#i won;t let you turn their - whatever they have- into angst!!!

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 43: MORE TAPE(S)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Extreme Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

Two days had passed and you were back home in Dublin, confronted with a sex-tape between Cillian and his assistant Kit that, by now, had spread like wildfire, making you uncomfortable and emotional every time a notification popped up on your social media accounts, alerting you to the video. All of your friends and acquaintances had, by now, sent this to you and you were sick of it.

Reaching for his phone, Cillian shut off the recording, unable to bear witnessing further humiliation in front of you. The walls of his luxury apartment closed in on him, suffocating in an oppressive shroud of shame.

"My own daughter has seen this and so has my son! Fuck!" Cillian groaned aloud, pacing agitatedly in the room. He turned to you with a look of desperation, his eyes pleading for understanding. Despite your resignation to the fact, your heart went out to him, feeling sympathy and guilt for placing him in this predicament.

"You know you can sue her for this, right?" you suggested hesitantly, clasping his hands softly, trying to offer whatever solace you could provide. Though your intentions were pure, you couldn't help but notice Cillian's reluctance.

"No, this would make things worse, I think," Cillian responded solemnly, running his fingers through his tousled hair in distraction.

A heavy silence settled upon the two of you as reality seeped in – there was no escaping the consequences of this event. No amount of legal action could undo the damage already done.

"Will you at least confront her about it?" you asked, seeing that she had filmed this without his knowledge and then leaked it to the press in spite.

"Yes, I am meeting with her tomorrow. My lawyer has sent her a letter to address the issue privately at first. But legal action? It would just create more publicity which I don't want for Nina's sake," Cillian revealed, looking downward, defeated. 

"I understand, Cills and I think that you should tell her exactly how devastating this is for everyone involved, especially your children. Surely, she can see this. You need to be firm," you advised earnestly, trying to impart strength to his weakening spirit. He nodded gratefully, appreciating your support during this challenging period.

"I will be firm Y/N. I promise," Cillian responded resolutely, pulling away from your touch with newfound determination. He needed to maintain composure now more than ever; letting emotions overwhelm him wouldn't serve anyone's best interest. Instead, it required coolness, levelheadedness, and strategizing. The battle was about to begin, and it wasn't one easily won.

Kit, his once trustworthy employee, had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

The very thought made him nauseous. How could she film them doing something so personal and share it with the entire world? The anger boiling inside of him threatened to consume him entirely.

Walking around aimlessly throughout the day, you noticed his turmoil increasing tenfold. Every step he took echoed with uncertainty and doubt; you could sense that something truly dramatic was about to unfold. After hours of deliberation, Cillian finally decided to take matters into his own hands, requesting a change of scenery.

"We should do something nice after I deal with this tomorrow. Just you and me," he suggested, and you smiled faintly, grateful for any respite from this hellish storm. Glancing at his tired features, a wave of protectiveness swept over you. It was essential to stay strong for him, offering moral support where necessary.

"That sounds perfect. We need a break from all this madness," you agreed, smiling warmly at him. As you looked into his weary eyes, you felt a mix of love, admiration, and concern, knowing just how difficult this whole debacle had become for him.

"How about a trip to somewhere like the Maldives? I have never been there, and Dermont reckons it's quite nice. Just you and me on the beach," Cillian proposed with a sparkle in his eye, as though daring you to imagine the possibility.

Your stomach fluttered, excitement building within you at the prospect of exploring such an idyllic destination while, at the same time, you knew that you could not leave Ireland now without risking being denied re-entry upon your return.

Your visa was about to run out and you needed to address this issue before embarking on a vacation.

"Cillian, I would love to go on a holiday with you, but I can't leave the country right now. My student visa expires soon, and I don't know what to do about it just yet. I am working on it though. But, if I leave Ireland now, I can't return without a new visa in place," you explained sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression shifted instantly, a mixture of disappointment and frustration flashing across his features.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Cillian murmured softly, his eyes filled with understanding and worry.

Flinching momentarily, you admitted to him the difficulties you faced due to your impending immigration issues.

"Well, you've got your birthday coming up. You also have more important things to worry about at the moment and the premieres next month...I didn't want to burden you with my problems. I was just going to sort it out, but it proved to be much more difficult than I had anticipated, " you said and your words trailed off as your shoulders slumped, indicating your defeat.

Cillian wrapped an arm around your waist tenderly, displaying solidarity amidst adversity.

"Listen Y/N, you are my priority! I will ask my lawyer about this tomorrow after dealing with Kit. There must be an option if you want to stay. You may be able to change your visa to another visa or something," he said, and his tone exhibited care and understanding, allowing you to lean on him for support. "You do want to stay here, don't you?" Cillian questioned, wanting affirmation that his plan for staying together wasn't merely wishful thinking.

"Yes, Cillian. Of course I want to stay here. With you. I love you. Despite, Emma is staying in Ireland too. She is moving to Cork soon, and I want to be close to her as well," you expressed sincerely, locking eyes with him to convey your commitment.

His relief was palpable, and he held you closer still, promising to find a solution.

"Good. I am glad. Because there is no fucking way, I will ever let you go again," Cillian proclaimed confidently, taking charge of both situations which were now overshadowing your happiness.

"Dublin is my home now Cillian, so don't worry!" you replied cheerily but, just as you did, a bound of nausea hit you again, forcing you to make a mad dash to the bathroom.

Cillian, worried, followed behind and gently placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, whispering sweet words of encouragement, easing your anxiety somewhat.

He led you towards the bedroom afterwards, sitting beside you carefully, ensuring you felt comfortable enough to discuss the matter openly, thinking that the nausea was the result of your stress levels lately.

Feeling better physically, Cillian reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers lovingly. His eyes searched yours intently, seeking confirmation of your feelings regarding the situation.

"I hate seeing you like this, because of what Kit has done..." Cillian told you, but you interrupted him.

"No, it's not because of this. I am just hormonal. My cycle is all over the place ever since the surgery and I think that this is why I feel sick sometimes, "you tried to explain your condition, hoping that he understood the physical strain it put on you.

Cillian nodded sympathetically, wrapping you tightly in his arms, providing much-needed comfort.

"You should probably see someone about this again," he offered kindly, genuine concern evident in his voice. Your brow furrowed slightly in response, sensing the underlying undertone of concern rather than dismissal.

"I will, once you have dealt with Kit," you conceded, pondering the idea seriously for the first time. Your health had always taken a backseat, considering the recent surgeries and recoveries, coupled with the chaos surrounding the scandal. And perhaps this constant stress wasn't helping either.

"No, let's make sure we prioritise your health," Cillian remarked solemnly, adding weight to the conversation.

"Okay, I will get an appointment scheduled," you promised reluctantly, aware that the stress might eventually cause serious complications. Nevertheless, you couldn't help feeling irritated that these small concerns seemed to dominate most of your life currently.

With an aching heart, you glanced at your lover, acknowledging the gravity of the situation involving Kit and what you suggested next caught Cillian by suprise.

"You know, maybe, we should do something a little bit adventurous. Maybe this will take our minds off this video your crazy ass assistant shared on the internet," you teased playfully, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

"What do you have in mind?" Cillian asked, intrigued, as his eyebrows raised salaciously, a gleam of mischief lighting up his eyes.

"Something kinkier than anything we've done before," you told him before sliding down onto his lap.

"Okay. You have my attention. Tell me what you want to do," Cillian asked eagerly, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

A delicious thrill coursed through your veins as you contemplated the possibilities. The seductive power dynamics between you two made the air thick with sexual energy.

"I want us to explore some boundaries," you began slowly, savoring the taste of the forbidden fruit.

As you breathed heavily, trying to steady yourself against his chest, you continued, "And do things that we haven't even talked about."

Cillian swallowed hard, his breath catching. "Like what?" he ventured hesitantly, a hint of trepidation crossing his face.

You grinned wickedly, running your tongue along your bottom lip.

"Well, you are an actor, aren't you? So, how about some role play?"  You suggested coquettishly, letting your imagination run wild with various ideas dancing inside your head.

"I am all ears," Cillian said, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, we could pretend to be strangers meeting for the first time at a hotel. Then we could indulge in our fantasies, testing boundaries in our roles – teacher and student, doctor and patient, maybe even a dominant and submissive scenario," you mentioned, excited by the thought of turning the tables and experiencing each other differently.

"And we will film it, but just for us," you added, causing a wave of nervousness to ripple through him. Cillian hesitated briefly, his mind processing everything rapidly. Finally, he took a deep breath and accepted the challenge.

"I need to buy a camera first," he started, finally breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. 

"Of course," you agreed, smiling warmly. The intensity of the discussion had increased exponentially, and your body burned with desire. It was almost painful to contain yourself, longing to experience the scenarios you discussed. As you kissed passionately, tangled limbs entwined in an erotic dance of pleasure, but your excitement was short lived as, suddenly, the doorbell rang startling you both.

Tags:

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[taomyou]

the art of watching the wind - chapter 1

Pairing: Nanami Kento/Reader

Status: ONGOING, updates every other saturday, 1/7 chapters

Summary: As it turns out, swapping out his corporate cubicle for a florist’s counter doesn’t mean he’s learned how to live life to the fullest.

But, as Nanami Kento comes to find out for himself, it does mean he has all the time in the world to spend it on the beach with the woman who’ll show him how to.

-

or, Nanami learning how to be happy.

Word Count: 9.0k

Tags: slow burn, modern au - no curses, reader-insert, character study, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, nanami pov

(A/N: this fic is available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead! chapter one is mostly setting/exposition)

“That’ll be it for today's shipment, my friend!” Gojo beams, one hand on his hip while the other slaps against the side of a crate of roses. When his friend doesn’t say anything in response, he frowns, shoving his hands into the pockets of his rugged work pants. “Hey, what’s with the long face?”

Nanami blinks, his hands gripping onto the handlebar of the platform cart. “What?”

“You good?”

“Oh, yes, I'm fine,” Nanami answers, loosening his grip on the handles. “Just a bit tired.”

"Last one in the shop today?"

"Yeah. Yaga's coming by later to drop off some papers, but I should be gone by then."

"Sounds good." Gojo smiles at his friend sympathetically before putting a hand on his shoulder as he begins to pass him on the walk back to the delivery truck. “Take it easy, yeah? No need to stress yourself out.”

The blonde sighs before halfheartedly nodding, gently removing the gloved hand from his arm. “I’m not, but I appreciate your concern.”

“If you say so,” Gojo teases, “See you around, Nanami. Would love to chat, but I've gotta finish up my route ASAP and beat that loser."

"You're still on about that? I thought you already won."

"That was last month! I need to prove I can keep up with the spring rush this month!" Gojo laughs. "Besides, he's the one that gets all butthurt about it, I wouldn't care if he didn't."

Nanami supposes it's true. The older man—whose name is Fushiguro, if he's remembering correctly—seems to have it out for the white-haired delivery driver; Nanami remembers him grumbling under his breath about Gojo "fucking up the schedule" and "making him look cheap," whatever that's supposed to mean, but though their rivalry seems fairly one-sided, Gojo indulges him for the fun of it.

Nanami doesn't quite get it, but he supposes this is just what happens when you need to make up your own fun on the job.

"Well, good luck then."

"Won't need it, but thanks! Let’s grab drinks sometime, my treat if you pay for dessert after!”

The blonde kisses his teeth, but he smiles in spite of it. “Sure. I’ll let you know when I’m available.” He probably won’t, but he’s sure that his friend will find a way to drag him out for a night in the town sometime soon, one way or another (and that, one way or another, he'll find a way to get out of it).

Nanami raises a hand from the handle as a gesture of his goodbyes as Gojo leaves, as does Gojo himself on his way back to his truck. He watches as his friend hops up onto the high seat of the vehicle, picks up a clipboard from the passenger-side seat, and writes down something with a pen he'd kept tucked behind his ear. With his gloves still on, Gojo pulls out his phone from his pocket and nestles it between his shoulder and his ear, still marking down items on the clipboard whilst checking over his shoulder occasionally to look for things in the backseat.

It sure is jarring to see the boisterous snow-haired man hard at work at... anything, really. He'd always been so carefree and limitless, and though those traits still exist in the man whilst on the clock, he seems just a tad bit more responsible than Nanami remembered him to be.

Has it really been so long that he'd been able to change so much without Nanami noticing?

The blonde is completely silent as he turns and wheels back the last of this week’s delivery into the back of the shop. It's not an entirely far walk, but the shop isn't immediately near any delivery zone, so Nanami has to push the cart a fair bit away before he can really call it a day. He's had to walk the same path everyday, multiple times each time, but he still somehow forgets the crack in the pavement that, if he rolls the cart over it, knocks back the whole thing and nearly tips all the crates' contents out. Instead of cursing himself (or whatever else he can think to blame, really), he bitterly smiles as he tugs on the cart and lets go of the handle with one hand so that he can hold up the crates for the remainder of the trip back to the shop.

At least this is the last time he has to make the journey today. He'll just have to remember to avoid that sidewalk hazard next time. He's reminded himself of this every shift, actually, but he somehow always seems to forget.

When he gets back to the shop, the back entrance is held open with a spare footstool he'd placed there at the beginning of the day. Helps keep the place well-circulated while the air conditioning is being repaired, for one, and it's nice not having to awkwardly open it and hold it out with his arm fully outstretched every time he passes through. Still, Nanami has to readjust his grip on the handlebar of the cart because one of the front wheels gets caught on the doorframe, and after tugging on it thrice, it gives way, he's able to get through smoothly. He pushes through and is now inside the back room of the shop, and he makes sure that his apron is securely tied behind his back before he moves to take the crates off of the cart.

The backroom is quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the boxes as he moves them into the walk-in cooler, and once everything’s offloaded, he moves the cart to its designated spot in the corner of the room. His back aches slightly from the slow, weighted movements, as the crates are decently heavy and require more strength to lift than he has at this late hour of the day, but he bears with it long enough for him to finish without breaking too much of a sweat.

“That should be it,” Nanami whispers to himself, looking around the room. He makes sure that everything’s in its proper place—the cart, the gloves, the stool, the rows of crates filled with flowers that’ll need to be sorted first thing tomorrow morning—and he lets out a sigh of relief when he's triple-checked that it is.

Good. Everything’s where it should be. All that's left is to close the back door, and he'll get to be cozy at the counter doing what he does best. It's a bit cold today, winter only just now turning to spring, so he'll change his apron and pull his sleeves back to full-length.

As he steps out to retrieve the chair that's holding it open, his eyes are downturned and his hands are busy putting the stool back in its proper place; but, as he waits for the door to close behind him, he looks over his shoulder to be momentarily met with the sight of the sunset. The sky at this time of day is a sight Nanami hardly ever got to see before working here, and he feels it'd be a waste to not at least try to catch sight of it before the day is over, so he takes it in during the brief seconds it takes for the door to close.

Some of the late-night spots in the nearby shopping center are beginning to turn on their lights to let people know that they're open for business, and that casts more light upwards in bursts of technicolor. Molten gold and pear-cut sapphire melt into one another in front of a barely-there haze, and birds sparsely dot the horizon like sesame seeds on a red bean bun. Brushstrokes of red, violet, and pink chase each other against a pale canvas of blues and silver, and rays of sunlight burst through to form a halo over the earth. The underside of the clouds are burnt umber and golden brown, flaky and crisp like a pastry sitting neatly in a display case, and they frame the sky like its a painting.

It doesn't take a genius to know that the sight is beautiful—a snapshot of the world from a corner of it that only he knows in this very moment. The faint spring breeze certainly does help in painting the picture, pushing his outgrown bangs out of his face and kissing him with the gentleness of the zephyr.

It's too bad, then, that it's a sight that Nanami still ultimately doesn't care much for, because instead of basking in the light, he winces at it with worn, tired eyes. He puts his free hand over his eyes to rub the weariness from them, and he keeps them closed as he turns back in towards the shop.

Must the sun always be so bright, so "in-your-face?"

Checking his watch, he sees that if he finishes a bit earlier than usual with the bookkeeping today, he should have enough time to make it to the bakery right off the freeway on his way home before they close. He'd been meaning to try the quaint little bakery for so long now, having been recommended it by an older woman in his building he'd helped carry in her groceries when he first moved to the city three long years ago, but between his job, leaving said previous job, and getting adjusted to his current... arrangements, there hasn't really been a good time to go.

Truthfully, he's memorized their menu, front-to-back, and he thinks about making the drive over often, but he just... doesn't. There's always something in the way: work that needs to be done before the end of the day, personal errands he needs to run, a bad mood that won't let him go. Instead, their hours of operation are taped onto the walls of his heart and left to peel with the paint, but they've still always functioned as a loose guide as to whether or not Nanami's doing a good job keeping track of his time at work.

Clearly, he hasn't ever done that.

But, if he gets out on time today, it'd be a nice milestone gift, he tells himself.

Besides, today marks the third month of him working here—it wouldn't hurt to treat himself to a little trip over to the storefront.

There's not much else in his life that he has to celebrate anyway, so he'll just make it up as it goes. He didn't even realize three months had passed, just taking things day-by-day to keep the dread of the future at bay for as long as he could, but a younger high school-aged boy, Itadori, had started at the shop on the same day as him, and Nanami'd overheard him telling a customer that he hit the quarter-year mark at the job (a miracle, apparently, because his grades demand much more attention than work should; still, Nanami helps him and one of the other coworkers, Kugisaki, with their maths homework when it's not too busy at the shop).

Yeah. Today can be the day.

He can play it by ear. He's made peace with the fact that this is about as good as it gets, and there's no better time than the present when he's so sorely reminded of the fact now that he's left behind nearly everything he'd ever known in his professional career for... whatever he's made of his life thus far.

He'll make it special.

He's said that a million times before, but, today, he really means it.

After blinking a few times to get the sun out of his eyes, Nanami puts the stool in its usual spot right next to the door. With his hands now free, he unties the back of his apron, walks over to hang it up at the hook right at the curtain between the two areas of the shop. He pushes through the half-height fabric curtains as he tugs his sleeves back to his wrists, and he buttons his cuffs back up as he's making himself comfortable at the florist's counter.

With his cabinet key, Nanami opens up the side drawer where the accounting materials are, and he pulls them out to lay next to the shop's computer. It's a bit outdated, clunky beige keyboard and all, but he doesn't mind it. He types in the passcode for the admin account with his right hand on the number pad whilst putting on his reading glasses, kept in his shirt's breast pocket at all times, and he gets to work. Having had so much practice in the trade, he gets through all the bookkeeping tasks quickly enough. There's a few hiccups because the shop is still in the process of changing their payroll system and Nanami's in charge of getting that all sorted out, but that's nothing out of the ordinary for any business going through the same procedures.

It's a bore to remember what it is that he's even doing, lost in the flurry as tabs are closed and new ones are opened, but at least he's only doing this for a couple hours every week as opposed to his entire working day. His face is completely stoic as he types, clicks, and flips through the logbook for delivery dates and other miscellaneous information. Nanami keeps track of what he's finished with and what data he'll need for his next bookkeeping session for Yaga to pick up whilst he's dropping off papers later, and the older man will know to then drop those notes off with his parents—the owners of the store.

They're nice people. He knew them as clients when they outsourced their accounting to his firm (and, thusly, him), and they'd been generous enough to offer him a full-time position in the shop, especially considering he had absolutely no experience in any sort of floristry. Nanami wished they'd come around more often as it's a bit hard to express his gratitude to them through emails and in the in-between of the margins of the papers they have him sign, but he's glad to know they're able to spend most of their time doing things more typical for a couple their age. 

He doesn't mind it, though—the work. Inputting numbers, cleaning buckets, double-checking financial records, dethorning roses, calculating the budget, putting together bouquets and other arrangements—all of it. Really, he doesn't. He's obviously more... adept at some things more than others, but he's learned to enjoy what he's learned in his time working here. But, while his hands move methodically and his eyes trace the screen from left to right, he can't help but be reminded of how he'd used to do this for a living. He supposes that he still does, but being a general florist who helps out with the bookkeeping for a small family-owned flower shop is quite a far step away from being the top financial analyst at the region's most prestigious accounting firm.

He really shouldn't be thinking about it. He's already spent enough time contemplating whether or not the pay cut was worth whatever sanity he'd scraped away for himself when he left, and he should be happy he's content where he is.

He's not happy here. It's as simple as that.

After he locks up the cabinet and clocks out for the day, he exhales deeply, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter and rubbing at his temples with his hands. His head doesn't hurt like how it used to, but it's still not exactly raring for more to do. Sitting here, he has a clear enough view of the sidewalk in front of the shop, if only blocked by towers of flowers and gift displays.

He sees that the sun has set, and he won't have to worry about it blinding him from the horizon as he's driving home. That's nice.

After taking another few deep breaths, he gets up from the seat, and he grabs his coat and other personal belongings before locking up shop, getting into his car, and starting the drive home. Glancing at the clock now, there's still about an hour or so before the bakery closes, so he decides he'll make the quick detour over there. As he maneuvers through the highway, sure-as-steel that he's obeying all traffic laws despite the ache in his feet and the dreariness of his morale, his mind drifts slightly to the long-awaited sweets he's been fantasizing about for years. 

Has it really been so long since he's moved to this city?

Regardless, whatever'd been keeping him from going over to the little bakery for so long, he'll conquer it today. There's still enough time to make it comfortably before closing; he checks and there's forty-five minutes for him to make it there comfortably, and he's nearing his exit anyway.

He wonders what he'll get. It'd always been a faraway thought—that he'd ever make the time to go to the bakery on the off-road—so he always just figured he'd order whatever gets recommended to him. He's done his fair share of looking at their menu, though. He remembers, in the very beginnings of his time at that... horrendous job, back before he'd been overworked and overloaded with the tasks of more than a hundred men, he'd look up pictures and reviews and transcripts of their offerings online when the workday got slow enough for him to take his phone out of his bag and steal time. Back then, he truthfully did have the time to go and try it out, maybe even reach out to a friend and invite him to come along, but he supposes he'd figured he'd have time for it in the future.

"Save it for another time," he remembers telling himself. "It'll taste better if you wait for it—if you have something to celebrate."

Next thing he knows, three years and three months have passed, and he's never so much as driven past the place.

But, amidst the blooming angst, his mind conjures up those fond memories of himself using his old work computer to look at online reviews for the place. Thinking of them again now after so long, he

All those pastries, all those sweets, all those breads. It'd been so easy for him to forget that such a simple thing brought him joy; that anything at all brought him any kind of peace. He feels it in the pit of his stomach right now—the quiet little spark of excitement he hasn't felt in ages. If he'd known he'd be so worked up over the mere prospect of enjoying something sweet there, or maybe even something savory, he'd have quit his corporate job so, so long ago.

A new match lit in his chest, he smiles to himself slightly as he's driving through the wind. He rests his elbow just beneath the side window and props his head on that hand, and he moves his other hand to the top of the wheel to steer with a bit more panache. There's not much light out anymore and he still has to be careful he's driving safely in the dark, but he gets cozy against his seat cushion and lets himself sink deeply into the plush. His window's rolled up because he's not sure his senses can take much more overload after a day spent near wet flowers and loud, crinkling cellophane, but he'd like to think there's another version of himself out there whose able to feel the breeze through his hair.

Then, just as suddenly, the fire's put out by an inevitable wind, because just as he's beginning to merge into the exit lane he's meant to take to get to the bakery, a car cuts in front of him, forcing Nanami to slam his brakes and grip the steering wheel harder to avoid hitting the vehicle in front of him. Just barely able to check his mirrors, he swerves back into the faster, continuing lane and pushes on the gas to keep the car behind him from driving into him. Nanami's seatbelt saves him from launching forward, but, now looking over at the center console as he's checking for the time, the same can't be said for the cup of coffee he'd forgotten in his car's cupholder from yesterday morning.

Great. Coffee all over the center console and even more of it starting to soak into his passenger seat.

He's forced to just sigh and look ahead, now only ready to go home and get started on cleaning his car. He raises his hand for the driver behind him to know that he's sorry he had to swerve in front of them, his heart still beating out of his chest, and he blows anger out through his nose as he's forced to think about whether or not he's going to reroute to still get to the bakery or just resign for the day and go home. Looking at the clock again, there's only about thirty minutes left for until closing, and, even then, it'd be cutting it so close if he were to get there in the twenty-something minutes it'd take to figure out how to get there, park, and find something to order or choose from the display case.

If working at the flower shop has taught him nothing else thus far, it's that coming in that close to closing is enough to ruin everyone's evening, and Nanami'd rather not put any of the closers through more than they already have to deal with.

Quite unfortunate, all things considered, but there's nothing he can do about it now. Most he can do is frown about it while he's brushing his teeth later, maybe even curse the universe after he's gone through the apartment and made sure all the lights are off.

Maybe another time, then. There's more important things to do than try out some bread that's probably not as great as he's made it out to be in his head.

🔅

With a heavy heart (and a trash bag filled with coffee-soaked napkins and a now-barely damp washcloth), Nanami pulls his keys from out of his pocket, finds the one he needs to open his apartment door, and steps through. He hangs his keys up on a red push pin that's stuck into the drywall immediately to his right, courtesy of an old friend who'd helped him move into the place way back when, and he holds himself upright using the doorframe.

"I'm home," he says to the walls, taking off his shoes and leaving them near the welcome mat by the entrance. He's lived alone for a long time now, but he supposes he never really grew out of the habit of greeting the house when he's home. He leaves the trash bag by the door to take out with the rest of the trash later, dreading the eventual long walk he has to take to get to the dumpster, but, other than that, everything else about his routine tonight is the same.

There's nothing important about today, so there's nothing new for him to do.

After changing into something comfortable enough to lounge around in, Nanami drags his feet as he walks back out to the kitchen to see what he can make himself for dinner. His socks create enough static that he's shocked when he grazes the metal of his bedroom's doorframe, but he can't be much more bothered than he already is, so he just ignores it.

His fridge is exactly how he'd left it that same morning, with more than enough ingredients to put together a decent meal for himself, and he moves around aimlessly to do so. Today, it's a quick short rib stew with rice, and he lets a shuffled mix of songs he doesn't quite enjoy play from his phone to keep himself awake enough to not burn himself as he's cooking.

He eats at the dining table with a book propped up on an empty vase and held open with the pinky and thumb of his left hand, chewing while mindlessly reading about the development of various computer types, and he lets the dishes soak in the sink while he sits across the television and watches today's rerun of the Great British Bake-Off. He still hates watching the technical bake, but he's just being a hypocrite; not like he can do any of that either.

Once he's tired of watching yet another person underwhip their soufflé batter, he runs his hands down his face lethargically and gets up to do the dishes, very much aware of the ache in his feet after hours standing up on the shop. The hurt's caught up with him by now and he has to hold onto the counter to keep his legs from shaking, but maybe he's just being dramatic for the sake of it because he's able to bear it just fine when he has scalding hot water burning his hands as he scrubs away stubborn stains.

After that's done and dealt with, he takes out the trash, cleans up around the apartment, makes sure to pay for the water bill that's finally reached him from the previous month. He makes sure to appreciate how low it is right now because he knows it's only going to get higher with the rising temperature.

He takes a shower to wash all the loose petals and leaves that've snuck between his work clothes and his body, brushes his teeth (fully remembering to fume to himself about having to miss going to that bakery), and after making sure that all his lights are off and no appliances are left running, he lays in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands laced over his sternum.

Well, that's it.

That's his day, full and complete.

Get up, go to work, work, go home, go to sleep. There's some other steps along the way, and, sure, there's other things he could be doing, but it is what it is

It isn't quite the life he'd dreamed of when he left his hometown—that was what he had before his quit his corporate job—so, if he ignores the pay cut, the loss of prestige, and the shame of being somewhere he'd never planned for himself, then this is the next best thing.

And sleep comes to him quickly, he's grateful for that.

Still, in the very brief and very quiet minutes it takes for the dull ache in his muscles and the even more faint one in his heart to settle enough for him to drift off into dreamless sleep, he wonders if this is really all life has to offer.

It has to be.

...

Right?

🔅

Nanami wakes up before his alarm has the chance to ring.

His body rises with the sun, its rays bleeding in through the fabric curtains at the window in his bedroom, and he rolls over onto his side to feel around for his cell phone, unplugs it, and checks for the time. He doesn't trust himself to be able to wake up a second time with only a few minutes until he's meant to actually get up, so with a yawn, he slips out of bed, puts on his house slippers, and drags himself to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.

As he's brushing, he lets his mind drift until a swipe of toothpaste slips out of his mouth and falls onto the floor. He frowns, toothbrush still between his lips, and he reaches down with a paper towel to clean it. He's not allowed to move around lethargically anymore, acutely aware of the need to keep things clean so he doesn't have to come home to a mess at the end of the day, so instead of dreaming about the perfect breads he'd pair with the most perfect jams and the most perfect butters, he plans out his day.

What day of the week is it, again?

Maybe today's Monday? Tuesday, even?

Probably Monday. The weekend rush was noticeable enough yesterday.

He supposes it's hardly relevant, though, so he'll just figure it out later. It'd only matter if it were a Wednesday or a Thursday because those are his days off, but he knows it's not either of those days because he usually has to do laundry by then, and, right now, the bin's only three-fourths of the way full with clothes stained by cell sap.

No matter, he has to get to work soon, then get home after work, then make himself dinner, tidy up again, go to sleep again.

After gathering his bearings, he stands over the sink and spits out the pale blue mix of toothpaste suds and morning mouth grime. He runs his hands underneath the running water quickly, flicks his wrists to help dry them, and he runs his cold hands over his face to help keep himself awake as he gets ready. After he's made sure everything's been locked up properly and just as he likes it in the morning, he puts on a dress shirt, dress pants, dress socks, his watch, the non-slip deck shoes Yaga practically shoved Nanami's feet into when he found out he had been wearing oxfords to the shop up until that point, and he's on his way out the door with a cup of peach yogurt in one hand and his keys in the other. In his bag is a tupperware container with last night's leftovers and his wallet, and that's about all he needs for his day.

The route from his apartment to work is one that's fully planned and practiced by now: get on the highway, get on the ramp to the eastward route, exit, drive extra slow to not startle the elderly woman who owns the laundromat right next to the shop, and park directly underneath a tree that keeps his car cool for the duration of its stay there. By now, he's gotten pretty good at remembering which stoplights give him enough time to spoon himself some yogurt without spilling any of it, so once he's parked and collected all the things he needs for the day, he gets out of the car, unlocks the door because he's almost always the first person to arrive, and rushes to clock in and rinse the container to use as a seedling pot for the many greens they need growing in the back room.

Well, that's it.

That's his morning.

He'll spend the rest of it restocking the arrangement area because nobody else that works mornings here is tall enough to safely reach the cellophane rolls that they keep on top of the cabinets. He's the newest person at the shop so he's left with the grunt work most of the time, but he doesn't mind it—it's easy enough, and he knows he's not artistic enough to really be trusted with arrangements (on his own, at least; some of the younger associates will ask him for his help when making bouquets with "old people" in mind, and he doesn't have the heart to, one, turn them down, and, two, tell them that twenty-seven really isn't old at all).

He checks the schedule as he passes by to get his apron, seeing that it's Monday, and that Yaga's posted up a checklist of the things they need done for the week. There's also a longer list naming all the people who'll come and go throughout the week (which isn't really what Nanami expected when he first started working here, but he's picked up fairly quickly that it takes a village and more to keep a flower shop running, so doesn't really give it much thought anymore). There's a few names he recognizes, others that he doesn't, but he should know everyone that's coming in today, at least.

While Nanami's filling up a smaller bucket at the sink to have a well to draw from and water the greens, someone comes in through the back door, and Nanami looks over his shoulder to see Ino, arms full with coffee for himself, his laptop, and a few other miscellaneous gadgets. He's probably the person Nanami's worked the most with here (at least, if he excludes the time he spends trying to explain derivatives to Itadori; the boy is hopeless, but Nanami admires his determination regardless).

"Ah, good morning, Nanami!" Ino exclaims, rushing to put his things down anywhere he can.

Nanami lifts his hand to greet the younger man back. "Morning."

"Closing go okay yesterday?"

He nods, leaning over to turn off the faucet. "It was fine."

Ino doesn’t ask any other questions and just puts on his own apron, comes over to the sink, and offers to help take out the bucket so Nanami doesn’t spill it while it’s full. The blonde gives him a tight-lipped smile as he grabs onto the opposite end so Ino can hold onto the other side, and the two near effortlessly lift it out of the tub. After that and another smile, Ino leaves him to himself to go check for any orders that might've been placed during last night's non-working hours. Nanami isn't anywhere near the level of floristry where he can accurately fulfill an order like that anyway, so he's just glad that Ino's there and can handle them while Nanami does the grunt work and waits for more people to come in.

Regardless, there’s no real rush to get a move-on, seeing as nobody’s exactly rushing to get flowers on a Monday at seven in the morning, so the two men work in silence while more people cycle in through the door and get clocked in. Ordered arrangements ranging from personal bouquets to larger fulfillments of wedding orders and funeral flowers are put together at the designing stations while Nanami works in the background, picking up phone calls, updating order statuses, making sure customers are tended to.

Even though it's hardly peak times, there's still far too much to do, though, and Nanami finds himself running around earlier than he'd expected himself to be. It's really a blur of things that happen once the initial line gets built up at the front of the store: foam needs to be presoaked practically every other minute, people keep needing help at the register, someone needs to sign off on a delivery, and it's usually the blonde sent off to do those things.

And, just like that, the morning has eclipsed.

Like clockwork (because, well, it is clocked work), the morning workers swap out with those who come later in the day, and this is usually when Nanami takes his lunch because there's not really any other time that's going to work. Any earlier, and there's going to be so many people coming in and out of the break room that the ambiance he needs to enjoy his meal is ruined, and any later, he'll be too full for dinner in the evening and his whole routine will be pushed back.

After grabbing his lunch from the minifridge in the break room and heating it up in the barely-working microwave, Nanami sits by himself and soaks in the quiet that's barely given to him with the thin walls and the loud chatter between some of the younger, high school-aged employees that've just clocked in after coming out of class. He almost always takes his lunch alone because everyone else orders out and Nanami doesn't quite have the budget to get takeout five days a week, but, occasionally, Ino will invite him out, and even though Nanami will only come along if there's the promise of a comfy booth to sit in and ease the pain in his feet, he usually has it in him to do that every once in a while.

Ino has class on Mondays, though, so Nanami's taking it alone today.

Again.

But that's par for the course.

He'd eat lunch alone in his old cubicle, too, and he supposes not much has changed about him in the three months since he's swapped work environments.

As he pokes at the broth-soaked rice, he leans against his palm. He hasn't got much of an appetite, what with the smell of fertilizer and sap in just the next room over, but he eats anyway because he hasn't got much of a choice in the matter. He'll get off work a bit earlier today than he did yesterday because he doesn't need to handle the bookkeeping every single day, but he knows he'll be just as tired and that he'll have to at least stay energized enough to survive the early-evening rush of less-than-respectable men who want to buy the cheapest flowers they can for their wives at home—he'd envy them if he didn't find them so deplorable.

Just as he's putting the tupperware lid over his now-emptied container, someone comes through the fabric curtain after knocking on the doorframe.

"Hey, stopping by to ask if you'd like us to bring anything back for you," Kugisaki chimes in. "We're getting dumplings from the place down the street!"

Nanami looks up at the girl from his seat and raises his hand in gentle refusal. "It's alright, thank you for offering."

"You sure? We don't mind paying, you help us with our homework all the time."

"'Us,' as in, 'you and Itadori,' don't include me in this," the younger Fushiguro scolds, passing through the break room to refill his water bottle. "Good afternoon, Nanami."

Nanami waves at him with a gentle smile. "Afternoon to you too, Fushiguro."

"Yeah, yeah, nerd, me and Itadori've got it covered," Kugisaki rolls her eyes at her friend, then turning back to address Nanami. "C'mon, you really don't want anything? They have great gyoza!"

"I'm fine, I already ate. You kids go ahead and-"

"Are we ready to go yet? I'm starving-" the pink-haired boy pauses, eyes landing on Nanami as he gets up to put his lunch container away. "Oh, hi Nanamin! Sorry I didn't greet you when I clocked in, I had to help out someone in the front."

"No worries, good afternoon."

"Hey, what'd you get on the bio test earlier?"

"Better than you, that's for sure."

"Hey! How's that possible, we used the same study guide!"

"I got help from Maki during lunch."

"No fair! I had a club meeting!"

Itadori and Kugisaki bicker between themselves as Nanami joins Fushiguro at the sink to wash his dishes, and the younger ravenette passes him the bottle of dish soap. "Here."

"Oh, thank you."

Fushiguro grabs a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe the run-off from his water bottle, frowning slightly with what looks like embarrassment. "Sorry, we'll be on our way out soon."

Nanami hums as he scrubs at the tupperware. "No rush." Not that he minds their presence in the first place, they're good kids, even if two of the three are a bit... scatterbrained.

After he gets all the leftover suds off, Nanami flicks his wrist to get off the excess water and leave it on the drying rack, and his eyes follow Fushiguro as he joins his friends at the door.

"Well, see you in a bit!"

The young man smiles gently while waving goodbye to the trio, then turning back to the sink to wash his hands. Their voices, loud and chipper as they talk amongst themselves, fade out as they leave through the back door, which closes loudly behind them.

It must be nice to be so... carefree.

Nanami dries his hands with the last bit of clean fabric of his apron, and he gets back to work.

Now that it's later in the afternoon, his tasks shift from prep and phone calls to helping out more at the front. Famously, he's never been a man of many words, but that hardly matters when customers seem to flock to him anyway for help picking out bouquets and other miscellaneous gifts to buy and bring home. He still does his fair share of running around, trying to make himself useful, but, nevertheless, to keep the rest of his colleagues from having to direct their attention to the more run-of-the-mill business when they have other, more pressing projects to take care of, Nanami keeps a smile on his face as he directs people to what he can only guess they're looking for. The younger trio come back from their meal somewhere in-between all that, and the day passes by both quickly and slowly with how much has to be done to keep the place running. He has more than enough breaks throughout the day to decompress in the freezing cold quarters, but somehow his legs are still screaming at him and he's hardly got a second to breathe meaningfully.

But, thankfully, he's not closing today, so as soon as the clock strikes a modest six in the evening, Nanami's hanging up his apron and reaching for his keys in his pocket. He waves goodbye to anyone awake enough to realize he's even leaving (which, truthfully, isn't that many people because closing really is draining enough on its own, even if it isn't so late that nobody ever really ends up staying past eight or so), and he sits in his car until he's sure he's confident enough he can drive safely and with enough feeling in his feet that he'll be able to feel the pedals.

As he's driving home, his hands drift to the twelve and seven, too lazy to keep themselves at the disciplined two and ten. His mind drifts off to think about the routine he's grown into over the past three years, more-so because there's not much else to think about, less-so because it's too daunting to think of much else while he's behind the wheel, until, just as the sun's hitting his pupils, he wonders if it'd be worth the effort to try again today—to make the quick, quiet drive over to the bakery, step out of the car, and pick out something sweet to bring home and eat with what's going to inevitably be a boring, tasteless meal.

Would it really be worth the effort?

...

Would it?

It's hard to tell. Between all the other decisions he'll have to make today, choosing from the mundane and the even more meaningless, this one thing seems to hang over him, taunting him with the promise of something too good for him and something equally not good enough for him.

He'd already been let down yesterday. His car still faintly smells of the coffee that marred his chance at something that'd make him a tiny bit happier, and he doesn't know how much more dull heartbreak he can endure. His body aches enough with the burden of work and the surreal, sinking feeling that he's doing nothing worthwhile with his life, even after putting everything on the line to change that.

At the same time, he's taken a lot; a moment more of it isn't going to hurt him anymore than not doing anything at all. He's a third of a decade into desire, and he's survived keeping the one thing he can depend on actually making him happy away at arm's length for this long.

...

Sure, then.

It'd be worth the effort.

And, just like that, as soon as he's made the decision to make the tiny detour on the way home to stop by a bakery that has no more promise than what his own imagination has given itself, that feeling is back.

He feels like he's breathing in cinnamon as he follows the curve of the road, cautious to not take such deep breaths but unable to keep in the quiet excitement. The sun glares at him through his windshield, but he can hardly feel bothered by it—he'll rue it later as he's biting into a bread bun in about a half-hour's time. The moon, present in the sky in time to kiss the sun across the clouds, looks like an almond wedding cookie, dusted and deepened with craters marked like dimples. His mouth is starting to water, and as he kisses his teeth, he can feel himself smiling.

It's almost maddening, how... easy it seems to feel happy.

Is that the right way to describe this feeling? Happiness?

It's such a fickle feeling, so easy to pull out of thin air. Practically a figment of his imagination as it stitches itself into a quilt quietly in his passenger seat.

And, like the universe wants to teach him a lesson, it's taken away from him just as suddenly.

His phone starts ringing, and, already connected to the car's sound system, Nanami sees no reason not to answer as he pulls into the adjacent parking lot for the bakery. The call's coming from his landlord, but he 

"Hello?"

The voice on the other line belongs to someone he doesn't know. "Good evening, is this Nanami?"

No reason to expect that his landlord has his contact saved when there's dozens of other tenants. "Yes, any particular reason you're calling?"

"Yes, just phoning you to let you know that your unit won't have water in about two hours or so. There's an issue with the plumbing on your floor and we have people coming to fix that soon, but it shouldn't take too long to get it resolved."

Great. That's exactly what Nanami wants to hear right now. "How long do you think it'll be out?"

"A couple hours, at most. Maybe three or four? We're really sorry, but we'll be covering the repair fee and as much of the floor's utility bill as we can for the month, so we hope it isn't too much of an inconvenience."

Well, if anything at all, at least his landlord's reasonable enough to provide adequate compensation.

He sighs as he weighs out the options he has in his head.

He can either stay here, spend the next half-hour or so getting a few pastries and breads to take home and eat in an otherwise soulless apartment, twiddling his thumbs until the water comes back on so he can shower and get the infinite layers of dirt and plantwater off his skin while he fights off sleep and exhaustion long enough to make it back to a clean bed, or, he can rush home, make dinner quickly enough to be able to have running water to even wash the dishes with before the food dries onto them, shower, and go to bed earlier than he usually does.

It's not a hard decision to make. He knows he has to choose the latter; he's too tired to wait out the repair time, and he'll just end up spread out on the floor to keep the furniture from sullying anyway and tomorrow will be made that much worse with the knowledge that he's choosing a chance at happiness over the convenience of what he knows will always work.

Still, it doesn't make it any easier.

"Hello?"

Nanami blinks himself out of his thoughts, and he clears his throat while looking around his car to make sure it's safe to back out. "Yes, I'm still here. Thank you for letting me know."

"Again, so sorry for the inconvenience, but it should be resolved soon. Let us know if you need any further assistance."

"Sure. Thank you, have a good evening."

"Thank you, you-"

Nanami hangs up before the other line can finish, and he frowns as he turns the engine back on again and puts his hand on the gear shift.

Maybe another day, then.

Maybe, then, he can forget this faint pinch at his heart that's begging to be taken care of.

🔅

Third time's the charm, people say. That, on the third go-around at something, it'll work out all fine and dandy.

Well, they're just plain wrong.

Nanami groans into the palm of his hand, head downturned and elbow digging into his chest.

"What do you mean 'closed for repairs?'" He whispers to himself.

He'd waited. He'd been patient. He'd been easy on himself. It's been three years, three months, and three days of trying to get something from this small, out-of-the-way bakery.

And, still, somehow, all that waiting has amounted to nothing.

He can feel the stares of people passing by, slowing their paces to watch him wallow in the small self-afforded agony he's ended up in. People walk around him, but he's very self-aware of the fact that he's so tall that he'll attract attention no matter what situation he's in, so he just stands firm where he is and accepts that his shame is palpable enough to be seen by strangers who've caught him in such an unfortunate state. He can't really bring himself to move out of the way, feet already at the foot of the ramp leading up to the door, so he just breathes slowly as disappoint seeps from his veins.

The sticky note hung up on the walls of his heart falls with the realization that it's about as useful as a whisk for water. It's a simple affair, one that starts and ends immediately with the event unfolding at his feet, but one that still pains him all the same.

He supposes that he can't really even be mad at anyone but himself for making it all the way out here without checking if it was even open. He'd made the decision to come out here on his day off, all other errands accounted for and completed, on a complete whim, so it's really his fault that he wasn't careful enough in planning the one thing he's actually been trying to do for the last 

He's not even sure why he's so fixated on making this happen right soon. It seems like, for so long, it'd escaped his mind—the desire to explore the bare remnants of what he remembers making him happy—and, now, he can't find himself to commit to anything else.

Is he such a failure that he can't even do this one thing right?

He knows he'll have to move out of the way and go home at some point. There's nothing he can do other than admit defeat.

There's no fanfare. No parade to tell him that he's at least tried. Not like he even really wants there to be one, but what's there to even accompany the effort he's put into the very simple, asinine. meaningless desire to get something from this bakery?

...

Can he really even call it effort?

All he has to show for this desire is a spilled coffee stain on his car console, a new stitch on his shirt, and uncomfortably pitiful looks from what feels like the entire population of this wretched city.

...

Well, that's alright.

He hasn't got much to show for anything else, anyway. This can't shake him; he won't let it.

If nothing else, he has enough hope that things will sort themselves out, and he'll get what he wants one day. That's what he's banking on with every other aspect of his life, anyway.

That, maybe, one day, he'll get to try something from here.

His feet move on their own, dragging him back to his car and through a sea of bodies he know are judging him. But he'll find himself here again, under better circumstances, someday later. Even if it isn't true, he has to tell himself that to keep at least something in his life worth moving on for.

That, maybe, one day, he'll change enough to be okay with disruptions to his routine.

He clicks on the ignition in his car after gingerly putting on his seatbelt, and he hooks his arm over onto the backside of his passenger side headrest to back out the parking space. His foot hovers over the brake pedal until he's fully matched up with the mirrors of the cars next to him, and he just about runs off when he's shifted into drive. He isn't sure how to get to the next place he needs to go to avoid traffic and construction work on the road, and it's working up enough of a sweat to think that this is yet another thing that's off about his day, as if it isn't already enough as it is. But, someday later, he'll be better at not feeling this way. Even if isn't true, he has to tell himself that to not let the feeling regress into a scarier apathy towards change.

That, maybe, one day, he'll be able to face himself at the end of the day with the thought that what he's doing with his life is worth not being able to enjoy a piece of bread he can't be sure is even good until then.

He makes it back to the apartment, cleans up around the place, makes a tasteless dinner for one, takes a shower that's too long. He's worked all day today, so it's fine that he stands under the running, steaming water for a near-hour, wishing he could be anyone else, anywhere else. He slips into bed, hair still wet because he doesn't care enough to wait for it to dry, and he stares up at the ceiling to pray that sleep will come fast enough to give him an out in having to think about what he's really doing with his life. But, someday later, this won't be the case, and he knows he can finally watch the stars without shame on his balcony. Even if it isn't true, he has to tell himself that to not feel so ashamed about not being able to have the one thing in life he thinks could complete him.

That, maybe, one day, he'll be happy.

He'll come home at the end of the day to a home, well-loved and filled with pastries afforded by the wealth of a career he knows he's allowed to be proud of. His feet will not ache, he won't wish for something he doesn't know he wants, and he can sleep at night knowing that there's more to life than the mundane and the meaningless. Even if it isn't true, he has to tell himself this so he has something to hold onto. What else is there to drive him? He's already trialed the life he dreamt of, and that wasn't enough, so this lie has to be.

Yeah, one day he'll have the world, and he'll be content.

One day.

🔅

(next update will be sep 14! thank you for reading :D)

[rosie-rosem]

let me in?

❥ pairing: nonidol!coldclassmate!jungwon x bubbly!fem!reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff, highschool!au, unrequited love > requited love

❥ summary: jungwon... the cold-hearted boy at your school who doesn't care about anyone and is just pure cold. no one has been able to make him soft hearted that is, until you, (maybe) a transfer student. will you manage to steal his cold heart?

❥ warnings: mention of food, mention of being ignored, grammar mistakes, not proofread!!!, let me know if I forgot something!

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

WC: 2k

A/N: hi! sorry for getting this out like way later than I thought I would! :( I meant to finish it up earlier in the week, but I kept getting caught up with things. sorry bout that! anyways, I really hope you enjoy this won fic, although his character isn't very accurate, I still hope you enjoy! <3

"Hi Jungwon!" You walk up to him. He turned to look at you coldly "what do you want?" He replied. "Why so cold" You scolded teasingly. "I just wanted to say Hi." You smiled.

"Well don't. You annoy me" He pushed you away with his cold and indifferent attitude. "Tch, fine then. I’ll be back though!" You gave another smile. He turned back to his phone ignoring you as though you didn't even exist.

You sighed. "Just wait Jungwon, I’m determined to persue you!" You whispered to yourself and smiled in confidence.

Eventually, it was Lunch time "Hey Jungwon!" You say, sitting at his table. He gives no response, his earbuds were in, blocking any sort of noise from his surroundings. He was reading something on his phone and seemed too busy to notice you in the slightest.

You tap the table in front of him to get his attention. "whatchya doing?" You ask. He sighed and took out his earbuds. "What?" He had the most bored and annoyed tone in his voice. "What are you doing?" You repeated, tilting your head with a smile*

"Reading?" He responded sarcastically. "Do you have nothing to do? You annoy me, go away." He put his earbuds back in trying to read in peace.

"This might be harder than i thought." You said to yourself, sighing.

The boy looked up from his phone again, clearly getting more annoyed by the minute just by seeing you. "You're really testing my patience here. Why don't you just shut up and leave me alone?" He spoke.

"Hey, that’s not very nice!" You said teasingly, still trying to keep up a good mood. "I don't care whether it's nice or not, I just want to be left alone, is that too much to ask?" He snapped back in a tone which showed that he was losing more patience.

You sighed before giving a little sad smile. "Okay…see you around Jungwon!" You waved as you left. "No, please don't see me again." He said before putting his earbuds back in and started reading again, not paying any attention to you whatsoever.

"Tch." You bit your lip at his response. "What do I do…" You sighed once more before leaving him alone after realizing you were really bothering his reading.

Eventually class and the period ended, your classmates began to leave the classroom and Jungwon stood up, putting his books and phone away in his backpack.

You walked up to Jungwon. "that was an interesting lesson wasn’t it?" You spoke out. He Jumped back slightly, startled by your sudden presence. He sighed and rolled his eyes giving you a look of wondering what you wanted. "Yeah it was great..." He said, being sarcastic. He clearly just wanted to be left alone.

You laughed at his sarcasm. "I can't believe you think I'm funny" He said in an annoyed tone still, you got under his skin with that laugh. "oh, we’ll yeah…" You replied.

"Whatever" He started walking to his next class, putting in his earbuds once again. He wasn't interested in talking to anyone and certainly didn't want anyone to talk to him, so he did what came easily to him, he pushed everyone away and tried to ignore their existence. You sighed, slightly frowning.

Later that day, at home, you were laying on your bed and were talking to your older sister. "Eonni, what do I do, the boy I like seems to want no interest in me what’s so ever, but I really like him…" You pouted at the reoccurring thought.

Your sister thinks to herself for a moment. "You've got to give him a dose of his own medicine, fight him with his own tactics." She speaks. "What do you mean by that? You ask, sitting up.

"Well, you know how cold and apathetic he is? You need to be cold towards him, try ignoring him and pushing him away." She explains, hoping to help you. You bit your lip before smiling. yeah, okay! I’ll try that. thanks, Eonni!" you say, "Good luck" she said, smiling back at you..

The next day at school.

Jungwon was walking down the hallways when he felt someone push past him, turning to look at who it was, he could see that it was you and you were now standing there staring right at him. "What? you. you're walking in my way." You said coldly to him.

"What do you want? Can't you just leave me alone?" He grumbled, annoyed at your sudden appearance once again. You just rolled my eyes before continuing to walk past him.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, you had finally got the point, he had thought you were never going to shut up and leave him alone but finally, it had happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and kept on walking, going to his next class.

You sighed. "Is it working?" You thought.

He seemed less irritated, and he was leaving you alone like you asked, so it must have been. But was this tactic the right move to take?

Jungwon continued on with his day. Walking through the halls, going to his classes, not even acknowledging anyone's existence. He was minding his own business, and no one should bother him as far as he was concerned.

You were eating your lunch peacefully, alone.

He came into the cafeteria, looking for a place to sit by himself so he can eat in peace. He walked around a bit, looking for any empty table. Unfortunately, all the tables in the cafeteria are filled, which means he has to sit next to a stranger. He sighed with a bit of annoyances, and then he saw it, you were sitting alone at a table, he decides that sitting near your is the best option he has.

Suddenly Jungwon sat across from you, and you felt shocked but kept your cool in front of him. You just looked at him quickly before continuing eating your food. He stared at you with his cold, piercing gaze and then started eating his own food.

"What?" He asked, annoyed. It was clear that he didn't like that he had to sit across fromyou, but it wasn't like he had any other choice.

You ignored his question and just kept eating, not looking at him again. He was very annoyed and wanted to say something, he just knew he shouldn't.

He finished his food quickly and put his dishes in the basket that was on top of the table. He put his trash in the bin and then started walking out of the cafeteria. Not even acknowledging your existence once, ignoring anything and everything about you, but he was still a little bit irritated by the he had to sit across from you.

You pouted. "Nothing's working" you said to yourself.

The next day

Jungwon was sitting at his desk in his homeroom class, not paying attention to the teacher or his classmates. Just looking at his phone and thinking about nothing in particular.

You sat by the window, letting the cool breeze blow on your face. but you soon got quite sleepy and began dozing off.

He soon noticed you out of the corner of his eye, your head resting against the glass of the window seat. You seemed to be asleep. He just let out a small sigh. "How annoying..." He muttered under his breath, annoyed that someone was once again bothering him.

You slept peacefully, until you felt a presence near...

"Y/N!" The teacher yelled your name, causing you to wake up but also causing your fellows classmates heads to turn towards you.

Jungwon watched this, his expression blank and emotionless as usual but he was definitely annoyed. He rolled his eyes at the annoyance.

Meanwhile, everyone started talking amongst themselves and laughing. He turned his music up slightly, trying to drown out the noise around him.

"Will you please pay attention? this isn’t time for you to nap!" The teacher scolded. You bowed in apologies.

Jungwon shook his head and sighed. He continued to listen to music as the teacher lectured the rest of the class on how they need to focus.

You tapped Jungwons shoulder. "What are you listening to?" You whispered while smiling to him. He jumped slightly, startled by the sudden touch on his shoulder, he took out his ear buds from his ears and looked you. "How can anyone be so loud?" He mumbled in annoyance, putting his ear buds back in and turning away from you.

You sighed. "my bad…" You pouted as you turned my attention back to the teacher.

You could tell by his cold expression that he was annoyed at you. It really isn't good to bother someone who just wants to be left alone. He was fed up with people constantly bothering him. He wanted to be left alone and the only person who bothered him today was you, and now he's very close to having the urge to push you away. But he didn't because he doesn't want to be that rude.

He sat back, still not looking at you, and continued to ignore your existence as he listened to his music. You also decided to ignore him the rest of the day, not wanting to deal with his cold attitude*

A week later, you gave him a bit of time to cool off. So, you finally decided it was time to confess your feelings to him.

He was walking to his next class, heading down the hallway when he heard a voice behind him call out to him. He rolled his eyes and turned around, only to see you. You seemed nervous but also excited, he could tell that something important was coming up.

"What, now?" He said, he was annoyed but not showing any emotions. He was fed up, he just wanted to be left alone, why was it so hard for you to get that?

"I just wanted to tell you something..." You looked up at him with a soft, shy smile. "Oh really?" He said in a slightly mocking tone, clearly not very interested in your conversation but he still raised an eyebrow but looked down at you, waiting to hear what this "something" was.

You bit your lip in nervousness. "I like you…" You confessed.

Jungwon stared at you for a moment, his expression confused. He seemed to be processing your confession, his cold exterior making it difficult to gauge his true feelings. Finally, he let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "You like me?" he repeated, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Why?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I don't know. There's just something about you that intrigues me. I see past your cold exterior, Jungwon. I believe there's more to you than what meets the eye." you explained.

His gaze softened slightly, though he tried to hide it. "You think you can change me or something?" He asked with a bit of a harsh yet confused tone.

You shook your head. "No, that's not what I mean. I just want to understand you, to be there for you if you'll let me. I want to know the real you." You say

Jungwon's eyes flickered with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. He remained silent for a while, contemplating your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. But I'm not an easy person to be around. I've been hurt before, and I've built these walls to protect myself." He says.

"I understand," you replied softly. "But everyone deserves a chance at happiness, Jungwon. Including you." You gave a smile.

He looked at you, his guarded expression slowly softening. "You don't give up, do you?" He asked. You smiled warmly. "Not when it comes to something or someone I truly believe in." You let out a soft giggle in responce.

Jungwon let out a small chuckle, a genuine glimmer of amusement crossing his face. "You're something else, L/n Y/n." He says.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "So, will you give me a chance, Jungwon? Will you let me in?" You ask. He stared into your eyes, the coldness replaced by a hint of vulnerability. After a moment of silence, he nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll give you a chance. But don't expect it to be easy."

You nodded back, determination shining in your eyes. "I wouldn't want it any other way." You gave a bright smile.

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

Well, Thats it. I really hope you enjoyed! Also, thanks for the love on my other posts! <333

© rosie-rosem

[mariabtsos]

One That I Want ||M.YG|| Chapter 11: I'll show you.

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Description: It is summer of 1956, and leader of the T-Birds Yoongi is working at a food joint at the beach to make extra money over the summer, when he meets a pretty girl. They start a summer fling that unfortunately had to come to an end, but an unexpected turn of events will bring them back together.

Genre: 1950s au, angst, fluff, some smut, Greaser!Yoongi x Square/Goody-Two-Shoes!OC.

TW: underage drinking and smoking, sexual content, violence, misogyny (it’s the 1950s so peak macho man era).

Word Count: 1.4k+

The guys were over it, they were over the solemn mood their leader had brought over the group. They had just come back from spring break and they had barely heard anything from him, they’d hung out occasionally here and there, but he’d basically been MIA. It had all gone downhill a few months back with the last home soccer game for their school.

Once again, some of them needed to go and get proof of them being there for extra credit, they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy this sport, some of them had even been a part of the team at some point in time, but their dislike for the team captain was greater than their love for soccer. Yoongi wasn’t very interested at all at first, whilst the others basically cheered at good passes and all the shots taken by the players.

“Hyung, come on! Why are you acting so low?” Jimin asked, sitting back down after the latest attempt at a goal by the opposite team.

“You know how I feel about Kim Taehyung, I’m only here for you nosebleeds,” he took out a cigarette from the packet he was holding, placing it between his lips and lighting it.

“You’re being such a wet rag hyung, that stupid foreigner ruined you, I mean you were the talk of the town and now everyone thinks-”

Yoongi didn’t let Hobi finish his statement, getting up quickly and coming up awfully close to him. Yoongi knew in a sense that Hobi was right, Lottie had ruined him, why couldn’t she be like every other broad and just be happy that he wanted to give her the time of day? He had so many chicks throwing themselves at him every day. Sure, he’d been through all of them, and they were grody and easy, but they wanted him, they were giving him a shot, why couldn’t she give him one? It didn’t matter, he still didn’t like the way Hobi had put down about her.

“Don’t talk about her, at all, Hoseok,” the younger shivered at the use of his legal name, his lips zipping as fast as they had been loose spewing all that crap about Lottie.

“Speak of the Devil,” Jin spoke next, after a beat or two of silence from the group, Yoongi turned around, looking for whatever it was that he was referring to.

Lottie

There she was, in her cute paper shaker uniform, with a bright smile and a high pony. Her skin looked so radiant against the golden hour sun. Yoongi felt his heart falter, the pain from her rejection all that time ago clawing its way back up his ticker. He wished so badly he could go back to the summertime and tell her the truth. How would she have reacted? Would she accept him the way he was — hell the way he is — would she have laughed at his face for even trying to talk to her? She did seek you out first, she came back after you closed that day, his brain spewed out, but that didn’t matter, not one bit, especially not when the final whistle went off and he saw the bane of his existence running toward her. Taehyung picked her up in a tight hug and spun her around, Yoongi looked up and realized their school’s team had won. She was laughing the whole time, at least that's what it looked like from the back of the bleachers.

And then it happened, he kissed her.

Yoongi’s blood boil seeing Lottie like this, letting herself be kissed by a man that wasn’t himself, but that did not compare to the next thing that happened.

“Holy shit, Tae jacketed her?” Jimin exclaimed. The whole group watched as the team captain helped you into his letterman jacket, Yoongi was sure if he tightened his fists anymore his nails would pierce through the skin of his palm and bleed.

“I’m leaving, Namjoon, make sure everyone makes it home safe,” their leader mumbled and walked off, leaving the venue before he could be seen by the girl who’d stolen his heart and completely fucked with his daily routine.

Taehyung is a wonderful and smart young man, what have you ever done?

Lottie’s words rang loudly in his ears as he waited outside the office, was he truly going to do this? All for a chick that had done nothing but treat him like gutter trash ever since they saw each other again? Who was he kidding, it was mostly his fault, he treated her lousy first, he’d been a phony first. Even if this wasn’t for her, at least this could be for himself, he did want to be something more than a greaser eventually, and he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t afford to go to school after he graduated.

“Min Yoongi?” Coach Bang looked entirely too confused seeing him there. Yoongi put on his charm right away.

“Hey coach, I wanna do a sport,” he half smiled.

“Is this some sorta joke? Where’s the rest of your gang? Are you gonna to pie me again?” the affable man looked around in concern. Admittedly, Yoongi chuckled a bit, remembering the prank his friends and himself had pulled on the man two years ago.

“No coach, I genuinely want to be a part of something,” Yoongi said, trying to sound sincere, and although Coach Bang still looked skeptical, he ended up nodding and pointing towards the gym’s locker room doors. “Well, if you really want this the first thing you gotta do is change,” the older man stated, they stopped in front of one of the many lockers as he looked through his comically large key ring.

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m here to do,” Yoongi put his hand on the coach’s shoulder, the aforementioned looking a little weirded out by the action, “to change…”

Coach Bang stared at him for a little longer before looking back down at his key ring, picking out a key and opening the locker they were standing in front of, “I meant your clothes,” he pointed at the locker, which had a few different sets of sporty clothes, “Hopefully some of these should be your size, change and come meet at the baseball court,” Yoongi nodded and the coach walked off, leaving him alone to wonder if he still had time to leave.

Yoongi truly didn’t think of himself as someone with a short temper, realistically he had a lot of patience, his cousin Jungkook could attest to that, he’d never once yelled at him, not even when he broke his favorite guitar.

But these jocks? Yoongi was sure he was close to having a bad hissy fit, he was ready to beat them into the pavement actually.

Baseball did not go well, coach set him up to bat, and every single time he missed, and the catcher was throwing so many insults each time. He’d heard the others call him Haechan, “this fucking greaser can’t even fucking hit one,” he’d yelled at the pitcher, and that caused Yoongi to turn around, grab at his mask, pull it and let it go, and if coach wasn’t there he would’ve given him a knuckle sandwich. Then he had him try wrestling, he paired him with this guy named Matthew, according to coach they called him Big Matthew, and Yoongi immediately knew he was not going to have a good time, Matthew probably thought of his attempts as a panic-and-a-half. Every single time he’d given up, until he got tired of doing that, so he pulled Matthew’s pants down, revealing his pink p.e. shorts, and the latter almost put him in a real choke hold, but coach stepped in and took him away, apologizing to Matthew on his behalf.

He finally let him try basketball… And boy did he excel. He moved through his seasoned players like it was nothing, assisting the team he’d been assigned to and even scoring a few three pointers himself. “Well I’ll be damned son! Did you know you set a new school record? You scored that first basket faster than any other player I’ve seen!” the man fawned over Yoongi’s skills, “are there any other secret skills you have?”

“I can run pretty fast,” and that’s how Yoongi ended up in both the basketball AND track and field team. Later on, as he left the gym after talking about the details with coach Bang, he saw Lottie and Taehyung down the hall. Lottie was leaning against a locker, she held her hands together behind her back, and Taehyung had one hand on her waist and the other next to her head. 

“You’ll see what I have done,” he whispers, walking out of the closest door available to him. He would make her look at him the way she looked at Taehyung right now.

[bmodiwrites]

Give Me Your Hand (& I'll Hold it)

Hi friends! I'm back with another 5(+1) with hand holding at the helm. I'm really excited for this one because Birdy's People Help the People got to be played on repeat as I wrote. This one has some angst, some fluff, and the patented bmodi happy ending. You can read the first section below and the rest over on AO3! Like, reblog, and let me know what you think!!!

The dust of a school bus pulling out of the parking lot makes Eddie sneeze. He’s brushing the back of his hand across his nose when the reality of his situation hits him. Even at 7, Eddie understands the concept of being pawned off. Usually his parents drop him on Uncle Wayne’s doorstop, only returning to pick him up three months later. This summer, however, Eddie is stuck at sleep away camp, bound to be forgotten amongst the masses.

He put up quite the fight in order to stay home for the summer, Eddie is at least proud of that. Even if he’s just hanging out in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie is amongst the creature comforts he’s come to know. He can practice acoustic guitar and read the nickel comics Wayne has stashed away. Instead, Eddie’s fated to perish in the heat (or under the weight of someone’s fist) at some lame summer camp made for social kids interested in singing kumbaya and playing every sport known to man.

Dread settles a little further in his stomach when Eddie realizes that almost everyone else seems to know each other. There aren’t any other stragglers like himself hanging out at the back of the group. Hugs and exclamations of excitement ring in Eddie’s ears. For the first time, probably ever, he’s happy to be called to attention by someone in charge. Glorious silence radiates for a moment before a high pitched voice starts to talk all about Camp Silver Lake.

Dissatisfaction sits in the back of Eddie’s head throughout the hours that follow. First, he’s stuffed into a camp uniform that doesn’t have a single stitch of black on it. The bright sun he can see out of the corner of his eye every time he takes a step makes Eddie want to rip the stupid shirt to threads. Soon after that, Eddie finds himself in a cabin with 11 other boys who all know each other and look at him with disdain. Whatever hopes he has of making it out of the summer alive dwindle down to nothing by the time everyone is unpacked and projecting their hostile energy towards the obvious odd man out.

Things get even worse when his cabin is led down to the water. Eddie isn’t the strongest swimmer – he’s much more of an inside kid than one that spends days out by the pool. He adamantly avoided the chance to swim at Wayne’s house last summer because chlorine made him itchy. Despite the lake before him lacking in chemicals, Eddie knows he’s going to have to find a way to not make a fool out of himself. He has to swim or the summer is going to be a long one.

After a long lecture about water safety and instructions about what’s going to happen during the swim test, Eddie stands in line behind excited sheep who boast and brag about their accomplishments throughout the year. Eddie is too busy worrying about not drowning to pay attention to who won what medal or stole some stupid base. His anxiety crawls up higher around him with each person that completes the task. Eddie is getting closer to that point where there’s no turning back.

He wishes so desperately that he was brave enough to stand up for himself and run the hell away.

That’s not who Eddie is, however. Deep down, right in the bottom pit of his belly, there’s a part of Eddie that wants to fit in. No matter how hard he struggles against the norm, Eddie’s feelings hurt worse when it becomes apparent that he’s not even close to baseline and everyone around him knows it.

With only two people before him, Eddie is starting to realize that must be his lot in life – he’s bound to be the boy everyone laughs at for being a weirdo.

Seconds away from spiraling completely, Eddie startles at the feeling of a hand reaching out to grab at his own. He turns to tell whoever decided to encroach upon his personal space off but stops before words can leave his mouth.

Being so young, Eddie doesn’t understand the warm flash of heat that fills his chest upon first looking at this random little boy. He’s not sure why the kid is there but he already feels better knowing someone in this scary group of people has a heart. Instead of lashing out, Eddie squeezes the clammy hand holding his. It’s comfort enough to stop the mental breakdown Eddie seemed to be heading for.

“It’s okay, I was scared my first summer here, too. Once you get this over with, the rest of camp is a lot of fun. We’ll get to do whatever we want,” the boy says with a gap toothed grin. He looks like the type of person who fits in with the group, not abnormal like Eddie – yet, he’s kind enough to include Eddie in the mix, too. Whoever this person is, he’s a conundrum Eddie can’t help but be interested in.

Eddie is quick to learn that his savior is Steve Harrington, a boy who also lives in Hawkins. He chats amicably while they wait in line, all while holding Eddie’s hand. There’s never a moment where that sweaty grip loosens or comes close to leaving Eddie behind. It’s beautiful in the sense that Eddie forgets where he is and why he was nervous in the first place.

Getting to the front of the line a few minutes later, all of Eddie’s apprehension returns. He’s working on letting go of Steve so he can grow up and make something of himself when that happy voice sounds in his ears again. “I’ll go first. Watch me, Eddie – I’ll show you how.”

Without waiting an extra beat, Steve turns and runs the last couple of steps so he can catapult himself into the water cannonball style. As the water comes up around him, Eddie feels something inside him shift. The little boy afraid to be around other people is replaced by someone who’s cool enough to be that crazy kid’s friend. Knowing Steve’s got his back, Eddie feels like he can do anything.

Like, pass the swimming test with flying colors.

After he gets out of the water and dries off, Steve is right back by his side, grinning like a loon. “See? Easy-peasy.” Steve holds his hand out for a high five and keeps it there until Eddie gets with the program and finally slaps him a bit of skin.

That little handshake becomes regular for them as they spend the rest of camp revolving around each other. Eddie is attached to Steve’s hip, following him around like the lost puppy he is. When they’re approached about it, Steve happily goes on about how Eddie is his best friend.

It’s nice, having someone there for him, though not meant to last. Even Eddie at 7 knows that.

Read the rest over on AO3!

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

[zero-to-zero-to-zero-again]

Ophidiophobia (3)

Part One Part Two

Word Count: 1,934

TW's: Unintentional Fearplay, Angst, Fear of Death, Profanity, Mild Gore, Injury, Calling A Person An "It", Panic Attacks

Characters: C!Tommy, C!Wilbur

Summary: Tommy's one safeguard was his wings. if all else failed, he could fly to safety. But they're out of commission. And the naga's closeby.

Was there any better way to spell fucked than T-O-M-M-Y? That's all he was. He'd managed to drag himself away but he didn't get far. He couldn't. His wings were a wreck, his body was even worse for wear, and his legs hurt too much to even attempt to run again.

The telltale sound of a tail sliding across the forest floor made his stomach do a record setting amount of backflips. He pressed a hand to his lips as though quieting his breathing would somehow save his life. Rough bark dug into his back as he pressed himself flatter against the trunk.

The sounds ceased.

Did the naga give up? Did it know where he was but was planning on waiting him out? Was it-

"I told you to sit," Wilbur said. He didn't sound happy. Well, he never really did, but now he sounded super not happy. Tommy looked up to find the naga towering straight over him.

"W-why would I listen to you?" Tommy forced out between shuddering breaths. He hugged his knees up close to his chest. The naga let out a heavy sigh. Tommy winced as it lowered its torso to the ground.

"I'm older than you. I'm bigger than you. And..."

Tommy braced himself for whatever was coming after that "and". It couldn't possibly be anything good. Wilbur laid propped up by his elbows against the forest floor. A clawed finger poked one of Tommy's ragged wings. He yelped.

"...you're hurt," Wilbur finally finished.

Tommy hadn't expected to be chastised like that. He honestly hadn't expected to survive this long when he finally went toe-to-toe with the naga.

"Leave me alone," Tommy whined.

"No. Unlike you, I don't abandon my friends."

Friends? Were they friends? Sure, they'd been hanging out for a couple weeks but that was different. That was when Tommy was safely out of reach and this thing was always a good ten feet away from him.

Fingers roughly his size reached for him.

"S-stop!" Tommy exclaimed. He weakly batted at the digits to no avail. He blinked away the black spots dancing around the edges of his vision. "Don't touch me d...dickhead."

Wilbur didn't listen. Tommy's arms were pinned at his sides as he was unceremoniously lifted off the ground. He tried to flail his feet but he was practically drained of all fight. There was no telling how long he'd been running for. He just wanted it all to end.

The fingers gripping him were warm. Too warm. Tommy didn't like this. He half expected to be lifted up to the naga's mouth but was instead simply held there. He twitched in the uncomfortable grip, elbows digging into his sides.

"You're hurting me," he mumbled deliriously. It wasn't like it would come as a shock to the snake that its malicious actions were having a negative result on its prey. Wilbur didn't say a word. He simply shifted his hold, spilling Tommy into an open palm and keeping him there within a cage of fingers.

The naga didn't go far. If it did, Tommy didn't really remember the journey. He ended up leaning against the very fingers holding him captive in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. The warm, squishy flesh was replaced by cool, hard stone. He blinked drowsily at the snake.

Tommy won whatever staring contest the two had going for a handful of seconds as the naga turned its attention to something Tommy couldn't quite see.

"I've still got big plans. So many places to see. So many wives to have," Tommy slurred.

"Is that so?" Wilbur muttered. He fished through an assortment of different collections from his hoard.

"Yeah. So don't kill me."

Wilbur froze. He grimaced, blanching at the bird hybrid's words.

"Why would I do that?" he demanded.

Was this a trick question?

"You killed that rabbit."

"You're not a rabbit."

The silence that hung over them was heavy. Wilbur raked his fingers through his chestnut curls.

"I'm not going to apologize for eating things that I need to eat, Tommy. Rabbits don't talk. They don't follow me around or tell me all about their little misadventures or nap with me by the pond. If I ever find a rabbit that fits that criteria, I'll save it from a lynx, too."

Tommy didn't quite know how to respond to that. He blamed the murkiness of his mind on the bloodloss but he was starting to think that even a completely sober brain wouldn't afford him the words he was looking for.

Tommy winced as the naga pressed something cold to his shoulder. With one hand keeping him still and the other pressing something on him, Tommy was faced with far more hands on him than he would have ever wanted.

"Hey, Wilbur?" Tommy muttered.

"Hm?"

Wilbur paused to look at the winged boy just in time to see his eyes roll back in his head.

...

"Wha-what's-where-"

"Tommy, go back to sleep."

"I'm-"

"Fine. You're fine."

"...mmkay."

...

Tommy's head was throbbing. The world around him was a blur as he blinked away the heavy fog of grogginess. He massaged his temples between his thumbs. What sort of bender had he gone on last night? He squinted to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. He didn't remember falling asleep under a canopy of twisted branches.

Maybe it was only then that he registered the rhythmic sounds of breathing nearby.

All at once, the memories came rushing back. His heart stuttered to a halt in his chest. If he was here, where was-

There. Right in front of him, the naga laid there in a blissful slumber with his head resting between his folded arms. Tommy's every instinct begged him to escape. He stood up as silently as possible, wincing as pain zipped through his body in bolts.

The only real way out was through the opening in the shelter. To get to that, he'd have to evade the many coils of brassy scales wound loosely around him. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he could just fly over them.

He tentatively unfolded his wings from his back. Bad idea. Terrible idea, even. He let out a cry as his vision flashed white. He shoved his fist into his mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the sound. A horrible aching sensation coursed through his back.

The tail shifted around him. He dared to slowly turn around to find two glittery, gold eyes bearing down on him. The naga regarded him with a tired expression. He braced his cheek against his fist, propping his elbow up on the ground.

Tommy took a wary step back. Shit.

"How are you feeling?" Wilbur asked, drowsily wiping the sands of sleep from his eyes. Tommy formed a few different words with his mouth but none of them ever left his lips. Wilbur's eyes narrowed. "Are you actually awake this time?"

Clawed fingers reached for him. Tommy snapped out of whatever trance he'd allowed himself to get caught in. He leapt back, effectively bumping straight into the first ring of coils around him. His hands slipped against the cool, glassy scales as he struggled to find purchase.

"I'm awake! Very much awake. Never been awaker," he insisted.

"Calm down. You're going to jostle your injuries," Wilbur said with a roll of his eyes.

Calm down? Calm down?

"There's a giant fucking snaking man holding me hostage! What do you expect me to do? Sit down and meditate?" Tommy demanded.

"I'm not holding you hostage," Wilbur said simply.

"Then move."

"No."

Tommy's emotions had gone from terror to incredulity to pure wrath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Wilbur only tilted his head.

"If you can't vault a few coils, how could you possible think that you're well enough to go running around all on your own?" the naga inquired.

That...ugh, if there was one thing worse than a cocky bitch, it was a cocky bitch who-for all their cocky bitchiness-made some semblance of sense.

"So you're just going to keep me here? It could take ages for my wing to heal," Tommy groaned. He went to move his wings a bit more for emphasis to find them restricted. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder to find frayed, beige fabric tied snugly over his injured wing.

"No, you can leave the burrow. You're just not leaving my sight," Wilbur said as though it were a perfectly normal thing to say.

Tommy chewed at his lower lip.

"And then when I get better, you'll let me leave your territory?"

Wilbur studied him in consideration. Tommy could practically see the "no" hovering on his lips but the fact that he seemed at least a little bit conflicted gave him a foolishly substantial amount of hope.

"Well, once you've got your wings back, I won't be able to stop you, will I?"

Not...exactly the answer that Tommy wanted to hear. Better than an admission to planning on keeping him captive, though. Or, maybe that was Wilbur's way of telling him he was still going to be held hostage? Tommy's head spun with all the information he was taking in.

Wilbur had bandaged the worst of his wounds and, from the looks of it, cleared away most of the dirt caked on his skin. That said, Wilbur was planning on shadowing him all hours of the day until he was healed up, which could be anywhere from weeks to months. So for weeks, a giant naga would be slinking after him. And he wouldn't be able to get away.

The walls of the burrow were slowly closing in around him. Try as he might to keep his breathing steady, there wasn't enough oxygen in the air to keep his lungs functional. Trembling fingers clutched the messy fabric over his chest. Maybe he'd take a second to catch his breath once the room stop spinning.

Tears numbly spilled down his cheeks.

He didn't even register the fingers closing in around him until the touch had retreated.

His ragged breathing gradually steadied as the outside world came into focus around him. The breeze in his hair, the sun on his face, the grass beneath his feet; all elements that sang, "freedom" into his ringing ears.

He swiped the tear stains from his cheeks with a sniffle. He turned to find Wilbur still laying in the burrow, an unreadable expression flickering across his sharp features.

"I didn't...say any of that to scare you, Tommy," he began. His words faltered. Like he didn't know which ones to say. "I'm...worried...about you. I don't like seeing you hurt. You...can leave when you're better. I just wish you'd say goodbye this time."

Tommy only gawked at him a moment. Wilbur's usually unwavering gaze darted between Tommy and nothing in particular in the distance. Tommy blew out a heavy breath. Whatever happened to the days where Wilbur was convinced that Tommy was obsessed with him?

"Just...stay back a little bit, big man. You're fucking massive," Tommy relented.

The corners of Wilbur's lips twitched up. Tommy got the strangest feeling that was the closest thing he'd ever gotten to a smile. Wilbur only nodded, retreating a little further into the burrow in good faith.

"Thanks," Tommy laughed, despite himself. He dusted himself off, taking a moment to stretch out his weary limbs. He took a few experimental steps forward before checking over his shoulder. The naga hadn't so much as budged but his eyes were still glued to Tommy's every movement. The boy sighed with a shake of his head. "Bitch."

[neolovesneo]

boyfriend!yangyang × fem reader angst & fluff where they have their first argument, and not talk for days but make up in the end with kisses and cuddles :)

Thank you so much, hope u have a great day/night <33

SECOND OPTION.

boyfriend!yangyang | fluff & angst | boyfriend au

note ; tysm for requesting anon! im so embarrassed and sorry that this took so long,, and i hope u dont mind me adding them crying while making up! i hope u like it! :) + mentions of wayv's xiaojun <3 + the ending sounds suggestive but istg its not okay they just kiss 😠 + requests are closed!

note 2; uhhh also i never expected this to get so long... almost 1.8k words... like?????? WHO AM I AND WHAT IS THIS CAPABILITY I HAVE

Maybe if you tiptoed to look over the crowd with your eyes squinted just a bit more, you'd be able to see YangYang.

He would be rushing in through the crowd, bucket of caramel popcorn in one hand while the other held a large soda - his favorite.

He would be dressed in his usual all-black hoodie and skinny jeans outfit, dark blonde hair bouncing up and down as he'd race over to your side.

He would apologize for being so late, soft kisses pressed all over your cheeks while he squeezes you in one of his tight hugs.

He would, right?

"Ma'am, the movie is starting in less than a minute. You should enter the cinema right now." The usher urges, interrupting you out of your thoughts. "I can direct your friend into the cinema when he arrives later." He continues to offer, trying to be as helpful as possible.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you shake your head. "It's alright." you mutter, a smile in sad disbelief forming on your lips. He watches on in surprise as you rip the tickets into shreds and toss them into a nearby bin.

"He's not coming anyway."

. . .

It was something that seemed to be happening more often these days. Just last week, YangYang didn't show up on your roller-skating date. The week before that, he didn't show up on your lunch date either.

The reason?

He forgot.

That seemed to be happening more often too.

Maybe it was the concerning amount of energy drinks he was consuming. Or maybe it was the also concerning amounts of time he was spending at the internet café, gaming away with his friends.

Whatever it was, it was starting to get on your nerves. The fact that he was the one who planned all these dates doesn't help either. YangYang also seems to think a simple, "Oh, sorry! I forgot. I'll make it up to you next time, I promise." is enough of an apology.

It's not.

. . .

"Had fun gaming today?"

YangYang looks up from his phone at your voice, seeing you sitting on the couch. Your expression gives nothing away; to him it just seems like it's going to be another ordinary conversation between the two of you.

"Yeah!" he replies cheerfully, kicking his shoes off by the door and walking in. "I managed to attack the opponent's base in like, what, five minutes? I also won over Xiaojun and ascended four ranks."

Your boyfriend's tone is laced with pride and joy while he remains oblivious to the way you're burning up on the inside with anger.

"Really?" You question dryly, teeth gritted with a strained smile. "Didn't you have any... appointments or dates to go to today?"

He stops scrolling through his phone to glance at you, and for a slight moment, you think he's going to remember - but that's a bit of a high expectation for a boyfriend who's been forgetting about his plans with you for weeks.

"Nope. Didn't have anything going on today." he mumbles in conclusion, shrugging and turning back to his phone.

That was the final straw for you.

"Yang, you forgot about our date again!" you burst out irritatedly. "You were the one who wanted to go watch Spider-Man, you were the one who said he'll get the popcorn and soda, you were the one who told me to wait outside the cinema, and you were the one who wasn't there! Again!"

The color drains out of YangYang’s face when he realizes. “I'm sorry, I forgot about it - let’s go watch it tomorrow! I’ll be there, promise!” he suggests sheepishly, trying to lighten the situation.

“But that’s what you said the last time! All you care about are your stupid games, with your stupid friends, and with your stupid self."

"Hey, don't call my games stupid." YangYang scoffs indignantly, folding his arms. "There was a special pop-up event today, and I needed to get a new skin that I've really been wanting." he argues.

You splutter in disbelief, trembling with rage now.

"Seriously? That's more important than our date? Our relationship?"

Now it's YangYang's turn to splutter in disbelief, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "I never even said that!"

"You know what? You should just tell me that you're not interested in me anymore, cause I'm sick of being your second option." you seethed, poking a finger against his chest for emphasis.

Now, a part of YangYang's brain informs him that he's messed up big time, and he should really just apologize. Yet another part of YangYang's brain is speeding through a million thoughts a minute, and he says the absolute unthinkable.

"And so what if you are my second option?"

The stunned silence is deafening as your head spins because there's no way your boyfriend just said that. So what if you were his second option? So... what?

"How can you... say that?" you whisper, voice closed up with hurt and anger. Tears begin to spill down your cheeks, and YangYang instantly regrets all he's said and done.

"Wait, I didn't mean to-"

"Whatever." you interrupt, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you head for the door. "I think we need some space apart. I'll let you know when I want to see you again."

He barely has time to say anything before you slam the door shut on your way out, leaving him sinking to his knees in nothing but pure guilt and fear of losing you.

YangYang really messed up.

— A few days later.

Lately, anxiety has been one of the many emotions YangYang had been going through. Today was the sixth day since your major fallout, and he hasn't directly heard from you since then.

A few awkward calls to your friends informed him that you were safe and sound at one of their houses, but you didn't want to see him just yet.

It was eating YangYang up on the inside, and there was nothing he wanted more than to have you forgive him. So he made do to just that.

. . .

"Hello?" you answered, avoiding the angry glares and quiet mouths of, "No! Don't answer him!" your friends were shooting at you. "H-Hi." YangYang stutters on the other line, sweaty hands making it difficult to hold on to his phone.

The words he wants to say die down in his throat as he realizes it feels like forever since he's heard your voice - let alone see you. "If you're not going to say anything, I'm going to hang up." you state flatly.

He scrambles to wipe the tears out of his eyes at this, nervously sitting up straight. "I uh- I wanted to ask if you could come back to o-our apartment? I want to apologize to you face-to-face. Please?" He whispers, fingernails nervously picking at his sweater.

The stutter and uneasy wobble in the tone of his words don't go by unnoticed, and you know he's being sincere about his apology. "Okay." you reply, "Give me fifteen minutes."

. . .

Those fifteen minutes felt like decades while YangYang waited in torturous agony, pacing back and forth in front of the door. He can only pray that you'd forgive him, the only thing that mattered to him right now.

The familiar jingle of keys by the door snaps him out of his nervous trance - you were finally here.

"Hi." YangYang nervously greets the moment you walk in, voice coming out in an embarrassing squeak. His heart races while he keeps his hands to himself, not sure if you were ready for a hug from him yet.

"Hi." you echo, locking the door behind you.

"I uh- want to apologize to you. Not just for the dates I didn't go, but for everything else." YangYang starts, clearing his throat awkwardly as he stands closer.

"I... I can't believe I let myself get so caught up in games till I was neglecting our relationship, neglecting you, and I'm sorry. The past few days of living here alone really showed me how much you do for me, and I'm sorry for not appreciating you and telling you enough about how much I love you and how much you mean to me. It's okay if you're still mad at me, but I really really hope you'd at least give me a hug, because I just-"

A choked sob escapes from YangYang's throat, cutting him off in his apology. Quickly wiping a stray tear away, he tries to continue, anxiously squeezing his hand open and shut. "I just really missed you and I'm so sorry." he whispers quickly before breaking down crying, face buried in his hands.

Now, you've never seen YangYang cry. Like, ever. So when you see him crying right in front of you, you can't help but start crying yourself, quick to close the distance between you two with a hug.

"I forgive you." you manage to say through your tears, holding your boyfriend close as you cried into each other's shoulders.

Slowly, your cries settle down into stuffy sniffles while you continued to hug YangYang, soaking up all the physical contact after days of being apart.

"Thank you for forgiving me." YangYang whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I love you so much."

The sudden confession makes you chuckle as you pull away to look up at him, brushing the fringe out of his damp eyes.

"I love you too." you whisper back. With that, you lean up to kiss him, lips locked with each others' like two missing puzzle pieces.

YangYang sighs contentedly into the kiss, feeling like he was in heaven - because to him, it was.

He'd like it if this heaven was enjoyed more comfortably though.

So he leads you towards the couch, lips never once leaving yours as the two of you stumble towards the said piece of furniture.

A small gasp of surprise leaves YangYang's lips when the back of his knees hit the couch, causing him to lose his balance and land on his back.

You can only laugh at his clumsiness as you jump right back into his embrace, softly caressing his cheek.

“I've missed kissing you and holding you like this." you admit quietly, face flushing red. YangYang's face mirrors the shade as he locks his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly closer to him.

"Let's make up for all the lost time now then."

© neolovesneo, 2022.

[brightymir]

"𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄" [ 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 ]

cw: language, gore, misspellings

genre: angst

characters: main three, kirishima x gn! reader

author's note: this is inspired from squid games' marble game! it's a rain of angst until i get some request for fluff because angst is the only thing i can produce right now. i hope you like this and have a great day!

𖣔 izuku midoriya

you let out a sharp exhale, followed by a low chuckle. the circle-masked soldier then took a step back, letting you and izuku talk out how things will go on from there. 

he looked at you wide-eyed and teary. “no, no, no, it’s wrong! let’s try again, that was just a practice. hey, give us sticks again please” he tried to reason with the soldier, but to no avail. you chuckled again and held his hands, looking into his eyes.

“you won, fair and square, ‘zuku. i chose the shorter stick” you said gently and sat on the ground, tapping the space beside you. izuku held back his tears and sat down beside you. 

“three minutes left” a voice came from the speakers, making you tremble slightly and made izuku flinch. 

“remember when we went to the beach. that was a good day. you used too much force and the entire sandcastle crumbled, you almost cried” you recalled and laughed with glee, gripping his hand hard. you wanted your last moment to be filled with bliss as much as possible.

izuku sniffed at your statement. “yeah, a-and i remember you being d-driven away by the waves when you tried to t-take a photo” he added and tried to chuckle, but it came out as a sob. 

“there’s one thing i wasn’t able to do at the beach, can you do it for me instead when you get out of here?” you asked and stood up, izuku following suit. 

“of course, what is it?”

“can you see the sunset for me? it rained that day so i wasn’t able to see it up close” you continued and hugged him tightly, letting the tears fall as he hugged back for dear life. you slipped your ten marbles to his hand, making sure he had a good grip before letting go.

“one minute left” at this voice, the guards separated the two of you. the guard began to lead him away but when he was a few steps away from you, you called out his name.

“izuku!” you said, he froze but he did not turn back, you knew he was listening.

“thanks for playing with me” was all you said before a bullet went through your head, your body falling to the pavement, painting it crimson red. 

and as izuku clenched the marbles in his hand, walking out from the venue, he wondered if there was another way, for the two of you to survive and see the sunset at the beach. 

“player 015, eliminated”

𖣔 shoto todoroki

it was time for your fourth question, if shoto gets this right, he will gain a point, making it a tie, two points for you, two points for him. you wrote your answer on the paper given by the soldier. 

“alright, what pet do i have at home?” he decided to get this answer wrong, so that you will gain a point instead and survive. 

“you have a pet dog at home” he answered confidently and you gave him a small smile, turning to look at the soldier who unfolded the paper, showing the answer to the two of you. 

“DOG/PUPPY” it wrote in black ink, making shoto turn to you, wide eyed, a look of betrayal on his face. 

“this is not right! you have a pet cat at home, y/n! you are lying! she’s lying!” his appease to the soldiers fell on the deaf ears, they just shoved the piece of paper in shoto’s chest, a silent response of following whatever was written down there. he turned to you with glossy eyes, stained with tears but you looked at him indifferently, as if this game is not a matter of life or death.

for the tie breaker, it was shoto’s turn to ask the question. he did not know if he should write down a false answer or just stick with the truth because you are very unpredictable at this moment, your eyes hazy and lost.

he had an inkling that you’d go with a wrong answer, so he wrote down a false answer too. he folded it and gave it to the guard. “what’s my favorite food?” he asked softly, praying that you’ll answer wrong.

“oh, i always make this for you” his blood ran cold at your statement as he tried to fumble and stop you from speaking. you were going for the right answer. 

“cold soba” you answered, the soldier unfolded the paper. 

“SPICY FOODS” it said, making you smile. “i never knew your preferences has changed, i’m sorry for not noticing” you said and stood up, going to him and pulling him for a hug. 

he sobbed on your shoulder, muttering apologies. “who’ll make cold soba for me now, huh? your soba will always be my favorite, love” he said and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“thanks for playing with me, sho” handing him your marbles, you said as you walked away, far from him so that the blood from your head wouldn’t splatter on him, you did not want your blood on him.

but he knew well that his blood was on your hands, especially when a voice came from the speakers.

“player 111, eliminated”

𖣔 katsuki bakugo

"thanks for playing with me" he said in a low voice, trying to hide the fear and unease he is feeling at the moment, eyes looking at anywhere but you.

“shut the fuck up, i’m trying to think of a way out of here, chihuahua. we still have seven minutes god damn” you replied which made his teeth grit in rage because of the nickname. he tries to be sappy for once then you just had to ruin it. however, you saw a glint of hope shine through his eyes for a moment. 

“w-what!? there’s a way out of this damned game?” he asked, failing to mask his curiosity and excitement. you stared at his eyes, looking for any trace of other emotions but all his eyes revealed as of the moment was hope. you snickered and played with your marbles before sighing.

“do you think so?” you asked him back with a small smile, making him stand up and lift you off the ground, shaking the hell out of you while repeatedly asking if there’s a way out of here. 

you asked him to put you down, to which he obliged shortly. with your marbles in your hands, you walked towards the triangle-masked soldier, tiptoeing to be eye level before leaning in. you heard complaints from katsuki to back off and put some distance.

“can you bring me your manager? those square guys” you asked and the soldier nodded, signaling to the circle-masked one to watch over the two of you. 

you went back beside katsuki, fixing his green uniform that has ruffled due to him crumpling it the past ten minutes. he leaned down, taking your face in his and asking you a question. 

“hey, is there a way out of here?” his voice was soft, reserved only for you and your ears. he did not want you to know but you noticed that he was at his breaking point. before you could answer, the triangle one returned with the square manager. 

“what is it?” the soldier asked, directing his attention at you. katsuki swiftly held your hand in his, not letting go. 

“we just need to get each other’s marbles, right?” you clarified. “yes” the soldier answered shortly. “we don’t need to have twenty marbles?” at your statement, katsuki finally understood your intentions. 

the three soldiers looked at each other and nodded back at you, making both you and katsuki smile in relief. reaching out both of your hands, the two of you exchanged pouches that contained the marbles. 

the two of you walked out of the venue hand in hand, katsuki muttering words of gratitude and praises to you, making you hide in the crook of his neck. 

“player 420, passed. player 421, passed”

❄︎ eijiro kirishima

"stop purposefully missing, eiji. we won't get anywhere with your antics" you reprimanded him, seeing him purposefully miss the jar where the two of you was supposed to shoot your marbles in, 5 meters away.

he looked at you innocently and smiled sheepishly. "huh? ah, no. my hand is just sweaty that's why the marbled slipped" he tried to lie, but miserably failed in doing so. you just shook your head and sighed.

each of you only had one marble left, and it was a tie. you both shot 7 marbles in the jar. in case of a tie, you two agreed to settle it by picking the failed shot marbles and shooting again until the tie is settled.

you threw your marble, and even though you purposefully wanted to miss, the marble still fell inside the jar.

turning to look ar eijiro, he had a resigned look on his face. you went up to him and cradled his face. "eiji, don't you dare miss this sho-" but before you could even finish, he already aimed and threw the marble.

not threw actually, more like dropped.

"oh, sorry. my fingers slipped again" he said, a chuckle following soon after. you hugged him tightly and sobbed in his shoulder.

"w-why... no... please don't do this eiji, i can't survive this on my own" you plead and cried harder. but all he did is run his hand through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"love, you're strong, i believe in you, alright? you can do this" he affirmed you, swaying your body side to side as you gripped onti him for dear life, after all, he will cease to be once you do.

the two of you remained in a tight hug until the very last minute, not wanting to part. even though he did not want to break down in front of you, he wasn't so strong as to conceal his sobs and whimpers.

"shh, this is a manly way to go, y'know? to cease to be for the one i love most" he began to bid his farewells as the soldier pulled you away from him. before he totally disappeared from your sight, he called out for you.

despite the tears blurring your vision, you tried to meet his eyes, and you witnessed him smile.

"thanks for playing with me, darling" he said, before the loud gunshot resonated in the empty space, drowned out by the cries and other gunshots as well.

you decided to fight and survive, because you did not want to waste eijiro's sacrifice for you.

you made a promise to survive, as the loud sound of the speaker took over your senses.

"player 016, eliminated"

© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2021 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms. thank you.

[aziraphales-library]

hey there :)

I'm looking for fics where after the notpocolypse, they go on a holiday/vacation. any rating is fine, I prefer fics where they get together in the fic but established relationship or even just bffs is okay so long as its them having fun.

I just want to see them being happy and going somewhere after all the end of the world drama.

Hello. Here are some mostly angst-free fics in which Aziraphale and Crowley do some travelling after the almost-apocalypse...

Away In The Night by spooklock (T)

In which Aziraphale has had enough of saying no when he wants to say yes.

These smiling eyes are just a mirror for the sun by Tovarich (E)

"I was thinking we could go on a little road trip in Europe, what would you say to that, angel?" Crowley already had stars in his eyes, looking as excited as a kid.

Aziraphale found it endearing, if he was honest. It didn't stop him from snorting at the idea, though. "With you driving?" he said in a sceptical tone, "Thank you but I'd rather not end up discorporated."

Crowley looked affronted, however he couldn't fight the smirk that tugged on his lips. "Oh, come on!" he whined, "It won't be so bad, I promise you. I'll drive safely, without breaking every traffic law in existence."

Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley knew he had won.

Heaven on Earth by LawrVert (E)

After the world doesn't end, Crowley decides to take Aziraphale on a trip in search of the finest cuisine. As they journey to places they've never been and some that bring up old-remembered pain, Crowley feels himself growing closer to Aziraphale than ever before.

The Christmas Cruise, or What Ever could go Wrong? by Zeckarin (T)

To thank his friends for cutting their first honeymoon short in order to save his life, Crowley offers Newt and Anathema a Christmas cruise. He didn't intend to get onboard. Neither did Aziraphale. But sometimes, an immortal entity's got to do what an immortal entity's got to do, right? Shenanigans will definitely ensue.

destinations by pencilpal (T)

“Let’s get away, angel.”

“Away?”

“You and me and the Bentley, out from the city, out of the country. Let's see the world. Let’s go on a road trip, angel. Let’s find- find whatever this” he gestures at them both with wild, manic hands, “is.”

And so, the next morning, they’re driving down the M2 towards ‘there’, wherever there might be.

A journey through the destinations after the apocalypse never decided to wake up from it’s sleep.

To the World by Etaleah (T)

"We worked so hard to try and save the world. I’d say it’s only fair that we be allowed to get out there and see it."

With Armageddon averted, it's time for a holiday. Through cities, forests, mountains, and more, Aziraphale and Crowley go wherever the Bentley will take them, falling more and more in love with the world and each other along the way. As their days on the road slowly turn into weeks, six thousand years of fears and feelings are about to be revealed.

- Mod D

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[hxt1b]

Know Your Type

Jaehyun x Reader 

Requested Prompt 21 "you want me to go out with him" 

Genre: Angst, College AU

Warning: Swearing, Smut 

WC: 2.3k

Masterlist 

Prompt List, for any requests you guys may have. I'm currently taking them again!

A/N: I apologize for the grammatical issues I did read it over but some things may have still slipped through. 

I hope you guys like this, please let me know what you think! Feedback is appreciated. 

"I know what type of guys you like." Jaehyun boasted. You scoffed at him, he most definitely did not. 

"Fine then point at a guy you want me to go out with. Since you know my type so well. If you guess right I'll ask him out." You challenged. It wasn't that Jaehyun didn't know you. He did, he just didn't know who you liked because you couldn't look at him and tell him it was, in fact, him. 

Too many thoughts would go through your head every time you thought about telling him. The fact that he could reject you and then you'd lose a friend was terrifying to you. So you stayed quiet. 

"Him," Jaehyun said and pointed at a boy across the room, he was tucked into the corner an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips as he tapped away at his phone. 

You knew him, Lucas was a great guy. A great guy with a girlfriend. 

"You want me to go out with him?"  You couldn't help but laugh, your shoulder bumped into his as you did. 

"He has a girlfriend." You said, "Plus he's not the guy I like." Jaehyun froze next to you. 

"You like someone?" 

Suddenly the couch you were sitting on wasn't big enough for the two of you. You didn't realize you'd said that, he'd just been trying to demonstrate your type. 

"No." 

"But you said you did." 

You couldn't reply to that. So you just stared at him as his face lit up. 

"Tell me who." He said his face getting closer to yours. 

"No." You deadpanned, and he frowned. 

"I bet you I can get you to tell if you have enough shots." You narrowed your eyes at his challenge again. Before you let him know that it was game on. 

This was how you and Jaehyun worked. Playful bets placed practically all the time, every little aspect of life was a game, and honestly, you liked it that way. You liked the way he laughed when he won, the dimply smiles that would adorn his face for the rest of the day. You liked the way he pouted when he lost, the complaining that would ensue was also something you wouldn't change. You liked the way he answered your phone and if he missed the call he called back within seconds. You liked that he called you randomly sometimes, a random 'I bet…' followed by something insane would leave his mouth and you'd always play into it. You liked him, everything about him and you loved your friendship. It was hard but you wouldn't ever tell him you liked him. Because you couldn't give him up. 

Jaehyun and you sat in a random room in the house, a huge bottle of vodka in-between you. The bottle was once full, you'd and Jaehyun had drank a considerable amount. 

"So Y/N, who do you like?" Jaehyun asked his words slightly slurred, the effects of the alcohol in full force. You stared at him, taking in the lift of his mouth as he smirked at you, the way his left dimple appeared as he did so. 

You unconsciously were leaning into him. 

"And if I tell you what do I get?" You asked your hand digging into the carpet in between you as your weight settled onto it. 

Jaehyun lowered his head to yours so that his nose was almost brushing yours. 

"You get to know that your best friend in the whole wide world will wingman you." 

"And what if that meant you'd be wing manning me for yourself?" You asked, your voice soft as the words left you. 

Jaehyun looked at you slowly registering the words that left you. Anxiety rolled in your stomach as you watched him blink at you. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You knew you shouldn't have told him. 

Jaehyun cleared his throat as leaned away from him. 

"You like me?" He asked, you turned your head away from him. Suddenly all the alcohol in your system was gone. You slowly nodded, not being able to look back at him. 

He cleared his throat again, the silence was drowning you as the discomfort in the room grew. Eventually, Jaehyun pulled his phone out of his pocket. Tapping at his screen a few times as he got up. 

"So I- I just got a text from Jungwoo he needs me." You closed your eyes. 

Fuck vodka. 

"I'll see you tomorrow." 

But you didn't.

You didn't see him for a week. The first day you left him alone, the second day you thought maybe something had happened considering Jungwoo had called him that night. So you texted him, he didn't reply. You texted him again only to be left on read. The third day you tried calling him, that failed as well. You very quickly realized he was ignoring you. 

He came into your shared class on Wednesday followed by Jungwoo, and they sat with you. But Jungwoo sat in the middle and Jaehyun left halfway through the class. You didn't try after that, you didn't know how. 

Your head hurt that day because you couldn't help but cry. You knew you were right not to tell him, you knew you were right about the fact that the moment you told him you'd lose him. 

The opening of your apartment door drew you from your thoughts. Doyoung walked in holding a bag of takeout in his hand. 

"You look like shit." He said as his eyes swept over you. You laughed at his words. 

"Thanks." 

Doyoung set the takeout on the coffee table before heading into your kitchen to grab cutlery. 

"He ignored me in class on Wednesday." You said as you looked down at your hands. Your eyes stinging again. 

"You'd think that he would know how to act like an adult. If he doesn't like you back he doesn't have to cut you off." 

You nodded, but he had. Because that was how Jaehyun was. 

"Every girl I become friends with always ruins it by falling in love with me," Jaehyun grumbled as he sat across from you. 

"Humble." You muttered. 

"I'm not joking like I don't mean it as a prick. I just mean I want someone I can be friends with, without them wanting to suck my dick." You looked at him your eyebrows raising. 

Eventually, you rolled your eyes, a chuckle leaving you. "You want a girl to not want you for sex. How ironic."  

"Listen I sleep with girls," He started. 

"A lot go girls," You interjected  

"But I don't pretend to be their friend." He finished. 

"Such a saint you are Jaehyun." 

You weren't close back then, you grew close though over the year since then. To the point that you were inseparable. Until now. 

"Whatever forget him, let's drown in food," Doyoung said, he didn't make it to the couch before the apartment door was opening again. 

Only two people besides you had a key, one of them was already in the apartment. 

You stared at Jaehyun as he looked at Doyoung. 

"Oh, you're here." He said. 

"Yes, I'm here," Doyoung replied. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have just shown up I guess." He said and retreated out of the apartment. You stared at Doyoung, who let out a loud sigh. 

"Okay fine, go after him. I'm going to start eating though." You nodded as you shot out of your spot on the couch. 

Slipping into a pair of flip flips you charged out the door. The elevator closed as you rounded the corner. So you settled for the stairs. 

You looked crazy, you knew you did. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt with stains on it, you weren't wearing any pants you just had on your underwear. Your eyes were swollen from the crying earlier, and your hair was up in a messy bun. Well, half of it was. 

You stopped to breathe as you hit the main floor, your throat hurting from your lack of air. Somewhere in your brain, you were looking at yourself wondering what the fuck you were doing. But at the forefront of your mind was Jaehyun. 

You pushed out the doors seeing him walking to his car. 

"Hey!" You called running down the few steps as he stopped right beside his car. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You asked loudly, as you charged towards him. 

"I-" You cut him off before he could even truly start. 

"No actually, fuck you. You ignored me for a week. Then you chose to show up without a text, let alone a call. So what I told you I liked you and that's it? You forced me to tell you!"  

You were frantic, and angry and needed to yell at him because if you weren't yelling you would cry. You didn't even care if the people sitting in their apartments heard the commotion and looked out. 

Jaehyun stood silently in front of you fiddling with his keys. 

"Am I really that awful, that if I did like you the only option you'd have is; run away?" You asked, finally letting your voice quiet down as your confidence faded. Your brain being hit with the fact that he may have come to grab his things. The few things he'd left around your apartment. Like his hoodie, his many pairs of socks, the t-shirt you were in right now. 

"No," He finally answered. His eyes finally coming up to your face. 

"Then why have you been ignoring me?" You asked, your eyes stinging again as you tried not to cry. 

Jaehyun took a step towards you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into him. You let him. 

"I had to think. I needed to think about what you said." He said, his head resting on top of yours. You thought about pushing him away. You thought about storming back into your apartment and leaving him here, but you wanted to be in his arms you couldn't push away. So instead you grabbed his t-shirt tightly and pulled him closer to you. 

"I like you too, Y/N." He spoke softly, "I was just shocked when you said it to me at the party. I didn't know how to react so I ran. I'm so sorry for ignoring you. I know I'm a dick. I know I'll have to make it up to you and I will." 

"You were shocked so you decided that not talking to me was the way to go?" You asked, your voice muffled into his chest. 

"I never said I was smart." He said making you softly giggle. 

"You like me?" You asked turning your head up and looking at him. He nodded down at you. 

"Yes." 

Maybe you were too quick to give in, maybe you weren't. All you knew was that a week's worth of trouble boiled down to a few words and you weren't willing to draw it out any longer. You could talk about it more later if you wanted to right now you just wanted him to hold you. You hadn't seen him for a week and you hated it. 

He pressed his lips to yours gently, cautiously. But you quickly deepened the kiss, letting your tongue move across his bottom lip before letting him push his tongue against yours. 

You moaned softly against him, your arms snaking around his neck as you pulled him closer to you. Jaehyun hit the side of the car as you two continued to kiss, his hands moving to your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel him hardening between you both. Your hips moving on their own grinding against him. 

His lips left your mouth leaving hot kisses down the side of your jaw. 

"It's cold." You whined as the cold air hit the trail of saliva he was leaving in his wake. Pulling his face away from you he unlocked his car. 

"Doy-" 

"He can wait." He said as he pulled open the back door and ushered you in. He scrambled in after you pulling you onto his lap as he did so. 

"Fuck your so hot." He said. You giggled down at him. 

"I'm in a stained t-shirt." You said as Jaehyun's hands crawled underneath it finding your boobs. You moaned when his cold fingers pinched at your nipples. 

Your hands went to his crotch, palming him through his sweats drawing soft grunts from him. You looked up at his face as he moved his hands to your face bringing your mouth back down to his. 

You pulled his erection out of his sweats bringing him to your clothed core and rubbing the head of his cock against yourself. Jaehyun hissed at your actions, his hand moving to the nape of your neck. 

Jaehyun's other hand moved towards your core, pushing your underwear aside so that he could feel you on his cock. He bucked his hips up towards you. You moaned against him as he began to move between your folds coating his cock in your slick. 

The tip of his dick hitting your clit with every move he made. Your mouth moved away from his, panting you looked down at where he was moving against you. 

"Fuck." You muttered. Your head spinning with each of his movements. 

A loud knocking on his car window scared you, your hands pulling Jaehyun to you as you both look out the car window. 

Doyoung was staring down at you both. 

"I'm going home." He said loud enough for you both to hear. "You two can move upstairs." 

You laughed down at Jaehyun as Doyoung walked away. 

"Were you going to leave after you fucked me?" You asked as you moved off him. Your brain going back to thinking in overdrive. Jaehyun grabbed your wrist pulling your hand to him and forcing you to look at him. His cock tucked away now. 

"I'm sorry I ignored you. I do not plan on doing it again. I swear." You nodded at him and got out of the car, waiting for him to follow you. 

"So you know what type of guys I like huh?" You asked as he used his key to get into your building. 

"Yeah babe, you like douche bags." He said and smiled down at you, dimples and all. You bit the corner of your lip to try to not laugh. Yet you laughed anyway. 

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ San: The Calm After The Storm. (Oneshot)

Genre: angst, fluff, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Reader (fem)

Word count: 3.5k

Inspiration: Fifty Shades Freed

Warnings: profanities, alcohol, blood, guns, death, violence.

"What the fuck is this?!" you asked through gritted teeth, throwing the freshly printed photos at San's chest.

Your husband didn't have to look at them to know what you were talking about; his men had already reported to him that you watched the entire recording of him seducing his... target. 

"Babe—"

"No, San!" you yelled, cutting him off. "This is the fifth fucking time!"

"But the other one time wasn't about this."

"The other three, now four times were!" he was really getting on your nerves.

"Why are you overreacting?" he questioned with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, you knew I had no choice."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control your anger. "I understand that you had to seduce her. I know that it's your job," you tried to say calmly, but your voice was rising. "What I don't understand is why you let her slip her fucking hand into your pants after you got the damn information that you wanted!"

San visibly gulped; he didn't expect you to be this angry. He thought he was well prepared to face you after mentally forming the situation in his head. He knew you'd be pissed, but not to this extent.

"I pushed her away though," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, after like, five minutes," you retort. "And the worst part was that you were clearly enjoying yourself in those five minutes! Do you know her or something?"

San sighed deeply, ignoring the question. "Babe, look, I'm sorry," he apologized, not sure about what else he could say to calm you down. Your husband took your hand in his. "I won't do it again, I promise."

You immediately ripped your hand away from his, rolling your eyes. "That's what you always say, San." He took a deep breath; you were testing his patience and he didn't like people doing that.

"San," you start, "How would you feel if you saw a guy kissing me and I get carried away and let him touch me?"

That struck him. Hard. He would hate it, obviously. San wouldn't even hesitate to put a bullet through the man's head if he touched you in any way.

San's silence gave you the answer. "That's what I thought," you snorted.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," San apologized again. "But I still had to do it and you know that."

"Whatever," you mumbled and turned around, heading to your room; he still didn't understand just how much it hurt you. It was already worse enough that you had to witness him kiss and touch all those women. But witnessing San let another woman touch him in the place where only you're allowed to, not only pissed you off, but also hurt you deeply. As the seducer of the mafia gang, he was literally trained to not get carried away; his only job was to get whatever information was needed. San was a very, very skilled seducer and you knew that damn well. Although he did get carried away a few times, he never let his targets touch him. So you couldn't understand why he let that happen now. You texted Yunho (your bestfriend and San's close friend) to ask about that woman, knowing that he would never lie to you.

Your anger increased when Yunho replied: "Oh, she hooked up with San a couple of times back in high school." You snorted in annoyance; so he let her touch him just because he knew her?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone's notification going off. Your friends were planning to go clubbing tonight as it was a Saturday. You were going to decline, knowing that San wouldn't let you go if he wasn't with you, but you decided against it; you had a plan in mind and you knew it would work.

You ignored San the entire afternoon. He tried to talk to you but you didn't even spare him a glance. He sighed, leaving you alone to cool down.

-

"Where are you going?" San asked, looking at you from head to toe, while your four year old daughter, Minhee, played with some toy aeroplanes.

"Clubbing," you answered without looking at him.

"You're not going anywhere," San said through gritted teeth. "Especially not wearing that." You were wearing denim shorts and a black lace bralette that showed off your cleavage more than you'd usually prefer. You purposely chose this outfit, of course, and he knew that.

"You don't get to decide where I go and what I wear," you stated. You walked over to your daughter, placing a kiss on her head. "Minnie," you called her by her nickname. "Mommy will be back soon, okay?" you said to your little angel before walking out the door.

-

"Y/N! You finally came!" one of your friends yelled, already drunk. She takes your hand and drags you through the crowd of people to get to the bar on the other side. "Three tequila shots for my friend here!"

A while later, you noticed Wooyoung and Mingi at the entrance of the club; you knew San would end up here as soon as he asks Seonghwa or Hongjoong to look after your daughter for the night.

And you were right.

San entered the club, dressed in all black, looking fucking hot. You wanted to go up to him and ask him to fuck you till you see stars; however, you were still pissed and had a plan to execute.

You quickly downed your shots and pulled your friend to join your other friends who were dancing. You danced with them until one of your friends introduced you to some random guys. One of the guys, who you found really good looking, started to dance with you. You noticed San sitting on a barstool, watching everything. At that moment, the guy you were dancing with put his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him, making San nearly break the glass he was holding. Perfect. Your plan was working.

When you glanced at where San was seated, he wasn't there anymore. You glanced around, searching for him until you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, dragging you away.

San dragged you downstairs where there were private rooms especially for him and his gang members as they owned this club. He took you to the room belonging to him, locking the door behind him.

"What the fuck were you doing?! How could you let him even lay a finger on you?!" your husband snarled through gritted teeth.

You snorted. "All he did was put his hands on my waist. At least he didn't slip them into my pants and touch me."

San now understood exactly why you did that; you were giving him a taste of his own medicine.

You moved to sit on the sofa, your legs starting to hurt from dancing so much. San kneeled down in front of you, placing his hands on the bare skin of your thigh. "Babe, I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, I know. But please understand that chick meant nothing to me. I didn't even know her."

You pushed his hands away from you. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," he lied.

"You hooked up with her in high school," you deadpanned.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He just fucked up again. "Y/N, I didn't mean to—"

You stood up from the couch. "No, fuck you, I'm done with you and your fucking bullshit," you snarled angrily, cutting him off, before making your way back to your friends.

"They might take this route instead, we can't predict what they'll do," Jongho said while moving around the meeting room; he was in charge of today's meeting on some mafia gang who had tried to hack into your gang's system to get information on your international drug deals.

During the meeting, your daughter's nanny called you. You declined the call, sending her a text that you were in a meeting. She called again and you ignored it, thinking she wouldn't have seen your message. When she called for the third time, you excused yourself from the meeting.

"I'm in a meeting, Jina, what is—"

"Mrs. Choi," she sobbed. "T-They took Minnie..."

"What?! Who?!" you felt your stomach churn uneasily.

"I-I don't know," Jina cried, "They beat me up at the park till I passed out and t-took her away. They said they would c-contact you."

"Where are you?" you asked.

"At a nearby hospital," she said. "An old couple brought me here."

"I'll be there in five," you said and hung up. You were just about to enter the meeting room, but an unknown number called you. You picked up, assuming it was your daughter's kidnappers since you never got calls from unknown numbers.

"You have a beautiful daughter, Choi Y/N," the man said. "I bet she would look even better with a slit throat, yeah?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" you asked, voice laced with venom.

The man chuckled. "It's simple, your fucking gang has to pay for my loss."

"Just tell me what the fuck you want!"

"Fifteen billion won in cash," he said. "That's the amount I lost because of you motherfuckers. Now listen to me carefully if you don't want your precious child dead. You aren't going to tell anyone about this. Not a word to your boss, Kim Hongjoong. Not a word to your pathetic husband, Choi San. I have eyes watching you, so don't try to act smart. I know you're having a meeting right now about a gang who tried to hack into your system." your eyes widened; how the fuck does this guy know? "I'm giving you three hours," he continued. "If you don't get the money within that time, I'll kill your daughter. Anyway, you'll find a black van waiting for you outside the bank. Your time starts now, Mrs. Choi. Tick tock, tick tock," he chuckled before hanging up.

"Fuck!" you yelled, tears spilling from your eyes. You ran your hand through your hair, trying to calm down; you felt like breaking down but you had to stay strong for your daughter. You wiped your tears before making your way back to the meeting room.

"I'm sorry, I'm feeling quite unwell," you mumbled, quickly collecting your stuff. "Please continue without me."

"Y/N, should I take you home?" San asked; you both still haven't made up from the fight you had a week ago. He tried to talk to you a few days ago, but it resulted in a bigger fight.

"No!" you half-yelled in frustration, startling some of the people in the room. "I'm fine," you said in a softer tone. You quickly left before San could follow you.

-

"Ah, Mrs. Choi, how can I help you?" the bank manager asked, taking a seat across you.

"I need fifteen billion won in cash," you stated, stunning the manager.

"Ma'am, that is a very large amount so cash isn't the best—"

"I need it in cash. It's really urgent," you said in an annoyed tone.

He gulped and nodded. "Please give me your national ID card."

You handed it to him, fiddling with your fingers while he entered your details into the computer system.

"You have a joint account with your husband, Choi San, correct?"

"Yes."

"Ma'am, we will need Mr. Choi's confirmation as he is the primary account holder."

You mentally cursed. "That won't be necessary," you stated, trying to control your anger.

The manager sighed. "All right, please give me a moment," he said before leaving the room.

You groaned in frustration, putting your head in your heads. You couldn't imagine what your little daughter was going through; you knew she would be scared to death. Your phone rang, interrupting your thoughts.

You declined the call when you saw it was your husband. When he called again, you had no choice but to pick it up, knowing he would keep calling you. "Hello?"

"Y/N, what are you doing? Why are you making such a huge transaction?" San questioned. You mentally cursed the bank manager for contacting San. "Y/N, answer me! What's wrong?" You just kept quiet, knowing you'd break down if you opened your mouth. You heard San take a deep breath. "Are you leaving me or something? Is this about the fights we've been having? I'm sorry about that, I know it was my fault and I don't deserve you, but please, let's talk about this," he begged, making your tears spill from your eyes. "Y/N, say something, please. Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," you whispered, choking on a sob.

"Baby, please," he begged. "Don't leave me. Please, I'm begging you."

"I'm sorry, San."

There was silence on his end before he sighed. "Okay, take all the money you want," he said and hung up.

A moment later, the manager came into the room. "Ma'am, Mr. Choi has given his permission for the transaction. The procedure for huge cash transactions are of course different, so I need you sign a few papers and write a cheque. It'll take a little over half an hour to get the money in cash."

-

As soon as you got the cash, you called your daughter's kidnappers. "I assume you've got the money?"

"Yeah," you replied.

"Good. You'll see a black van from across the entrance of the bank," he said and hung up.

You quickly made your way outside, easily spotting the van. You crossed the street and got into the van.

You couldn't recognize the driver and the other man in the passenger seat. Your daughter wasn't even here.

"Good job, Mrs. Choi," the man in the passenger seat said with a smirk; you recognized him as the guy on the call.

"Where's my child?"

"Relax," he grinned. "We're going to her right now." He glanced at the driver who nodded and started driving.

"Ah, give me your phone," the man said. "We don't need your husband tracking us." You hesitantly gave it and he switched it off.

After what felt like hours, you reached an old building. As soon as you got outside the car, you spotted your daughter tied to a wall, unconscious with a bleeding head.

"Minhee!" you yelled, running to her.

Before you could untie her, you felt an arm go around your neck, choking you. Even though you were trained to fight, you weren't the best at it. Nevertheless, you tried to free yourself. You kicked the man in the shin, making his grip around you loosen. You took that opportunity to bite his hand before turning around, punching him in the face. You kept punching him until two other men grabbed you. You managed to get one of them injured by repeatedly kicking his private area, but the other guy one was too strong. He easily picked you and threw you onto the concrete floor, making you bang your head and knee. You groaned in pain, feeling a warm liquid running down your face. You pushed yourself to get up despite the excruciating pain you felt. His gun was pointed at you while he smiled. "Have a great time in hell, Choi Y/N."

Suddenly, a gunshot was heard and the man dropped his gun, clenching his hand in pain. A few more gunshots were fired at him, instantly killing him.

"Y/N!" you heard San scream. He picked you up in his arms bridal style, and you got a glimpse of his teary eyes.

"Min-Minhee," you murmured, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Seonghwa's got her" was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

You slowly opened your ears, squinting due to the bright light. When your eyes adjusted, you realized you were in Yeosang's mini hospital at your gang's mansion. You turned your head to the side, spotting your husband reading some documents.

"San," you murmured, but it wasn't loud enough. "San," you raised your voice a little, coughing due to your extremely dry throat.

San immediately turned to you, eyes widening. "Y/N!" He quickly poured you a glass of orange juice since that was the first thing he saw. He helped you drink the juice, feeling so relieved to see you finally awake.

"How are you feeling, my love?" he asked, taking your hand in his.

"Where's Minhee?" you asked, panick clear in your eyes.

"Minnie is playing with Jongho and Yunho," San said, making you sigh in relief that your daughter was alive. "She's doing well. She got a few stitches, but it's healing quickly. Our daughter is very brave."

Your eyes teared up. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about—"

"Shh, don't," he cupped your cheek. "I understand why you did what you did, babe. I would've done that too. Anyway, we wiped out that entire gang and got the money back."

"What happened? How did you find me?"

"We killed all the four men and the other three who were hiding. One of them ran away to Japan, but Wooyoung and Mingi went there and killed him," San explained before getting a little nervous. "And um, don't be mad, but I put a tracker on your necklace."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Hey, see, it proved to be helpful!" he said, putting his hands up defensively.

Before you could reply, San placed his hand over your mouth. He took a deep breath while a wide smile spread on his face. "I also have some good news."

"What's the news?" you asked, voice muffled due to San's hand on your mouth. He opened his mouth to reply, but the door burst open, revealing your daughter.

"Mommy!" she squealed, running to your bed, trying to get onto the bed that was too high for her.

San picked his daughter up, placing her beside you. "Be careful, angel. Mommy is still recovering." The little girl nodded at her father before looking at you.

"How you feel, mommy?" she asked.

"Much better, now that you're here," you replied, tickling her chin. Your daughter giggled, moving away from you. She placed her little hands on your stomach.

"Come out fast so that we can play!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you glanced at San. "About that..." he chuckled, taking your hand in his. "We're having another baby. You're pregnant."

"W-What?" you gasped in shock. You and San had been trying to get another child for quite sometime now.

"Yeah," he giggled, kissing the back of your hand. "You're almost a month long and the baby is perfectly fine."

Happy tears streamed down your face while your hands moved to your stomach. San kissed your head before pulling away a little. "I know I've been getting on your nerves a lot, but thank you for blessing me with Minhee and now another baby," he mumbled. "I love you so much, my beautiful wife." He crashed his lips onto yours. You kissed him back, smiling into the kiss.

"Eww!" your daughter squealed in disgust. "I'm going to tell uncle Jongho that you're kissing!"

San pulled away with a giggle before lifting his daughter into his arms, placing kisses all over her face while she squirmed around, laughing loudly.

You lovingly watched the two of them with a large smile on your face, and you couldn't wait for the future when your new baby would arrive, adding more happiness to your and your family's lives.

[oftenderweapons]

YOOOOO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY🥳🥳🥳🥳 that is all sending a big hug

YOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATEEEEE!!!!! Congrats, you have won Loyal Reader extra points, I have this commission you asked a century ago so yeah, happy bday sweets

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Genre: smut, basically pwp, mild angst

Rating: 18+ I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY MINOR CLICKING ON THAT “READ MORE”, ARE WE CLEAR?

Trigger warnings: swearing, hard domme!Vixen, brat!Vixen, hard sub!Joon, strip-tease!Vixen, bondage, vibrating cockring, dildo, overstimulation (male receiving), daddy kink, mention of gagging (with panties), mention of porn, voyeurism and exhibitionism, cumplay, suspension of powerplay. And Switch!Joon, i guess, too. Very unprotected activities USE CONDOMS!!! Don’t eat cum unless the other person/people can prove they’re clean.

“My hands, please. I’m sorry,” Namjoon whined, breathing through his mouth, his chest gluttonously naked, your lipstick marking it here and there. “Vixen, baby.”

“No.” You spoke it with a smile, gathering some saliva in your mouth, your head ten miles ahead of you, already planning what to do after you got up from your legs-spread-bent-over-ass-right-in-front-of-his-eyes position.

He had been whimpering since the moment you found out he wanted you to go cougar on him.

And he’d enjoyed being the prey for once — however, technically, even though you always let him take control, he knew he wasn’t preying on an innocent lamb. You were his vicious fox even when you submitted to him.

“Vixen.” It was cruel. Feet? Bound. Hands? Bound. Dick? Very fucking trapped in a very fucking vibrating cockring.

“Do you need my panties in your mouth to stay quiet?” You rolled your eyes at the fact that you had to swallow and change your plans because he couldn’t for the love of him keep his mouth shut.

“But I’m gonna cum.”

You kneeled on the floor and smiled. “Not my problem.”

He sobbed and threw his head back. “Come on. How fucking long has it been, three hours?”

“Based on my playlist, only six minutes.” You loosened his necktie — currently around your neck — and undid the first couple buttons on his shirt — which of course you were wearing rather sluttily. And that little plaid skirt? The one he always teased you about when he gave you assignments and tests?

He was regretting it now. A lot. It slipped down your legs so torturously as you stood, planting a foot between his parted legs.

He stared at it — at the Louboutins he had bought you after you spent one entire weekend oversexing him — and regretted them too.

You cocked an eyebrow and forced him to look at you. “Still thinking about that stripper?”

“Which one?”

You smirked. The answer was, after all, correct. “I don’t know if I should be happy you forgot or be worried about you seeing way too many of them.”

“It was just porn. Come on. You know I belong to you. Head to toe—” He shivered his glutes flexing a couple times before he growled and arched all the way, his orgasm spilling over his stomach and abdomen. “Fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vixen!”

“Language,” you chirped, slipping three fingers into his open mouth and pressing his tongue down, drool dripping out causing you to smirk and giggle. “Such a sorry mess.”

He hummed, his hips still swirling as he still tried to find some relief.

You took a step back, wiping your hand against your mouth, Namjoon whimpering as the vibrations didn’t stop. “Switch it off!”

“What? The music?” You tugged the necktie off you, eyes on him as you faked realisation. “Oh! You mean the lights!”

“Don’t you dare act all that smug. Don’t you—”

“Can’t hear you,” you spoke back, undoing the buttons slowly, shrugging off the shirt and turning around, dropping to the floor, grabbing your ass and squeezing it as you rotated your hips slowly, kneeling forward on your elbows, crawling forward until your arms adhered entirely to the floor, your back fully arched as your cheek met the floor.

“Touch yourself,” he growled darkly and needily.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” You sneered as you turned around to look at him. He had recovered from his post-orgasmic blues and sensitivity and was well on his way to a second high.

So you stood up and turned to face him. The remote to the toy was safely strapped between your breasts, hooked on your bra. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Vixen.” He loved how flawless your evil plan was. You had designed it to make him livid. And it was unwillingly playing out to the T. Knowing you, he realised you had probably calculated him being obnoxiously talkative.

He tried his theory. “Come over here.”

You were entirely lost in the music, eyes closed, jamming to it almost naked in front of your tied up boyfriend. Well, fiance. “Or what?”

“You damn brat—”

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” you taunted him coquettishly. The laugh that followed had Namjoon considering whether he made the greatest mistake of his life by getting addicted to you.

“I swear, if I get my hands on you—” he said, his voice raspy.

“I’m wondering how that is going to happen…” you mused, still moving to the beat of the music, the swaying of your hips reminding him why he always let you ride him that much.

He shrugged and shook his head, a drip of precum reminding him he was definitely overestimating his liberties. “I won’t be tied up forever.”

“I can lock myself in the guestroom,” you reminded him.

“But you can’t stay locked in there forever,” he replied with a sadistic smirk.

One more shrug before you lowered the vibrations — he was enjoying the toy way too much. “Too bad you’re a workaholic and I’m alone most of the time I’m in here.”

He kept a straight face at the stimulation fading, but he was not as serene about the reminder. “I’ll work from home.”

“Don’t bother yourself for me.”

Your remark poisoned him. “Come over here, babylove. Please.”

You obeyed. Not without grabbing the dildo that had been mocking Namjoon from the very first second of your striptease. He knew you would fuck yourself with it and keep him salivating, watching.

You placed it between his legs and kneeled, untying his ankles. “Keep it still.”

“Please, Vixen.” He wouldn’t be able to stand that.

You shook your head. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you must do what I tell you.”

He followed your instructions and stayed quiet. He watched you drool all over the toy before you collected his sticky cum with your fingers. You observed your fingertips for a second, then drew the tip of the silicone cock.

“Miss.”

You looked at him. His eyes were darker, his face more relaxed, no scrunching or pouting or begging. “Yes, Joonie bear.”

“Are you going to lick that, miss?” He had given up. He had pushed you too far.

“What would you like me to lick, Joonie? The dildo? Your cum on my fingers?” Your voice was more gentle and calm this time, no mocking in sight.

“The cum.”

You didn’t think twice. You licked your fingers clean, then straddled Namjoon comfortably, holding the toy as you tried to insert it.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Miss?”

You smiled. This was the submissive you wanted from the start. “It feels just fine, Joonie bear.” He was drenched in sweat, and you had to push his hair off his face to look him in the eye properly. You kissed his jaw, eyes rolling shut as the toy — significantly smaller than Namjoon — slipped in effortlessly. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, love.”

“It's okay.” Seeing him from this up close, so tired and weak, softened you a little.

“I said bad things about your job. I didn't mean it.” You pressed your lips to his, and he whimpered into your mouth, moving the dildo as he shifted for relief. “Do you need me to slow down? Are you still into this, baby?”

“Yes, I'm feeling good, Miss. Please, use me.” He looked so broken. “Use me.” This time he was truly begging.

“Can I use the toy just once? I'll use you afterwards, I promise, darling.” You stretched to kiss his brow. “I promise.”

He nodded, speechless, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he smelled the way his cologne changed as it mixed with your perspiration. It was more opulent and decadent, it became more exotic and dark, almost sweet.

“I wanna put the vibrations on max so I can press your ring to my clit and cum like that.”

He stretched to your mouth. “Please, do it.” He licked your jaw, his arms twitching. He would have grabbed your ass if he were free. He would have helped you grind on him, on the toy, on whatever.

You changed the setting quickly, feeling Namjoon exhale against you, slowly, his breath so cool on your burning skin. “I'm gonna cum again. I'm not sure I can fuck you after that, if that's what you were thinking.”

“You can,” you reassured him. “I'll give you a pause and fuck your face in the meantime.”

He cackled. “That's what I meant by 'use me'”. He groaned once you grabbed his cock, fixing its angle so that the knob of the ring rested on your clit perfectly. “Are we still power playing?”

You shook your head. “We're back to us if you want to.”

He nodded. “I want to.” You both hummed as you started undulating a little on him. Your tummy stroked his sex, the ring took care of your clit, your front adhered to his as you abandoned your body on top of his. “It was fun. But extenuating. I miss my daddy.” You kissed his neck, nipping at it very lightly.

“Daddy's always here, Vixen. Always yours.” He recognised your approaching high. Maybe you would be faster than him and—

There. You were done. Your thighs tightened all of a sudden, your body tensed for maybe five seconds before it all came loose. “Joonie,” you whined out, relief washing over you as you found the utmost pleasure. “Daddy,” you called, Namjoon fighting against the manacles restricting his wrists.

“I'm here, baby. I just need my wrists free, baby fox.”

You stayed loose and lazy for half a second before switching off the toy. Namjoon sighed in relief, your body once more abandoned against his. “Baby fox, free my wrists, please.”

You did as you were told, your hands skillfully operating without you even looking.

“Good girl,” he rewarded you as you undid the first cuff. He stayed still until they both plopped onto the comfy pillow of the armchair. “Get off that toy, babylove. Now.”

You lifted high enough for him to remove the dildo from inside you.

“I told you I would destroy you once you'd free me. Am I correct?”

You looked up at him. And there it was, that little cocky grin. “You said you would spank me.”

“I did not. I let you believe it.”

You faked outrage as you unglued yourself from him and stared. “Unfair!”

He pulled you closer and slid inside you, almost impaling you. “Fuck!” you squeaked before he grabbed your face.

“What?”

“Fuck,” you spat out. “Me,” you added, a look of challenge in your face.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and next thing you knew, your back was pressed to the wall, his hot chest against yours. “Hold on tight.”

[hockeyboysimagines]

omg i love your matty t blurbs!! 🥺 could you pls do something like their friends and she got jealous because she thought matty was seeing someone but they both like each other. a little angst but with a fluffy ending. thank you!! x

Thanks for the ask, I hope you like this!

“Are you jealous?”

You scoffed “Me? Jealous? Why would you even say that?”

Brady chuckled “Well because you’ve been staring at that girl for the last ten minutes like your trying to set her on fire. So I was just wondering.”

“Matthew is free to do whatever he wants. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Ah just because he isn’t doesn’t mean you don’t want him to be.”

Brady wasn’t wrong. You had grown up next door, younger than Matthew but older than Brady and they had always just been like brothers to you.

But one day Matthew stopped looking like a brother and started looking like a boyfriend.

It was summer in St.Louis and the Tkachuks were having a party. You knew who the girl was, and even though she was nice you hated her. Matthew and her had been hanging around eachother since she arrived and he was smiling that stupid smile and making her laugh and you just wanted to punch him. They were way too close for a casual conversation.

“What are we talking about?” Taryn asked as she joined you.

“Y/N wants Matthew to be her boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Well that’s not surprising.” You glared at them and turned to walk away when you ran smack into Matthew himself. He smiled at you and then nodded to his left, where the girl was standing. She smiled at you, but like a brat you didn’t return it.

“Do you guys know-“

“Yeah we know.” You snapped. You were being rude but you didn’t care. Matthew frowned.

“What’s your problem?”

You looked at him and then her and then side stepped them. You couldn’t really be mad, he didn’t know how you felt.

The Tkachuks bathroom was cool and quiet as you sat on the side of the tub. You would have to accept at some point that he would never feel the same and this was all bound to happen. You stood, took a deep breath and opened the door to find Matthew on the other side.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what your problem is.”

“Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?”

He made a face “My what?”

“It’s fine I don’t care.” You made the move to push past him but he braced his arm across the doorway to stop you “Kinda seems like you care.”

“Well I don’t. You wanna date her or someone else go ahead. I’m not jealous.”

“I never said you were.”

“I know I’m just saying.”

He was still looking down at her, eyebrows furrowed before he spoke “You know. I don’t get you. Your mad cuz I was talking to another girl, yet you evade my flirting every summer since we were 15. What gives?”

“You have not been flirting-“

“Oh yes I have. Every single summer. Didn’t you ever wonder why I always hung out with you instead of going out to do something dumb with my friends? Or why I text you every damn day during the season? I mean. I don’t know how much more obvious I can make myself without skywriting “Y/N I like you. Let me take you out.”

“You-you like me?”

“Of course I do. I always have.”

“What about what’s her name out there?”

“I was just talking to her. She likes Brady.”

You felt so dumb. You were flipping out about nothing and making an idiot out of yourself for 7 summers straight when you could have been dating him all this time.

“So can I kiss you now or would you like to yell at me some more about my nonexistent girlfriend? I’ve been waiting for 7 years so I guess I can wait a little longer.”

“You can kiss me now. I can always yell at you later.”

And he did, right there in the doorway of the bathroom. After a moment he had you up against the doorframe when you heard a triumphant’YES’.

Taryn had her fist raised in victory “Dad owes me 50 bucks!”

“What?” You both asked, still wrapped up in one another.

“We’ve had a bet going for like 7 years and I just won. Carry on.”

“Oh we will.” He said with a sly smile as he leaned back pressing his lips to yours.

[sunflowersoldat]

Man Out of Time Pt. 4

Warnings: Angst, mild language

Pairing: Steve x reader

Word Count:~1800

Summary: In your eyes, it was time to give up, Thanos had won, and you were ready to take Steve and leave everything else behind. He didn't quite agree

Masterlist

Steve Rogers Masterlist

After Thanos’s First Snap

Shaking your head, you looked around the room, this is all that was left of the team. Rhodes, Thor, Steve, Bruce, an alien woman named Nebula, a talking racoon; Rocket, Natasha, a woman named Carol Danvers, and somehow Tony survived; in critical condition, but alive. This wasn’t a mission, this was suicide. You couldn’t get behind it. They had found Thanos on another planet, they were going to go fight him to get the stones and attempt to bring everyone back. Tony was on your side, he completely disagreed,

“Tony what do you have? You fought him.” Steve asked, you turned to him standing behind Tony and gestured to the very broken man in front of you with a look of utter disbelief.

Sometimes you thought the blond forgot that the rest of us weren’t super soldiers.

“Fought him? No, he smashed me with a planet, I’ve got nothing for you Cap, no options no trust… Liar.”

Tony stumbled, but Rhodes was there to catch him, taking him into the other room to rest. You could see the hurt in Steve’s eyes, but you understood Tony, whatever had happened between them in Siberia, was still not forgiven or forgotten. Nat spoke up,

“This could be the chance we need to bring everyone back!” You shook your head again, groaning,

“You all are actually serious, he wiped the floor with all of us last time, you think this little team can do what the rest of us couldn’t?! Last time I checked we all got our asses handed to us, and ended up losing half the planet, or was I at a different battle? Its suicide!”

Looking to Steve hoping he would see some sense; this was fucking crazy. Carol stepped up,

“Well, you guys didn’t have me.” There wasn’t any venom in her words it was just a fact.

You turned to her now beyond irritated and getting pissed,

“Yeah, noted thanks, as much as I enjoy the confidence, I don’t think you are as powerful as you believe.”

Carol raised her brow, opening her mouth to retaliate, but Steve beat her to it, coming out of deep thought,

“Look Y/N we are going, this could mean everyone comes back and that is a chance I am willing to take. Anyone who doesn’t wish to try can stay here.”

The last comment felt like a slap to the face, just because you didn’t want to take part in a suicide mission, that automatically meant you didn’t want to help. Bullshit! Your blood boiled, narrowing your eyes at the man in front of you, his eyes pleading you to understand, but you couldn’t shake the feeling this just wasn’t a good idea. Aside from that the thought of the team losing again, losing Steve to Thanos and not being able to stop it just scared the shit out of you. You wanted out; you shouldn’t have let Steve drag you back into the ‘save the world’ club again.

“So, you all go. What happens if you don’t come back? Huh? Then what, who is going to save you? And what if after you try to take him out, you only anger him and he comes back without you, the world is defenseless. Think about that!” you slam the communicator down on the meeting table, “I’m out.”

You turn and storm out of the room. Thor grabs your arm,

“This will work Y/N.”

You yank your arm from his grip, behind you Steve is addressing the rest of the team,

“Wheels up in T-minus 5 ladies and gentlemen, let’s do this.”

Looking back at Steve, then back to Thor,

“And if it doesn’t?”

Thor takes a deep breath; voice breaking, “It has to.”

You shake your head, you know where he is coming from, he lost his brother, and half of his people, you feel his pain, but this is too rash even for a god. You turn to walk down the hallway making it to your room, you grab a suitcase from the closet and start loading up your belongings. There is a soft knock on your door, you figured it would be Pepper or Happy since everyone else was leaving,

“Yeah?” you called over your shoulder not bothering to turn around.

“Y/N.”

You squeezed your eyes shut pinching the bridge of your nose,

“I’m leaving Steven.”

You continued to pack, walking around the room grabbing things here and there tossing them in,

“Where are you going? Can we talk about this?”

You shake your head, the nerve of this man, “I am going home Steven, where I belong. No more heroes, no more of this saving the world bullshit. I am going to live the life I, we, deserve. And this,” you gesture to the room and your surroundings, “this isn’t it.”

He stepped towards you, he understood that you were scared, but you were lashing out and this wasn’t fair, he needed you to understand this was necessary, they had to at least try.

“Look Sweetheart, this mission is necessary, I owe it to everyone who isn’t here to at least try. I understand you are scared for us, but it’s going to be okay. Whatever it takes.” He caressed your cheek stopping you in your tracks.

“You don’t owe anyone anything Rogers. You never have, why won’t you get that through your thick skull.” You sighed scoffing, “Nothing I could say to you would change your mind Steve, and that makes me realize that one day you will find something or someone you think is worth more than saving the world, but today isn’t that day and I guess I’m not that person.”

You grab his hand holding it in yours, and reach up to your neck with the other, pulling off a chain, you placed it into his hand and closed it.

Steve shook his head in disbelief, what were you doing, what were you saying, “My tags? Sweetheart, I gave these to you, I- I don’t… Why?” you shook your head and turned to continue packing.

“Rogers the team is ready for you, we need to leave.” Nat said into his ear over the comms.

You heard him turn towards the door to leave,

“We can talk about this when I get back Sweetheart.”

You shook your head, “Steven….” He paused and turned back to you, but you couldn’t face him the tears were already swelling in your eyes, were you really going to throw it all away, you finally had him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, enough was enough,

“You leave this compound; I won’t be here when you return. You will never see me again.”

There were a few beats of silence until you turned around to find him gone; your heart shattered. Walking towards the door you slammed it shut, sliding down to the floor, you let yourself fall apart. At least for a moment you had had him, even briefly he had been yours.

You really did leave the compound, you left everything and everyone behind, you had told Tony and Pepper where you were going, but made them swear not to tell, but made sure they knew that if they needed anything not superhero related you were there for them. You left them your new contact information and address; it was a quaint little ranch in the middle of nowhere. Far away form anything to do with aliens and heroes, just what you had needed. You had purchased this land before the snap and hoped it would be used for yourself and Steve, and even Buck if he needed a place, you would always welcome him with open arms, but it looked like this little slice of heaven was going to be all yours. As you drove you had plenty of time to worry and clear your head, you prayed the team made it back in one piece at the very least, if they succeeded that would be amazing, but that was stretching it, right? A few days after you had left, you received an encrypted text form Tony on your new phone.

TS: Mission Report: Bust back 2 square 1. Purple douche is KIA. No stones

You shook your head tossing your phone into the passenger seat. When you finally arrived home, your heart ached, Steve was supposed to be here with you, this was for you both, to give up the hero gig and finally have peace. So much for that, not only were your friends dusted, so were your dreams, and your heart. It took you a while to get adjusted to living out here alone, but once you were accustomed to it, you couldn’t get enough. You bought a horse: Clyde is what you named him, rescued a dog: you wanted to name him Milo, but all he would respond to was Fenris, and one day a cat showed up and just claimed your house as hers, you hadn’t named her, you weren’t sure if she would one day be gone. You were finally at peace, you kept hoping you would see Steve, he would just show up walking down the driveway or sitting in the house waiting for you, but you pushed the thoughts away, that was a fairytale, they didn’t exist.

After a few months on your own you received a video call from Tony, it was him and Pepper sitting in a hospital room, Pepper lay in the bed, your first reaction was panic, then you saw Pepper smiling and holding a bundle in her arms.

“Y/N I want you to meet your niece, Morgan.” He was beaming, you couldn’t think of a time when you saw Tony this happy.

“Congratulations!” there were tears in your eyes, “When do you go home? I can be there in two shakes!” You squealed.

Tony nodded his head and gave you the address to his new home. You fell in love with Morgan the moment you first held her, you would visit them often throughout the next few years, and they even came to visit you. You taught both Pepper and Tony to ride Clyde, Tony was not a horse fan, but Morgan and Pepper on the other hand couldn’t get enough of him, Tony liked the cat though, they had a lot in common, both spoiled, bossy and man did they like a good burger. You hated being so far from them, but you enjoyed your space and privacy; they understood that. A few months after their last visit Tony contacted you via encryption again,

they are trying again 2 bring peeps back can’t risk my family. Keep you posted. Morgan sends her love to Clyde (and you).

You sighed they, were still at it huh? It had been 5 years you couldn’t believe they were still trying. You shook your head and continued with your daily routine.

They wouldn’t dare bring you back into this mess.

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