Go to our website for more!
You heard you publicist let out a big sigh, you put your phone on speaker and set it down on the desk next to you so you could keep looking.
“There are 7 songs, and each one has your name in it or as the title.”
It was a bit of shock, to say the least.
You had hung up with your publicist a while ago and were now debating on whether to listen to the songs or not, you had found a fan account that had the leaked files all ready to go for your entertainment, but something made you hesitate clicking the url.
“You Bastard!” You screamed, shoving him back into the wall.
Mascara was streaming down your face, the satin red cocktail dress you wore now crumpled as your crouched to grab your suitcase from underneath the bed.
“Please listen, it’s not what you think—“ Harry started, you whipped around to the man before you, fire burning in your eyes.
“Oh, really Harry? How is me hearing you say ‘yeah Y/N is alright, but gotta keep the media happy ya know’ on a voicemail I probably wasn’t supposed to get not what I think?”
Quickly, you zipped the bag closed, kicking your heels off and shoving your feet into your beat up converse. He let out an exasperated breath, tears starting to shine in his eyes.
“I—I was drunk Y/N! I was with some friends just joking around and—“
“Drunk words are sober thoughts Harry.”
You snapped back, slipping your tench coat on and racing for the stairs, luggage in hand. You rubbed away the endless tears running down your face as you made it to the living room, collecting your keys.
H raced down after you, mumbling over words—
‘Excuses’, You thought.
Right before you opened the front door, he grabbed your hand that was wrapped around the handle of your suitcase.
“Please Y/N, can’t we just sit down and talk this out—“
“There’s nothing to talk about Harry, you made that perfectly clear when I had to listen to you compare me some ‘other models’ while at a very important record dinner! I had to fucking sit there, eyes on me, and act like you weren’t ripping my heart out one word at a time!”
You snatched your hand out of his and moved out the door,
“Don’t call me,” was the last thing you said before slamming the door shut.
Bringing back those memories was something you didn’t want to do, it had been 3 years since the break up. Harry didn’t come after you, even though a part of you wished he had. Wished he had tried harder to get you back. But alas, shortly after, he started dating a model, Camile or something, and your relationship was tossed aside like yesterdays newspaper.
You moved back and forth with your mouse on the link, eventually you closed the page. Instead of fully chickening out, you decided to go to your favorite platform for celebrity gossip, tumblr.
“At least one of his die-heart fans must have the lyrics written down already.”
You mumbled to yourself, logging into your secret side blog about cats, Captain America, and cute outfits.
After not that much digging you found a blog, harrysmygod, (you definitely rolled your eyes at the name) had a whole posting written out about it already.
“They’re sure on top of everything, I’ll give them that.”
You started to read.
Hello my harries!
So if you’ve been up these past few hours, something big has happened! HARRY STYLES HAD SOME FUCKING SONGS LEAKED!!! And no, I don’t mean songs that could have been on the FineLine album, I mean OLD songs!
And they’re about, you know my fav girl, Y/N! Now, we know their break up 3 years ago was very quick and hush-hush, not much details ya know?
BUT WE GOT THE JUICE NOW LADIES!!
The boy wrote 7 songs that got leaked, and you wonder why I know they’re about her? Y/N is a lyric or title word used in all of them! Thats right, all 7 songs. I’ve done the best thing for everyone and written out the lyrics for you to look through, I’ve only kept one chorus and each new verse, if you listen to the song and its repeated I only wrote it down one for you, blah blah you get it?
Great! Heres the first one, it’s called Voicemail.
You took a deep breath and scrolled down.
The look on your face,
The hurt in your eyes,
Made me realize, my lover was gone,
I never got to say goodbye.
Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.
The words I had said, not true,
I’m so sorry you heard them too.
When you came home in that dress,
Mascara dripping onto your chest.
I knew I had fucked up,
One voicemail turning us to dust.
If you ever hear this song,
Know that I was wrong,
You were the best thing in my life,
Now those flames have turned to ice.
Oh, Oh, Ah, Oh.
Y/N, please remember the love we once had together,
So I know I am real
And then maybe, we could try to heal.
Heaaaaaaaaaal.
Wow you guys, this SONG! Totally sucks that harry didn’t mean to release them cause totally invasion of privacy (sorry harry), but lucky for us we’ve got some info on what happened between Y/N and him!
I’m thinking maybe a voicemail gone wrong? They could have been in a fight and he said something that cut too deep? Lmk what you guys think, heres the next on called Gone.
You scrolled through them, you read all the songs. Lover’s Funeral, Drunk Thoughts, Empty Seat, Your Sock Drawer, and then finally, Y/N.
Alright, we’ve made it to the last song my dudes. And personally it’s my favorite!!!! This was the last song leaked, but I feel the most important. Here’s Y/N.
Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,
You make my heart fly,
I feel as though I could touch the sky,
I only need your love to try.
My love, love, love
You shine brighter than any star above.
Make me count everyday,
I should have tried to make you stay.
Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N
I know we can agree
That I’m a bastard
Im a flake,
You made the right choice
Walking out on me
But could I have
A second chance,
I know it would be worth it
In the end
Because I’d get,
On one knee,
And promise myself to you
For all eternity.
Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N
My love, love, love
Oh, Y/N Y/N Y/N
My love, love, love
You gasped, basically jumping away from the computer like it was on fire. Thoughts raced through your mind, you grabbed your head, trying to keep it all together.
He wanted to marry you? Impossible. 3 Years ago this man was thinking about proposing, then how could he say all those horrible things about you?
“He’s not worth another heartbreak, stop it, stop it!” You chanted to yourself.
While you paced back and forth making a dint in your soft white carpet, you had tuned out the notifications for instagram, twitter, and calls coming through to you.
But then a certain dial tone popped up that you had only set for one person.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
You glanced to your phone on the table and froze.
Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)
Sent you a message.
Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)
Sent you a message.
Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)
Sent a voice file “Mrs. Styles.”
Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)
Sent a voice file “I Should Have Fought.”
Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)
Sent a voice file “I’m Sorry.”
<3
here’s part 2!!!!!!!!!
#harry styles x reader#harry styles oneshot#harry x reader#harry oneshot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry x famous!reader#harry styles x famous!reader#harry x famous!y/n#harry styles x famous!y/n#harry styles x you#one direction#h s#hs2
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coward | s.u.
y/n, bold and beautiful, is now second guessing herself when she finds herself skinny dipping with stan uris
word count: 2.5k
warnings/included: fluff, steamy-ish, exhibitionism, fem!reader
request: (from anon) “could i have a request where the reader is v v v flirty with stan and one day he says something really dirty even richie's shocked. it’s fine if not.”
a/n: i accidentally changed it bc i misread ur request im so so sorry !!! also if u noticed i haven’t written in awhile it’s bc my classes started up again so fics may take more time to write/post -- hope u understand <3
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What came out of y/n’s mouth next truly shocked Stanley.
“Wanna go skinny dipping?” It wasn’t far off from whatever usually spewed from her mouth that she and the rest of the Losers had a hard time controlling.
His mind flashed to all the times y/n’s hand grazed his: the light touches, the silent stares, the whispers that tickled his ears and kissed his brain.
“Next year for Halloween, you should be Stan without a shirt.”
The hearts she drew on his notebook when he wasn’t looking, the hand she held in hers, the what-are-we’s before giggling in his wonderstruck face that she was joking; it was all a sign of want that he’d been too dense to see before.
“You’re great, you know. Great at being an asshole.”
Sweet, mischievous y/n; always blunt, always careless of what others thought of her. It never occurred to Stan of what she thought of him.
Richie was the first to speak up, Stan still having to catch his breath from the promiscuous words that left her mouth seconds ago. “Sure, toots, I’d love to see what’s under that suit of yours. God, you don’t know how much I hate that thing.” He laughed and Stan wanted to beat the shit-eating grin off his shit-eating friend. His jaw, pronounced and square, tightened and Richie saw. “On second thought, I think someone else would enjoy the view way more.”
Another laugh came from the group, but it wasn’t from Richie. It was y/n’s. The soft giggle leaving her luscious lips did nothing to calm Stan.
“Are you jealous, Stanley?” She asked. A smirk sat on her lips. She only called him by his full name when she teased him.
He definitely felt like he was being thrown a bone only to find out the pitcher never threw one right now.
“Of course not.” Stan gave her the side-eye, readjusting his position from the rock he sat on while doing so. “I can’t think of any situation where I’d be jealous of Richie.”
“Oh yeah?” Richie challenged and Stan squinted at him.
“Yeah.”
“I can think of one—multiple, actually.” Richie wore the same smirk as y/n—only his was less digestible. Maybe it was because y/n was less insufferable to be around, or because she didn’t take a crack at his religion every chance she had, or because her hair was soft and shiny on her head and something Stan wished he could run his hands through. Maybe it was because y/n was a girl, or because she was pretty and the way she batted her eyelashes made him see stars even in the sunlight.
“When?”
Richie leaned in and whispered something that was totally vulgar and jarring to Stan’s ears.
Stan flinched—unsurprised that his friend was ballsy enough to say such a thing, but because what if he had actually thought about doing such a thing?
“Gross, Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” Bill yelled from across the quarry, already knowing what his friend would say.
“Yeah. You’re disgusting,” Eddie said from next to him while he looked up at Bill.
“Ruh-lax. It’s not like it’s something I’m gonna do.” Richie opened a new can of Keystone Light next to his already half-drunken one. “I got freedom of thoughts though, right?” He winked and Ben rolled his eyes.
“If you already have a drink open you should finish it,” Stan instructed, ignoring the subject at hand.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” y/n sounded closer than she was before. Her arm brushed up against his and he thought she was about to hold his hand until her fingers grazed just past his to grab his can of beer. She took a sip. “Besides, it all ends up somewhere.”
She could be so careless with her actions. But this was the same girl who made sure paper and plastic went to recycling, the total opposite of Stan, a total enigma.
“I just think, if you want another one, you should finish the one you already have.” Stan explained himself clearly and concisely. It was something y/n always admired. She never got tired of hearing him talk—she could listen to him talk for hours on end.
“Whatever.” Her eyes rolled so far he’d thought they’d get stuck. “I’m going home. “Later, Losers.”
“Wuh-what about the sk-skinny dipping?” Bill asked and Ben elbowed him. He wasn’t yet comfortable in his body, though he had been on Derry High’s track team for a year and a half and lost a fair amount of weight (twenty-two pounds), he still wasn’t comfortable in his own skin (he didn’t think he’d ever be)—even around his best friends—friends he considered family.
“We can do it tomorrow.” y/n shrugged. “Sound good to you, Stanley?” Her eyes were only focused on him and Stan knew that. They glowered under the sun’s harsh rays and fixated on his figure.
“I don’t know.” Stan tried to sound as monotone as possible. “Maybe you should be asking Richie instead.”
At that, y/n smiled, leaving the rest of the group confused as she walked away.
“Duh-dude!” What wuh-was that?” Bill wondered aloud, astounded how y/n had him wrapped around her finger—or maybe it was the other way around.
“If I knew, I would tell you,” Stan said, holding the same shock in his voice.
“Are you and y/n like—”
“No!” The sharpness of Stan’s tongue cut Ben off quickly with a harsh glare he’d later apologize for. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t want something with y/n. Another lie, that Stan would keep to himself, would be that he didn’t anticipate the events that were to come for tomorrow…
“Hey, stranger!” It was y/n from down below. She was already wading in the water—waiting for him, presumably.
“Hey, y/n/n.” He started for the long way down, not caring to cannon-ball ten feet down from the cliff of the quarry today. ��Where’s Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben and—”
“—and Richie?” A beam shot across y/n’s face as soon as Stan met her eye line.
“And Richie,” Stan mumbled. That was the only thing he’d been worried about. Although he knew there was nothing about his trashmouth friend to worry about. But it was always best to stay skeptical.
“I told them not to come.” y/n said this with such nonchalance—such grace as she tilted her head into the water and drifted back, letting the water carry her away as if she were weightless.
“Why,” Stan asked, though it came out as more of a demand.
“Because.” y/n shrugged, but you couldn’t really shrug while you were trying to stay afloat. He noticed that her eyes were closed, and her bathing suit was still on. Maybe she was lying about skinny dipping and he had worked himself up last night over nothing. y/n was like that—making promises she never intended to fulfill. If it weren’t for y/n being, well, y/n, Stan might’ve been annoyed at her antics. But he wasn’t—far from it, even. He was infatuated with her being—clothed or not, enraptured with how sunshine she could be one hour and rain she could be the next.
Math and English were an easy feat—but trying to understand y/n was like trying to learn Mandarin blind and deaf.
Her curves spilled from the bikini bottoms that hugged her butt and the matching top she wore hugged her bust exceptionally. The bikini’s scandalous red color harmonized with y/n’s skin tone well and Stan couldn’t imagine her in anything else at the moment. He didn’t want to imagine her in anything else.
“Are you gonna get in?” Her presence startled him as she was quick to swim up to the rocks. “Or are you scared?” A sly smile splayed across her pink lips and Stan mirrored her.
“I’m scared?” He scoffed. “You were the one who said we were going skinny dipping.” He stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his pale, yet toned, chest. “Guess who’s not undressed.”
“You?” y/n guessed; the innocent tone surprising on her tongue. She had inadvertently licked her lips at the answer and Stan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth due to the action.
“No. You.”
“My bad.” A giggle escaped her bitten lips and y/n began to unclip the back of her bikini. “Is that better now?” The straps fell loose against her arms, but the top stayed covering her breasts.
Stan didn’t say anything.
“What if I…” y/n didn’t finish her sentence. Silently, she fully removed the straps from her arms and the contraption left her bodice.
“Christ,” Stan seethed out, but he wasn’t gentlemen enough to look away from the sight on display before him: y/n treading the shallow water that was crystal clear thanks to Mr. Sun that shone down on this part of town, giving Stan an eyeful.
“Don’t say his name in vain.” She had now slipped the bottoms off and Stan didn’t know what to do with himself. Get undressed, I guess.
His pants were the next to go as Stanley undid his brown leather belt that held his too-big khaki shorts together. His waistline had shrunk due to baseball season’s quick start. And although it was only early March, the heat had picked up fast in this small town they called home and Stan could feel himself already itching to feel the water on his sweat-stricken skin.
“What are you waiting for?” y/n called from below. She was growing impatient, but who could blame her?
Stan stood above her in only his underwear. If the rest of the student body was here, he would’ve been living out his nightmare—stripped to the bone with an audience to gawk at him. But only y/n was here to witness the grey Calvin Kleins that hugged his thighs and rather than a nightmare, this felt more like a daydream.
“Are you shy?” She teased. “C’mon, Stanny, there’s no need to be—”
“Shy my ass,” Stan interjected as he relieved himself of the last piece of clothing and jumped into the water all in a quick movement.
“Glad you could finally make it, slowpoke.” y/n splashed his face, disregarding his lack of clothes—both of their lack of clothes—but Stan couldn’t help but admire y/n’s skin that the water had already kissed and glowed under the flash of the sun.
He’d never seen her in such a state before. In fact, he’d never intended to. But this was worth it—even if it were the only time, he knew he’d have this memory burned into his skull forever the same way the sun would burn his skin the next day because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Since when does Stanley Uris forget to apply sunscreen?
“It’s rude to stare,” y/n deadpanned, but Stan couldn’t help it. How could he not take his eyes off her tan lines from up close and the divot of her collarbone? The way her hair slicked back from the water and the pout of her lips was all too tempting to not want to consume. Stan Uris would be an idiot to not stare. A polite idiot.
“You make it hard.”
y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she knew she wasn’t sporting a sunburn. y/n never burned. “Oh. Well, in that case, stare as much as you want.”
“Gladly.”
y/n was quiet now—a rare event, but it gave Stan an opportunity he’d never thought he’d get or go for.
He swam closer, the stroke of his arms creating rifts in the water and y/n shivered at the feeling of the coldness that hit her chest each time he got closer.
It was strange seeing him up close—in such an intimate setting. As big of a crush y/n harbored on the boy, it’s not like she did anything about it. A few remarks there, a few remarks there. This was the furthest they’ve ever gotten. Maybe a little too far now that she was considering it more closely. Since when did first base turn into skinny dipping in the quarry?
Before her thoughts could leave her second-guessing anymore, y/n felt her lips on someone else’s. They were pressed together firmly and tightly. She held her breath as if she were underwater, but her heart prevailed, only picking up at a speed she’d only feel when she caught him looking at her or when he laughed at her jokes.
The kiss was powerful and all she needed. If this were the last time they’d ever see each other again, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have that kiss to cherish. Maybe she’d long for one in the future. Just one more. But this kiss left her knowing that this skinny-dipping idea wasn’t so bad after all.
His lips were soft and tickled as he pulled apart to catch a breath. y/n’s eyes opened to find Stan’s pupils were wide and lustblown. She stood still in the water, amazed that anyone could feel that way about her.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, Stan—”
“What?” Stan asked, eager and anxious for the words meant for him.
“This is embarrassing but.. I like you.” The words were bold and packed with courage—not far from the regular way y/n spoke, but this was different. It had a certain bite to it that Stan couldn’t quite taste.
“Are you embarrassed because you like me or are you embarrassed because you’re confessing to me without any clothes on?” Before Stan’s eyes could rake down to y/n’s body once more, a splash of water hit his face—cold and abrupt. His eyelids slammed at the impact and he flinched.
“You’re such a perv.” y/n scoffed as if she had forgotten her deepest secret had just spilled from her lips in front of the boy the secret was about. Secret. Don’t act like it wasn’t as obvious as a fat kid scarfing down their third brownie in the first place—
“You know if it’s any more embarrassing… I like you, too,” Stan said. He felt winded after saying it. His chest felt heavy and his toes dug into the sand in order to keep him from falling headfirst into the water. It was so easy for y/n. Brave, crass y/n who swore like a sailor yet had the face of a doll.
Stan’s train of thought was lost at the feeling of y/n’s body pressed against his. He’d forgotten they were both bare-assed and exposed for all of Derry to see because the warmth of y/n was all too much. His heart jumped out of his chest sixty miles a minute and the muscles under his arms were now stones. Stan didn’t recognize that her lips were on his until her tongue swiped his bottom one for access in which he granted.
Teeth clashed and tongues danced. It was a hot minute until y/n pulled away with a cheeky smile and lingering fingers on his collarbone that made Stan hold his breath.
“That was hot,” he heaved, finally cutting the silence between them. Of course, the birds still chirped and the water around them never stopped flowing. But the world just seemed to stop whenever Stan stepped foot into y/n’s intoxicating proximity.
“Hell yeah, it was.” One arm was still strewn around his neck while her free hand traced code on his shoulder.
Nothing else was said. Nothing had to be said. But Stan was sure of one thing; that y/n was no coward.
#stan uris#stanley uris#stan uris x reader#stan uris x reader fluff#stan uris x reader smut#stan uris imagine#stan uris fanfiction#stan uris fanfic#stan uris fic#stan uris fluff#stan uris smut#it 2017#it 2019#it chapter 1#it chapter 2#it x reader#it imagine#it fanfic#it fic#losers x reader#losers club x reader
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Hello Stranger
[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]
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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers.
“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”
Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with.
“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”
“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”
“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”
“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”
You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now.
“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated.
“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”
And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office.
“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation.
“How many more calls this week?”
“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk.
You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression.
Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since.
So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting.
Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of.
You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”
“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”
You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation.
The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school?
Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students.
Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”
Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”
Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”
As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them.
You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites.
The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked.
Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous.
Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters.
The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them.
A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office.
You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”
It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed.
“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”
“Mr. Bang, I—“
“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head.
“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“
Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“
“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”
Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”
“What?” You asked, surprised.
“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”
“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely.
“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”
You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off.
“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest.
“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down.
“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office.
Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation.
“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris.
He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly.
Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“
“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”
“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”
“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue.
“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”
“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”
“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”
“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief.
Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”
Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”
Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”
Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake.
“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”
“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”
“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled.
“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”
Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”
“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”
“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket.
“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning.
“John called from his cell.”
You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school.
God dammit.
You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit.
The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall.
“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”
Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment.
“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away.
“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip.
“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you.
“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“
“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”
“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you.
“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”
Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?”
Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time.
“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”
You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast.
“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”
Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him.
Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?”
You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”
“Never,” he adamantly shook his head.
“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away.
“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was.
“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway.
“I didn’t mean you!”
You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”
Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”
Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably.
“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined.
“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”
“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently.
“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him.
“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”
“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.
“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”
“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”
“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”
“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms.
“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait.
“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”
“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed.
“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst.
“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted.
“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him.
However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment.
“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”
Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”
Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”
You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—
Oh.
Hello, stranger.
Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder.
You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.
“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”
Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”
“We don’t?”
“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”
“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”
“We kissed?”
Ouch.
You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”
“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”
“I know,” you commiserated.
“What do we do now?”
“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”
“How are we doing that?”
“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”
“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”
You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”
Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”
“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”
“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”
“You alright?”
“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter.
“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”
“Thank you,” Chris said quietly.
“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”
Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split.
“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.
“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you.
“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands.
“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”
“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”
“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”
“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”
“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”
“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”
“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”
“You bought a house?!”
Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”
“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”
“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”
“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously.
“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive.
“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”
Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”
“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”
“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”
“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”
Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”
“They will,” you impatiently assured him.
“Even Doyoung?”
“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle.
“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”
You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning.
“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”
“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”
“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”
Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall.
“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”
You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws.
So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday.
A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open.
Hello Stranger,
1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong.
2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you.
A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.
“What do people think of me?”
Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that.
Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”
All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”
A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”
“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you.
>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday.
There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already.
“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway.
“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in.
“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk.
“Are these—?”
“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”
“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”
“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”
“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.
“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”
Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”
“About what?”
“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”
A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”
“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up.
“I feel good today.”
“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”
A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny.
>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.
But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.
“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”
You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”
“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back.
The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”
“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward.
“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”
“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”
“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”
A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”
You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“
“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”
“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”
At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“
“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked.
You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?”
Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door.
You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up.
“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”
“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom.
“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“
Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”
“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door.
“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”
“Wait, you don’t want me to—“
“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled.
He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you.
“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong.
“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”
He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”
“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds.
Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”
“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”
Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.”
Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out.
“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk.
“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused.
“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”
“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”
“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“
“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question.
“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”
“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”
“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation.
“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless.
“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”
“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice.
“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.
“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm.
The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.
So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap.
It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—
Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow.
“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.
“Hey—“
Doyoung?
“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”
“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”
“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”
“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“
“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“
“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”
“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand.
“Oh, one more thing—“
Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”
“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”
“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”
“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”
Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”
Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten?
“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”
The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression. “What? Is everything alright?”
“You want this to be serious?”
Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”
“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”
He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”
“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.”
It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?”
“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”
Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”
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