#shouldn’t be allowed to know what IG is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shinysobi · 2 months ago

Text

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: angst central again lmao but there's something good for everyone ig hehe also dedicated to gigi, who's been the first reader of this hehe

a/n 2: reblogs/comments/likes are, as always, much appreciated! tell me if you like it lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Chapter 3

I learnt, at a very young age, that the best thing to do in any situation, is to ultimately do nothing. If you do nothing, then you will never fail. I’ve managed to spend my entire life doing the bare minimum, but right now? Right now, with Jihoon’s face half a feet away from mine, close enough for me to see the dried tears on his cheeks, I begin to wonder if it’s the best thing to do.

“You should say something,” Jihoon says, wiping his face, “I didn’t run half a mile uphill just for you to say nothing.”

What does he actually want me to say? I’ve furiously racked my brain to find the correct words to say to him; in the aftermath of the argument, but I’ve always come up empty. Its odd, and strangely humbling, this experience. Should I even say something? Am I allowed to? Jihoon stares at me, and it’s only then that I realise, he’s still holding my hands.

“I’m sorry.” I say, “I’m sorry for everything I said that night.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have forced all those decisions on you when you were not—are not ready.” Jihoon says, “but I really can’t imagine myself in a world where I am not your friend.”

He leans down, picking up a plant, “for your kitchen garden. Your chive plant died last month.”

I take it from him, the lingering warmth of his hands on my skin, “this is your idea of a housewarming gift?”

“This is all I could get at such short notice,” he replies, “all the other stores were closed, so I got this from a street vendor.”

“That’s—unexpectedly sweet of you, Jihoon,” I say, turning to place the pot on the floor, “do you want to come in?”

Jihoon nods, before slipping off his shoes and his jacket, entering my still-unfurnished house. All of a sudden, I’m self-conscious about the state of the place, even if he has seen worse. What am I doing, getting worked up over Jihoon entering my home?

“Look,” he begins, standing in the middle of the kitchen, “these past few weeks have been a personal kind of hell for me. I know you don’t care, but I’m just putting it out there. Life without you, without seeing you every day, without talking to you, has been hell, and I don’t want to live in it anymore.”

“Jihoon,” I begin, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.

“I’ve felt like shit, knowing that you’re just out of my reach, to the point where even if I reach for you, you won’t be able to see me, to talk to me, to be the kind of person I know and love, and it’s been excruciating, having to live with that knowledge.”

“Jihoon, what are you trying to get at?”

He takes a deep breath, as if readying himself for something horrible, “what I mean to say, is that I lied.”

“What? You lied about what, Jihoon?”

“It’s about—” he throws up his hands, “don’t you have any alcohol around here? Why do I have to have this conversation with you while sober?”

“Jihoon, I just moved in today. Of course, I don’t have alcohol, you idiot.” I cross my arms over my chest, “if you have nothing else to say, then you should leave. It’s getting late, and I have a lot of work left to do around the house tomorrow. If all you came here for was to apologise then it’s fine, I accept your apology—”

“Damn, woman, will you let me finish? I’m trying to get at something!”

“Well then, get at it faster!”

“I lied about getting over you!”

One thing I hate about this apartment is how silent it is. In my previous apartment, at all times of the night, there would be someone making a noise, and I hated how it would disturb my sleep. Right now, there’s silence. There’s silence and then there’s us, standing in the half-dark. Jihoon looks like he wants to say something, but has been holding himself back.

“What-what do you mean?” I say, after what seems like a lifetime, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I said that I lied about getting over you. I liked you back when I was doing my military service, and I still like you now.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I can assure you, I’m just as serious about this as I am with my work.”

“Then are you saying—”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, and I think I’ll continue liking you for a long time.”

“Jihoon, I don’t like you like that.”

“I know,” Jihoon looks pained, and for the first time in my life, I want to lie and say that no, Jihoon, I like you too, but I can’t, “look, my feelings are my own. You don’t have to reciprocate them. You and I are separate people, and I don’t want to impose my feelings on you.”

“Then why did you say all this?” my voice communicates all my frustration, “then why did you come here and tell me all this, if you didn’t want to sway me? You were the person who kept telling me to move on, and now you come here and tell me this?”

“Because I felt like I was dying!” Jihoon yells, “not talking to you, not seeing you, not being able to text you, all this made me feel like I was dying. I didn’t tell you anything because I wanted to preserve our friendship, but when I can’t see you around, my heart feels as though it’s stopped functioning. All I could think about was you.”

“Jihoon,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray my frustrations, “you don’t like me in a romantic light.”

“Don’t presume my feelings.”

“I’m not! I’m just pointing out that we have been friends for a long time, and that your feelings for me might just be you overthinking your feelings of friendship and thinking its something else when really, its just friendship. I don’t think you like me romantically, Jihoon. I think you’re just confused.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything for a long time. I would have felt better if he had cursed me, or if he had become angry, but all that remains of Jihoon right now, in this moment, is someone whose feelings are replaced with—just nothing.

Jihoon checks his watch, “look, it’s late, you should get some sleep.”

He turns around, opening the door, and pauses for a moment before turning around. “I don’t care if you’ve stopped, or if you’re terrified of moving forward. I’ll stay there with you until you’re ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“And another thing.”

“Yes?” I ask, voice cracking in the middle of the word. This is going to haunt me in my nightmares.

“Your dream,” Jihoon says, hand on the door handle, “I’ll help you fulfil it. No matter what it takes.”

—

Seungkwan is at my door the next morning, even before I’m fully dressed, carrying a box of Jeju oranges. Even before I can open the door fully, he’s in my apartment, staring at my face.

“My mom sent these for you, by the way,” he says, then takes a look at my face, “whoa, Sunbae, you look like you haven’t slept all night.”

“I know, I know,” I mutter, “just had some things to think about, that’s all.”

“Think about?” Seungkwan starts to unpack my crockeries, “you look like hell. I’m not kidding, you look awful.”

“Wow, thanks, Seungkwan, that sounds like a great compliment.” I mutter, settling down into a chair, “coming into my home on a Saturday and telling me I look ugly, way to make a girl feel great.”

“I’m not being sarcastic, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.” He sits in the chair next to mine, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Seungkwan, you’re sweet, but this is something I can’t really talk about.” I mutter, “some things aren’t meant to be shared with everyone.”

And really, what can I say? ‘oh, don’t worry, Seungkwan, my best friend since university, the person with whom I haven’t been talking to for the past few weeks, came to my apartment last night to confess that he had feelings for me?’ How does one even begin that conversation? Not to mention the embarrassment that Jihoon would face if I were to ever spill the beans to the guys. He’s always been intensely private, even in his romantic affairs. To spill his secrets would just be cruel.

It's really, really not as though I haven’t received romantic confessions. There have been people who have asked me out, who have said that they liked me, from university classmates to people at work. Even in school, when all I could think about were university entrance examinations, and how I had to get into a university in Seoul because that was where my sister went too, I had a few people tell me they had feelings for me, I have had people get angry when I turned them down, I’ve had people get sad when I said, no, I’m sorry. Yet, all this feels new. What do you actually say when someone you’ve known for years, tells you that they hold feelings for you? What is the appropriate thing to say, especially if you don’t know what your own feelings are?

“You know, I grew up with three older sisters, right?”

“Yes, you keep reminding me of it every other day.”

“Yes, so,” Seungkwan leans forward, inspecting my face, “you look like you’ve got something weighing down on your mind. And while I might not be Joshua-hyung or Jihoon-hyung, I can be a pretty good listener.”

“No, I don’t think I can tell you this. It’s not my secret to tell, and even then, I don’t want to burden you with something that shouldn’t be your responsibility in the first place.”

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan asks, “does this have anything to do with Jihoon-hyung?”

I stare at him. “When did you get so fucking perceptive?”

“So, it is,” he leans back in his chair, self-satisfied and smug as hell, “I knew it. I knew he’d do something like this.”

“You knew?” I ask, and Seungkwan nods, “you knew, and you didn’t think of telling me? not even once? Not even a single heads-up?”

“And? What would we even say? ‘Jihoon-hyung likes you, please be advised he might try to confess his feelings?’ Would you have even liked it?”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” I shake my head, “really? This is something everyone knew about?”

Seungkwan nods, “I think most of us are aware of Jihoon-hyung’s feelings towards you, given how he acts.”

I hold up a hand, “Wait, pause. How he acts? What do you mean, how he acts? I’ve never seen him be anything other than perfectly normal with me.”

“That’s the problem with you,” Seungkwan clarifies, “your baseline is different when it comes to Jihoon-hyung. He treats you much more differently than he does all of us, and you’ve never noticed? Not even once?”

“No, clearly, I haven’t, Seungkwan, explain.”

Seungkwan takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather his thoughts into a proper sequence, and begins, “well, for once, he always does what you want, even if he is initially against it. With anyone else? You can’t even convince him to lift a single finger, but he drove all the way to the restaurant that one time, dropping the recording for Soonyoung’s new album. Sure, he didn’t get in trouble, but he did that just because you called.”

“He ran out of a recording session?” I have to repeat myself, because in all the years that I have known Jihoon, he’s always put his work before everything else. In university, he spent days and nights in the makeshift recording studio he had in his home, only venturing out to get food once every two days. Even his recording studio was off-limits to us, until he had finished working on a project. That Jihoon left Soonyoung in the middle of a recording session to come pick me up because I was drunk? “Should I apologise to Soonyoung?”

“The only person you should be apologising to, is me,” Seungkwan send me a dirty look that would have anyone else cringing, “I come here to help you unpack and decorate your home, and this is what I have to hear?”

“You’re a traitor. You’ve been hiding Jihoon’s feelings from me for god knows how long, and now you expect me to be nice to you? Get a grip on yourself.”

“This is,” Seungkwan wags a finger at me, “this is just shooting the messenger. You think the others haven’t kept his secret from you?”

“What? Even Jeonghan-oppa? He’s betrayed me too?”

Seungkwan smiles, “there are no allies in this stupid game you both are playing. We’ve all known about his feelings ever since he came back from the military and hung up that stupid photo of the two of you on his wall. He would have had it framed it if the quality wasn’t like it was taken on a microwave.”

I think about the picture, Jihoon with the flat cap and me beside him, flashing a wide, toothy smile. “He tried to get it framed?”

“Seungcheol-hyung had to talk him out of it, because it’s insane, having a picture of another girl framed and putting in your bedroom while you’re trying to get a girlfriend is not the best thing to do, in retrospect.”

“Ah yes, wasn’t this when he was dating the music major? The intern at the office?” I’m trying to keep my voice light, but unfortunately, I know everything about his past relationships, the serious and the casual. The girls at university, the intern he dated for a month before she dumped him, and the office worker who he dated for a year before she finally grew sick of him and left. “I don’t remember them that well.”

“Liar. You remember every detail.” Seungkwan grins, “just like Jihoon-hyung can recite the names of all your exes backwards if he wanted to, “You remember every detail about all of Jihoon-hyung’s relationships. Yes, this was when he was dating the intern, and Seungcheol-hyung pointed out that it probably would not be the best look to frame a picture of the girl your girlfriend hates, and put it in your bedroom where you could see it every morning and every night.”

“May we all thank Seungcheol-oppa for his infinite wisdom.” I say, and Seungkwan gives me a high five, “wait, she hated me? but I was nice to her! And not fake nice, which is what I generally am, I was actually nice to her!”

“She still hated you, though. There was nothing you could do about that relationship.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s the same the other way around, too. Remember when you were dating that artist who hated the idea of Jihoon-hyung being around?”

“Oh, him? I remember that. He once tore down all the pictures I had with Jihoon, insisting that I was cheating on him. in his defence, we were twenty-three, so, I don’t blame him for making bad choices.”

Seungkwan groans, “this way, it’s going to take at least a hundred years before you wake up, too. Sunbae! Have you not realised it yet, or do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Realised what?”

“That you like hyung as well? That its not just him who’s chasing, but also you?”

I scoff, “no, I don’t like Jihoon! I don’t know why you are saying this, but I don’t like Jihoon. He’s simply a friend of mine.”

“You once drove to Hwacheon in the middle of winter for his birthday.”

“That’s different! It was his birthday, he was in the military, I had to do something! Besides, he only got one day for his leave, and none of you guys could go.”

“Sunbae, driving to Hwacheon is a bit too much, don’t you think?” Seungkwan stares at me, “you’re telling me you drove through snow and went halfway to North Korea for your friend?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” I wail, falling onto the floor on a heap, “all I know is that I want Jihoon in my life. I can’t live without him; these past few weeks, its as though life has lost its meaning for me. I don’t find my work fun anymore; I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore. I can’t give him up.”

“I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty romantic to me.”

I narrow my eyes, “you’re just enjoying the fun, aren’t you?”

Seungkwan giggles, “and what if I tell you I am?”

“I’d kill you.”

Seungkwan says nothing, just continues to grin as though he’s watching a sitcom, or a variety show. What would a variety show based on my life look like? Something like I Live Alone, but entirely for people struggling with romance problems; if I worked in a bigger broadcasting company, I would have pitched this idea. People would get on there, and just talk about their romance problems.

“Sunbae—no, noona.”

Seungkwan calling me by the familiar honorific catches my attention. Since I have known him, Seungkwan has never once referred to me in that familiar a tone, always with the more respectful sunbae, reserved for departmental seniors. Especially since joining the news desk, he has refused to call me anything but. It gives me a sense of respect, obviously, but it also seems as though he has always kept me at arm’s length.

“You’re being familiar with me, Seungkwan,” I say, “what’s happened?”

He sits next to me on the floor, staring at me, “noona, have you ever really done anything for yourself?”

I give him a look. “What do you mean, if I have done anything for myself? Everything I do is for myself; I think we’ve established that. If you made a list of the most selfish people you know, I would probably rank top five in there.”

“That’s what you think. You always keep talking about how you’re doing things for yourself, but in reality, all you do, is based on the needs of others.”

“I think you’re trying to make me into a martyr, Seungkwan, when all I have done is be a selfish person.”

“I also think that you consider yourself to be a selfish person because that’s what you’ve been taught to believe.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, mildly, “look at the society we live in. its either hyper individualistic, or it’s based on outdated systems of collective identity; either way, I’m not actually doing anything I want to do myself. It is all things I’ve been taught. How to be, how to act, how to think.”

“And that isn’t wrong, per se, but you have to think, at some point, that your existence is based on how others think of you. Even with Jihoon-hyung, you’re just going off of what we might think of you, what he might think of you. Have you even figured out your own feelings?”

“And what if we break up? What if I say to Jihoon, that yes, I’d like to date you too, but we break up soon? Within one month, two months? I’m terrified of losing him, to the point where I’m happy to be his friend just to keep him in my life. Why else do you think I rejected him?”

“You rejected him?” Seungkwan screeches, “noona, you’re in love with him, and you rejected him?”

“Being friends with him is more important to me than being his girlfriend,” I say, “to be his girlfriend is something I don’t want to imagine.”

“Because you don’t want to be his girlfriend, or because you don’t want to get your hopes up?”

I groan, lying back down on the floor, “I don’t know, and I don’t want to think about it either.”

Seungkwan smiles, “hey maybe, you should try and think about what you want to do, before doing what everyone else expects of you. Even if that’s what you are going to end up doing anyway, maybe, you should at least be aware of what you want.”

—

On Monday, I walk into the office with my eyes bloodshot, and dark circles underneath them, ten minutes after the team meeting has begun. Both the Editor and the Assistant Editor take one look at my face and decide not to tell me anything for showing up late to the meeting.

“We were talking about your column, Sunbae,” Haewon says as I nurse my coffee, “the readers loved it. We’ve been getting so many responses and letters to the office after you began the column.”

“We are?” I ask, “who the hell is screening through the letters, then?”

“I am,” the Assistant Editor says, “I figured you didn’t need one more thing on your plate, and I sorted out whatever you had to. For the first time in a long while, we have fan mail coming to the office.”

“Huh?” I catch the last part of that sentence, “we have fan mail?”

“Yes, and a lot of it, too,” the Assistant editor smiles at me, “at this rate, we might start a radio show if we have the funds for it.”

“We’ll never have the funds for it,” I wave a hand, “having a radio show is out of the question.”

“Still, it seems nice that the desk is getting a lot of other attention too, other than doing book reviews and movie reviews.” The editor says.

“You do realise, all this is coming at the expense of my sleep?” I grumble, “this is the worst idea you could ever have. A radio show? I can barely talk to people. You want me to go on a show and talk to people in real-time?”

“Yes, yes, which is why we are not thinking about it,” the Editor clarifies, “you just need to continue writing the column as you have been. That much is enough for the desk.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Sunbae,” Seungkwan slides an energy drink towards me, “it’s enough for the desk if you just do things as they come by. No one is asking you to do more than what’s required.”

“You say that now, Seungkwan, but pretty soon they’ll be asking favours from you, too.” I smile at him, “don’t let anyone walk over you here. Its difficult to stop them once you’ve begun letting them have their way.”

During lunch break, Seungkwan sidles up to me in the cafeteria, where the members of the desk have congregated (on news of them serving galbi-tang), and asks, “Sunbae, have you finished moving in? Jeonghan-hyung wanted me to invite you to a party this weekend.”

“Why didn’t he invite me himself?” I ask through a mouthful of beef, “has he lost my number?”

“No, he’ll probably invite you personally, but he wanted me to tell you beforehand.”

I narrow my eyebrows, “what am I, some sort of minister? Why are there levels of protocol when approaching me for an event?”

Seungkwan shrugs, “you know how Jeonghan-hyung is. You once told him you were uncomfortable at a party, and he’s taken that to heart ever since.”

I roll my eyes. The party in question was one thrown in the first year of university, after appropriate introductions had been made, and me and Jihoon had been invited out to a party by Joshua and his friends, where I got blind drunk and regretted it the next morning. Ever since that night, the boys have been particular about when to invite me out, none more so than Jeonghan, who apparently vetted all his invitations through Seungkwan, “tell him I’ll be there. And from now on, don’t let him vet his applications through you. If he wants to invite me out, he can call me himself. I don’t mind.”

“You do realise, if I relay your message verbatim to hyung, he’s going to be even more cautious of you?”

“Well, I’ll tell him myself, then.”

“Don’t tell him.”

I stare at Seungkwan, who looks serious, “really, sunbae, let other people care about you once in a while. Jeonghan-hyung is only mindful of your boundaries because he doesn’t want to overstep. He doesn’t see you as a burden, or as someone he needs to treat with kid gloves for the rest of his life.”

“Well, doesn’t matter what he thinks. If he continues to treat me like I’m a child, others might get annoyed with his actions.”

“Others? You mean the people that respect you and are cognizant of your boundaries and your shortcomings?” Seungkwan places a piece of meat in my rice bowl, I’m almost done with eating, “sunbae, people that make accommodations for you aren’t doing it because they secretly hate you, or that they’re bothered by your presence in events. They’re doing it because they want you to be there, and they like you enough to go out of their way to make a place for you at the table.”

“Seungkwan, this is much more complicated than that.”

“I don’t see why it has to be so complicated,” he says, standing up, “you keep being kind to people, but when they want to extend that same kindness to you, you reject it, saying its excessive. Aren’t you hurting yourself in the long run?”

“Seungkwan,” I hold my head in my hands, “I can’t just change my way of thinking.”

“Yes, I know,” he shakes his head, “just that—you should try at least.”

—

When I enter my apartment that evening, there’s a cloud hanging over my head. Its not simply the absence of Jihoon, but also Seungkwan’s words. To think that I haven’t been trying to accept the attentions of people, well, why am I trying to deny it? its correct.

My phone rings, and I pick it up without even checking the caller ID, “hello?”

“I had to hear from Jihoon that you had moved.”

I sigh. This is the last think I wanted to do at this moment, have a conversation with my mother, “sorry, I didn’t have a lot of opportunities to talk to anyone. I was too busy with work these past few weeks.”

“Still, it would have been nice to know that you moved, from you, and not from Jihoon.”

“Wait, mom, why—why are you talking to Jihoon instead of me?”

My mother laughs on the other end. It’s a nice thing, to hear her laugh, “because Jihoon, no, not just him, all of your friends call me more than you do. Jihoon even came by our house a few weeks ago, and had a meal with us.”

I sigh, “really, Jihoon—he’s going to piss me off at this rate.”

“No, don’t take out your frustrations on Jihoon. He’s a nice boy.”

I wonder how my mother would react if I told her that her ‘nice boy’ stormed into my apartment and told me he was in love with me ever since he went for his military service. She would probably jump with joy. “Sorry, mom,” I say, hoping my thoughts aren’t seeping into my voice, “I just started a new column at work.”

“Really? That’s so nice, I hope they aren’t overworking you.”

“No, mom, they’re not. I came home right on time today.”

“That’s good.” She says. I say nothing. What else is there to say? For someone who’s been alienated form their family for so long, all that remains is a string of hollow formalities and conversations that die out in a moment.

“How’s my sister?” I ask, in an effort to continue the conversation, “has she talked to you recently?”

My mother perks right up, “have I told you, your sister is getting married? She’s marrying Yong-Hwa in the spring. Has she not told you yet?”

In fact, my sister had told me, had told me how she was getting married to the love of her life, a prosecutor, and how she was envisioning the rest of her life with him, with children, a happy home, and more. It made me jealous; to see someone achieve their dreams when you are struggling with your own is not an easy thing.

“I heard,” I say, “how’s dad? Are his health problems persisting? Should I send more vitamins?”

“No, no, he’s perfectly fine. He’s still working as a lawyer, even though the doctor has told him not to. He says he’ll continue to work till he’s eighty.”

“Hah…dealing with father is tiring, isn’t it?” I groan, “I’ll come down the next time I get some time off. I’ll talk him into retiring properly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” my mother says, “knowing that you’re working hard is good enough for me, at least, this way, I can think that you’re doing well.”

“That’s good, then,” I reply, “sorry, mom, I’m getting another call. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, but don’t go for too long without talking to us.”

This is fine. To know that my parents are doing well, its okay. I can hold on for longer if that’s what helps them. I’ll be the daughter they’re proud of.

—

I’ve been wandering for far too long. Always trying to be the best version of myself. But what lies at the end of this journey? Is it just a means of fulfilling my parents’ wishes?

On most days, I want to be alone. So, I push people away, just to benefit myself. It has got nothing to do with how I feel about them, it’s just how I feel most at ease. I’ve always been on my own, its just easier. Its easier to be the person people relied on, instead of the person who had to rely on others. But just for once, I’d like someone to tell me that it will be okay. It will be okay to break down, that it will be okay if I fail. My life has been so barren, that even trying to do anything otherwise is too much. For so long I’ve been someone whose life has been dictated by the wishes of others, that I fear I wont even be able to live well if I decided to live by my own.

What does it mean, to have a dream? I had a letter sent to me, saying that their dream is to find happiness on their own. Well, happiness is something that comes after a long time. I’m searching for it too, but I hope you find it, sincerely. To walk towards happiness isn’t something that’s easy. But I appreciate you for taking that step. To walk towards what you want. What you need.

There’s another letter, that says, ‘I don’t have a dream yet’. Don’t worry, a dream isn’t something that’s complicated. They aren’t supposed to be; you’re supposed to find something that makes you happy, that makes you want to live again. That’s all. that is all there is to a dream. All around us, people are living day to day, they’re living without finding what makes them happy. I hope it finds you soon.

I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to find something that gives me purpose. The way I’m living now, it’s enough for me, to live an average existence, to live in a way that gives me peace, if not happiness.

What happens when that peace is taken away, too?

—

Jeonghan throws good parties. That’s a given. It’s not as though he invites many people, or that his parties are a riot of good fun, but he always makes people feel at ease, if not with his actions, then with his words. Its who he is. A source of constant comfort, that I feel guilty for trying to take advantage of.

I arrive at his house after finishing work with a bottle of wine, hesitating before I press the doorbell. Jeonghan lives in a house in the middle of Seoul that he got for dirt cheap because the people who lived in there were violently murdered in the early ‘00s, a fact that I had asked him about once, and he had simply brushed it of by saying that if there were ghosts, he would befriend them. I’d given up on asking him after that one exchange.

The door opens within ten seconds of me ringing the doorbell, and Jeonghan greets me with a wide smile, “I thought you wouldn’t come! Can I give you a hug?”

I nod, “I told you I would be there,” but the rest of my sentence is drowned out by Jeonghan enveloping me into a large hug. He smells like an expensive perfume, mixed with the familiar smell of chicken and beer. Ah, so its that kind of party.

“Make yourself at home, the rest of them already have.” He says, ushering me into the living room, “the rest of the boys are already here. We were just waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?”

“Because, my dear writer, you’ve always turned down any invites for parties for five years now. Now that you’ve accepted my invite, you’re the star of this gathering.”

I don’t say anything, but my discomfort must have shown on my face, because he suddenly stops me, “hey, just so you know, I meant that as a joke. Seungcheol just got a big promotion at work, so he’s been bragging about that for an hour now. I doubt anyone will pay attention to you.”

“That’s nice.”

All around the low table, there are cans of beer, snacks, and boxes of fried chicken. Jeonghan must have prepared for a lot of people to come. Seungcheol is talking about his job, how he was now the team manager of marketing, and how happy it made him, to have so much responsibility at such a young age. There’s Chan, Vernon, and Seungkwan, gossiping about their respective fields of work, and Mingyu is sleeping on the end of the table, while Minghao and Wonwoo talk about how work has been nowadays. Jun is noticeably missing from the group, but I can see him in the kitchen, making himself another drink, and then, there’s Jihoon. Seated between Joshua and Seokmin, talking about something I can’t hear. I stand still in my tracks, unable to move. What do I say? After rejecting him so painfully, what do I say? I’m sorry, Jihoon? Sorry about what? Sorry about not being able to accept genuine affection in the fears that it might ruin the one good thing I have for myself?

“Aren’t you going to sit?” Jeonghan asks, gesturing to a seat beside Jihoon, “I thought you would be more comfortable if you sat beside Jihoon, since you’ve known him for longer.”

In fact, I’d rather sit anywhere other than beside Jihoon, but I take the seat next to him gingerly, and Seokmin eagerly moves over. Seokmin is like a child, eager, soft around the edges, and someone you want to protect, no matter what. Maybe if I could look into people’s minds, Seokmin’s would be pure, devoid of any harshness of the world; is that why I tried to protect him even when I had no right to?

“Noona,” Seokmin giggles, “have I told you about the play I’m performing in? I’ll give you a ticket, so you have to come, okay?”

His energy is so infectious, I can’t help but smile with him, “of course, I’ll come to see you.”

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks, his voice so quiet I barely miss it, “you don’t really come to occasions like these.”

“Felt like it,” I mutter, “new year, new me, or should I say new apartment, new me?”

Jihoon laughs, “yeah, you seem like you’ve changed. Your hands are shaking.”

I look down at my hands, and true enough, they’re shaking. Whether from nervousness or something else entirely, I don’t know, but they’re shaking. I ball my hands into fists. Whatever happens, don’t let anyone know what you’re going through. “just tired, perhaps.”

“You have been working too much,” Joshua pipes up, “you never reply to any of my texts anymore.”

“That’s because you keep asking me about flower arrangements,” I reply, “why would I look at flowers when I can’t smell them?”

“Sunbae is very busy at the news desk,” Seungkwan pipes up, “did you know, she has a new co—”

“Shut up, Seungkwan,” I mutter, reaching over to stuff a chicken leg in his mouth, “the work has been just harder these few days.”

Jihoon stares at me; it’s the same look he has in his eyes whenever he’s landed on something to probe, and sure enough, he asks, “why? What’s going on at the office?”

“Nothing!” I say, far too quick for it to even go past Seokmin or Joshua, (whom everyone, not just me, have deemed as the most scammable) “its nothing! Seungkwan just wanted to brag about his workload to everyone else.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Vernon asks, but is largely ignored by Jeonghan (my angel prince saviour Jeonghan) who arrives with drinks, a grumpy Jun in tow, announcing, “who wants shots!” and despite pushing thirty, Seungcheol, who had paused bragging about his work promotion, raised his hands, grabbing one of the shot glasses. Even Mingyu wakes up from his nap, raising his hand in the air and grabbing one of the shot glasses. They’re all going to regret it, I think to myself, then, feeling Jihoon’s eyes on me, grab a couple of the shot glasses myself. The drink is sugary, and multicoloured (Jun once wanted to be a bartender in university). It goes down far smoother than expected, since I’ve had Jun’s drinks since university, and they have tasted like battery acid far too many times for me to expect something nice out of his concoctions.

“This is actually nice,” Chan says, “hyung, what did you put in this?”

“Won’t be telling you,” Jun pulls a face, “you’ll just make it for other people and then take credit for it.”

Of course, this ensues in a squabble, with Chan loudly protesting that he would never do that to his beloved Jun-hyung (he would, I know) and Jun proclaiming that Chan is nothing but a dirty jerk who wants to put his grubby little hands, on Jun’s hard work and his creation (most likely, it was from a Reddit forum on bartending). One by one, the rest of them enter the argument, and I lean back into my seat, laughing at their antics. Its always chaos when I meet the boys, but somehow, its also peaceful. They’re loud, boisterous, and from whatever pictures Joshua and Jihoon had shared from their one shared ‘boys’ trip’, dirty as hell (these people laid out a carpet of towels instead of just drying their feet) but they know how to put someone’s mind at ease. Or at least, my mind at ease. I don’t know about others.

Its almost two in the morning when they quiet down. Jeonghan might have bought this house because it was dirt cheap and he wanted to make friends with the ghosts, but this house has one of the most gorgeous verandas I’ve ever seen. It looks out onto a peaceful Seoul street, and in the middle of the night, there’s no one here to complain if I smoke a cigarette.

I light one up, letting out a puff of air as I sit down on the marble flooring. It has been a long time since I smoked a cigarette (three days), and some of the smoke goes into my eyes when I let it out of my lungs. Its not enough to make me cough, but my eyes water nonetheless.

“You can smoke inside, if you want.” Jeonghan appears at the corner of my field of vision, “in fact, I think Minghao is smoking one right now.”

“Just wanted to get away from the noise a little,” I say, shaking the cigarette, “want to sit beside me?”

He shrugs, but crosses his legs and sits beside me on the marble flooring anyway.

After barely a minute, he turns to me, and without any warning, says, “so, has Jihoon told you he’s in love with you?”

I start coughing. Big, hacking coughs, and he just stares at me while I recover. I cannot believe I called him my saviour. “What—what do you mean?”

Jeonghan, the irritating bastard, still has that same, serene smile on his face, “you can’t possibly think that we all spent the last few years with our eyes closed now, have you? We’ve all known about Jihoon’s feelings for you, and now that you’re here, I can see that its reciprocated.”

“Wha-how are you even making these assumptions? I don’t have any feelings for him!” I whisper, “and yes, I know about his feelings. Even if they caught me somewhat by surprise, I’m aware of what kind of feelings he has for me.”

“And?” he leans close, “how does that make you feel?”

“How should it make you feel? I feel worried.”

“Worried?” he pulls a face, “if you wanted to get him off of your back, you’d say something like ‘I feel uncomfortable’, but you aren’t, because you don’t really feel uncomfortable, do you?”

I stare at him, fuck Jeonghan and his perceptive nature. “it’s not that I don’t feel uncomfortable, I just-don’t see the point in his confession.”

“Why? Why would a mere confession have you feeling this way? If you don’t want to accept it, then just say so. No one here,” Jeonghan points to the room, “will fault you for that. In fact, I think they’ll all commend you for it. Jihoon can be a tad bit difficult at times.”

I scoff, “he’s not difficult, he’s just—Jihoon.”

Jeonghan laughs, “see, I knew it. I knew there was something else there that you weren’t letting on. Now, come on, tell me,” and then spreads his arms wide, “tell oppa what’s bothering you.”

“If you refer to yourself as oppa again, I might have to kill you.”

This time, he laughs loud enough for people to hear inside, “fine, fine. I won’t be doing that anymore. But tell me, my dear writer, have you never thought about it? even once?”

I shrug, “of course I have. Everyone has those kinds of thoughts once in a while, I’m no different from the others, of course I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

I shake my head, “nothing good will ever come out of it, because it’s a fifty-fifty chance. We either stick together until the end of time, or we break up and I can’t interact with him ever again.”

“So, you’d prefer to not try at all.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long time, and then finally, shrugs, “it’s your choice. If you don’t want to do something, then you shouldn’t force yourself to. But can I tell you something?”

“Yes?”

“When did he say that he started having feelings for you?”

I think for a moment, “since his military service.”

Jeonghan grins, sly, just the way I know his smile works, “As someone who’s seen Jihoon since his university days, I can tell you something. He’s got it wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yes. He’s liked you since the day you walked into his life. There has been no moment in time when he was not in love with you. He might have realised it late in life, but he’s always been in love with you.”

I stare. Jeonghan isn’t the kind of person who makes random statements, so for him to say this, its strange. Jihoon has been in love with me ever since the first day? but that doesn’t make sense. “You do realise he’s dated other people too, while he was friends with me?”

“Of course, I know that. Both you and him have been running away from your actual feelings, but that doesn’t make it any more apparent that you have both been in love with each other since the day you met. Or at least, it has been that way for Jihoon.”

With that, Jeonghan stands up, dusting off his trousers, “there’s a guest bedroom in there for you. If you’re tired, just go inside and sleep.”

I look inside, where Chan is currently trying to balance a beer can on his forehead, “and the rest of them?”

“The rest of them can sleep on the couch,” he says, “it’s the least they can do after creating such a ruckus in my own home.”

“But you invited them.”

There’s a slightly evil glint in his eyes as he says, “yes, yes I did.”

—

The next morning, I wake up to people talking all over themselves, and the smell of pancakes wafting in the air. That has got to be Joshua. After cleaning up in the attached bathroom, I walk out of the guest bedroom, coming face-to-face with Jun, who’s carrying in his hands a very large tray, heaped with pancakes and a singular glass of milk.

“Is this for me?” I ask, and he nods, gesturing towards the kitchen, where Joshua is busy cooking a meal for thirteen people. Or fourteen, if you count me.

“Sorry, I can’t have breakfast right now,” I sidestep past him, and Jun follows me out into the kitchen, “sorry, but I have to leave right now.”

“Without having breakfast?” Jun asks, setting the tray down, where Chan promptly picks one up and stuffs it into his face, “you should have something at least.”

“Had too much to drink last night,” I offer up as a feeble excuse, avoiding Jihoon’s gaze. It’s strange, piercing in a way that I am not really used to, “I should probably get going. There’s still so much to be done in my apartment.”

“Speaking of apartments,” Wonwoo speaks through a mouthful of pancake, “when are you going to call us all over?”

“As soon as I can,” I reply, “I’ll host a potluck. You all can bring a dish, and it’ll be a party.”

“Instead of that, just make Mingyu cook,” Soonyoung grins, “he’ll be eager to help if it involves you. And cooking. But mostly, you.”

I open my mouth to say something, but Jihoon stands up, slipping on his stupid khaki jacket, “here, I’ll give you a ride. Come on, then.”

“Ah but hyung, you still have so much on your plate—” Chan is promptly cut off in the middle of his sentence by a swift elbow to the ribs by Seungkwan, “hyung! Why the hell did you do that?”

Jihoon ignores the squabble currently breaking out at the dining table, and stares at me, his car keys dangling from his left hand, “want to come?”

Before I can say anything to accept the offer of a ride, Soonyoung raises a hand, “Jihoon, weren’t you supposed to meet the other producers and sound engineers today? I’m supposed to be there too, but will you not be attending?”

Even though Jeonghan hisses at Soonyoung to shut up, I can already see the cogs in Jihoon’s mind turning. Clearly, he wanted to talk to me, or at least, he wanted to make an effort to talk to me, “I’ll take a taxi, then.” I say, trying to make an excuse for myself, “don’t worry, Jihoon, you don’t have to drop me home.”

“No, I can drop you off and then go to the office,” he begins, but Joshua cuts him off (while wearing a Rilakkuma apron) saying, “can’t Mingyu take her home? He’s going in the same direction as her, so he can drop her easily. You don’t have to overexert yourself and drop her off at the apartment when you’re going in the opposite direction.”

While not one to turn down a free ride, I raise my hand to complain that I don’t need to take Mingyu’s car to go back home, but Mingyu walks into the room at that moment, and before I can say anything, Joshua turns to him, saying, “are you going back home right now?”

“Yes, hyung, I’m off for the weekend since Minghao is handling the meetings this time around,” he says brightly, “I can drop her off!”

“That’s settled, then,” Chan announces, “Jihoon-hyung can take Soonyoung to the company.”

“You brat,” Soonyoung scowls, “why is Jihoon hyung and I’m just Soonyoung? Do you have no respect for your elders?”

“I once saw you vomit into a flowerpot,” Chan says, “at that moment, you lost all respect in my eyes.”

Before another scuffle can break out over breakfast, Mingyu says loudly, “I’m leaving then!”

—

I’m a big fan of travelling in silence. Even if it is with someone I like, I prefer to sit in silence and contemplate, instead of chattering on about my life. That’s a lie. Mingyu chatters on and on about the new collection and how its selling better than he or Minghao expected, “This is such great news for a fashion brand that was launched less than a decade ago, noona,” he says, while driving his fancy car, and I sit still in my seat and pray that he hasn’t noticed the awkwardness between me and Jihoon. I don’t expect him to notice, either. Mingyu might be nice and well-meaning, but he’s also painfully oblivious.

Which is why it takes me by surprise when he turns to me, while the car is halted at a stop sign, and says, “so, have you figured out what to tell Jihoon-hyung yet?”

I cough, “how-how did you know about that?”

Mingyu laughs, “you think we all were unaware of how he feels towards you? Pfft. Noona, we’ve been observing him since he was in university. He’s always been gone for you.”

I stare resolutely out of the window, “you’re evidently kidding.”

“Noona. He used to stay up with you when you had exams, he used to make sure you weren’t dead when you used to hibernate for long periods of time, he even had a space for you in the stupid apartment studio, are you seriously telling me you had no idea that he was in love with you all this while?”

“Of course, I didn’t!” I want to scream and tear out my hair in frustration, “of course not! I thought he was just looking out for me because I was his only female friend, and after university, I thought to myself, that this is how he usually is! Why would I think that he’s in love with me?”

“Well, he thought that it would be enough to impress you.”

“We were twenty-two! I thought he was an immature weirdo who had no idea how to maintain female friendships!”

“Yes, he’s usually like that,” Mingyu resumes driving, “but he’s got degrees of being familiar.”

“I know. Jihoon’s like a cat. He approaches you at his own pace. Doing anything else will just push him off.”

Mingyu laughs, “you know what, noona, I think you’re a lot like a cat too.”

“Kim Mingyu, watch what you’re saying.”

He grins, “you know I’m correct.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to say it this way.”

“The way I see it,” he says, slowing down as the car turns into the parking lot of the apartment, “you’ve always approached people at your own pace too. Seokmin and I were overenthusiastic when meeting you for the first time, and you refused to even acknowledge me for the rest of the semester.”

“Sorry about that, really.”

“We didn’t mind then, and we don’t mind now,” he shrugs, “its just who you are. And to accept the kind of person that one is, and then to continue caring for them, yeah, that’s love.”

“Jihoon’s just my friend,” I say, getting out of the car, “he’s just my friend, nothing more.”

“Noona, the fact that you keep repeating this to all of us, makes me wonder who it is that you’re trying to convince. Is it me, the rest of us, Jihoon-hyung, or yourself?”

“Kim Mingyu,” I warn, “you’re overstepping.”

“Sorry, noona, but I have to ask,” he walks into the elevator after me, “have you always seen him as a friend, and nothing more? I saw how you used to, no, how you still treat him differently than the rest of us. You’ve always had a soft spot where he was concerned. In fact, you still do, and you’re hiding it.”

“Drop it, Mingyu. You have no idea what happened the last time I said anything about this.”

The elevator dings, opening onto our floor, and Mingyu steps out right behind me, “Then tell us, noona. We, all of us, Jihoon-hyung, everyone around you—we are stumbling around in the dark because you’ve been so closed off about your past.”

I shake my head, pressing the keys in the keypad lock, “maybe, you shouldn’t be knowing about this one, Mingyu.”

The door closes behind me with an audible click, and even without pressing an eye to the keyhole, I know Mingyu is still standing in front of my door, deliberating over whether or not to knock. In the end, his loyalty wins over his curiosity; he walks away, over to his own apartment.

I sink into a heap at the doorway. What do I do? I know I’ve told Jihoon to ignore the confession and be exactly as we were before, but that is not possible anymore, now that I know how he feels towards me. every interaction I have with him will be grappling with this same truth, and I’ll always be wondering about how he feels towards me.

Out of habit, I pull my phone out of my pocket, swiping through messages and emails, when one of them catches my eye. It’s a simple, single-line message.

Read your column. I know its anonymous, but I know how you write.

—Sungwon

How bad is rock bottom? Is it possible to go below that? I have to remind myself to breathe, as I slowly collect myself from the floor, and go about the rest of my morning. Of course, I shouldn’t think about the people who have left me behind. It’s a disservice to myself. I’ve spent enough time and money in therapy to know that. But what happens when the past refuses to let go of you?

I dial the first number I can get my hands on. After three rings, Jeonghan picks up, his cheerful voice filling the line, “hi! Did you reach home already? Did Mingyu crash the car?”

“Oppa.” I say, “you have to listen to me carefully.”

“Why?” Jeonghan’s voice, so cheerful moments before, has been filled with anxiety, “what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, even as Jihoon’s voice floats over the line, yelling is she okay? “don’t let Jihoon know anything’s happened, please.”

“Yes, you reached fine?” Jeonghan says, voice nonchalant, “okay, I’m in another room, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jeonghan-oppa.” It’s taking all have to not break into sobs, “I once told a friend, that I liked them.”

“Okay, and?” his voice is kind, so kind, that it drowns out the other voices in my mind saying you don’t deserve this, “what happened?”

“He said—he told me that I’d ruined our friendship, and he never talked to me after that.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry to hear that. What else can I say, that will help you feel better?”

“Just—hear me out, for now,” I continue, “and he’s never contacted me, but all of a sudden, he sent me an email last night.”

“What did he say in the email?”

“That he’s been following my writing. I don’t understand, how is it easy for people to be like this when they’ve hurt someone else?”

“Are you afraid Jihoon is going to break off all contact with you, and then email you years later like some kind of pathetic loser?” he scoffs, “if he did that, I would be first in line to break his legs.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m going to be that person to Jihoon,” I sob, “I think I’m going to hurt him and leave him behind, and that I’ll be the person to deal him that cruel hand.”

The line is silent on the other end.

“Jeonghan? Are you there?” I ask.

“It’s me.” Jihoon’s voice sounds rough around the edges, as though he’s been crying, “I heard everything.”

“Jihoon.” I plead, “please don’t do anything that’ll hurt you.”

“I’m coming over in ten minutes,” he mutters, hanging up.

And it’s done. Over. Fuck. I’ve thrown away years of friendship because I didn’t want to accept my own emotions and grow beyond the scared girl I was as a child.

I want to cry, but even that effort is too much for me, sinking down into a heap in the middle of my living room, listening to the sounds of the wall clock ticking down every second.

Even before ten minutes are up, the keypad beeps, before the door opens to reveal a very windswept Jihoon.

“How did you know my password?” is the only thing I can say to him.

He rolls his eyes, “you use the same password as my studio. Of course, I know your password.”

“Fair.”

Jihoon stares at me for a beat, then takes a deep breath, before kneeling down on the floor beside me, “I overheard everything.”

“I’m going to curse Jeonghan and his high-volume phone,” I mutter, “I told him to keep it a secret.”

“To be fair, he was only protecting you.” Jihoon laughs, “he didn’t know I was more persistent than he could ever imagine.”

I shoot him a dirty look. Jihoon sighs, “look, I know, the way I said things to you, wasn’t the most ideal—”

“They were horrible, actually,” I cut in, “you yelled at me that you loved me, and then you left.”

“—man, just let me finish,” Jihoon says, without any real spite, “but I wanted to tell you, that my feelings still haven’t, and will not in the future, affect the way I see you. I’ve always been proud to call you my friend, even if you keep secrets from me.”

“I don’t keep that many secrets.” I mutter.

“Really? Then what about the whole anonymous column thing?”

“You knew about that?”

Jihoon scoffs, “I’ve seen you write since the beginning of university. I know how you write better than anyone else, of course, I knew it was you.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m respectful.”

I scowl, “continue.”

“I just wanted to say that even if you wanted to push me away, you can’t,” Jihoon says, smug smile on his face, “I’m impossible to get rid of.”

“You’re not selling yourself very well.”

“You still haven’t given me an answer to my confession.”

“Look, Jihoon, it would never work,” I say, turning away from him, “we know too much about each other. We’ve seen each other’s worst moments. And what if we break up? Who’s going to tell the rest of the boys that we no longer have the same dynamic that we used to have and that its going to be different around us? They have the tact of a bull; you know how they are going to be.”

“That’s them,” he replies, “I’m asking about you. I want to know what you think.”

I sigh. Jihoon’s face is remarkably close to me; from here I can make out the tiny little freckles he has, and the way his eyes are shining, “I’m scared.”

His skin is so soft under my touch, has he always been this way? Jihoon leans into my touch as if he’s never felt anything like this, “scared of what?”

“That I’ll like you too much. That once I take a step forward, it’ll be too difficult to restrain myself again.”

Jihoon laughs, the tip of his nose touching mine, “one step forward, is okay. It’s allowed.”

“Are you quoting Crash Landing on You?” I laugh, even as his lips touch mine.

Kissing Jihoon is an experience; his skin feels soft under my touch, but his lips are insistent against mine, demanding and reverent alternatively, as though he can’t believe his luck that he’s kissing me, or that this is a dream, and what he needs to do is possess it, and then, this memory of a moment will be forever engraved in his heart. My hands go to the back of his neck, where his hair is softer than usual—has he washed it—but all I can feel, under my fingers, is how his heart beats, quicker than I’ve ever imagined it to be, and how it mirrors my own.

I don’t want this moment to end.

157 notes · View notes

nmakii · 7 months ago

Note

Omg ! I didn't think you'd actually respond !! We're gonna fly away from here is easily one of the best ones in the series!! It's so Twisted and disturbing but almost domestic... (Also tysm for including my name idea in your story, Idk where it came from, I just liked it and I appreciate you!) I digress. I've returned with a concept. Al almost always has a plan when he does something. I don't know where you want to go with the second child but this won't be too focused on that one...for now. I really liked how you interpreted Alastor being a weasel and weaseling his way back into the families life and was thinking about how many I wonder about if he has a plan right now, like not a long term one, obviously, but a very specific one for a 'short term'. Women back then, especially in the south weren't allowed to have bank accounts so finicial trapping works well in this case. Also just kinda the ability to turn their kids against her would be enough to terify me. People talk about the 1950's housewife, but oh my god, 1920's housewives were a new kind of depressed. I, personally, don't think Alastor is the type of physically abuse women. No, he's far too classy for that. Instead, like I said, I think he'd either use his status in their house to trap his wife. We were able to run away while we were pregnant and alone, but we have a child now...and would we be willing to leave our child with him? No, I don't think I would, personally. This was just me rambling. K, love u, currently hyperfixated on this au. Byeee !!!! _ Cherry Anon!

DON’T REALLY WANT NO TRUST FUND BABY

[before reading this, read the rest of the story!]

— seems as if alastor found out your little secret

— UR TOO SWEET I SC THIS ON MY IG STORY AND YAPPED TO MY BOY BSF FOR AN HOUR AB IT IM BLUSHING SO HARDDDD!! ABUSE WAS LIT MY LAST SOCIAL STUDIES LESSON FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR MY TCH YAPPED AB FINANCE SO HARD 🤭🤭

being married to alastor, the radio show host is quite the sensation in your town. but, behind the closed curtains, alastor did things that would’ve made lucifer shake in his boots.

no, he didn’t hit you. his mother would kill him if he hit his wife. but, just because alastor never hit you, didn’t mean he didn’t abuse you.

he tormented you in the worst way possible, through noah. and now, emilia.

it’s been 3 years. your little emilia lives up to her name, a cute little girl who’s eager to win. and, little noah is now a big boy, double digits and all.

and, since you’ve returned back to his house, alastor has done nothing but twist your babies’ minds. ‘once upon a time, mama wanted to run away from daddy… so, she ran away and took big brother with her. daddy was sooo worried for mama and big brother though… daddy was able to track mama down, and took her home!’ he cooed to your daughter, bouncing her in his arms— with you right beside him!

you wanted to yell; scream. of course, emilia was too young to understand what alastor was saying. but, still— the fact that he was trying to tell your children that he was some sort of white knight who saved you from yourself. you wanted nothing less, but to snap that neck of his like a twig.

you really shouldn’t act so brashly though. to outsmart alastor, you have to think like him. think of what’s smarter in long run.

alastor was ‘kind’ enough to give you an allowance. $200 every week for groceries and whatever you may need. he’s even so kind as to let you have some ‘private bonding’ with noah and emilia as they accompany you to the farmer’s market.

thankfully, you had a father who wanted to make his little girl survived even without a husband. and so, you had to hear all of his ramblings about finance. saving about 45% each week for 3 years… was about $14,000!

if you saved just a little more, you’d be semi-financially independent until you can get a proper job to take care of your children. it was run-away money, so to speak.

you hid the money in noah’s room. after all, who would expect money there? especially $14,000? and, it worked, for a while. every monday, while you tucked him into bed, you brought the money with you and hid it behind his dresser.

until, what had seemed like a normal tuesday. you came home from the tailor’s, getting back a dress that noah accidentally tore. when you came home, it was only two hours after noon. and despite that, alastor was home.

“a-alastor..! what are you doing home so early? you have a broadcast in 2 hours…” you narrowed your eyes at alastor, on the floor with your children, many new toys surrounding them. “ah, darling! i decided to pick up our children early, and we may have splurged on our little shopping spree…” he smugly grinned. “oh..? where’d you get the money?” you raised your eyebrow, closing the door and laying your bearings on the dining table.

“funniest story ever, my love! there was a random stash of money in noah’s room! seems as if the tooth fairy came early!” he laughed. random stash of money in noah’s room..? “oh. i see.” your breath stopped for a minute, thinking of what kind of consequences could come from it.

“do you have any idea how that money landed there?” he side-eyed you, expecting a lie. “perhaps it was from the old owners? you know this house, there’s so many secrets in here.” you said. “i see… i suppose you are right, darling!” he giggled.

you were back on square one. financially dependent on your husband, if you could even call him ‘husband’. as you climbed up the stairs, you heard alastor whisper to your son. “you see that? momma lied. she got less talkative when papa asked her a question.”

this is what alastor’s been teaching your son. as much as you want to protest, you did lie.

oh, how much you wished for much more simpler times. playing with your baby boy in the kitchen as you make little treats together for his snack at school. and now, the boy alastor’s turning him into— a cunning sociopath, the lord only knows what he will teach your daughter.

this is just a minor setback, it has to be.

#I WORD DUMPED OMFG #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin alastor #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor the radio demon #yandere alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere

180 notes · View notes

whiteteadreams · 2 years ago

Text

Pink + White

Pairing: Non-Idol!Zhong Chenle x Maid Cafe Waitress!Female Reader

Preview: “Chenle, we shouldn’t.” He backed you into the kitchen island, watching your every move. “Why not?” He looked into your frantic eyes that were searching for a way out with a false sense of confusion. Chenle placed his hands on the counter at your sides, slightly behind you, caging you in.

“T-the deal?” You assumed it was obvious but as you said it, you knew it didn’t make sense and you were screwed. “I think we both know that this-” he pointed between the two of you, “-isn’t a part of the deal.” He was right. You hated him but that didn’t mean you didn’t want him.

Word Count: 15.1k

Genre: (not actual) Enemies to Lovers, smut, angst, fluff, non-Idol AU,

Warnings: Chenle is really mean, reader is quite sensitive, their sexual relations aren't a part of the deal they made, both parties' consent and enjoy what goes on, blackmailing, cleaning wounds, chemical burns and bruises are mentioned, reader works at a maid cafe (men are weird and gross.), they aren't actually enemies ig they're just stupid, mature language/cursing, not proofread at all

Smut Warnings: slight dub-con (easy to miss), maid kink obvi, degrading names (slut, bitch, messy, whore etc.), kitchen sex, use of pussy pump, oral sex (both receiving and giving), sex is interrupted at one point, squirting, slapping, praise, heavy degradation, dumbification, dom/sub themes, chenle is mean, photo taken during sex, possessiveness, ik there is more so pls let me know lol

a/n- so this sprouted from several things lol i already had the idea for one of the scenes and then the youtuber emirichu posted her video abt the maid cafe and i just wanted to go ahead and write this. i hope you all enjoy it <3 ALSO sorry it took so long to write, it's over 11k words more than i thought it was gonna be lol

Stepping into the ‘Employee’s Only’ bathroom, you made sure your appearance was perfect before clocking in for your shift. Your thigh-high socks were all the way up, only two inches below the hem of your skirt. Your frills were wrinkle free, allowing them to show their true shape. The bow that sat at the small of your back wasn’t too tight nor too loose, it was fluffed, just like it was required to be. You didn’t hate the uniform, you felt really cute in it, but it was the customers that made it dreadful. The old men that would come in just to get called “Master” always, without fail, make some comment about taking the dress off of you.

Other than them, your job was quite enjoyable, it was a pretty and chill environment, you made close friends with some of your coworkers, and the shoes that came with the uniform made everything slightly less miserable for you. Shiny, black Mary Jane heels.

Deeming your hair, makeup, and outfit good enough to start your day, you walked out of the bathroom and headed for the machine in the back of the café.

“Hey girly” Minjeong bumped your hip as she passed you. She was the first friend you had met while working at the café. And even now, she was your closest friend. Your friendship didn’t stay inside the café but the two of you spent time together constantly.

“Hi Minjeong, have we been busy so far?” She didn’t give you a verbal response, only nodding her head with wide crazed eyes. You laughed at her expression and finished punching in your numbers. The ding sounded and that signaled that your shift had begun.

“Alrighty, one of your regulars is here so you better go wait on him.” Minjeong pointed to the man in the corner of the restaurant. Having immediately recognized him, you grumbled a bit. Sure the tips were great, but you’d have to work for him. He wasn’t just gonna give you money for looking pretty, he’d make you run back and forth with different requests for the kitchen.

“Wish me luck.” Fixing you once slouched posture, you stood up straight and walked out of the back and towards the main floor. Minjeong winked at you, bit her lip, and wolf whistled as you walked away.

You were still lightly laughing as you approached the customer who had been waiting for you. “Well, aren’t you happy to see me?” Your real laughter stopped immediately and was replaced with your “customer service” laugh, it was fake and high pitched. “Oh I’m always excited to see you, Master.” You bowed your head, looking down at your shoes while you waited for him to say something.

“I think I’ll have my usual for lunch, but I’m in the mood for something sweet.” His gaze was almost predatory. The glint of lust in his eyes that were raking your body was unwanted. “How about you and that other pretty little maid over there tell me what you would recommend.” He licked his bottom lip as he pointed at Minjeong with his head.

“Right away Master.” Bowing to him and turning on your heel, you walked over to Minjeong who was headed towards the kitchen.

You walking quicker just a tad to put you side by side to Minjeong, all while still looking graceful for the customers who could still see you. “Sup pretty little maid, the guy over there wants us to recommend something for desert.” You smirked and raised both eyebrows in a provocative way. “Ugh, is that what he called me or something?” Nodding your head and linking your arm to hers, you steered the both of you back to the man’s table.

While you were still out of the man’s earshot, you heard Minjeong let out a, “Fucking old ass perv.” You elbowed her slyly since you were in the main dining area but still let out a snort, which of course caused her to laugh as well.

“Now I have two pretty girls to assist me. Okay ladies, what would you recommend for something sweet today. Of course, I’m open to trying anything.” Ignoring his obvious advances, you pointed at the menu the dessert section and gave more in-depth descriptions of all of them.

“Oh my fucking god.” The voice came from behind you and was in shock. Minjeong looked at you with confusion. “Do you know him?” She raised one of her eyebrows at the man behind you. “I’m sorry Mister, it appears another guest is in need of immediate service. I’ll be right with you Master.” Bowing to the man seated in front of you, he rolled his eyes but allowed you to leave.

Minjeong who was still next to you wanted to know if any drama would come out of this conversation. Turning around to face the shocked man, you were still looking at Minjeong when you started speaking to him. “Is there anything I can assist you with Sir?” As soon as you said ‘Sir’, your eyes flickered to who you were actually speaking to. Zhong Chenle, the boy you had a damn nearly decade long feud with.

Before you could show any signs of embarrassment, he started talking. In a ridiculing way, he said your full name slowly. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you working in a place like this. The fuck were you thinking?” He just kept laughing, in your place of employment. Not only was he embarrassing you, but you actually liked your job for the most part and it hurt that he was making fun of it.

Your boss overheard the conversation and the commotion that Chenle was causing. A few well-known patrons were getting annoyed with being disturbed. You heard your name being called from behind you. “Get this boy out of here and then get back to work!” Glaring at Chenle, you took him by his elbow and pulled him out the back door.

“Why the hell are you here?” You were seething at this point. But even if you were mad, the embarrassment you felt when Chenle’s eyes raked up and down your body overtook every other emotion. He smirked when you crossed your arms and put your legs together, cowering under his gaze.

“Why am I here? Oh, I don’t know, to look at all the pretty maids. It seems like I found my favorite already.” He looked down right sleezy.

“This café is 30 minutes away from campus, there’s literally one down the street from your apartment. Why wouldn’t you just go there? I work here to insure that I don’t run into anyone I know.” By your words, he seemed to gain something, but you didn’t know why the evil look in his eyes was present.

Chenle walked around you, causing you to turn around to follow him, not wanting him to be behind you at any point. “So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want anyone to know about this.” You slowly nodded, regretting saying anything to him.

“It would suck if I told anyone about this, wouldn’t it?”

“You can’t Chenle! Please, don’t. I’ll do anything!” You gasped, pleading for your secret to stay hidden.

“Anything?” He was sly, making sure that no matter what happened, he got the most out of it. In this situation, he would either get to bask in your embarrassment or he would get you.

You thought carefully about your next words, deciding if it would be worth it.

“What would you get out of it?” He shrugged nonchalantly before running his finger along the lace trimming of your skirt. “I think we both know that I’ll get you out of it at some point. However, you can just clean my apartment until then.”

Cleaning with the possibility of sex. You hated Chenle and he hated you, sex would never happen. However, cleaning didn’t seem so bad. It wasn’t as bad as everyone on campus knowing you worked at a maid café.

“Alright, sure.” You rolled your eyes at him, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling in your gut. You didn’t know what that feeling was, but you figured you’d find out eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet felt heavy as they dragged you to Chenle’s front door. You wish they were truly as heavy as they felt so you wouldn’t be able to make it to the door. But still, no matter how much you wished your feet would somehow get cemented to the floor, you arrived in front of the wooden door.

Raising your fist to knock, you wondered if this was even worth it. Would it really be terrible if everyone knew about your job? Even the thought of people knowing made your skin crawl, so you went through with the plan and tapped your knuckles on the door.

Hearing a “One minute!” allowed you a bit of time to give yourself a breather and of course, Chenle being Chenle, that minute, turned into a few.

The door swung open once you decided to pull out your phone. Chenle, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, leaned against the frame. His eyes went from your trench coat to your sock covered legs, and down to your heels. His eyes never once reached our face until it was to question your appearance.

“Where’s the maid dress I requested? That was a crucial part of the deal.” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the belt of the coat and pulled it loose, allowing the front to fall to the sides, baring your outfit to him.

“Ah, there we go. Such a good pretty maid. My pretty maid.” There must be something in the air, because no way in hell did Zhong Chenle’s words make you clench your thighs. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you with those sleepy eyes and smiling at you with that tired smile. Whatever it was, you hated it, but at the same time, you wanted it.

You wanted more.

More of him.

However, you needed to ignore the feelings and just get on with the deal you made. “Alright, what do you want me to clean first?” Smiling, he stepped aside, but not enough for you not to touch. Your side brushed his and he didn’t move until you were all the way in the large apartment.

“Well, you’re gonna clean something I hate cleaning.” It’s going to be his bathroom; you just know it.

Chenle led you through his penthouse sized apartment and said nothing. Walking through the living room that connected to the kitchen and following him down the hallway, he stopped in front of the 4th room on the left.

“Here’s where the porcelain throne stands.” The bathroom. Of course it was going to be the fucking bathroom.

You stepped into the bathroom that was easily bigger than your entire bedroom. Chenle on the other hand bent down and opened the cabinets underneath the sink. “So I don’t know if you’re allergic to any of these products, so I bought you these gloves. The chemical in the orange bottle makes my hands red so, be careful with that one.” You watched as he placed everything on top of the vanity.

Chenle stood back up and handed you the pale pink rubber gloves. “I wanted them to match your outfit.” You grimaced when you looked around the bathroom. For being so rich, the stereotypical housekeeper was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s why I have you.” Your body was facing the mirror and when you looked up to see the voice, Chenle’s mouth was against your ear. Apparently, you had said that out loud. “You’re my pretty little maid. We made a deal and I’m gonna use you in any way I want until you either back out or I’ve had enough.”

He gave your ear an open-mouthed kiss, lightly slapped your thigh where your skin showed and left.

We made a deal and I’m gonna use you in any way I want until you either back out or I’ve had enough.

He wants to sleep with you. Or that’s what he made it seem like.

Not knowing where to start, you decided on cleaning the floor last, just so if anything dripped onto it, you wouldn’t have to clean it twice.

You were immediately thankful for your thinking since as soon as you picked up one of the spray bottles, it leaked onto the floor once you spritzed onto the washcloth.

Rolling your eyes to yourself, you went ahead and put on the gloves just in case anything else leaked unexpectedly. The gloves were your size which was helpful, you wouldn’t have to worry about the glove sliding down while you were cleaning.

Pulling the gloves on your hands and up to the middle of your forearms, you closed your eyes and randomly picked another bottle. Letting fate decide which disgusting bathroom appliance of Chenle’s you’d have to clean first.

Opening your eyes, bottle in hand, you read the description. You kneeled down by the edge of the bathtub, leaned against the side and started spraying around the tub.

You didn’t mind cleaning, you felt as if it was oddly therapeutic. Spraying the liquid, wiping it away, and watching all the gunk disappear. It was easy to let your mind slip and wander as the hypnotic sight played out in front of you.

The bathtub, toilet, mirrors, sink, and vanities were all clean after about 45 minutes. Your mind wandering definitely caused you to move a bit slower than normal but at least it went by fast. Reaching for more floor cleaner, Chenle walked into the room and just stood there. Stood there and watched you clean.

Tired of his watchful eyes, you abruptly stopped and slapped your covered thighs in annoyance. “Can I help you?” He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and a stupid smirk plastered onto his face. He shook his head and continued to watch. “Then why are you looking at me?” You refused to clean one more tile until you knew why he was standing there.

“Am I not allowed to look at my maid? She’s really pretty, it’s hard not to stare when I’ve got her kneeling on the floor for me.” Rolling your eyes at him, you reached for the bottle with the goal of ignoring him. “And now I’ve got her rolling her eyes back!” No matter how annoying he was at this moment, you laughed at him and threw the rag you were using to clean the floor with at him.

“Oh my god, fuck off man.” He caught the flying rag that was headed towards his face and grinned. “Nah I just wanted to tell you that I’ve got sandwiches on the table for lunch.” Chenle reached his hand out to you and shook it lightly, telling you to grab it. Placing your hand in the warmth of his, he helped you off the floor and led you to the kitchen. Your head hurt from the intense smell of his expensive cologne, the feeling of his hand still holding yours, and the thought of him making sandwiches himself, for you.

Pulling away from him to pour yourself some lemonade, with a shaking hand you picked it up by the handle and used the spout of the pitcher to ensure that nothing spilled out. Watching the pale-yellow drink pour into the cup, you listened to Chenle behind you. The crinkle sound the bag of chips made solved the mystery of where he was standing.

When your cup was full you placed the glass pitcher back down on the counter, the soft clink letting you know it was secure. Turning around to sit down at the table, you didn’t know that Chenle had also moved but he was now right behind you. Your chests collided, causing you to spill the lemonade on yourself and Chenle.

“I’m so sorry, it was an accident!” You could hear the drink drip on the floor but all you were concerned about was the stain that was surely going to be on his shirt in a few minutes. The stark white behind the yellow worried you. “Take off your shirt, let me spray it and go throw it in the washer.” His silence scared you more than the stain. He hadn’t said anything but when you looked up at him with wide eyes, he was just smiling while watching you panic.

“Haven’t even been here for an hour and you already wanna rip my clothes off.” He tsked in a mocking way but nonetheless he took off his shirt. When you reached for the shirt, he threw it behind him but stepped closer to you.

His face was so close to yours and quite frankly, you didn’t know what to do. You knew what you wanted to do, but that was a whole different thing.

“Chenle, we shouldn’t.” He backed you into the kitchen island, watching your every move. “Why not?” He looked into your frantic eyes that were searching for a way out. Chenle placed his hands on the counter at your sides, slightly behind you, caging you in.

He took another step closer to you, the space that was once between you was now gone. “All you gotta do is tell me to stop. I will stop, immediately.” As his lips moved, they brushed against yours.

“Push me away and I’ll stop this. You can go back to cleaning.” You would’ve laughed at him if you weren’t starting to get wet. The thought of Chenle doing whatever sick things he wanted to do to you took over your common sense and hatred.

You stood up on your toes, teasing his lips with yours before pressing them together.

Instead of laughing at you and cracking some perverted joke, Chenle caressed your uniformed sides. Continuing to kiss you, he leaned back, allowing you to put your full weight on him. His chest was much firmer than you originally thought. Under the baggy clothes he wore was a muscular, sculpted body. As much as you enjoyed feeling him, you wanted to see him.

“Chenle-” The name that whispered out was one you never would’ve thought you’d say in this way. He didn’t say anything back, but he knew exactly what you wanted. Chenle grazed the exposed skin between your thigh highs and the hem of your skirt. Those gentle touches turn rough as he picked you up by the back of your thighs. He held you close and just looked at you a bit when the movement broke the kiss.

The expression that painted his face could only be explained by confusion. He was internally battling with himself over the situation, much like yourself. The years of fighting and insults and tears were ignored by your lower halves, which were begging for something, anything.

Still without exchanging any words, Chenle turned around so he could see where you were headed, and you couldn’t. While he took you to whichever room in his apartment he wanted, you set yourself a personal goal of marking him. You placed both wet and sucking open-mouthed kisses along the column of his pale neck. His steps faltered a tad when you assumed you found his sweet spot. You didn’t hold back there, sucking the skin hard enough to leave an immediate red mark.

Chenle’s breath was heavy now, more than before. He feared that you had control over him, but whether it was because of the deal or the feeling in your bodies, it was the opposite. Feeling so wrapped up in your own world of bruising his neck, you didn’t realize how far he had walked.

You gasped as your back hit the bed and then giggled once you bounced. Chenle was standing at the foot of the bed, looming over your flushed figure. You went to make eye contact with him only to see that his eyes weren’t on yours. His were so clearly focused on your thighs. Your skirt was pushed up from your impact on the bed and your thighs were pressed against each other. While seeing that he wasn’t looking at you did make your heart ache a bit, but you quickly decided to use it to your advantage.

While still watching him, you slowly parted your thighs are raised your skirt even more. This allowed him to see your white panties that now had a very visible wet spot from your arousal.

“My pretty maid has such a pretty pussy.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“That’s right, maybe you should take off your panties. Please let me see you.”

His voice had a whiny edge to it. Desperation laced it and it caused you to give in. Using your heels, you lifted your hips off the bed and hooked your fingers in the waistband of your panties and slipped them down your legs. They were still hanging off of one of your ankles, so you lifted your leg and brought the panties towards his face.

“My maid is a little tease too.” Chenle grabbed the panties from your ankle and brought them up to his nose. As the smell of your arousal entered his nostrils, his eyes rolled back, and a red tint covered his face.

Crawling on the bed towards your head, he planted kisses along your clothed body, letting out boyish giggles when he felt you twitch from it tickling. When his face was hovering over yours, you pulled him down by the back of his neck and smashed your lips together.

His tongue licked across the seam of your lips, pleading for entry, and who were you to deny him. Chenle’s smile was so obvious that you could feel it in the smile. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his slim waist, keeping him as close as possible to you.

You tilted your head a bit, trying to get his lips on yours even more, if that was even possible. He matched movements, seemingly trying to do the same. Moans and laughs were the only things heard throughout the room, until a ringing sounded.

“Fuck! My fucking phone.” Chenle grumbled, several apologies and quick kisses were landed along your body as he picked himself up and grabbed the ringing phone that was on the nightstand.

“I’m” kiss “so” kiss “fucking” kiss “sorry”. You laughed at him and nodded, letting him up by releasing your legs’ grip on him. Chenle rolled his eyes, mimicked his father’s voice but nonetheless answered the phone before the ringing stopped.

Immediately the conversation turned serious, and he stepped out of the room. As soon as his figure disappeared into the hallway, the feeling of lust and lightheadedness left your body and shame took over. What the hell was that.

Your body was cold now, no longer embraced by the heat of Chenle’s body pressed against yours. But the cold sweat and the dry throat was enough to force you out of bed and towards the bathroom. Walking on your tippytoes to prevent any noise, you made your way to the bathroom.

Closing the door slowly, making sure the door didn’t creak, you splashed cold water on your face and cupped water in your hands and brought them up to your lips.

The cold water running down your throat soothed you, but still not as much as you needed it to. You almost had sex with Chenle. You liked it. And you were upset that you were interrupted.

Looking in the mirror, laughing at yourself, you shook your head and opened the door. Jumping a bit at the sight of Chenle leaning on the wall next to it, he was still on the phone.

He was slouching and opening and closing his mouth in a mocking sense of his father. He smiled at the giggle you let out. Chenle’s smile faded though, his expression turning solemn again. He looked at you and you looked at him, both of you silently agreeing that it was your time to leave.

With one last glance, you made your way out, but you could still feel his eyes following you, watching you leave. You had to stay strong and resist the urge to look behind you. Although difficult, you succeeded. It was difficult to understand what you were feeling, you hated him, and he hated you, but you wanted him, and he wanted you. You didn’t have to like someone to be attracted to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you knocked on the door, Chenle opened it and pulled you in with your wrist. “Chenle, wha-” He interrupted you by kissing your mouth, not even giving you time to react before he started talking. “I just need you, I wanna try something new that I saw.” Every type of kink was flying through your mind, or at least the ones you haven’t tried yet. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah, what is it though?” Chenle walked you to the master bedroom, him leading you from behind. Every time he tightened his grip on your waist, you clenched your thighs, wondering what he had planned.

“I bought you some more maid dresses, some like your uniform and others, not so much. I just didn’t want you to ruin your uniform.” He opened the armoire that hadn’t been there the last time you were there. The opened doors revealed several different dresses from pink to black and others that weren’t traditional collars. They ranged from different styles and materials, but they all had one thing in common, they were obviously expensive. With the dresses hanging from a rod at the top, there was about a half of foot of space from the dresses to the bottom of the section of the armoire.

Before you said anything about what you saw, Chenle spoke up. “I know how much you like the Mary Jane heels, so I bought you a bunch of different kinds and you can keep all of them even after the deal.” You turned around to face him and smiled.

“I can’t believe this, thank you so much!” You walked over to him; heels clicking on the hard wood floors and kissed his cheek. “That isn’t all.” His words trailed on, he refused to look at you, and he scratched the back of his neck. But the thing that made you giggle was the blush that spread across his entire face.

This Chenle was different, he was more vulnerable which allowed you to relax a bit even with the sexual undertone. “The drawers.” He pointed to the four drawers that were built in, under the doors of the armoire.

Raising one of your eyebrows, you walked backwards still keeping an eye on Chenle who still refused to look at you. Turning around and kneeling, you opened the first drawer, the top one on the left. As soon as everything inside was in your view, you heard Chenle make a slapping noise.

When you looked behind you, over your shoulder, he was covering his eyes with his right hand. Looking back at the drawer, you felt the fabric of the several sets of lingerie. Some were classier, babydoll styles with sheer fabric to cover the skin and others were blatantly sexy, garter belts, hooks and rings, matched with crotchless panties.

“Oh my god Chenle, what a fucking freak.” Your voice was laced with tease, making sure Chenle knew that you weren’t truly making fun of him. His ears were now burning red, and you were worried that he’d start crying soon.

Opening the drawer next to the one you were in now; you saw even more sets of lingerie. You coughed at the thought of the price of all of them. “Okay, okay, I thought you’d look pretty in them, so I bought them, move on.” Laughing at Chenle’s pleading groan, you smiled but complied. Closing the drawers and moving on to the bottom ones.

You decided to just open them both at the same time, ripping it off like a Band-Aid. “Chenle-” Gasping at the sight that was in front of you. You didn’t think you’ve ever seen this many different sex toys in one place. Dildos, vibrators, gags, collars, leases, floggers, candles, and that wasn’t even it. There were things that you didn’t even know what they were.

“Are these for me too?” Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. You never would’ve thought that Chenle would spend this much money on you. You closed the drawers, got up, and approached Chenle who was still seated at the foot of his bed.

You pushed his chest back, causing his back to hit the bed. With him now lying flat, you climbed on top of him, straddling him. “What kind of shit do you want to do to me? Huh?” You laid your chest on his, your breasts pressing against him now.

His hands enclosed around your hips and pulled you closer to his face. “I wanna make you cry and beg.” Biting your lip at his words, you got up off of him and looked at your new collection of dresses. “You got me all worked up, what do you wanna do first?”

You looked through all the toys in the drawers, looking at all the ones you weren’t familiar with. “This dress, these heels, and this toy.” Chenle threw the dress behind him at the bed and picked up the heels and the toy that kind of resembled an oxygen mask.

“What even is that?” You followed Chenle to the bed and tried to figure out what exactly was the thing he was holding. “It’s a pussy pump. It’s gonna make that tiny pussy all swollen and sensitive for me.” Oh.

“I’ll leave you to put on the dress, just call me in when you’re ready.” He kissed your head and walked out, leaving you alone with yourself.

You kicked off your heels after unbuckling them. It took a few tries to reach the zipper behind you but after you got it and pulled down, the dress pooled at your feet.

“Do you want me to leave my bra and panties on?” Chenle didn’t pick out a set, so you weren’t sure of what he wanted. “No, just the dress and heels.”

Unhooking your bra and pulling down your panties, you picked up the dress and just looked at it a bit. You hadn’t gotten to see it when he pulled it out of the closet. It was a pink frilly one, really short too. Looking over at the pussy pump that Chenle picked out, you thought about what it would do to you. You knew that it would basically do from what he had said but Chenle didn’t say what it would actually do.

Deciding to just wait for Chenle to help you through it, you pulled the dress over your head. There wasn’t a zipper, the hem that held the bust up was just elastic, so it fitted.

The way you looked at yourself in the mirror and assessed the way you looked reminded you of how you would prepare for a shift. You felt pretty in frills at work, and you felt pretty right now, standing in Chenle’s penthouse bedroom in a pink dress that he bought for you. ‘

From the way your hair sat to the way your socks were tugged up, you made sure you looked pretty with Chenle in mind.

“I’m all done!” You called out and waited for Chenle to walk back in. Calming your breathing to make sure you could hear Chenle’s footsteps didn’t help, because they never came. The door immediately opened with Chenle walking in.

“Were you just waiting right out the door?” You made eye contact with him through the mirror. Even though you expected a verbal answer to your question, you received something else. A compliment.

“You look so pretty. My pretty maid. My pretty girl.” He walked up behind you, still holding eye contact and wrapped his arms around your waist. You liked the weight of his arms on your hips, and he liked the way it felt to have your skin touching his. When you turned your head to look at him directly, your noses lightly knocked against each other from close proximity.

Chenle squeezed your hips and started walking you backwards, leaving wet kisses on your neck until the back of his knees hit his bed. He sat down and just pulled you down with him. Both of you were still facing the mirror. “I want you to watch yourself during this. Since we’re bringing in new and more intense things into the bedroom, what do you want you safe word to be. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have any control.”

With how short the dress was, being spread out on Chenle’s lap bared everything to your eyes. Your knees were hooked over his and since his legs were spread, so were yours. The obscene sight was the only thing you could pay attention do. The warm lighting made the both of you glow, and with Chenle’s sincere look, you relaxed in his hold and allowed yourself to slouch against him.

“I get that you’re really pretty, but this is important. I’m gonna need you to answer me if you wanna start.” He spoke quietly against your ear and looked at you through the mirror since it was the only thing you were paying attention to you.

“Look at me.” Through the mirror, your eyes connected. “No, look at me.” Sucking in a breath, you turned your head to look at Chenle. “So, what do you want your safe word to be?” His fingers lightly brushed your thighs, drawing shapes along your smooth skin.

Giggling, you thought about a word that was a bit silly and on theme. “How about Windex?” Chenle’s normal obnoxious laugh was dialed down for the serious conversation. “I mean, if that’s what you want it to be, I’m happy with it. However, I hope to never put you in a situation where you need to use it.” Your giggling died down and you smiled softly at Chenle, you wanted to live in the sweet moment, but with Chenle’s half hard cock sitting against your ass, your pussy spread out, and the pussy pump next to you, you needed him to do something.

“Alright, it feels like you’re getting needy with all your squirming, let’s get you wet.”

Chenle started with just looking at you through the mirror, at your pussy specifically. “Chenle, just hurry. Please.” He laughed at you and brought his hands from your thighs to your naval. He rubbed the junction of your thighs and naval, inching closer and closer to that place you needed him the most.

With one last whimper from you, Chenle gave in to what you wanted. He ran two fingers through your wet lips. He circled around your hole that was clenching around nothing, but he still didn’t fuck you yet.

“How are you so fucking wet already?” It was a rhetorical question. He knew the answer and so did you. It was because of him.

One of his hands disappeared from your cunt and picked up something from your side. The pussy pump.

He kissed the back of your neck and placed the chamber on your pussy after removing his other hand, now using it to hold the pump.

In his left hand he held the chamber to you and with his right was the pump. He gave the hand pump an experimental pump to see if it would stay. Like a vacuum, it gave your pussy a suctioned feel. It wasn’t like what you’ve seen with a penis pump. It didn’t blow air into you, instead it sucked it.

Giving it a few more pumps, Chenle watched and listened to you. Whining at the new feeling, you looked at yourself. “Chenle, it feels really weird.” He chuckled lowly in your ear and instead of saying something he just pumped it again and again.

You watched what it was doing to you through the mirror. “Oh my god, Chenle!” He didn’t give you a break during it, he pumped it, listened to your noises and then continued with his ministrations.

Tears formed in your eyes at the feeling.

You didn’t think that Chenle could possibly pump it again as the chamber was impossibly tight around your cunt, but he was able to prove you wrong.

It wasn’t your pleas or begs that persuaded him to stop. It was his own impatience. He flicked the valve and released the suction. The blood flow returned to your cunt and your clit throbbed, already so sensitive and Chenle himself has barely touched you.

The chamber fell from no longer being supported and you gasped at the sight. He wasn’t joking when he said it would cause your pussy to be swollen and you didn’t know how long it would last like that. You didn’t even move, scared to feel it.

“Oh my god, fucking look at it.” Chenle flicked your clit that had easily grown twice its original size. You screamed at the feeling, it felt as if he had already been touching you, for the whole day possibly. “How long is this gonna last?” Your thighs jumped when he ran three fingers through your folds. Playing with the swollen flesh and wetness, he thought out loud. “Imagine you stayed like this forever, ruined for anyone to ever come after me. Proof that you let me do these things to you. Think about what people would think if they saw you like this. Fucking whore.”

He slapped, pinched, and stuffed your pussy, forcing you to let out gasps, moans, and screams. It wasn’t until you felt his cock prod at your dripping hole. You had felt him get his cock out of his sweats, but you thought he was going to give you a minute before he fucked you.

“Wait, Chenle, just give me a moment.” He complied but still asked, “Do you want to use your safe word?” Shaking your head, you leaned back against Chenle, starting to take a breather. It quickly came to an end though when his hands tightened around your waist, picked you up, and placed you on the ground.

“While you wait, you’re gonna clean.” He smiled and threw you one of the old towels that he used to clean. You stared at him in disbelief, jaw dropping once you saw him scoot back on the bed, back against the headboard.

“What? You want to wait, but we might as well be productive during it. And get your tits out.” The stark difference of Chenle’s attitude towards you was something you were ashamed to admit that it made you wet.

Still listening to him though, you pulled the bust of your dress down and let the elastic snap under your breasts.

You got up from your spot on the floor to go grab the floor cleaner. When you walked your pussy clenched from sensitivity. “The floor isn’t gonna clean itself and at this point you’re just gonna have more to clean with the way your dripping all over it.” When you were standing over your original spot on the floor, about to kneel down you noticed that there were small droplets from you. Chenle just laughed when you looked down, not being able to hold eye contact with him.

Deciding to go ahead and start cleaning, you sprayed some of the floor cleaner on the rag and started to scrub the floor. “My pretty little mindless doll.” His voice was gentle with a hint of being condescending. Every time you would scrub the floor a bit harder your breasts would bounce and Chenle would palm his aching cock with more pressure.

Even though you had only been on the ground for a few minutes, you needed him to do something. You didn’t want to wait any longer. You needed to be fucked. “Chenle, please. Do something, anything.” His smile turned devious and soon after, you felt the flash and heard the click of a polaroid camera.

Chenle waited for the film to develop before he approached you. Crouching down to your level, he placed the humiliating photo in your line of sight. “Who’s is that?”

When you were about to say it was you, you realized that he said, ‘who’s is that’ not ‘who is that’. “Yours.” Smiling and placing the photo in his phone case, he helped you off the floor.

“Even though you’re a slut who doesn’t deserve to be fucked on a bed, you can rest your knees just since I’m nice.” His grip on your upper arm helped him throw you onto the bed. Your skirt lifted in the process and showed Chenle the curve of your ass.

“Spread your legs. Now.”

Laying on your stomach, you did what you were told. Chenle stood behind you, watching you listen to him. “Such a good little maid. My little slut.” Chenle ran his palm over the smooth skin of your ass before landing a harsh slap on it. He felt his dick twitch at the sight of the muscle jiggling at the impact.

“I need to be in you, need to cum inside that sweet pussy.” Climbing on the bed, knees on either side of your hips, Chenle pulled your ass a part as far as your would stretch before slamming inside your dripping hole.

“Fuck! Chenle! Feel so, so good.” Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cock dragging against your gummy walls.

With every thrust in your cunt, you could feel Chenle’s balls slap against your thighs, and every now and then you felt a slap against your ass.

“Yeah, this is what you were made for huh, just a hole for me to dump my cum into. But don’t worry slut, you’re the best whore there is, so willing to take everything I give you.” To emphasize his point, Chenle ran his finger through your swollen folds and flicked your puffy clit, reminding you of what you allowed him to do to your body.

Never once slowing his pace, Chenle tightened his grip on your hips and pulled your ass up off the bed, so he’d have better access to your clit. With the new position, your weight was being held up by your knees and chest, but with the angle of your body, your face was smashed into the mattress, muffling every noise that came out of your mouth.

Your pussy throbbed, needing to release already. With the pussy pump, it felt like Chenle had already had his way with you, several times. The feeling of his fingers flicking and pinching your clit plus the head of his cock kissing the spot deep inside you was making you feel overstimulated, even though you haven’t even cum yet.

“Chenle, please, please, let me cum. I need it.” Rolling the bud between his pointer finger and thump, Chenle added pressure, squeezing it. “Yeah, go ahead, but just because you’re cumming so quick doesn’t mean we’re stopping any time soon.”

Deciding that Chenle’s trade wasn’t a now issue, you agreed foolishly. The need to cum was the only thing on your mind and once Chenle gave you permission, you let go. However, you didn’t think you would cum as much as you did.

Screaming into the blankets, you soaked Chenle’s waist and torso, squirting harder and harder as Chenle kept going. “My messy little baby, I told you, I’m not done playing with you yet. But that little pussy controls you huh, you just couldn’t help it!” Chenle laughed at you, mockingly.

“The only thing in that empty little head is thought of cumming on my dick.” Chenle fisted your hair from the back and forced your head to nod up and down into the blanket. “Wow, you’re already so cock drunk that you can’t even make your own decisions. Don’t worry though baby, I’m here so you don’t have to worry about thinking, I’ll do everything for you.”

Every single word that left Chenle’s lips were spoken in a sickeningly sweet tone that was so obviously fake. His words affected you heavily and that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Ah, little slut likes being talked down to! M’not sure why I’m surprised, I bet you’ve always wanted this, me using you, belittling you. Because that’s what sluts like you want.”

Once again, he forced you to nod, but it wasn’t like you disagreed.

“Come on pretty baby, lemme see you. Let me see what you look like while I ruin you.” Without taking his dick out, Chenle rolled you over and onto your back.

With each thrust Chenle watched your tits, occasionally reaching out and slapping the soft mounds. He could feel your walls clench around his pistoling cock. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. The feeling of your walls, the outline of his dick in your lower stomach, and the look on your face, he knew he was about to cum, and he wasn’t going to pull out to do it.

“You wanna cum?” You nodded, eyes rolled back, and jaw hung open, you were ready. Chenle’s pace sped up and each time he hit your g-spot, forcing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, with one last strong thrust from him, the knot in your stomach unraveled. Squeezing his dick impossibly tight, he came as well.

White heat ran through your veins, your vision had gone white, and you held on to Chenle’s shoulders since you needed literally anything to hold on to. You needed something to ground you. Chenle continued to roll his hips, riding out your highs and then some so you weren’t forced into a sudden stop.

“Chenle~”, you whined, wanting him closer to your shaking body. He understood and lowered himself onto you without crushing you under his weight. He signed into your neck, breathing you in and out. You did the same to him, hiding from the world, protected by his warmth.

The two of you stayed in that position for a while. It wasn’t until Chenle could feel your wetness dry on his skin before he slowly pulled out and coxed you to use the bathroom.

Although moving was the last thing you wanted, you still allowed him to scoop you up, but not without whining of course.

Chenle placed your feet on the ground and made sure that you were steady before he helped you out of your dress. Your heels were long gone, somewhere discarded on the floor, but they weren’t anywhere in your mind at the moment.

He stepped out of the bathroom, telling you to use the bathroom so you wouldn’t get a UTI. You listened but called him back in once you were done and washed up.

“Let’s take a shower, get you all clean.” He smiled at you and helped you into the walk-in shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clocking out of your shift, you walked into the dark night. You were so happy that they put more streetlights in the parking lot, you and Minjeong both agreed that you felt so much safer now with the illuminated area. However, no matter how many lights they installed, with how much rain was pouring from the sky, you couldn’t see anything. And to make matters even worse, you didn’t even have an umbrella.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Your heels splashed in the puddles as you dug in your purse for your car keys. Of course, right now was the time that your keys fell to the bottom of your purse, and you actually had to stop outside your car and dig around. The rain was stingingly painful. It was freezing cold and felt like little needles pricking your skin.

Your hand brushed metal that jingled in your purse. Almost ripping the keys out, you clicked unlock and as soon as you heard your doors click you ripped the door open and threw yourself in the seat.

Shivering in your seat, your body was even colder now that you were out of the rain. Your dress had gone see through and it was sticking to your body. Turning on the car and immediately cranking the heat to the warmest setting and so it would come out the fastest.

Not eve waiting for your car to warm up, you put the car in drive and pulled out of your parking spot and out of the lot. The shivering didn’t stop or even slow until you had been driving for several minutes but then you were almost at your apartment.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Your parking in your designated parking spot outside the complex was definitely not good to say the least. The passenger side of the car was on the line and even then, you were crooked within the lines. But you didn’t care, you had gone over the speed limit the entire drive there and you weren’t about to take extra minutes in the rain to fix it.

Making sure you had everything together, you cracked the door open, made sure all the doors were locked, and then made a run for the awning. Once again, you were colder after you were no longer in the rain, and you could barely hear yourself panting over the loud pitter padders of the rain above you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sniffled, sucking the snot back into your nose. Your head was throbbing, and it hurt to swallow. But nevertheless, you were walking out of the elevator once it arrived at Chenle’s floor. The thought of texting Chenle to say that you were sick crossed your mind, but you decided against it. Your past self would kill you if the thought of enjoying Chenle’s company, his cock, crossed your mind.

Clearing your throat and sniffling once more, you knocked on his door. You liked spending time with Chenle and based on him always answering the door immediately, you thought the feeling was returned.

“Hey, oh my god, are you okay?” So much for the bit of extra makeup to try and put the life back into your face. “I’m fine! Now, let me in.” Chenle moved to let you in, but he didn’t believe your words in the slightest. “You’re obviously sick, when did you start feeling this way? I saw you two days ago, and you were okay.”

“I got stuck in the rain last night for a bit after my shift, but I promise, I’m okay! What do you want me to clean first?” His eyes were wide with concern as he watched you shrug off your jacket and headed to the cabinet where he held the cleaning supplies.

Stepping in your way, he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re not gonna clean anything right now. But what you are going to do is go put on some more comfortable clothes and lay down.” You were confused why Chenle wasn’t just making you leave, but your screaming joints and muscles were louder than your worries. On shaking feet, you walked towards Chenle’s room, his closet specifically.

Not daring to even touch the designer sweatpants and baggy shirts, you looked for the brand that was the cheapest. Nike. His cheapest brand was Nike and even then, the pants and shirts were the most expensive of them. Kicking off your heels and taking off the long socks, you unzipped your dress and stepped out of it. Just in your bra and panties, you took Chenle’s clothes off their respective hangers and tugged the pants up your legs and the shirt over your head.

The floors were cold under your feet, from the hardwood in his bedroom and to the marble of the kitchen, it all caused a chill to run down your spine. It was either that, the fact that you were sick, or because of the domestic nature of wearing Chenle’s clothes.

“Do you feel any better?” The loose clothes felt better on your warm skin than your dress did, and you let Chenle know that. “I’m glad.” He kissed the side of your head as he rounded the kitchen island to retrieve his phone which was on the other side. “What do you want to eat? Hopefully having some solid food in your stomach will make you feel better.” You just nodded and tangled your fingers together, thinking about what sounded good.

“If you want soup there’s a place with a really good French onion down the street. But if-” he scrolled on his phone as he spoke out options until you interrupted him. “French onion sounds good.” You smiled at him. Even though you were smiling at him on the inside, you were frowning at yourself on the inside, mad that you were allowing yourself to feel comfortable around him so quickly.

“It’s really good, don’t worry.” He somehow could see your worry. The corners of your lips turned upwards at the sight of him dialing the number of the restaurant and placing your order. You wanted him to come closer, to wrap you up in his arms, cornering you, making you feel safe. You hated the feeling, but at the same time, you wanted nothing more.

“Chenle-” You finished just as quickly as you had started. He looked up from his phone, eyes boring into yours, watching you so intently that you thought that if you moved, he’d look away. You felt frozen as he looked at you, waiting for you to finish what you were saying. The words disappeared somewhere in the space between you two, lost in the chilled air.

He had no use for his phone anymore, so he placed it back on the white marble countertop and walked over to you. Even though his body moved, his eyes stayed still, continuing to hold your gaze. Once you could feel the heat radiating off his body and onto yours, you looked away, no longer able to hold eye contact. He said your name just like you had said his, quietly, slowly, longingly.

Looking back up at him, your lips ghosted the other’s. Not even a centimeter apart. The air you breathed out was the air he breathed in, and vice versa. Your noses brushed the other’s as you interlocked lips.

When you went to lace your hands in his hair, you felt the familiar tickle in your nose. Knowing immediately what was to come, you pushed Chenle away, turned, brought your elbow up to your face, and sneezed.

Chenle laughed as you wiped your nose. He tugged your closer to him and hugged you, your back to his chest. “Sorry for pushing you away, I didn’t want to sneeze on you.” Sniffling and giggling, you looked at him and smiled. “I appreciate that.” His smile gave you chills. It was so genuine; you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

You just wanted to stare at him, but your body had other plans. That first sneeze wasn’t the last. You broke free from Chenle’s arms and sneezed again, three times in a row. Your head was throbbing at this point and the sneezing didn’t help whatsoever.

Chenle noticed the sway in your stand. The dazed look in your glossed over eyes told him that you needed to lie down. “Alrighty baby, it’s time to lay you down.” He wrapped his left arm around your waist and put your weight onto him.

Baby. He called you baby.

Chenle walked you to his room, slowly, making sure that you wouldn’t fall. “My head hurts Lele.”

If your eyes weren’t almost swollen shut, you would’ve seen the blush that covered his entire face. All the way to his ears and down his neck.

Lele. You called him Lele.

“I know, we’ll lay down and hopefully it’ll be gone when you wake up.” Chenle helped you lay down. He whispered that he’d be back in a minute, and he was gone.

Closing your eyes, you brought the plush blankets up to your chin and fluttered your legs a bit, nestling in his soft bed. The burring that came with keeping them open immediately vanished. Your skin was hot even though you felt cold. The heat that the blankets provided was much appreciated.

However, you shivered as soon as something freezing hit your forehead.

“Chenle?” When you were about to open your eyes, Chenle shushed you. “It’s a washcloth. We need to break your fever before it gets worse.” You let him know about your disapproval by grumbling, but you didn’t state your complaint verbally.

He laughed at the noise and made his way around the bed to his side of it. “M’tired Lele.” He agreed and pulled your body closer to his.

Sleep came easily for both of you; however, sleep wasn’t interested in staying for you. Every couple of minutes you would wake up, toss and turn for a bit, and then fall back asleep. It wasn’t until Chenle felt this routine for about the umpteenth time before he wrapped his arms around your body tightly and pulled your back to his chest. Your half-awake mind decided that this position was comfortable enough, as you didn’t wake up again until hours later.

Your eyes stayed shut even after you woke up, the headache returned immediately, and you were determined to continue to sleep until you were no longer sick. But your goal was easily washed away when your pillow rumbled. The soft cushion moved at the same time you heard quiet laughter. A slight weight on top of your head joined the new sensations. But that weight didn’t still, it moved down your head, ran through your hair.

Deciding to fight against the crust that had built up around your eyes, you moved your hand up to your face and wiped the crust away with your fingertips. Once you deemed your eyes free of any annoyances, you opened them. The immediate sight was heavily blurred, the light fixture above you seemed extra bright but with the soft warm hue, you were able to get used to it quickly and soon you figured out that your rumbling pillow was Chenle’s thigh, and that weight was his hand massaging your head.

“Lele~”, your voice was drawn out, still deep and husky with sleep but Chenle understood you and smiled gently down at you. “How did you sleep? You were out for a while.” You sat up slightly to be upright and next to Chenle, but your straight posture didn’t last long, and you slouched into his side. “I still don’t feel good.” Without saying anything Chenle felt your forehead again, frowned, and picked up some water from the nightstand next to him.

The cold glass that was being brought up to your lips was the only thing that made you realize just how thirsty you really were. Chenle helped you drink the water slowly as your hands were still laced with that sleepy weakness. The soothing feeling of the water was welcomed, helping your sore throat significantly.

Silence filled the room, except for the TV playing some show that caused Chenle to laugh occasionally and your heavy breathing through your mouth as your nose was clogged. During a particularly quiet part of the show, your breathing was audible to Chenle, and you laughed. “I’m sorry for being a mouth-breather during your show.” Your apology made him laugh in which he gently assured you that it was okay and he’s sorry you feel so terrible.

“So, what did you do while I was asleep?” Pure curiosity got the best of you, and you wanted the visualization of what Chenle does when he’s alone. “Well, I was asleep with you for about two hours but when I woke up, I just stayed next to you in case you needed anything. I watched the movie I needed to for my communications class and I’m now ahead in most of my classes.” You were glad that your chest wasn’t pressed to Chenle because he definitely would’ve felt the tempo of the beating speed up. He stayed with you.

You would honestly, whole-heartedly say that you didn’t mind being sick. Chenle had treated you with a gentle tenderness that you didn’t think he was capable of. The thought of your guys’ feud and hatred for each other made you sad for the first time ever.

But you pushed the negative notion away and snuggled into Chenle even more, loving the unspoken reward of his arm wrapping around your shoulder, holding you securely to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the second month of your deal. Your knees hurt from kneeling on the floor to scrub the floors and your hands hurt from all the chemicals since you refused to use the gloves that he bought you. You refused to use anything Chenle had bought you if it was him attempting to be nice. Even though you two had had your moments, you couldn’t shake the thought of him just using you in some way.

Knocking on the door, you were expecting Chenle to make you wait and then finally greet you with a sleezy smile. But what you were met with made you step back. Chenle swung the door open and stepped forward.

“Let me see your hands and knees.” Instead of listening to him, you hid, you hid your hands behind your back and looked away. “I’m not fucking asking, show me your hands and knees.”

Chenle’s eyes showed that he wasn’t joking, this was the most serious or angry you have ever seen him. He stepped aside and nodded towards his apartment, urging you do walk in. You decided it would be better to listen to him and when you passed him and he’d be able to see your hands, you moved them to hide in front of you. But it didn’t work because as soon as your hands weren’t interlocked with each other, Chenle wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled your arm up.

He gasped at the discolored splotches of your skin, where the skin was rubbed raw, and bumps were forming in some spots. “This is why I bought you gloves.” His voice wasn’t stern anymore, more so remorseful.

“Come on, I have some ointment for this.” His fingers intertwined with yours, and he lightly pulled you to the bathroom. Chenle’s hands were nice and cold, a good contrast to the heated and irritated skin of your own.

You unfortunately knew where his bathroom was. It reminded you of the first day of this mess. But based on Chenle’s change in attitude, you had a feeling that this bathroom would bring a new memory.

When he led you to the bathroom, he didn’t say a single thing. He didn’t make fun of you or scold you or degrade you. Instead he waited until your back was in front of the vanity. He bent down and wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs and gently placed you on top of the bathroom counter.

“Is it alright if I roll down your socks?” His face was level with yours. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded at him but looked away when you felt his hands on your thighs.

His pale fingers lingered on your skin longer than they needed to, but it was comfortable. Chenle did what he said he would and pulled down your socks. You could hear his swallow once he saw the dark blue bruises that littered your knees.

“I even bought you the best knee pads I could find so this wouldn’t happen.” He shook his head and turned around. He rustled through the medicine cabinet. You assumed he was looking for the ointment he had mentioned.

While his back was turned to you, you looked at his outfit. He was wearing a black fitted muscle tee and gray sweatpants. If you weren’t so embarrassed, you probably would’ve been drooling on any other day.

“Alright, this one is for your hands and this one will help the bruises heal faster.” He looked back at you and popped up one of the caps. “This one is going to burn a bit where the cuts are a bit open but that just mean it’s working.”

Chenle took one of your hands into his, cradling it with upmost care. He dapped the cream on your hand and allowed you to squeeze his own when the burning kicked in. He never said anything to you when your legs twitched at the pain. He made sure all the white liquid was rubbed in and no longer burning.

“And we’re done with your hands. The bruise ointment doesn’t hurt at all, it’ll feel almost cold, but it’ll be more soothing than anything.” You appreciated that he was walking you through everything he was doing without making you feel dumb and with the look he gave you, you felt anything but that.

You were pulled out of your daze when he brought your hands up to his lips one by one and planted a gentle kiss on ever irritated spot. Chenle didn’t look up at you when he did this, nor did he when he explained himself. “My mom always said that if someone you’re close to is hurt, kissing the spot that hurts makes them feel better quicker.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond before he knelt in front you in between your knees. He looked up at you from his knelt position. Chenle just stared at you for a few minutes, and you just stared back.

“Chenle-” He stood back up quickly, grabbed the back of your neck and connected your lips. Your hands fisted his t-shirt. He whispered your name against your lips and tugged you closer, so close that your chests were touching and there wasn’t any room to breathe in between.

Although you couldn’t fit a hand between your bodies you still tried to move closer. You felt your butt get closer to the edge of the vanity and before you could wrap your head around the fact that you were about to fall, you fell.

Your already abused knees hit the floor and you let out a cry. Chenle fell with you purposely, immediately addressing your pain. “Ah fuck, I’m so sorry!” He apologized even though it wasn’t his fault. He pulled you into his lap, letting your knees rest from the pressure of the ground.

“I’m gonna put the ointment on you, again, it’s just gonna be cold.” You heard him twist off the lid. He dipped his pointer and middle finger in the white cream.

He was right when he said it was cold. You gasped at the sensation and clutched onto him. Your breath was already shaky from the pain. Chenle rubbed it in gently, soft enough to prevent it from being painful but still firm enough to get it done quickly.

While you intently watched Chenle aid you back to health once again, you realized that as time progressed, your time spent together consisted of less cleaning and more…intimate activities, and not just sex either.

Tears were still streaming down your face still and Chenle wiped the ointment residue on his shirt but still wiped your tears off with the back of his hands to avoid getting the cream on your face.

“How about this, it’s getting late already so how about I cook us some dinner and we can have an easy night. You can go change into some of my clothes if you want.” He smiled at you and kissed your lips; you kissed back but Chenle didn’t let you deepen it like you wanted. Chenle laughed at your little pout, kissed your bottom lip that was jutted out, and helped you up.

He held you hand and led you to his room. “I’ll be in the kitchen, just let me know if you need anything. Join me whenever you’re finished and comfortable.” You nodded and kissed him one last time. You loved kissing Chenle even though you wouldn’t admit it out loud. The feeling of his lips now was much different than the feeling of them when you first kissed. They were softer, smoother, almost nicer you’d say. He started using chapstick for you.

Even after having kissed Chenle several times before, he still left a tingling sensation on your lips. Once you were behind the door of his walk-in closet, you leaned against it and lightly touched your lips. The realization of what you were doing hit though and you mentally kicked yourself. Returning to the task at hand, you looked at Chenle’s closet, the familiar items stuck out to you, and you wanted to wear something you had seen him wearing recently.

The familiar black and grey striped hoodie caught your eye, and you took it off its hanger and slipping it on your bare body. Your dress was already crumbled on the floor, but you ignored it and went to the drawers that stored his sweatpants. Remembering the pair that you wore last time; you picked those and relished the comfortable feeling they brought.

When you were done, you crouched down and collected the pieces of your previous outfit and placed them in the tote bag that you had left in the bathroom. As you approached the kitchen, you could hear Chenle softly singing. You didn’t know that he could sing, and you wanted nothing more than to hear more. So, you entered the kitchen as quietly as possible and just stood there. Thinking about sitting in a chair at the island did occur but you quickly decided against it as the possibility of the chair scrapping across the floor would alert Chenle and the singing would most likely come to an end, which you didn’t want whatsoever.

But your secret viewing of the domestic concert came to an end anyways once Chenle turned around to plate whatever was in the saucepan. He smiled at you, deciding to ignore the fact that hearing him sing caused a blush to take over his face. “I hope you’re okay with me just reheating some leftover pasta, I didn’t want to keep you waiting.” You pulled out one of the chairs from under the island and thanked Chenle, ensuring him that dinner was perfect.

Instead of sitting in the sit across from you, Chenle sat in the one next to you. With his right hand he ate but with his left he rubbed your thigh over the sweatpants. It was silent for the most part, Chenle didn’t do anything to spark the conversation, however, he just looked at you. His eyes were telling you something, something you have never heard from him before, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out that the look in his eyes were trying to convey.

The pasta was soon gone from the plates and now in your stomachs. With the fullness in your belly and the warmth that Chenle was bringing your body, you yawned, tiredness consuming your body and mind.

“Let’s go to bed, baby.” He called you baby, and you weren’t even sick. “You want me…to stay?” Chenle looked at you like you were insane, like you were purple with two heads.

“Of course I want you to stay, why wouldn’t I?” You just shook your head and watched him clean up the kitchen, which in retrospect, should be your job. “Shouldn’t I clean the table?”

The question shocked Chenle, “I guess I forgot about the deal to be honest, until now of course. You’re not as bad as I thought. And please, that isn’t supposed to sound bad. You’re not bad at all.” He was tripping over his own words, digging himself in a deeper and deeper hole. His ears were pink, and a nervous smile took over his lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself Zhong.” Chenle approached you slowly, the warm lighting highlighting his features beautifully. Once he was right next to you, he leaned down and pecked your lips. It was soft and sweet and said exactly what needed to be said.

“Now let’s actually go to bed, I can tell that you’re tired.” You were, and the fact that it was probably the dark circles under your eyes that told him so, you still felt the fluttering in your heart at the thought of him knowing you.

What Chenle did next surprised you, he bent down and scooped you off the chair. “Oh my god! What the hell Chenle!”

“Shhh, just let me carry you!” Giggling as Chenle carried you to the bedroom, you littered his cheeks, lips, and nose with several tiny kisses. He started giggling as well. You assumed your pecks were starting to tickle him because his pace picked up and soon you were in the air. Yelling as you landed on the plush bed, your loud laugh mixed with Chenle’s dolphin like howl.

“Now we’re waking your neighbors!” You covered your mouth and squeezed your nose, trying to calm yourself before you actually woke his neighbors or worse, pissed yourself.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Chenle jumped on the bed, next to you. His impact caused you to bounce and the giggling increased. The two of you, giggling into the other’s mouth, were rolling around the bed uncontrollably. The tiredness was most likely at fault for the fit of giggles, but it was almost like you were high. High off each other.

You rolled onto Chenle’s chest and kissed him. Both of you were already panting, trying to catch your breath after the laughing session but the kiss definitely winded you as well.

The heavy breathing slowed the giggles and forced you to take a break from the other’s lips. Chenle was on his back, and you had rolled off of him and laid on your stomach right next to him. You looked at each other in silence, stupid dopey smiles decorating your flushed faces.

The moment lasted until seemingly simultaneously you and Chenle both closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, but not before Chenle rose his hands in the air and clapped twice to turn off the lights.

Chenle’s mood was similar to the one he carried before the two of you got to know each other. You didn’t know what had changed but you still walked out of the café and towards him.

“I just can’t fathom the fact that you get all dolled up like this just to go to work at a maid café. I didn’t think this type of outfit was your style. You look a bit ridiculous.” You were used to Chenle being mean to you, it has happened since grade school and all the way to your current Uni days. Him picking fun at your looks wasn’t surprising either, he’d always call you ugly or something like when you were kids but now, it hurt worse than ever. And for once, he seemed to pick up on it.

“What’d I say?” He huffed out a laugh through his nose, not believing what he was about to see in front of him. You crying. Chenle’s cocky smirk fell off his face, “Woah, woah, woah, what’s the matter L/n?” You looked away from him as tears started to fall down your face. Chenle cupped your now wet cheeks and turned your head towards him. Concern was written across his face. “You’ve never cried before, just tell me what’s wrong. Please.” The chill from being outside caught up with you and you shivered, your bare arms were now littered with goosebumps. Chenle immediately noticed this and pulled you into his coat clad body, trying to transfer his body heat to yours.

“Please tell me where I pushed it too far. I know I make things difficult, but I can’t stand seeing you cry because of me.” This was very unlike him, but you were too upset to ponder on it.

“I felt pretty like this.” The crack in your whispered confession made him want to kill himself for ever making you feel like this. Pulling you away from his chest, he saw your mascara running down your cheeks, snot leaking out of your nose, and your eyes were already puffy from the crying. “Oh, no, no, no. You are pretty, the absolute prettiest. I think you’re the most beautiful person to ever walk the Earth.” “I think-” He was interrupted by you slapping his chest, hard.

“It’s always ‘Well I think’ or ‘Well I didn’t think’. You need to make up your fucking mind Chenle. You think a lot of things while not thinking at all. And I’m done with this whole being your maid deal, go ahead and tell everyone, I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of you always treating me like dogshit. I’m done with the deal, and I’m done with you.” You turned on your heel and started walking away from the café and away from Chenle. Your tears were no longer of sadness or from being insecure. The tears now felt hot with rage. But, instead of lashing out even more, you just wanted out of the situation.

Minjeong who got off of her shift 15 minutes after you got off yours was walking out of the backdoor and towards her car. You cleared your throat and wiped your tears, “Minjeong! Can I catch a ride with you?” She could hear the bubble in your throat and met you halfway.

“What happened?” She looked at you and then looked over your shoulder. “I’m gonna fucking kill you Zhong!” You put your hand out, stopping her from approaching Chenle. “Let’s just go Minjeong.” She ignored the anger inside of her and just huffed, held her nose in the air, and pulled you to her car.

Before she let you explain what exactly happened, she listed all the fun things you two were going to do tonight to cheer you up. But still all you could think of was Chenle. Even though he has hurt you in the past and continued to hurt you, you still had some sick soft spot for him. Maybe it was caused by the moments after the two of you would have sex, or the times he would pick you up from work or even visit you at work to give you a break from the creepy men. You liked Chenle and you hated him for it. But most of all you hated yourself for it.

Minjeong was still shit talking Chenle while you pulled out of the parking lot, and you refused to look back at him, but you could see him through the passenger’s side mirror. It had started to rain and Chenle was still standing under the streetlight, watching Minjeong’s car drive away. Watching you drive away.

You ruled out any possibility of him caring about you the moment he let you leave with Minjeong. If he liked you like he led on, he would’ve stopped you. He would’ve explained whatever sick reasoning he had, but he didn’t. He watched you leave and thinking about it, the fact that he didn’t fight for you, hurt more than anything he’s ever said to you.

“You need to get him out of your head. I know it just happened and you two have the weirdest relationship I’ve seen but it’s better to get him out of your head now.” You kept looking back at Chenle until he was out of sight. “Minjeong, I fucking hate that I love him.” It was the first time you’ve ever said it out loud, but she knew.

You looked down to your lap and played with the frills of your skirt, running your fingers along the lace. Watching the streetlights pass by the lights themselves were just blurring from your eyes still being teary. “Minjeong?” You turned your head but still didn’t look up. “Yeah?” She placed her hand on yours, putting a stop to the shaking.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” She laughed and shook her head. “I wasn’t even going to give you a choice. Even if you asked me to take you home, the answer was going to be a no.”

The two of you fell into a calming silence that was only interrupted by your sniffles and then a gasp once you felt your phone buzz.

“Oh my god, it’s Chenle.” Minjeong whipped her head around to yell not to answer it. “Well I don’t wanna talk to him right now.” You ignored the call, and her shoulders released their tension. “I’m proud, he doesn’t deserve your tears and he certainly doesn’t deserve your time.”

“I’m gonna miss him.” She placed a comforting hand on yours, eliminating the shakiness. “At least it was just sex, right?” Minjeong tried figuring out where you and him truly stood so she could assist the situation better.

“No, I wish it was, but it wasn’t.” Your hand slipped from beneath hers and raised along with your other to cover your face.

Minjeong didn’t pry for anything else, the rest of the car ride was silent, or at least until she pulled into the drive through. “What do you want?” Turning your head from looking out your window and out Minjeong’s, you rubbed the tears out of your eyes so you could read the menu without the blur.

“I’ll have chicken nuggets and a vanilla shake, thank you Minjeong.” She smiled and placed your orders with the person speaking in the microphone and pulled up to the window when instructed to.

The person at the window looked at your outfits and tried to suppress a laugh but once he saw your swollen face, his smile disappeared, and he just took Minjeong’s card to pay for the meal.

“I can’t believe Chenle can be such an ass, especially after everything the two of you have been through. Sure you guys didn’t like each other but I saw the way he looked at you! I saw the change!” Minjeong broke her own rule about not talking about Chenle and the more she spoke about how much Chenle supposedly liked you, the more you felt your feelings disappear. What he said reminded you of what he was like before the deal was made, but along the way, the deal didn’t exist anymore, and it was just Chenle and you. You didn’t understand what processed him to say what he said but you didn’t care anymore.

Sniffling once more, you wiped your tears and leaned across Minjeong. “Hey, do you think I could get your number?” The guy at the window shot you a sleazy look and wrote down his snap on a napkin. You shot him a flirty wink and sat back in your seat naturally.

The guy handed Minjeong your food and called out to you, “I’ll be looking forward to talking to you.” Minjeong though, drove away before he could even finish the poor excuse of flirting. When you looked at her, surprised by her speeding, her eyes were filled with anger. “What?”

“What? What? What do you mean ‘what’? You just broke off your relationship with Chenle! I don’t care how hurt you are, but you are not moving on that quick, the only thing that guy is going to do, is make the situation worse.” Minjeong took the napkin with the barely eligible handwriting on it, without taking her eyes off the road, and she crumpled it up and put it in her apron pocket.

Minjeong didn’t allow you to get a word in before she started talking, “The both of us are going to call out tomorrow, from both school and work and have a little day to allow you to sit and wallow. But after that, you’re getting back on track where you lived in a world without Chenle.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was right, she sent the emails and made the calls herself on your behalf so you wouldn’t have to reach out to anyone unless you wanted to. However, the constant checking your phone wishing that Chenle was the cause of those notifications, caused your day to go much slower than it would’ve with him.

But no matter how many times you flipped your phone face side up to see the screen, Minjeong did a good job on distracting you. The two of you binge watched damn near all of One Direction’s content for the sole purpose of Minjeong getting to see Harry Styles on the screen.

The day did eventually come to an end though and you were forced into getting ready to go back into the real world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your step had a bit of extra pep in it and it was because of the thick wad of cash that sat in one of the hidden pockets in your skirt. You had your usual top customers that requested for you specifically all come around at some point today, so of course, your tips for it showed.

The sun felt nice on your skin, the several days long rain had finally ended and as the dark clouds floated away, so did your sore mood. Along with your thoughts of-

“Y/n! Please let me talk to you! Just for a bit, please!”

Chenle.

Looking behind your shoulder, you kept walking to your car. “Well I don’t want to talk to you.” Facing your head towards the parking lot, you spotted your car and made a beeline for it. Ignoring the begs and pleas coming from the man behind you, you just kept walking. That was until you literally couldn’t.

Chenle had sprinted in front of you and had his back to your driver’s side door.

“Chenle. Move, I want to go home.” He shook his head. “I miss you so much, you don’t even understand.” You scoffed, unable to hold in your disgust. “You miss me as your maid and fuckdoll, give me a fucking break.”

Walking closer to him, you tried to pry him off of the door. “No, I love you. I need you back into my life. I miss the moments when we were us.” You knew exactly what he was talking about, they were the same moments that caused you to fall in love with him.

“I know you know what I’m talking about. Please just forgive me. I didn’t mean to push it too far, I didn’t know you had changed, I was expecting you to throw something back at me. If I knew our relationship had changed, I never would’ve done it.”

He looked like he had walked through hell. His hair was a greasy mess, his eyes were bloodshot, he had dark circles under them, and his usual designer casual wear was nowhere to be seen. In Gucci and Louis Vuitton’s place was a grey pair of food stain covered sweatpants and a heavily wrinkled dark green shirt. He didn’t look like The Chenle. The person standing in front of you now was the closest version of Chenle that you knew. But this time, he wasn’t behind closed doors. He was refusing to let you in your car and begging you to forgive him.

“Now, how do you think our relationship changed?” Your arms were crossed against your chest. You mentally stabbed yourself for even allowing him a chance to explain himself.

“After a few weeks of fucking, we stopped with the insults. We started actually talking and, and, and you stayed passed the time you were done cleaning. You stayed for dinner with me, you, you, we slept together without actually having sex.” He was bringing up good points but in a very poor way. These things meant a lot to you too but with his portrayal of events, you didn’t have you convinced yet. Even though he never lost you in the first place.

“Remember when you weren’t feeling well but still came over to clean? I noticed that you weren’t feeling well and instead of telling you that you didn’t have to clean, and you could go home, I suggested you stay at my place, and we could have a comfortable lazy day.” Your stomach hurt for two reasons that day, the stomach bug that had taken over your body, and then a virus, Chenle. Chenle made you feel so pleasant that day. From him rubbing your stomach and shoulders on the back to him washing your hair that night and letting you sleep in his bed cuddled up against him.

He was right, your relationship had changed. It had changed so much that you went from wishing he’d disappear off the face of the earth to wishing he’d never disappear from your side.

Chenle could see you thinking, over the time you had spent together, he had learned to read you. He could read you from before, but he only knew what pissed you off. Now, he knew almost everything.

“Please, I’ll do anything. I can’t lose you when I love and need you this much.” You knew that you were going to take him back, but you still wanted him to suffer.

“Anything?” Although you tried to play coy, he immediately caught on and answered your question. “You know I’d do anything for you.” He cupped the back of your neck, looked into your eyes, and with that single close-mouthed kiss, your relationship was sealed.

Your hands moved from your sides to his shoulders and finally reached their destination curled in his hair that was now the color you had suggested to him, pink.

You hid your smile in this chest, he had made you cry in several different ways, but now, he was making you smile. “Chenle-” he shushed you. “I just wanna hold you, I never want to let you go again and I’m not going to mess up again.” His hands clutched onto you tightly, emphasizing his point.

“I love you Chenle and I hate you for it.” He laughed; it was high pitched like that was the last thing he imagined leaving your mouth. Once his laughter died down, he looked at you, really at you. “I love you too, but it’s the best thing to ever happened to me.”

539 notes · View notes

mgnifique-tion · 25 days ago

Text

— worlds apart.

summary || ``sometimes, genuine love isn’t enough for two to let things stay the same.``

pairing: 2012-2013!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: love you with all my heart – crush lowercase is intended… » part 1 | part 2

— themes and warning/s: angst yet slightly happy ending (?) somewhere in the middle, forbidden love, thorki happy ending (brotherly,, i can't believe i have to put brotherly in this one)

— a/n: finally, the last part is finished! this took me a while to post bc haha, i graduated and got a job (GOAT fr) 🎓 and idk, i'm not really awesome w the time management (un-GOATified) and i also wasn't happy with my first draft of this so i had to write a whole new second half 😭 but ig if you guys want the other - much happier ending, you can boost this up to 20 reblogs (that would be very great!! thx!! 🤘) and i'll post it right away bc it's already written anyway!!

— edit: check out the song rec,,, it’s magnificent. idk what koreans ate to make good OST 😭 + there's a noticeable timeskip from when loki returned to asgard and his imprisonment there + it was also before frigga's passing :(

[ total words: 2.5k ]

support me on ko-fi! ☕

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

loki left...

but at what cost?

now, you were standing in front of him while he was locked away in the cell provided by s.h.i.e.l.d. and he glared at you coldly, just like how he looked at you the first time. but right now, loki’s mind couldn’t unwrap around the fact that you had turned him in… or at least, that’s what he thought happened since he’s known betrayal far worse than everyone else, not even thor.

“loki.” you placed your palm against the glass as he looked away, a frown plastered over his face as a scowl escaped his lips. he really thought you were set apart from all the humans who were terrified of him, the humans who had surrounded him, and the humans who fired weapons stronger than bullets at him.

but in the end, you were still human… and he hated it badly. “you betrayed me,” loki spoke out, “... you don’t know the extent of your power, do you?”

and those first three words he uttered broke you. how could he think you betrayed him? for god’s sake, you’ve kissed him without thinking twice! you’ve followed his rules without complaining! you’ve eaten a midnight meal with him on the top of a mountain and talked to him about the little girl you failed to save… your little sister.

why on earth would he think that you, out of all people, have turned into a traitor?

“loki,” you said his name once more but in a softer manner, “look, you’re not seeing this right. i would never turn you in–”

“i am seeing it clearly.” he grunted, still not looking at you. he couldn’t dare to look at you after that godforsaken kiss; so heavenly to feel but so hellish to remember. “y/n, i–,” he had to cut himself off, knowing that he’s just called you by your name. the name that every friend would address you by. the name that would remind him that there was this closeness between both of you at one point.

for a short amount of time, he’d want to spend more with you but the universe had told him it was too big of a risk. “... i shouldn’t have set you free… i never expected you to be in front of me right now,” he solemnly whispered, now knowing the consequences of falling for a human. after all, how unethical would it be for a god to fall for some earthly creature?

he found you beautiful in so many ways that he just couldn’t let himself not feel your lips, his mind overly consumed by the imagination of just taking you, claiming his place in you, and turning you as the right hand to his throne.

having you by his side; that was his fantasy. an everlasting one.

and this fueled his rage even more against his older brother, who could love a human while he had to be kept in this cage, desperately reaching his hands out to you while the windows shielded you from him as if he was some beast; only allowed to watch but never touch. “you’re mine!” he growled loudly, now staring into your eyes while his fist banged against the glass, making you flinch. “... you were supposed to be mine.”

as selfish and ridiculous as he may have sounded, saying those words broke him. it shattered him. the truth will always shatter the wall of lies he’s made for himself.

when you thought this situation couldn’t get any worse, you heard thundering footsteps from behind, almost as if it was approaching you. on the other side of the glass, loki’s eyes darkened, a familiar smirk creeping up his face like he’s worn a mask. “... so, you’ve taken l/n away from me as well? how generous.” the god of mischief’s voice was mixed with bitterness and disguised wrath as you turned around and saw the storm’s mighty warrior.

“listen, brother,” thor called his name with a hint of hope, “that doctor did not turn you in, they just wanted to pay you a visit.”

of course loki didn’t believe him. in fact, loki couldn't; the god of mischief had been lied to many times before he turned his back against those same liars. “if they hadn’t turn me in, then why am i here? why are they not with me? why are they standing next to you outside of this room!?” jealousy seeped into the cracks of his mask, the reality of his emotions destroying himself.

he couldn’t bear seeing his brother standing next to you. “because you’re a criminal,” you spoke up, breaking the silence after loki just shouted at thor’s face. taking another step closer to the glass, you stated, “loki, you’ve taken me hostage and you kissed me–”

“no, you kissed me,” loki claimed.

“because you told me to!” you clarified.

“and you desired it.” he insisted.

while both of you fought, thor stood right beside you with a rather awkward stance, forced to listen to his younger, fucked in the head brother express how much he wanted you to be his. needless to say, it was an unpleasant discussion to witness all in real-time. “enough!” roared the mighty god of thunder, catching both of your attention at the speed of lightning.

but the argument didn’t stop there. “you tell me that i left an effect on you but you’re so full of yourself that you wouldn’t let this go.” and anger found you at that moment, showing loki all the consequences of his actions; what world domination led him to.

“... my god, loki,” you uttered hopelessly, “you know you don’t have to do this. it never had to be like this.”

in those hours you’ve been around him, you knew that you weren’t the only one controlled by such power. his every move had to be right – had to make the plan progress or else, all things fail and by now, you’ve already noticed that loki so despised it.

loki so desperately didn’t want to bring the whole order down.

“please, your brother is willing to give us a chance–”

“if this is an attempt to persuade me to stop, you’re not doing so well at all.”

of course loki wasn’t quite fond on hearing about what his brother thought about the two of you. he couldn’t care less about him anymore; whether he truly wanted it or not, the plan will push through.

this world will be molded in his hands and his horns will be everyone’s crucifix.

so, you tried one more time. “... you already have power over me,” you admitted, your voice trembling in shame and pride. thor, who now stood behind you, couldn’t bear listening to this but he couldn’t help but think that his brother was turning you down over his ruling despite needing clarity that all he needed was love. “is that not enough?”

and there was coldness after the fire, filling in the entire room as you waited. there wasn’t enough patience for loki anymore but you kept on holding on because you had to. if this was the only way you could persuade him to stop all of this, then you had to do it.

if you couldn’t save her before, maybe you could save the people she’s left behind.

but there was no response as the alarms had gone off. agents from around the area had already told the rest of the avengers that dr. banner had turned into the emerald beast and you just had to be kept away from loki’s cell to prevent further damage yet what they didn’t know was that loki had given you a promise: that not even a finger from him would leave a bruise on your skin.

a promise that he continued to stand by even if it’s too late.

“forgive me, doctor.” he closed his eyes for a moment, letting his sorrow sink deeper into his hardened heart. soon, his irises stared into his open palm, determination floating above his guilt.

“but this can’t be stopped.”

not even an hour later, his cell opened and chaos ensued in the rest of manhattan. creatures from other worlds led, buildings – new and old – fell, and the six were united and formed to defend the planet while the people genuinely thought that the end of the world had come for them; all because of the god with that damn scepter.

unfortunately, he ended up receiving a sentence from his father.

“you have a visitor.” the gentle voice of the woman who stood next to you called onto him. the god was facing away from the window, which exposed him to the other prisoners. those who have been imprisoned just like him no longer treated him with respect; after all, how could the son of odin do such a thing?

yet that was the entire problem: he was not odin’s son. not anymore. “a visitor?” he laughed at the idea of it, believing that no one would dare to visit him at this point. even for him, it was a surprise that his mother was doing that exact thing now after everything that happened.

he never meant to make it this far.

all he wanted was to end his pain but in return, he brought it to everyone.

“and who would that be, mother?”

“... a friend of yours. from midgard.”

the moment that damned planet was mentioned, he lifted his head from the floor, slowly turning around. his pupils dilated at the sight of you standing next to his mother as hundreds of questions broke into his mind. but one question remained unanswered: how on earth did you reach asgard?

“... you.” his gaze, voice, and demeanor softened. the idea of you visiting him in an outer space prison was weakening his cold heart on the spot.

his mother stared at her son before shifting her gaze at you, giving you a small nod. “i’ll leave you both alone. thank you for visiting him…” she thanked you, taking the steps further away from you, the glass, and her imprisoned son after you returned her with a smile. it was the first time in months that loki had actually looked at someone with vulnerability showing in every crevice of his whole being.

carefully, you went up the short steps of the stairs in front of the glass, walking closer to him as you watched him do the same. “... your brother allowed me to pay you a visit,” you spoke, earning yet another one of those sarcastic laughs he always had.

“oh, i don’t believe you,” he stated blatantly, “thor would never allow such a thing–”

“it was because he found me crying… about you.” you interrupted him, which silenced him right away. after his sentence had been announced around the headquarters, it felt as if a piece of your heart went missing, a void just forming right there. you never planned to visit him; what he did to manhattan was horrible, the entire world could’ve been put at stake if the black order continued.

but thor insisted after hearing you cry alone in your respective office.

“... well.” he shrugged, chuckling at the thought of it. “it’s unsurprising that he wanted you to see me like this,” he expressed as he looked at how much of a mess he was already, his palms resting against each other before placing them both behind his back. “... was it to embarrass me? in front of you?”

you shook your head and told him sternly, “no.”

he was yet taken aback once more, tilting his head to the side in confusion. he’s always believed his brother would only allow things to interact with him if it’ll shame him to the fullest. shame him for all the things he’s done. all the harm he’s caused.

“are you…” he paused, his throat drying up in anxiety. “... are you ashamed of me?”

it was rare for the god to ever ask someone that question. loki’s already made up his mind: he’s unloved, uncared for. a cunning, manipulative being who played with his subjects, leaving no room for regret in his heart.

but for the first time, he felt afraid of what you felt about him.

because all he wanted to be was to be next to you. to feel you.

to hold the soft palms of your hands in his and never let them go ever again.

and again, you shook your head and placed your palm over the glass. “i could never be ashamed of you even if i wanted to,” you responded softly as loki’s breath hitched. “... but the things you did– they are… just… wrong...” you didn’t dare to say more as you watched how despair filled his gaze, his approaching hand further away from the glass as if he couldn’t see himself being with you. loki, in this very moment, was forced to swallow and embrace the truth – that the idea of you and him will always remain an idea because of what he did.

so, you’ve lowered your palm, too.

loki turned his back and walked away, his mind taken over by regret. if only he had met you differently, things wouldn’t have been like this. if only he hadn’t been so angry at his known family for keeping such a secret from him, you would’ve been his. if only things had been different, you could’ve been in his embrace right at this very moment.

but he knew that none of those would matter. “you should go.” the god denied himself of this privilege, which was something you didn’t want as you shook your head. you swore to never leave him; not in this state at least.

“and please,” he begged breathlessly as he kept his head down. “... live happily for me.”

and the entire hall fell silent again. even the others seemed tense, listening to the words exchanged by both you and the god.

“but i want to stay… i still love you.” those were the only words that could come out of your mouth at the moment, protesting hopelessly.

“... it’s too late.” his voice trembled at the mention of it and before you could say anything back, his brother entered, catching your attention. with a single nod from him, you knew that it was best to follow the avenger instead of staying longer. after all, you were not part of their world… and neither should loki be a part of yours.

the god’s gaze lingered on you as the moment you were gone, he closed his eyes shut for a while until he realized that thor watched him. “what? are you glad that this happened? glad that i pushed them away for them to be finally free from this? for them to be happy?” loki snapped, scoffing at his brother’s observant glare. in response, thor just sighed deeply, slightly leaning against the glass.

“you do truly love them… if you want, i'll watch them for you. i’ve never expected you to love a human since you weren’t fond of the idea.” it took loki a long pause before he knew that his older brother really was willing to protect you from danger as long as he’s in prison because somehow, they both knew that he’ll escape someday.

and for the first time, his lips curled into a tiny smile. “thank you… brother.”

32 notes · View notes

cathchicken · 2 years ago

Text

Oops I tripped on a rock-

Welp timeline change ig

Sooooo this is the new collector and king AU I made today. As you can tell, it is very different from my normal aus. I’m tempted to not even call it an AU at all, since it is almost one in the most literal sense…

Essentially: king and the collector exist as different people in a completely different witch and demon universe. The collector himself is a witch, or “wizard” as I call them. King is, well, a demon still, or a monster more specifically. They live somewhat different lives, and are somewhat different people, but are still collector and king nevertheless.

Definitely not a traditional AU. But I think this will be fun

The collector: he is a young wizard who is mainly socially reclusive. Probably late teens, as compared to the typical ToH collector. Not immortal. Their communication skills are… not great, and often resorts to talking with their hands. They try their best. His status as a wizard means somewhat; he is able to provide spells to non-magic folk, but for relatively cheaper costs. It thankfully is enough to make him a reasonable living. He’s not afraid to chew on a few stray comet newts every once in awhile…

King: a monster. He is usually ignored by most people, and often prefers to stay unnoticed anyways. He one day find the collector, however, and is allowed to crash for a bit before he continues on. A nomadic lifestyle is common for monsters, anyway. But soon, they get close. And King decides each day, essentially, “tomorrow I’ll leave”

TW FOR BELOW: disturbing themes mainly

Their overall relationship is extremely complex. The collector… craves intimacy. He’s not sure how it really works though, but he’s sure what he wants is more than just something to fill the void of his loneliness. He sees king as an opportunity, but doesn’t want to force anything. They are pretty desperate though. King, on the other hand, has his own issues. As you can see in the art, he doesn’t actually possess a skull-like face. It’s just a mask. King isn’t afraid to show his own face however… he just eventually found the mask as a way to better express himself, in to an almost idealistic fashion, without his insecurities getting in the way. But sometimes… his own feelings of wanting a genuine relationship bubble up… especially around his new buddy, Collector. The Collector says he should embrace his inner self, as it’s what makes him beautiful. But it’s soon pretty obvious that when King lets go, he REALLY lets go. He can’t control himself anymore, and sometimes ends up hurting collector. He knows it’s bad, but with the constant praise of the collector, he chooses not to stop. The collector also gets the feeling that he shouldn’t convince king to keep giving in, but he also knows that this is essentially Kings raw and unaltered version of affection… and he likes it. He’s so happy at the thought of receiving love and friendship, he doesn’t realize he is being bitten… and scratched… and torn apart…

In the end, this AU is about two people who, essentially, are not neurotypical in any way. They are trying to fit into societal norms, but also wanting to be able to be themselves in a healthy way. This relationship, as you can tell, starts off really dirty. But if I ever develop this story a bit more, I want it to be about them both finding how to care for each other in their own way, but also in a healthy way. It’s not that they won’t make good friends, they both have just never had a friend before. This is a journey they will face together

Ok it is 3 am. Sleep time!!!

#ToH #the owl house #ToH au #the collector #toh collector #king clawthorne #platnium bones #my art #sketch #cathchicken

217 notes · View notes

motherloads · 11 months ago

Text

My Love Mine all Mine

I kept rewriting this idea. Is it good? Probs not. But, did I need something to fuel me? Yes. Ahm, it was supposed to be happy but. Ig I'm in a sad mood.

This fic was SO close to being named "Glimpse of Us." But there is no other man or woman that they're with so it didn't match.

Probs OOC Simon.

Summary: Simon always dreams of you. He isn't sure why. But, you're always so sweet. But, you aren't real. He's never seen you before. He doesn't know your name. He knew you were caring. Dream him, he felt the love he held for you. From a mission gone wrong, he finds himself in your home. He convinced himself you weren't real. But how could he lie to himself when he can feel your skin under his hands? He has you now.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Other Tags: Scarlet Witch! Reader, Marvel/COD Crossover

Never proof read.

⋆｡°✩

My baby, here on earth. Showed me what my heart was worth. So, when it comes to be my turn. Could you shine it down here for her?

“You’re a good boy, Simon.” The voice whispers to him, their fingers running over his mask quietly. “Such a good boy.” They leave a soft kiss, where his mouth should be. He doesn’t reciprocate, but he almost feels the need to. He hears them softly giggle, but he doesn’t quite open his eyes. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see who it was.

Who were they? Why were they treating him like this? Why wasn’t he stopping them?

The thoughts that ran in his mind increased as time went on, as they began running their soft and delicate fingers on his neck, to his shoulders, on his arms. Until their hands found his own. They held him, bringing his hands to their mouth. They leave small kisses. He felt the residue of gloss stay.

“I’ll see you soon, Simon. Calm down.” They whisper, pulling away. He chases after their warmth, running his hands on the side of their hips, squeezing tightly. They felt so real.

This time, he opens his eyes to try and see who they were. He only sees the outline of a woman. He couldn’t see her clearly, but he could see the light wisps of red surrounding her. He said nothing as his eyes closed again.

This was just a dream. He would wake up soon enough.

The little he slept should not have bothered him. Usually, it doesn’t. He could easily avoid sleeping or eating without facing the repercussions. One of the many he was trained to learn and endure. But somehow, this did bother him. It felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. He felt, the rare occasions when the women visited, she drained almost everything he stored for the missions. She bothered him. He has never met her before. So why was she constantly bothering him?

His constant questions were cut off when Soap nudged him with his shoulder. He hears him, “You okay, L.T.?” He grunts in response, moving forward.

They were on a mission, he shouldn't be distracted. But he is. He shouldn’t be thinking about the woman who does not exist. She is merely a figment of his imagination. Unreal. He knew he would never experience this. He couldn’t experience this. He would not allow himself to. He couldn’t be distracted.

Somehow he is. His thoughts, a hindrance to his capabilities and warrior in the battlefield. He hears Soaps shouts, Laswell in his ear. He hears Gaz, alongside Price. He could hear them, but he couldn’t see them. How could things go so wrong? He coughs, surrounded by smoke. He gets separated. At some point, he feels two bullets knick him. With the surrounding sounds, Soap's voice getting more scattered, he feels his breathing become more shallow.

He’s inside a building, surveying one of the bullets. There was no exit wound, as he slightly hissed in annoyance from the pain blossoming. He’s focused on the blood pouring out, having no necessary tools to remove the bullet. He lifts up his head, looking around for anything to assist him. He freezes, seeing small eyes peer at him in curiosity. Her eyes lingered, twiddling her thumbs as she continued to watch Simon.

He didn’t know there were still civilians in this area.

“You’re not like Tony Stark, are you?” She carefully questions, hesitantly stepping closer to the man. He shuffles back in response, refusing to respond to the kid. Her questions did raise his own.

She doesn’t take his silence as an answer, “She doesn’t like men like you.” She continues, rubbing her hands on her dirty pants. Her red shirt, riddled with dirt, had blotches of dried blood.

“Where are your parents, kid?” He rasps, “Go back to them before you get hurt.”

“I’m already hurt.” She frowns, shaking her head at the man, “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what.” He growls, leaning his head back. He shuts his eyes, trying to rid his headache.

“She’ll hurt you,” was all the girl said. When Simon opened his eyes again, she was gone.

It’s silent again. Too silent. The blood loss increased, the smoke from before affecting him more than it should have.

Maybe that is what she wanted.

His strength is wavering. If he loses consciousness, he fears he may see her again. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

He accepts it, though. Waiting to feel the hint of eerie calmness before the storm hits.

You watch him sleep, silently patching his wounds up. The bullets were gone, by your courtesy. You hum a familiar tone quietly, one of the corny shows you loved watching when you were younger. You glance at the man with the mask, tilting your head as you reach out to run your fingers down the outline of the skull. He doesn’t move. You pull away to glance at the array of guns on your kitchen table. Then, you look at the woman, sitting deep in thought, running her own hands through the book she was reading.

The Scarlet Witch looks up, feeling the eyes on her. She doesn’t say anything, looking back down at the book in front of her. She acted as if the book held all the secrets known to man. But you knew.

It was simply a new recipe book.

You turn back to the man, although unsure of his name and why you found him ways away from the battle currently going on. You didn’t bother to read his mind. Maybe you should have, to make sure he would not hurt you. (As if he was capable of doing so with your abilities.) But, if he was with the men who had started this battle, then you would kill him with a flick of your hand.

The Scarlet Witch herself, with the whispers in your ear, convinced you to bring the man into your home. You were one and the same, but sometimes you felt the Scarlet Witch left important information out.

Your thoughts get cut off, when the man suddenly coughs, breathing heavily from the residue of smoke you found in his lungs. You grab the water bottle, pushing it up to the man who pushed your hand away. You feel his glaring through his mask, as he pushes himself off the couch and away from you.

“Careful there,” You warn, "Don’t want to pull your stitches.” You open the water, hearing the click. To show it wasn’t tampered with, you take a sip. Then, you extended it back to him. He still refuses to take it, despite how constant he needed to clear his throat. You put it down on the table. It was weird, doing the exact same thing your captors used to do to you.

The Scarlet Witch was long gone. Leaving the book unopened and on the page she left off on.

You see the man glance at the guns on the kitchen table. Then, he looks back at you. Quickly, he goes to snatch the closest one to him. He points it at you, gesturing for you to put your hands up. He only held the gun in one hand, holding his side with the other. “What did you do to me?”

You say nothing. Simon grows irritated, his voice raising, “I said. What did you do to me!” He grips the gun tighter, “If you don’t answer in five seconds, I’m putting a bullet through your head.” “I didn’t do anything,” You calmly respond, “Calm down.” He freezes at your words, grasping at the familiar words he has heard before.

“It’s you,” He breathes, “You’re the woman.” You furrow your brows in confusion, tilting your head at his realization. You didn’t recognize the man.

“I’m sorry? I’m unsure of what you’re entailing.” You murmur to the man. “Sit down. Put the gun down and explain it to me?” You smile softly, letting yourself slightly manipulate his decision. Hesitantly, Simon sits. He puts the gun down.

He isn’t sure why he followed your words.

“You-” He cuts himself off, wincing from the wound you had just finished dressing before he woke up, “You took out the bullets?” You confirm with a hum. He sees your fingers twitch. Sees you run your hands together, as if nervous.

“You were bleeding to death.” Is all you said. “I found you that way.” You glance at the flag on his chest, pursing your lips, you look back up to him, “You were the ones sent to infiltrate? I’ve seen the ones before you. Many deaths.”

Simon doesn’t respond, instead, he leans with his own questions, “Who are you?”

You introduce yourself, from there Simon doesn’t say anything else. You wait for him to say his name, but he says nothing.

“What is your name?” You question.

“You should already know,” He shot back, “You always say it.” You shake your head in response, smiling sadly at the man you still did not recognize. The only man of significance in your head, has been dead for quite some time.

Maybe not in this Universe. But in another, you had lost your other half long ago.

“I don’t.”

“You’re the woman. In my dreams. You’re always…There. I have never seen your face until now. But I know your voice,” He growls, his fingers twitching to hold something. Anything. He holds his knees tightly in response.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry. I don’t know you.” You insisted, Standing up, you brush a strand of your hair away. Your hairstyle had gone haywire from how unkept you left it. You see no humans, you had no reason to do anything anymore.

Maybe you should have cut it like Natasha.

Shaking your head, you push the water to the man still sitting down. “Heal. You will need it once you leave.” You pause, looking at the guns still on display on your kitchen table. “None have bullets, by the way.” Smiling, you leave the clueless man to his own devices.

You learn that the man has taken on the name Ghost. Nothing else, just Ghost. You constantly felt his presence in your home, but he never pushed for more conversation. You could tell that he was trying to find his bullets. Anything. But, you continued with your daily chores. From maintaining your garden, feeding the animals. Hell, even nursing the mother and her kittens who found comfort in your home. You worked on anything.

You run your hands through the clothing you were washing. The soap increased as you continued to lather through the grime from constantly being in the garden. You feel a presence near you, watching you. You glance at Ghost, his familiar mask peering down at you. He still wore the same clothes.

“I have clothes that can fit you, if you’d like to take a shower. No offense, but you’re starting to reek.” You smile at him, continuing on rubbing the dirt off of your clothing.

He doesn’t respond, but you do see his head tilt in question. “You know where my room is. It’s the bottom drawer.” He disappears soon after, taking you up on the offer.

It’s quiet, only the chirps of the birds and your animals. You move on to letting your clothing air dry. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you nod to yourself at the job. At that moment, Ghost returns. You look at the outfit, seeing a familiar long sleeve and sweats.

“Husbands?” He asks gruffly, the shirt being tight on his figure. The sweatpants, surprisingly fit him. The ones you made to appear out of thin air.

“No,” You begin dumping the water out, “He’s long gone.”

Ghost felt inclined to help you. He knew he had overextended his stay, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know more about you. Who you were. What you did for a living. Why you never left him alone. He needed to know before he left. He convinced himself, that he would be the one leaving willingly.

Even with the little he slept, he still had the dreams of you. It was just you. Sometimes, you said little things that made his heart hurt.

"You are my sadness and you are my hope. But mostly, you're my love." You murmured to him, running your hands through his hair. His face was uncovered, as you smiled down at him from your place on his lap. You kiss his forehead, eyes glimmering in pure love at him. Your love, for him.

"You could never hurt me," You're below him this time, your hand reaching out to lay on his cheek. The same exact look on your face. The same one as always that he continued to love with all his heart. He sees his hands stay on your hips, pulling you closer as your laughs filled the room.

He never says anything in these dreams, always afraid to ruin the moment. But, even if he tried to, he felt he was never in control of the dreams he lived through.

One, stuck to him deeply. Once again, you were touching him. He felt like crying--No. He was crying. It wasn't a breakup or anything. It wasn't anything sad. No. "They're twins, Simon." You whispered, a smile on your face as you brought his rough hands onto your stomach. "Boys." He holds you closer in this dream, shaking as you soothed him. His head lay in the crook of your neck, soaking your turtleneck with his tears. He felt what dream Simon felt.

He was ready for the twins.

Throughout this time, he continued to follow you, sometimes helping you hold your items when asked. He collected the eggs quietly, like you asked him to. Even when one of cows was prepared to have their own, he helped.

“The dreams people have are the glimpses of the other lives they could have lived. The appearances of the other Universes,” You spoke calmly, seasoning the meat you were preparing to cook for dinner, “I’ve had dreams where I was a zombie. Another where I died in a burst of red.”

You pause, moving the meat to the stove. You watched it sizzle. “I’ve heard the voices of my sons calling out for me.” You calmly say, smiling sadly, thinking of the voices of the two boys who asked you for help. Who begged for their mom.

"Sons?" He asks.

"Twins," You confirm. "I was a twin once." He keeps that information to himself, seeing your smile that twitched.

“What are you trying to say?” Ghost questions, taking over on cooking the meat. You stand behind him.

“The dreams that you’ve had of me. They’re real.” Is what you say, moving on to the salad you were going to prepare, “I reckon that’s one of the little that I have seen where I am happy. Where I haven’t experienced or done all that I have done.” You hum, “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I’ve known the minute you brought me into your home.” Ghost responds, his back turned to you. “I’m inclined to believe you.” “Why?” You question him.

“The books you’ve tried to hide for one thing. You like Witchcraft?”

You giggle at his words at first. Then, it turns into a full blown laugh as you double over. He ignores you, focusing on the meat in front of him.

“Nothing is lost in your eyes, are they?” You stifle your laughter, running your hand down your mouth. You held the collar of your shirt, pressing lightly over your beating heart.

“The ruins around your home cannot be ignored.” He gruffly responds, shaking his head with a sigh, “Your home is in a vast clearing, but I have seen nobody pass through. The only animals evident are the ones you own.”

“You’re quite certain that I’m a Witch. What if I simply enjoy the crafts? I’m just superstitious,” You giggle, pushing the salad aside as you move to sit on the counter to watch him cook the meat.

He wouldn’t try to hurt you, he would know better. He stays silent, unsure how to respond to your question or how to confirm what he knows. You take the silence as an answer. Instead of continuing the conversation, you reach out to the side of his balaclava. One of his hands shoots out, effectively stopping you from touching it. You only smile back, not moving your hand away from his grip. He carefully lets go, as your hands run on the little seams you can see. You continue onto the outline of the skull. Running down to his shoulder, the soft cotton of the clothing he was borrowing moved under your motions.

You felt real.

You ran your hand down to his arms, swirling it in a specific motion that caused shivers down his spine. From the hand not focusing on the meat, you let your fingers intertwine.

"It's unfair to dream of the world we deserve. The life we deserve. It's unfair others live the life that we have yearned for our whole lives." You stare down at your conjoined hands. You rub your thumb atop his covered hand.

“Such a good boy.” You murmur, bringing his hand to your lap. He doesn’t say anything. His free hand gripping onto the meat he had now deemed ready to remove. When he turns off the stove, he provides his full attention to you. He turns his body to you, but he still doesn’t say anything.

You bring your other hand to his covered cheek, he slightly leans into your touch. He was almost there, but not quite close. You smooth the creases using your thumb. Simon closes his eyes.

“Simon,” He grunts quietly, “Simon Riley.”

It’s as if he can sense your smiling. Your hands do not stop from how you continued to touch him.

“You’re a good boy, Simon,” You murmur, his breath hitches from your comment.

He’s fully leaning into your hand, bringing his head down onto your forehead. You hum a tune unfamiliar to him, but familiar to you. When you released your hand from his own, he didn’t expect you to hold both sides of his covered face.

He feels the ghost of your lips in between his eyes. Then, he feels it near the corner of his left eye. You move on to the right. Then to his nose.

He stills when your lips ghost his own.

“I wish we can stay together, Simon,” You whisper, moving away from his lips. He could still feel your breath, though. “Love is not possible for me. It never will be.”

“Why?” He places both of his hands over yours, squeezing, “Why?” He repeats.

“I”m undeserving of this. What I have done, the lives lost because of me. I have lost everything before. I bring Chaos wherever I go. Why do you think I live isolated? I’m not risking your life,” You leave one last peck on his clothed mouth.

“This was a mistake.”

He opens his eyes, immediately noticing the unshed tears. You smile at him sadly, “You are a dream.” “I just feel you.”

Simon remembers nothing else but your warmth. The last thing he sees is the red surrounding his head. The red wisps resonating from your palms.

"You'll grieve. It will be bad," You whisper in his ear. Everything is dark. It's so dark. Why can't he see anything? Where are you?" "But what is grief, if not love persevering?"

When he awakens, he is surrounded by medical equipment. Immediately, he stands up, looking around frantically. From his movement, he startles Soap awake. Despite being groggy, Soap immediately goes to his side, pushing him back down.

“Ay, get back down L.T., You’re not well,” The Scottish man reprimands, struggling to get Simon to calm down, “We found ya surrounded by dead bodies. Jeez, ya put up a fight.”

“Where is she,” Simon rasps, his voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in ages, “Where is she, Johnny?”

“Who?” Soap questions, “There was no lass around.”

“I was-” Simon continues to struggle, “She’s real. I know she’s real.”

As if he could hear Soap’s struggle, Price enters the room, immediately going to help Soap. When they have Simon restrained, he is still breathing heavily.

“Where is she?” Simon continues to ask, his eyes searching everywhere for a glimpse of her. Just her. Where is she?

He needed her. He needed to see her. She was real. He knows she was real. He felt her. He knows her.

“I need her,” His eyes, so far away, look out the window as a wisp of red leaves him from the corner of his eyes.

She’s real.

He just felt you.

#crossover #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty #x reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley

50 notes · View notes