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yutahoes · 4 years ago

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Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Twenty Four)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning: (Again, I don’t know if you can tag this as angst.)

Word Count: 2.8k

Tag List: @ailoveyuta 🥰

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

24. Sayonara

It's been years. Five years, ten months, twenty-three days, four hours… He can still count the minutes and seconds if he likes but he'll miss her more.

The last time he knew something about her, she finished her art study in New York and transferred to Canada. After that, he isn't sure what happened to her.

He went to the country once, telling his friends that it's for business and nothing personal, which they obviously didn't buy. In the end, it was a vain attempt to find her. Like finding a needle in a haystack and even Taeyong said that it's a suicide mission.

One time, his stepmother visited him and asked help to see her ex-husband to which he agreed. He doesn't have any choice anyway, he also wanted to know what happened to him. And he promised her, that he will take care of his stepmom.

It was weird to see the two of them, the foster parents of the girl he loved, sitting in front of each other and talking like matured individuals. Didn't they realize that they just ruin someone's life because of their irresponsibility? But what the older man said surprised Yuta, "If ever you see (Y/N), can you tell her that I'm sorry? I know it's not enough but I just want her to know that I'm proud of her even if she's not my daughter." If only she's here to hear that. He'll probably get to see her smile again.

And now, he badly wants to see her.

Yuta smiled to himself as he sat on the business class of the plane to Paris. Their first encounter. She's so fearless back then, shouting in front of a guy who just molested a girl. And she caught his eye that instant, like a magic spell that binds him to her. Koi no Yokan, his premonition of love. And he's still in that bind. He's still in love with her. Only (Y/N).

Paris only brought memories of her. That time he was seated in front of a pastry shop and his eye caught a familiar girl entering the opposite coffee shop. It was still a mystery why he's infatuated with the girl who rejected him at the plane. But that coffee shop date made him sure of one thing, he's not just lusting over this girl. He liked her smile, he liked how sincere her smile is that made his heart hurt. He missed those smiles. He missed her so much.

Maybe it was too much reminiscing that he forgot to keep an eye on one thing, a person actually. "Fuck, Shiho!"

(Y/N) was still astounded at how Paris looked like the place she once saw in the book. She had been here before but didn't get the chance to tour around because of a certain Japanese guy. Her Japanese guy. Her phone rang and she answered the call, rolling her eyes at the other person on the line. "Yes, I'm already here. Where are you?" By now, she's just annoyed. She should be enjoying this day in Paris, why does she have to meet him now?

She was by a fountain when she saw a young girl crying, seated on the edge of the statue. What is she doing here alone? Where are her parents? (Y/N) crouched down to her height, smiling at her. "Hi." She greeted and the child looked at her, still crying. She's so cute, she thought. "Are you lost? Where are your parents?"

"Otou-chan left me." The young girl said in Japanese that surprised her.

(Y/N) had to smile at that. It's weird hearing the word Otou-chan, she's used to saying it to address Yuta. "Do you want me to help you look for your dad?" She said in fluent Japanese that made the sobbing girl look at her in surprise. "What's your name?"

"Shiho." That's a cute name. "Shiho Nakamoto." What? She wanted her to repeat what she said but a distant voice can be heard calling for 'Shiho'. A voice she badly wanted to hear. "Otou-chan." The young girl shouted in glee, running to the owner of the voice. Shiho Nakamoto? Otou-Chan? Yuta is already married?

Slowly, she stood up without facing him. How can they meet like this again? And really, of all places, here in Paris? "Excuse me, thank you for staying with…" She just nodded at that, trying her very best to not face him. What if he's with his wife? This will be really awkward.

"Noona!" Someone called that made her look to the side. Her savior. She didn't care whether Yuta would realize that it was her but she dashed to where Mark is, holding his arm and dragging him away from the place. "Wait, why?" The younger guy asked in panic.

But she just pulled him until they're inside the museum. "He's here." Mark gave her a confused look and she gestured at the painting hanging by the center of the museum. The guy looked surprised at that, giggling when she looked annoyed.

It pissed her off that of all the paintings that their class made, it was the painting of Yuta that is getting featured in their exhibit. She just did it since she missed him but Mark saw it and showed it to their director that it got chosen as the main exhibit. This is a stupid move. What if he finds this painting? He'll found out that she's not over him yet when he's obviously done with her. God, what should she do if his wife founds out?

And he has a daughter now? She can't believe that someone experienced Yuta's stamina. Well, the kid is kind of cute and she resembles Yuta's eyes. She should have stared at her longer. Who is the mother of that child? Who is Yuta's wife?

---

That night is the gala for the Asian art exhibit that their school sponsored, a collection of artworks from students that depict Asian culture. (Y/N) is really nervous since it's her work that's going to get the main feature. A total first.

She passed by the Southeast Asian artworks, mostly paintings. The West Asian part shows pots and ceramics that would bring you to deserts. She stopped at the East Asian part, suddenly missing Korea as photographs welcomed her. The Chinese vases, as well as the Terracotta Warrior replica, amazed her. And when she reached the Japanese part of the exhibit, someone was standing in front of a certain bowl with gold lacquer, 'Kintsukuroi'.

He looked surprised seeing her in a blue dress, looking as if she really dolled up. Her hair is longer now that he's itching to run his fingers on the threads of her silky hair. "Hi." she chirped. "What are you doing here?"

Yuta smiled then realized that they're conversing in his mother tongue. Did she learn Japanese? He showed a brochure of the art exhibit, given to special guests of the gala. The sole reason why he went to Paris is because of an art invitation that depicts Asian arts. He can't really say no to the art director. "I thought you're in Canada." She nodded, surprised that he knew that.

"I started teaching arts in Canada." Teaching? Yuta was surprised, he thought she's still studying. "These are some of my students' work."

"Oh," Yuta exclaimed, in awe. "That's really good." She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. Her gaze fell on the teacup with gold, Yuta used to compare her to that. A broken porcelain, his broken porcelain. What is he thinking now? "I'm really proud of you." The sincerity in his voice almost made her choke if not for Mark Lee calling her name from across the room.

She asked if he could give her a minute and went to where the younger boy is, asking who she was talking to. His eyes widened in surprise realizing who it is. "Your Japanese guy." She shushed him up, asking what he needed help from. He gestured to his tie and she rolled her eyes, pulling the piece of fabric from his neck. "I'm nervous."

She skillfully made the knot on his tie, patting it when she's done. "Mina will really like you." The older said that made the younger pout, she had to pinch his cheeks at that. Mark told her to get back with Yuta and she giggled at what he meant.

He said with.

But she can't do that. He's already married, Mark knows that.

"You look happier," Yuta noted that made her stop. "Are you dating?"

He moved on from her. He found another love which should have really happened. It will be awkward to know that she's still in love with the idea of them together.

(Y/N) breathed heavily. Mark is definitely going to kill her. "Yes."

"That's great." He said in monotone. She was scared to look at him. Is he hurt? Is he happy? She hoped he is. "I have to go. I'm going to meet my parents outside." His parents are here? "I'll see you around."

He turned around from her but she tapped her foot. There's a question running in her mind for years. A question, she badly wanted to ask him. And if now, when can she have the courage to ask him that? "Yuta." She called which made him turn to her. She sighed a heavy breath that made him curious. "Why didn't you stop me?" He cocked his head to the side at the question. "When I said I'm going to New York, why didn't you stop me?"

Yuta walked to where she is, taking slow steps until he's in front of her. "If I stopped you that time, you wouldn't have the chance to find yourself." A bitter smile can be seen on his lips. His hand held her cheek which comforted her, Yuta's warmth. "I wouldn't be able to make you happy like this."

What? Her eyes looked up at his and they're glistening under the lights. Twinkling. "I'm proud of you, my daughter." And even if she wanted to hug him, he just turned around without a word. Walking briskly to leave the hall.

Her heart can't lie now. All this time, it's still Yuta. It's still him.

"Can I not attend?" Yuta begged his dad that made Shiho look at him, pouting. She looked so pretty in that blue dress, the same hue as her dress. "I might just cry inside."

The older man laughed at that, tapping his son's back. "You should have told her that you're still in love with her." But Yuta shook his head, she already moved on. As she should be. She's happier. There's nothing he can do to bring her back to his life.

He breathed heavily as tears fell from his eyes. The sadness all these years bottled up in this emotion. "Dad…" he called as the older man held him in his arms. "I don't want her to see me like this. Can I just stay at the hotel?"

"Son, this is your last chance. You might not see her again after this." He said that made him look at the older. He's right. It's been years since he hoped for this to happen. And here she is, in front of him. "It's your last chance to tell her everything you want to say. I don't want you to regret this." This might really be his last chance to say everything bottled up inside him these past years.

She needed to at least know that he's still holding on for her.

The gala was a classy one, filled with wine and classy people from different nationalities. Yuta was just seated at their table as he watched his parents mingle with the other people they knew.

His eyes frantically tried to look for her but she's nowhere in sight. And why did he forget the face of her boyfriend? Maybe he can spot him in the crowd and ask him if he can talk to her like a true man. Some young girls were looking his way but he's not interested. It's still her that he wants.

Some girls were giggling at him. Great! Because it's funny to see a single guy seated next to a young child as if in a kiddie restaurant. He cursed when he realized that Shiho is nowhere in sight again. Where the hell could that child be? And why is he so distracted?

But before he could stand up, he saw her talking to an older girl with the same blue dress like her. He just watched in awe at how they looked so good next to each other. How natural she looked talking to a child.

If only she didn't leave for New York, they might have a child now. A son perhaps. But will she smile like this if she stayed? Will she be happier if she's next to him?

"Shiho, okasan is calling you," Yuta said that made (Y/N) look at him. The younger girl waved her hands to say goodbye to the older and she giggled at how cute she is. The older tried seeing where her mom is but the crowd blocked her view.

A hand appeared in front of her to help her stand up but she refused to hold it, she might get used to his warmth. He's married, for crying out loud. He should be with his family, not here next to her. "(Y/N)," He called.

She had to prevent herself from tearing up at that. He just called her name, why is she getting emotional? Or is it because she's still not done crying about him? He sighed loudly, "I don't know where to begin but I…"

The lights dimmed as the speaker announced the highlight of the exhibit. (Y/N) cursed that made Yuta look at her in worry. Her eyes were full of horror as he stepped closer to check on her. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Yuta shouldn't see the painting, his wife and child shouldn't. No one should. But it's too late. Why did she have to forget about it?

(Y/N) was called on the stage by the art director and she gave Yuta an apologetic look. She'll just tell everyone that she's done with these feelings so he wouldn't get bothered by it. Yes. She should do that.

The written speech on the podium was discarded as she closed her eyes and breathed heavily. She greeted everyone in English, wishing that everyone had a nice time looking at the artworks that they prepared. She introduced herself as a faculty of the Art School then started the speech about her getting interested in Japanese culture. "Hatsukoi." She said then stared at one guy in the crowd who was looking at her as well. "First Love."

She smiled, remembering all the times she had with Yuta. When she discovered that warm feeling of falling in love. A feeling she wanted to erase or she'll definitely get hurt again. "They said your first love never dies. True, it won't change." She introduced that made the audience smile adoringly. "But it will die, given the time." A collective gasp can be heard. Even the director was surprised at the sudden shift of her voice. She should have introduced the wonder of first love, to make the audience fall in love. They're in Paris, the City of Love.

"The purpose of this artwork is to show the feeling of first love." She looked at her first love, wishing that her last words would resonate to him. "But first loves can also be painful. So this is my goodbye to my first love." She said with a proud smile but in reality, she wanted to badly cry. If she speaks more, they'll surely hear the strain in her voice. A huge lump in her throat that she cannot gulp down. "Sayonara…" The spotlight shone on the artwork, earning everyone's attention, even his. "Yuta." She whispered away from the mic.

When Yuta returned his gaze at the podium, she's nowhere to be seen. Why is she always shaking him like this? A goodbye to her first love? Is this her goodbye to him? "Onii-chan, isn't that you?" Shiho asked, pointing at the splitting canvas of him surrounded by cherry blossom petals. He attracted the nearby attention as the artist's first love, the subject of the painting. They even complimented her for the amazing art style and that she really made an exact copy of his face on the canvas.

Yuta sighed. So this is it, really. She really did mean it when she said 'sayonara' before, it's not possible that she's really doing her 'sayonara' now. His dad was right, he will regret that he didn't take the chance to talk to her.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 23 / Chapter 25

Quick note: (I don’t know what’s happening to my posts but the paragraphs sometimes get jumbled. I edited all the chapters and I’ll check on it later to see if there are still some mistakes. I’m sorry. If you read this, thank you. There’s only one chapter left for Otou-chan and I would really like to know what you think of the story. That will mean so much. Again, thank you for taking time in reading this. Your feedback will be highly appreciated.)

#yutasmut #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto smut #yutanakamotosmut #nct smut #nctsmut #yuta x reader smut

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itsnsfwalways · 4 years ago

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Canyon Moon

A/N: WELCOME TO THE CANYON MOON FIC ! The chapters have to be split up and cut a lot shorter bc of sizing limits but I’m hoping you guys will still like it.

FIC MASTERLIST

WARNINGS FOR CHP. 1: swearing, mild drug use (weed)

CHAPTER ONE: the world’s happy waiting

The ocean has always been a calming place for you. Any body of water, really. The lapping of thewaves, the smell of salt, the course feeling of sand between your toes. It felt like home. So when you moved to Malibu, you found yourself lying on the beach until 4 am most nights, sometimes sleeping, but more often than not listening to music and writing.

Working as a songwriter for mostly just your friends, or as a fill in whenever someone wasn’t there, you were constantly writing. It was a lot easier to get deeper that way for you, not having to worry about sharing your secrets, and being able to mask it in other people’s voices. That being said, you had journals upon journals of your own songs. They were just for you, and occasionally your best friends, but it was something you were really proud of. After writing for the past 6 years, you’d like to think they were pretty good.

You’d gotten to your little spot around an hour ago, parking your pride and joy, an orange and yellow remodeled VW bus, which also functioned as your room most nights when you wanted to be out here, next to the sand.

The vibrant sunset had since dulled into a deep purple color, but it was still fairly light out. A small bonfire was lit in front of your blanket, keeping you a little extra warm even though it was still 70°.

Strumming your guitar, you moved away from the rock you were leaning against, a car’s headlights snapping you out of the haze you always got when you were out here. And also those two joints you had smoked already.

You raise your eyebrows at the fucking bright yellow Ferrari, hoping they were just stopping for a second.

Your prayers were ignored as a guy stepped out, a hoodie pulled over his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to play mindlessly, making up different melodies before creating a new one on top it.

Mr. Ferrari starts making his way over to you, which sends a flutter through your chest.

“Hey, just so you know, if you’re going to kill me, I’ve always wanted to die listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac,” you yell, grabbing your phone from your bag just in case.

The guy stops for a second and lets out a laugh.

“Definitely not trying to kill you,” he chuckles, and, oh, he’s British.

He comes closer and you come face to face with one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen. Wearing a black hoodie with the words “Treat People With Kindness” embroidered on it, that’s cute, a pair of grey slacks, which you wouldn’t necessarily think of for beach attire, but he makes up for it by completing the look with no shoes.

“Do y’have a lighter I could borrow? Damn thing ran out and the gas station is just far away enough for it to be annoying.”

You laugh at that and nod, tossing him a random one from your bag.

“I feel that. I’m Y/N. Where you from?” You bluntly ask, because hey, he’s cute.

“Manchester, originally. Live near here now. You mind?” He asks, and you nod, scooting over to let him sit.

You’re hit with the smell of vanilla, leather, and just rich as he plops himself down, leaning against a rock a few feet away from you.

He points to your guitar, lips curled around the joint for a second before he inhales and asks,

“How long you been playing? Liked what you were doing earlier.”

You blush at this, barely remembering what you were doing.

“I have no fuckin clue. 14 years? Got my first guitar at 8 and fell in love.” You over exaggerated hugging your guitar, getting another laugh out of him, before you spit out,

“Oh, and thank you! I don’t really remember what I was doing to be honest. Just get in the zone sometimes. Do you play?”

He looks surprised at this, looking at you closely for a second.

“Uh, yeah, little bit. Been trying to learn more recently and kind of get my skills up.”

“Good for you! If you ever wanna play together, I’m literally always here. You sharing?” You smile, looking at his face in the orange light. His cheekbones are illuminated perfectly and you feel your throat go dry.

He nods and hands it to you, watching as you press the filter to your lips.

“What did you say your name was again?” You rack your brain and cannot remember him introducing himself.

“Didn’t. Harry, sorry that was a bit rude,” He mumbles, and you look at him funny.

“Are you like an FBI agent, Harry? Why so secret? And harassing young girls on the beach at night? With a fucking Ferrari? Come on, man, what’s your secret?” You tease, bumping your elbow into his side.

He laughs, shoving you with his shoulder lightly.

“Only harassing that’s going on is you interrogating me. But if I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll leave right now. I should probably go, actually.” He rants, suddenly moving to get up. You turn your body quickly and lay your legs in his lap so he can’t move.

“You’re dumb. Secret, please?” You smile, blinking up at him.

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile, and pauses to run a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath in before saying,

“I’m a musician, so that’s where the car and secret beach trips come in. I’m actually just starting to write for my next album, and I’m hitting a rut.”

“Oh shit, that’s what’s up! You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime. Sorry that I don’t know you, I’ve been living on the road for awhile so I listen to a lot of oldies. Plus, with hippie parents you don’t hear a lot of new music,” You explain, gesturing to your van.

He looks at you for a second before shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“What?” You grin, shoving his knee with your foot.

“You’re something else, s’all.”

“So I’ve been told.” A giggle falls from your lips as you lay down on the blanket, legs still in his lap, guitar now discarded to the side.

Looking up at the stars starting to form, you feel his gaze on you. Trying to figure out who this chick was, what stories she had, what witty remark was just past her lips.

“Question.” You say, propping your head up. Your hand finds it’s way on the back of your skull and you feel the blanket shift slightly underneath your elbow.

“Answer,” He responds with the same tone, tapping your knees with his fingertips.

“Would you wanna come with me so I can get a tattoo?”

He stops for a second and stares at you.

“Like, right now? You got an appointment?”

You grin and move off of him, ruffling his hair.

“Even better. I got cool friends.”

He takes his time packing up all your stuff, being as cautious enough to remind you not to cover the fire with sand in case someone stepped on it.

“This is my beach, Ferrari. No one comes here. Except handsome British guys, apparently.”

He looks up from the ground, where he’s stuffing your towel into your bag, and throws you a smirk.

“Thanks, baby. You’re gorgeous as well,”

“Blegh. Let me come introduce you to Sunflower,” you fake shudder at the pet name and he grins, pinching your side so he can laugh at your little jump.

You lead him over to your van, opening up the side door to show off your renovated home.

The entire thing was orange with white trim, big yellow sunflowers painted on the sides. The ceiling inside was painted a dark blue, the walls painted yellow.

A meditation rug was lying on the floor, a light brown wood flooring that matched the cabinets attached to the ceiling.

Your bed was all the way in the back, a simple white comforter on it. A mirror hung next to it, attached to the bathroom door. There was a small kitchen counter complete with a sink and a stovetop next to it. A small table folded out behind the drivers seat where a lounge area was located, orange cushions and fairy lights decorating the little couch.

All in all, it was a tiny fucking house in a car and you treated it like your baby.

“This is fucking sick,” he says, looking at the different artwork, posters, and decorations hanging all over the walls and cabinets.

“Thanks! Did it myself. Spent all summer working on it a few years back, I’m damn proud of it.”

There’s a pause for a second, trying to figure out how to best work this out.

“I’m cool to just leave my car here if you’re down to drive me. We’re going to one of my guy friends’ studio about thirty minutes from here,” you suggest, having a feeling Harry wouldn’t be down to leave his car here, no matter how secluded it was.

“Uh, okay. Should I be worried? Who knows what scoundrels you hang out with?” He teases, watching you go into the van to grab some things.

You glance back at him, laughing, before your breath catches in your throat. He’s since removed his hoodie and is left in a white tank top with small black print on the rib cage. Making a mental note to figure out what it says later, your eyes can’t help but drift to his arms. Illuminated in the car light, his biceps bulge as he rests his hands on the roof, leaning forward slightly into the car.

His tongue traces along his teeth, landing itself in his cheek as he watches you check him out.

“See something you like?” He asks, raising his eyebrows like he’s genuinely curious.

Your eyes flick back to his smirking face and you blink for a second, before responding with,

“Yeah, was trying to figure out what asshole uses a word like ‘scoundrel’ in 2018, what the fuck, Harry?”

He barks out a laugh and brings his fist up to his mouth to cover it, the other one coming down to hold his stomach.

“When you are done appreciating my humor, I need to change real quick. Spin around, please,” You come up from your squat and pull off your sweatshirt, not waiting for him to do that.

“Jesus, Y/N,” He exhales, spinning around and looking up at the sky.

“What? I gave you a warning,” you giggle, sliding your sweatpants down to slip into a pair of black volleyball shorts.

“By about half a second!” Harry exclaims. “You’re killing me.”

“Sorry, superstar, nobody is exempt from special treatment here.” You roll your eyes at yourself, what the fuck are you even saying.

“Mkay, you’re good.”

Harry spins around, eyes taking in your new outfit.

On top of your shorts was a giant Stevie Nicks shirt, one from her White Winged Dove tour.

“Shit, you might be a bigger Stevie fan than I am, and that’s saying a lot.”

“Fuck, you have no idea. My dad went to the fucking final show of this tour and met my mom in the crowd during Dreams. My mom made him play it when I was born because she swore Stevie brought me to them.”

You catch him staring at you and turn your head away, cheeks burning because you’re rambling and need to shut the fuck up.

He clears his throat and takes a breath before starting.

“Promise not to kill me when I tell you this?”

Holding your hand to your burning cheeks, you murmur,

“No.”

“Y/N!” Harry exclaims, finally coming in the van to tickle you.

“Okay, okay, I promise not to kill you,” You mock, waving your hands around.

“I was lucky enough to sing one of my songs with her along with Landslide and Leather and Lace.”

You drop your bag onto the ground as your jaw drops.

“Shut up. I don’t believe you.” You cross your arms over chest. “I don’t know if I’d be angrier if you’re lying or if it actually happened. Holy shit am I jealous.”

“Oh, I was crying onstage, losing my shit. She is, everything. Dreams was the first song I learned the words to, yknow? She truly is a magical being.”

“God. I’m definitely looking you up later because who the fuck sings one of THEIR songs with Stevie Nicks.” You sigh, leaning over to grab your bag and Doc Martens.

“Oh god.” Harry laughs, running a hand through his hair again, looking at you really intensely for a second.

“Not to sound like a dick, but do you really not know who I am?”

“I mean if you need your ego boosted I can lie?” You offer, before dropping the witty responses.

“But no, sorry. Like I said, I just.... don’t really listen to new music, and if I do it’s always my friends or some indie shit with an overused beat.” Harry laughs at that and you smile, yes, he’s not weirded out.

“Don’t apologize, please. I just, can’t be too sure, yknow? People like to use you, especially here. And you’re just a little too perfect to be true,” he sighs, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

Placing you hands on his chest, you look at him for a second before leaning forward and whisper in his ear,

“My tattoo awaits me, baby. Let’s go.”

He groans and leans his head on your shoulder, before letting you go and grabbing your bag for you.

Such a gentleman, you think to yourself, locking up Sunflower.

“Does your car have a cool name?�� You ask, after buckling you, fingertips appreciating the rich black leather seat.

“Nope, but I’m good at nicknames. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say normal terms of endearment aren’t your thing?” He asks, making eye contact with you for a quick second as he puts his arm behind your seat before stretching slightly to look behind him as he pulls puts the car in reverse.

Looking up for a quick second, you remind yourself to breathe.

“You would be correct. Gotta use your brain if you wanna get me all jittery,” you tease, fanning yourself over exaggeratedly.

He gives you a side eye and smirks at you, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and raising his eyebrows, as if to say, game on.

“So where am I going?” He asks, starting to drive away from your special spot.

“Let us ask the oracle!” You hold out your phone like a trophy, before laughing to yourself and bringing up Google Maps.

Propping your phone up in the cupholder, you sit cross legged in just your socks in his seat, fidgeting with your hands for a second.

“I’m kind of intrigued on who you are now. What’s your story?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

Harry glances over at you, eyes drifting to your bare legs for a second.

“Well, the short version, I guess, is I grew up in a little town in England with my mum and my sister, applied to X-Factor when I was 16, got put into a band called One Direction with four other lads, released couple albums with them until end of 2015. Then did a movie called Dunkirk, wrote and released my first solo album, and toured it. Just got back from tour about a month ago, actually.”

You look at him blankly for a second, and he shifts in his seat, removing one of his hands from the wheel to place it on the armrest.

“Holy SHIT am I unaccomplished,” you exclaim, hitting him in the chest.

“Hey!” he yells, but you cut him off.

“How many fucking albums is a couple? And how old are you, my god. That is impressive.”

“I’m 24, that probably should’ve been said before we’re alone in a car together. And 5 albums, in 5 years. Nearly killed us.”

“I’m 22. Damn, dude, that’s insane. It sounds like they horribly overworked you and I am hoping you were generously compensated and had a bit of musical freedom. I know how the music industry can be with boy bands.”

He nods for a second, licking his lips slightly, trying to figure out how to phrase his response.

“I’m not going to lie, there are some definite perks and I am so incredibly lucky to just be able to do what I love as my job.” His fingers find their way to his bottom lip, pinching it slightly. “It was fun, I mean, you throw a bunch of teenagers together and give them celebrity status? We were insane, and I enjoyed it. But.... it felt like I wasn’t a person anymore. I was just ‘Harry Styles from the boyband One Direction’.”

“I don’t necessarily understand but I think the fact that you came out this respectful and real says something. You seem to have your shit properly together, and, even if you don’t, you got back from tour two months ago! You deserve some relaxation. The world’s happy to wait for you to find yourself a little.”

Pausing for a second, you place your hand on his arm, squeezing it lightly before swearing,

“I hope you know I’m being genuine about not knowing you and latching on for fame. I’ll let your parents know my intentions with their son are all very pure.”

He laughs at that, glancing at you again,

“I appreciate you saying that. This life is wonderful, like I said, but it’s very stressful and puts pressure on every relationship. There’s always going to be stories or photos and rumors spread like wildfire.”

You shift in your seat, understanding that this was a very serious issue for him.

“Listen, I’ll let you know up front that that doesn’t bother me. I’ve dated musicians and know the life, I get it. I think you’re cool and that we could have a fun time experiencing real life together. But before we do that, you need to have fun and let everything the fuck GO. I’ll promise you right now, if you let me stick around, you’ll experience what life is. No fame or pining for success bullshit, no offense, but there’s no need for it. If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful.” Harry stops the car at a red light and fully turns to look at you.

He exhales harshly before grinning. “You are a breath of fresh fucking air, Y/N. I think you’re going to change my life, if I’m being honest here.”

“Here’s hoping,” you grin.

A/N: THE OFFICIAL FIRST CHAPTER IS UP !!! I’m hoping you guys will come to love this fic as much as I do. I’ll try to find a writing schedule that works with you guys and my work schedule, so sorry if chapters take a little bit to come up. This is going to be a looooong fic, so buckle up, turn that old lover’s hippie music on, and enjoy !!

- lana <3

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fic #canyon moon #sunflower vol 6 #multi chapter fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #dom harry styles

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zodiyack · 5 years ago

Text

The Artist Behind His Heart

Requested by @morganofthecoves1: Hi! Can I request a Roman Sionis x plus size reader oneshot, if your ok with it. I had the idea that the reader is the one who created most of the art Roman owns. He takes her out for meals and invites her around to 'talk' about art but really he actually likes her. The reader is insecure so she doesn't realise that he flirts with her but she is also wary of him because she's heard rumours about him (AKA he kills people). Thanks!

Pairing: Roman Sionis x Plus sized!Female!Artist!Reader

Warnings: Insecurities, mention of the peeling of faces (it’s Roman guys), swearing, fluff, slight accidental ooc Roman(?), not proofreading

Note: I apologize if this is sucky, again, I ran into a bit of a block. I hope you like it apart from that! And I’m so sorry this took a bit! I’ve been busy and had some more tough writer’s block, but I’m pushing past it! Again, I’m sorry if this is eh

taglist: @stardancerluv @matth1w @redspaceace

masterlist

Roman checked the clock before heading out, fixing his hair and breathing heavily. He breathed into his hand, then popped in a mint. Sionis, sprucing up? It’s a normal sight, but not as normal as him being nervous as he did so. Like a teen boy going to pick up his first date, he was a bit panicky.

Y/n was the woman who did his artwork for him, most of it at least. She was a cute lady, one that Roman had the feels for. He often enjoyed going and eating with her, preferably in places that didn’t know him all too well. He wanted to avoid scaring the girl away, wanted desperately for this to last, and possibly, evolve into something more.

The driver followed his directions, taking him to some random restaurant Victor recommended. There she sat, waiting by the door, sketchbook in hand. He found himself smiling, her state of distraction allowing him to look over her features without being weird. He admired her, her body, her art, and with his eyes- he admired every bit of her every time they met up.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the guts to ask her out quite yet. Roman was known for peeling the face free from whomever it was that wronged him. Or just lose his temper so bad they had to do it in the end. He wouldn’t be able to take it if Y/n rejected him, so he couldn’t take the chance.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t just demand it of her, it was because he didn’t want to. He always got everything he wanted. Y/n was a bit shy, and was frequently confused by his flirting. Maybe, for once, Roman could get something on his own? It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, Roman was determined.

“Hello, darling.”

Her head shot up, her eyes were the size of saucers. “Hello! I’m sorry if I’m in the way.”

“Don’t fear, dearest, you’re nowhere near in the way. Come, I hate to prevent you from eating any longer.” He walked over to the door and held it open for her, smiling genuinely as she walked past him into the building.

Roman spoke to the waiter, asking for a seat in the spot Y/n liked most, wanting to make her happy. The waiter led them to their seats and handed them menus. “What will you be having, my dear?”

“Uhm... probably the f/f, please.” She smiled shyly and looked down, returning to her sketchbook while she waited for Roman to order.

“So, Y/n, any new projects for me?”

“Actually, yes! I was thinking, perhaps a portrait of you and Mr. Zsasz? Or maybe a new sculpture? You said last time that you wanted more, but you didn’t specify what you wanted more of, so I drew whatever came to my mind.”

She flipped her sketchbook around and let him look through it, nibbling on her lip with anticipation. Roman took his time on each page, not even bothering to hide the smile that grew on his lips. Once he had finished looking through it, he handed it back to her.

“Shit, those are nice!” Y/n thanked him and went back to her sketchbook. An idea popped into his head after the silence took over. “Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask, are you seeing someone?”

She blushed and looked away, “No.”

“No? Why would a beautiful woman like you be all alone?” He chuckled for a second, “Then again, no one deserves your beauty and talent.”

“Mr. Sionis-”

“Please, call me Roman.”

“Roman, I don’t understand.”

He folded his hands an reclined in his seat. “Don’t understand what?”

Before she could answer, the food was delivered. Roman almost snapped at the waiter for interrupting Y/n, but remembered the exact reason that he Victor chose the place. He wanted to prevent Y/n from seeing the side of him he thought she was most likely to fear, and his emotions were no exception. It took everything, literally everything, in him not to yell. But Y/n was worth it.

“This is good...” Y/n mumbled after a bit. Their food was almost finished and Roman had yet to talk to her about his feelings. “So...what other projects would you like me to work on?”

“Why would I need you to work on anything when there’s already a work of art right in front of me?”

She looked around, still oblivious to his advances. “I guess. This places has some cool works... I should ask who their artist is, maybe I could get some advice from them, ya know?”

Roman sighed. He didn’t understand why she wasn’t getting his hints. They were becoming more and more obvious too. “Sure. Uh, Y/n, have I ever told you how extraordinary you are?”

“Every time, Mr-” she corrected herself before she could say his last name, “Roman. I just don’t know why you do.”

“Because it’s true. Just like when I say how beautiful you are. I’m an honest man, Y/n.”

“I- I never said you weren’t- my apologies, Roman.”

He frowned. “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for, it’s me actually. I can see now that you aren’t interested, yet I keep fucking pushing it. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

She stopped, completely caught off guard by his sentence. “Excuse me?” Her tone probably came of the wrong way, as Roman looked hurt. “No! I mean, no, I didn’t mean it that way...”

The waiter came by to give them a check, then took it back after Roman filled everything out with visible annoyance towards the interruption. The boy turned and left as quickly as he cold.

“Well what way did you mean it then?” He could feel his patience growing thinner, with himself and Y/n.

“I was just curious- you said that I’m not interested? Interested in what?”

Relief. Maybe he did have a chance after all. “I’ve been flirting, Y/n. You don’t react the way I thought you would, so, after a while, I thought you weren’t interested.”

“What?”

“Flirting? The thing you do when you’re romantically interested in someone?”

She rolled her eyes with a small smirk, “I know what flirting is. I’m just... confused. Why you... would flirt... with me.”

“Who wouldn’t flirt with you? You’re fucking breathtaking!” Roman spoke as if her not knowing her own beauty was a personal offense to him. And honestly, he felt it was. “Here, how about this, you let me take you on an actual date, no art, no business, just romance?”

Y/n averted her gaze to think. There were pros and cons to being with Roman Sionis, one major con was the rumors of things he did. Would she want to get involved with that kind of life? Would he force her to get involved?

Then again, Roman was kind to her, saw past her exterior and into her heart. There isn’t that many kind of people in Gotham, especially as many as handsome as Roman.

‘If anything bad happens, I still had my rights of backing out,’ she told herself.

“Y/n?”

“Alright. It’s a date...” He helped her pack up her art supplies, and held the door for her as they exited the restaurant. “But Roman?”

“Yes?”

“Why, exactly, are you asking me out?” It still bothered her. Was he using her as a dare? Was he just using her for her work? He was Roman fucking Sionis, he could do anything he wanted, yet he could use her without her even knowing it.

His smile dropped and his brows raised. “Why?” Roman chuckled loudly. Y/n was thankful they were outside and not in the crowded place anymore. “Look at you! You’re talented, kind, smart, funny! All of you is gorgeous! I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while!”

“You have?”

“Well... yes. Wasn’t it obvious? The consistent flirting and offers?”

Although Y/n hid the blush on her face by looking down, Roman cupped her cheek softly and tilted her head upwards to look at him. They held eye contact for what felt like forever, their orbs were studying each other so intensely, before he finally leaned in and touched his lips to hers.

Y/n was taken aback with shock, but quickly recollected herself and wrapped her arms around his neck. When they separated, Y/n giggled shyly, the blush on her face had spread.

“Don’t hide..you’re beautiful, angel. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, at 7, deal?”

She nodded eagerly. “Deal.”

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blondecarfucker · 6 years ago

Text

Bed of Roses (1988 Special)

Roger Taylor x Reader BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: so this is not even a real chapter??? i mean, it doesn't have a number - it's really a reallll epilogue, you really get to know what happen in the eleven years that follow the end of the story. this wasn't really on my outline - i just kept thinking about the characters cause theyre SO CUTE and DESERVE THE BEST and im an absolute softie so i couldnt help but write this. its probably a bit messy cause im tired atm but im happy i wrote this and i want to share it with you guys already. im curious to know what you guys think about it! - also, just making it clear, there's no story for a sequel, so there's no sequel coming. just so you guys know. thanks again for stopping by and reading my story and being AMAZING. im a bit rusty i guess so sorry about the size of the chapter

Words: around 2.8k

1988

You heard Roger hitting the drums as you opened the studio door.

"Hey, Y/N", Freddie said, coming to hug you. "It's your man recording", he told you, and you nodded.

"I see", you answer, and Jim comes closer to Freddie and says hello to you. You really like the way they feel at ease with each other - it just looks natural. It's been long ever since you saw Freddie so peaceful.

But Roger soon showed up in your field of vision, having just left the recording booth. "Babe, it's so good to see you", he said, hugging you by the waist. "Good seeing you too, Rog. What are you guys recording?, you ask, and Deacy answers.

"It's 'Rain Must Fall', just wrote it with Freddie", he says, as Freddie listens to Roger's recording.

"It's still not right", he says, and Roger sighs. "Be right back", he tells you, going inside the booth.

Now that you're paying attention, you realize it's latin percussion. "This is really nice", you tell Freddie, and he smiles. "Thanks, darling. How's the museum? Did it fall apart after you spent a month away?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Actually, they've been holding up quite nicely", you say, referring to the period you've just spent with them in Montreux. "They're getting used to it, I suppose", and he nods.

You and Roger have been taking turns the last decade on who's gonna spend time along with the other, but now, after you've got your PhD and was promoted to Senior Curator, your job could be done without official office hours, so you've been following Roger around a bit more - which is nice, especially when he's in Montreux, such a calm place you thought about retiring there, in the future.

"And this outfit, too, I love it. You look like such a serious business woman" Jim said, pointing to your tailleur. "I have to look the part, Jim", you shrug, and Brian laughs. "I miss your yellow Chuck Taylors days, Y/N", he says, and you laugh. "These shoes are killing me, so I do, too", you tell him.

"I won't invite you to dance, then", Freddie said, and you frowned. "Please do, Freddie. You know how I love these latin inspired songs of yours", you pouted, and Freddie laughed, extending a hand to you.

You could feel Roger's eyes watching you through the glass as you danced with Freddie. Rain Must Fall reminded you of Cool Cat, and even though the Hot Space days, in 1981 were complicated, it reminded you of an afternoon with Roger on a yacht on Lake Geneva, the two of you drinking mimosas and sunbathing as Montreux glimmed under the Riviera sun.

"God, I hate this fucking song", Roger said, sipping on his mimosa.

"It's not the best", you agreed, and he laughed.

"This fucking album, I swear to God. If it wasn't for you here, I would've dropped this", he said, and you got up to prepare another mimosa for you.

"Don't say that, Rog. You wouldn't drop the band", you said, and he sighed.

"You're right. But I would drop this album, though. This song, even - I didn't take part in anything regarding the production. I just watched, like you watch a car crash", he says, and it's your turn to laugh.

"You're so dramatic", you tell him, mixing the orange juice and the champagne. "But seriously, babe. Do you even like the songs we're making now?", he asks, and you take a sip of your drink.

"I like Under Pressure", you say, and you're happy to see his face lighten up as he laughs. "Of course you do. I'm impressed you didn't ask Bowie for an autograph yet", he said, and you laugh along. "I have to stop myself from fangirling every time he's around, you know. It's pretty hard, but I do my best not to embarass you", you told him, sitting by his side.

His sun kissed skin made his eyes even brighter than usual - like lapis lazuli on bronze.

"Like I try not to embarrass you by looking stupid when we're on one of your fancy dinners?", he asks, hugging you by the side. "Exactly", you told him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He tasted like orange.

As you now kept dancing with Freddie, Jim pulled Deacy for a dance too, and eventually everyone was dancing to Roger's percussion. Each had a different level of success, and you were trying to help Brian when Roger finished his part.

It made you happy to have moments like this. After A Kind Of Magic, in 1986, the band was fighting constantly - it made you sad to see such thing. Roger even created a side band, The Cross, and he worked with them for a while before reuniting with Queen for this new album.

You were always a huge fan of his solo work, but you never connected with The Cross - and you felt like he didn't, either. They never really challenged him, and anything only gets better after receiving honest feedback.

But now Freddie wanted to produce again with the rest of the band - as much as they could, non-stop. They wouldn't even tour after this album, The Miracle. You felt like Roger knew exactly why these changes happened, but he didn't share them with you. You didn't really mind - it was not only his privacy, but the privacy of the rest of the band members. The fact that he was trustworthy enough to keep his friend's reasoning behind a polemic decision private only made you love him more.

"Babe", Roger called, walking over to you. You hugged him, his known smell now more refined, cologne mixed with the patchouli and substituting the cigarette smoke - you both quitted smoking, since you heard it could be harmful for little ones.

"The kids are with their nanny, right?" Rog asked you, and you nodded.

It was 1982 when you realized you couldn't keep your breakfast - you vomited every morning, almost religiously, twenty minutes after you ate.

Roger was immediately concerned on the phone - you spent two weeks in Mexico for work, and it was only when Roger spent a weekend there at the end of your trip that he told you not to drink the tap water. So you were both convinced you had some parasite, and Roger took you to a doctor - he liked to spend time with you when you were both in London, even in boring activities, since you still lived in separate flats, always trying to take it slow - even though you felt like a teenager when you had to pack to stay a weekend at your boyfriend's house - and you considered talking to Roger about moving in together again.

The doctor soon realized there were no parasites inside you, but there was a baby - a 3 months old little boy, in fact, as the doctor confirmed after taking you two to the ultrasound room.

You could never forget Roger's face once he understood what the doctor told the two of you. He was going to be a father.

But the realization that you were going to be a mother took a little longer to hit you. It was only when you heard the baby's heartbeat that you really understood what was going on inside you - a baby. Your baby. Roger's baby.

Proof that you were together, proof that you belonged to each other, that you loved each other.

"This is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard", Roger told you, and you smiled in agreement.

Nine months later, Apollo was born.

You agreed on Apollo because you always thought about how Roger reminded you of Apollo, and it did remind you of New York, too - the Apollo Theater was a landmark only a couple dozens streets above the apartment you grew up in.

But Apollo was much more like you than he was like his dad. He inherited his dad's dirty blonde curls, but his eyes were just like yours, and so was his personality - he was very determined, liked to be alone, and a full blown nerd. He taught himself to read when he was four, and now, at age 6, he liked to read The Hobbit by himself.

He didn't speak with an English accent, oddly enough, even though he was raised in London - he spoke water like his dad, but copied your accent in every other word.

Roger would hold him and hug him and always spend time with "his little guy", always telling him how proud he is to be the father of a genius, and Apollo's cheeks would be flushed pink, just like yours did when Roger told you how smart you are.

When Apollo was born, you both agreed to move in together into a big family home, but you filled the walls with artwork and tapestry, and Roger made sure there was always good music playing - it didn't feel like you were abandoning your old selves to become parents; it felt like a natural step.

And for financial reasons - mostly to protect Apollo and to make taxes easier - you and Roger decided to get married. He tried to play the practical part, reaffirming marriage was just a title and the two of you were way beyond that, but you knew, deep down, that he was incredibly happy to get on his knees and propose.

It was a simple ceremony in 1984 - close friends and family under the hawaiian sunset, the Lana'i Island's atmosphere made you feel like you were in a dream. With a simple cotton white dress, you reunited with Roger - in a half open, white cotton button up - in front of a licensed marriage performer, and you became Ms Taylor.

Roger used any excuse to call you Ms Taylor, savoring the name on his tongue just like he did with your lips on honeymoon.

Apollo was 2, and stayed with his grandparents for a week as the two of you enjoyed your honeymoon on paradise. "It's funny how this is like, the millionth time I feel like I'm on honeymoon with you", you tell Roger, and he pouts. "If you consider honeymoon everytime we go somewhere amazing alone and keep fucking like teenagers, then yeah. But this is special. This feels more… I don't know. Official", he said, and you agreed.

And all that young love had a result - you soon found out you got pregnant again after a routine blood test. Roger was, again, the happiest man on Earth.

You felt calmer this time around - a kid and responsibilities didn't ruin your relationship with Roger the first time around, and you were actually pretty good parents.

So when Live Aid came about, you were huge - you enjoyed the many performances, but when Queen was onstage, it felt different. You could remember when, almost fifteen years ago, you saw these guys broke, rehearsing and travelling around in a van.

Now they were here, and in a day filled with performances from stars, they shined the brightest.

You don't know if it was all the emotions you felt watching them, but once you finally got home, the sun about to rise - Apollo long asleep - you sat down to prepare a warm bath for the two of you, but you felt something warm running down your legs. Your water broke.

You and Roger ran to the Hospital, and after a few hours, Artemis was born.

She screamed, not cried, once she first looked at you and Roger, almost annoyed - like she was sad she missed the show.

Artemis was a logical name choice - Apollo's twin in greek mythology - but the kid also got her strong will. She looked just like her father, big, round blue eyes and pink, full lips soon learned to express what she desired and complained when things seemed wrong in her perspective.

At the early age of three and with a reduced vocabulary, she convinced the two of you to get the smallest drum set you could find, and she tried to repeat her fathers movements on it, still too small for her tiny kit, but proud of the loud noises she made, hitting it recklessly.

Roger looked at it as if he was seeing a miracle.

The kids were raised primarily in London, but they spent some time in Montreux, when the band was recording, under their father's care, or on tour when you could stay with them - tour made the kids so confused about their whereabouts that it needed a conjoined effort - but now that the band was recording in London with no plans for long periods away, it was going to be interesting.

Apollo was just getting started in school, and soon it would be Artemis turn. They still had no dimension of their fathers - or their "uncles" - importance, but you and Roger talked about this, waiting for the day you'd have to explain your life for the kids, who you were before you were their parents.

You wondered if Apollo would think back on the time he went to dad's work and he was dressed as a woman - he couldn't recognize Roger when he was Rogerina while recording the video for I Want To Break Free until he took his wig off.

It was a better reaction than John's kids had, screaming in fear of the old, scary and tall lady that tried to pick them up.

The latest video recording was incredibly sweet, actually - it was for The Miracle, the single, and the band was going to be interpreted by 11 year olds. The kid that played Freddie was absolutely brilliant, mimicking all of his signature moves.

But it was the kid that played Roger who stole your heart.

As you watched the tiny Rog rehearse, you couldn't help but imagine Artemis hitting her drums - maybe in a few years, she'd be able to actually play something.

You also thought about Apollo, how he'd look like an even younger version of Roger if he was sitting on the stool, bouncing his curls and pouting in concentration.

You really loved the life you lived now, and when you looked back to all the drama that went between you and Roger so you could get here - two happy, fully realized people; and two great parents - you'd do it all again.

You kept thinking about it as the kid rehearsed Roger's part in the song, until you felt a familiar smell fill the air around you, and an arm snaking around your waist.

"Hello, beautiful stranger. Are you lost?", Roger whispered, his husky voice still able to give you chills.

"I am, actually. I can't find my husband, and I came here just to see him before work", you said.

"How did he get so lucky to have you?", he asks, and you turn around to kiss him.

"Actually, I'm his good luck charm", you say, pulling him closer to you.

He was ready for the shoot, so you felt bad when you broke the kiss and realized you transfered part of your lipstick to his lips.

"Shit, your makeup artist is going to kill me", you say, trying to wipe it away.

"It's fine", he says, kissing you again. "So I'm picking Apollo from school today, right?", he confirmed, and you nodded. It would always amaze you how you found your own level of responsibility, of the feared and dreaded domesticity, without losing the passion you had for each other. Taking it slow.

But now, back in the studio, you said goodbye to everyone, and followed Roger to a limo.

You always had your nights out - nights where you'd stay in a fancy hotel room just for the sake of being together in different ambiances. You two learned from your trip to Paris how it makes you more in love with each other, the new place making you fonder of what you know and love - in your case, Roger.

So when he popped open a bottle of champagne while you undressed, and once you were only in your lingerie, Roger took his own shirt off, knowing to pass it to you - a ritual, really.

You both went out, relaxed and comfortable, and enjoyed the view.

The Thames was below you, and you could see the entire city - if you tried, you could point where the bar you first met was, and Kensington Marked, and the first flat you shared. London was a huge part of your story.

"Let's make a toast", Roger said, and you nodded. "To what?", you asked, but you knew the answer.

You've been together for almost twenty years, now, so it's normal for you to know what to expect from Roger. But it doesn't feel boring - it feels like home.

"Us", he says.

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

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natasha-cole · 6 years ago

Text

#1 Crush: Part 21

Chapter Summary: Reader is still feeling awful about breaking up with Rob. She’s also feeling crazy for suspecting an innocent fan of being the one who is following her. A gift that was left for her ends up not being from Rob, and things are only getting creepier.

Word Count: 2386

Warnings: angst, creepy fan

Notes: I’m trying guys! I’m hoping to update my part of Focus and the next chapter of Perfectly Imperfect soon as well. Writing is not my friend lately.

Series Masterlist

You were sitting in the green room, taking a much needed break from the morning activities. Mainly, you were staring blankly at your phone as yet another restricted phone call popped up on your screen. This had been the fifth one this morning. Your thumb hovered over the ‘end call’ button, wanting to just ignore it, but also strangely curious as to who was calling.

“When are you going to change your phone number?” A voice asked suddenly, breaking you from your daze.

You glanced up to see Rich standing there watching you, his brows furrowed in worry.

You looked back down, noticing that the call had ended, so you quickly locked your phone and placed it face down on the couch.

“What do you mean?” you responded.

“You’re getting phone calls that you don’t want to get,” he pointed out. “Maybe it’s time for a new number.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve just noticed that you check your phone a lot. And you always decline most of the calls.”

“Telemarketers,” you chuckled.

“You sure?”

“Okay, look… I might be getting an increase it weird calls lately. It’s usually just someone breathing on the other end when I answer. So I just stop answering.”

“Accidental calls?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Change your number,” he insisted. ��You’ll feel better about it.”

“Sounds like a hassle.”

“Okay, change your number, it’s safer that way.”

You didn’t have a chance to argue before he quickly walked away, heading out of the room and leaving you alone again with your thoughts.

He wasn’t wrong. Now that you had someone stalking you to the point of breaking into your own home, you weren’t safe most of the time. You knew that whoever this was had your number. You knew that the silence on the other end when you did answer didn’t mean that no one was there. He had said it himself on Twitter, he had heard your voice over the phone. You understood that now that he had your number, it was unlikely that he would stop calling.

***

Later that afternoon, you were seated at your table, working your way through an autograph line. You were mostly on autopilot by this point; smiling and engaging in small talk without really thinking too much about it.

It wasn’t until a familiar man stepped in front of you, placing a piece of artwork down in your field of vision. You glanced up at him and back to the drawing.

You were instantly uneasy with the way he stared at you. Looking down at the artwork, you also felt as if you had seen work similar to this. Now, you knew you had met him before.

“This is a great drawing,” you said quietly. “I feel like I've probably seen your work before.”

“You don't remember me,” he frowned in return.

“No, I do,” you replied. “I remember your work. I'm just- terrible with recognizing faces I guess.”

“You do meet a lot of people.”

“I do.”

“Every time that I meet you, I'm determined to make you remember me,” he laughed. “I'm just not sure what I have to do to make that happen.”

Your uneasiness started to grow. The man probably meant nothing by it, but the way he said it was unsettling.

“I do remember you,” you reiterated. “I told you that you were very talented the last time we met.”

“And to keep up the good work,” he smiled.

“Yes,” you said, forcing your own smile. “And I see that you have.”

“It has been a while,” he said. “I've seen you at some other events, but I tend to get nervous around you, so I don't approach you.”

“What other events?” You asked.

“Other conventions.”

“You come to a lot of conventions?”

“I do. I don't always get to see you like this though.”

“Ah. Is that it?”

“I saw you at a Louden Swain show once,” he admitted.

“Oh?”

“You were obviously there for… Rob…” he bit out, almost as if it were difficult to say his name. “So I didn't bother you.”

“Well, it’s nice to be able to go to his shows and not be the center of attention,” you chuckled.

“I wish I would’ve said hi at least.”

You realized he was just being friendly, even if it made you uncomfortable. He was obviously one of your bigger fans, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was make your fans feel like you didn’t appreciate them. Truthfully, it had taken time for you to get used to all of this, but you understood the fascination that they had. You had been a fan of things before. Surely you wouldn’t want to be treated as if you didn’t exist by someone that you admired.

You decided it was best to play polite. He, along with others in this long line, was there to see you. Fans were really the one thing that kept your career going.

“You should have. I promise I don’t bite. Not even out in public.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he smiled.

You forced a smile, uneasy by the way he referred to there being a next time. Again, you were overreacting. So you tried to force yourself to chill out.

“You don't sing on Saturday nights anymore,” he pointed out.

“No. I don't. I think it was just a- fluke. It only worked out a couple of times.”

“I wish you'd consider singing again sometime. You're so good.”

“Really?”

“I have to admit, hearing you sing #1 Crush was probably the highlight of any con I've ever been to.”

“Oh?”

“Your version it better than the original,” he smiled. “But maybe I'm just playing favorites.”

You thanked the man, ready for him to just move along, especially after he had mentioned that song. He had been standing there for some time, making you uncomfortable even if that wasn’t his intention.

He nodded politely at you and walked away. You took a moment to gather yourself as the next fan stepped in front of you.

You hated that this entire experience had done this to you. The knowledge that this creep was still out there not only made you feel unsafe and violated all the time, but it was also interfering with your interactions with regular fans and even with the people closest to you in your personal life.

You spent the remainder of your autograph session in a daze, not really paying too much attention to the people who were there to meet you and mostly now thinking about Rob.

***

Almost immediately after your autographs, you were kept busy by a full afternoon. You did your panel with some of the other ladies, forced yourself to get through photo ops, and were now finding yourself in a small room with a handful of fans for a meet and greet.

For the first time during all of this, you were kicking yourself over having argued with Rob back when he insisted that you make yourself less available to fans during conventions. Back then, you were intent on keeping your busy schedule and not letting fans down. Today, you wished you could disappear.

Still, you put on a smile and joined the group at a round table set up in the middle of the room.

You glanced around at the attendees, nodding and saying hi as they greeted you. You paused when you recognized the man from autographs. You didn’t know why, but his presence seemed to make you uncomfortable, but you knew you had to ignore the feeling and just go on with the meet and greet.

You introduced yourself and made a point of going around the table for everyone else to introduce themselves as well. It was something you always did at these things. You were terrible at recognizing people, so it was always an effort to try to remember familiars that you saw often. Not that you’d remember their names right away, but you at least wanted to look as if you cared.

This time though, you made a point of trying to remember this particular man’s name. You had seen him a few times, at least recognized his face and the fact that he always brought artwork for you to sign. The simple fact that he made you so uneasy was why you wanted to know who he was.

Given the current situation, your stalker could be anyone. You had been driving yourself crazy thinking about the possibility that you knew the person and that they seemed to be around you often without you even knowing. Since this man gave you eerie vibes anyway, you might have had a passing thought that it could perhaps be him.

You felt awful over the fact that you were even thinking about all of this. He was just a fan that you saw often. Everyone else had their ‘regular’ fans. Hell, many of your coworkers had fans that they knew by name and recognized easily because they saw them so often.

At this point, you were taking cues from your worried ex boyfriend. Maybe you shouldn’t suspect everyone, but perhaps it was safer to for now.

You engaged in casual conversation with the group, surprised that the man who seemed to stand out to you the most this weekend just asked basic, usual questions that any other fan would ask. Maybe you really were crazy because of all of this.

When your time ended, you tried not to make it obvious that you were over it and ready to get out of there. You smiled in the selfies with each of the meet and greet winners, thanked them, and made your way out of the room. At least Saturday was almost over and you could go back to your room for the rest of the night.

***

By the end of the day, you were exhausted. Mostly it was from being so on edge and anxious, but you were ready to call it a day and go back to the quiet of your hotel room.

You walked back to the green room with your handler close by, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you felt it vibrate. Another restricted call. You sighed and ignored it and put the phone away. At this point, you were ready to just throw the phone in the trash.

When you stepped into the room, you immediately went to start gathering your things when another handler got your attention.

“Hey, Y/N,” she called out to you. “This was left for you.”

You felt your blood run cold as she said it. You were tired of hearing those words.

She pointed to the table where you half expected to see another ridiculous flower arrangement, but this time, there was just a small box with a note attached to it.

Immediately, your stomach turned and you got angry. You understood that with the constant changes in the crew for each con weekend, and the fact that you were without a bodyguard, your demands might get lost in the mix. You had been clear about not wanting to see gifts of any sort, but apparently they would slip through occasionally.

Rather than reprimand her for something that she most likely hadn’t even been told about, you decided not to cause a scene. Mostly, you were sort of curious as to what the gift was. You had a pretty good idea of who it was from, but you had never received something like this before. Your stalker had stuck to flowers and notes, so you sort of really wanted to know what was in the box.

You thought that maybe you were overreacting as you hesitantly picked the package up. Considering the fact that your stalker never actually sent you packages, this probably wasn’t even from him.

It was most likely a gift from Rob. He had taken your breakup really hard and you assumed that he was just doing what he could to get you back. For just a brief moment, you smiled to yourself. Regardless of everything, you loved that man more than anything. It was cliche to say, but this breakup had been harder on you.

You carefully opened the card that was attached to the box, thinking that you would see an apology or something scrawled in Rob’s handwriting. Of course, you wouldn’t be that lucky though.

You were slightly surprised when you did read the message. First of all, it was definitely not Rob’s handwriting. Having realized that, once the contents of the note registered, you got upset. You had been so used to finding lyrics from #1 Crush scrawled inside these notes, that you were honestly expecting it again right now. It would have been less threatening in a way if it had been lyrics from that song in this moment.

‘Is it cool if I come over?’

That was it. That was all the note said. You were baffled. You thought of Rob again. That was a line from one of his songs, the one song that he admitted that he had written about you long before the two of you were even close to being a couple.

Still, it wasn’t Rob’s handwriting, and by now, he understood that it was a mistake to send you gifts like this, especially if he was attempting to win you back somehow.

Now you had to know what this gift was. It was clear that it wasn’t from Rob. You understood that this was another gift from the man who was stalking you. Even if you were afraid, you were still curious.

You hesitantly unwrapped the box, taking your time since you really weren’t sure if you wanted to see what was inside. At this point, this guy could only get creepier.

As soon as you had it opened, it took a moment to let the contents of the box register in your head. It couldn’t be. How could this be happening? You covered your mouth with your hand, letting out an uncontrollable sob once you realized what it was. There it was; the necklace that Rob had given you that inexplicably disappeared from your home just weeks ago.

***

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#1 Crush #rob benedict x reader #rob benedict rpf

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the-canary · 6 years ago

Text

Sunburst - S.R (10/10)

Summary: After years of solitude, you sought out the color of life – you just didn’t think it would end up like this. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers).

Prompt: “I think I just asked out on a date.”

A/N: This is for @captain-ariel-barnes writing challenge. i didn’t really know what was the best way to end all this because it was just a series that was focused on steve, but all of the avengers in some way. i try to close that gap here and hopefully you will enjoy the ending. thank you for reading!

Feedback is always appreciated.

It seems that the mutual feelings between you and Steve...resonate in some way. You can feel his a bit deeper than most others because you willing reached out for him when your powers began to change. It might also help that--

--That you guys keep making googly eyes at each other.

That revelation comes a few days after your first “date” with Steve and it was a little worrisome in the beginning because you didn’t want to intrude into his personal feelings or catch him off guard with your powers. Thus leading you into an awkward talk about feelings and what were the next steps going to be between the two of you. Since you were going to be staying with the Avengers in an official civilian basis from now on -- there was still too much that was unclear about your powers and more “research” was needed, though you knew it wouldn’t be like your time with Killbrew.

However, the conversation with Steve seemed scarier than all that.

“So, the gloves don’t come off unless you want them to,” you nod awkwardly, as Steve laughs -his blue just a little bit whiter and misty than usual-- at how you use the phrase at the moment. You shrug, feeling a little bit of his potential happiness into your very being, as you can’t help but smile.

“I definitely agree to that,” he states, before going into his side of the issues -- the potential of being with Captain America.

However, though you might have been a bit sheltered due to your self-exile, you knew the mythos that surrounded Captain America as a symbol, which you weren’t used to. You were used to seeing a Steve Rogers that took runs in the morning and whenever he came back from a mission, sometimes spending hours in the gym. He spent his time catching up with the history that he had missed with a particular like towards Hemingway, though he seemed to enjoy the Beatniks as well --- much to your surprise. Steve Rogers could be moody and temperamental, but he had a good heart.

It made your apprehension a bit easier to control, telling yourself that you could deal with anything that came your way when the time was right. It was time for you to stop running away from things that life threw at you and this was a major curveball that you wanted to handle with care.

“If we take it nice and slow,” you start of as blue ebbs and flows for a moment in anticipation, “I’m sure it will be alright.”

It’s in between that decision and Steve going on another mission that you finally move through completing your last major Avengers artwork in the Tower. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go back to the Compound --you really missed your drawing room-- but rather your pieces in regards to a certain man were just too big to be moved back to the Compound, especially since you were close to being done and others were easier to move into the city where the opening party was being held.

“This looks pretty nice,” you hear from your place on the floor and look up to see Natasha staring at second smaller painting with a small smile,”You can really tell.”

“Tell what?” you can’t help but ask, as she lets out a light laugh. Clint is behind her and he gives you a small nod before going back to sitting on the chair and eating his late lunch, both of them looking like they had just arrived from a mission.

“Nothing, nothing,” she states with a teasing nudge before taking a seat next to you, “Though I have to say I really liked my art piece.”

“You already saw it,” you exclaim, not angry but horrified at what she might think of the spider webs, nylon, and tuff. You had gone sort of crazy with the whole thing when she left you.

“Art might not my field of expertise,” Nat cocks her head slightly like looking at Steve’s still unfinished piece, “But thank you.”

You aren’t sure what she means, but you can’t help the huge smile that grows on your face over your first good review from the Avengers.

It’s strange seeing so many huddled around your work, as people walk back and forth within the large Manhattan gallery to look at all the art pieces you had created for based of the Avengers -- all proceeds from the gala tickets would go for an arts program and the center that the September Foundation was opening up in Queens. And after tonight, all these pieces would be moved down there to be open for the the public to see.

Mr. Stark made an opening speech that made people laugh, but when asked who artist was and if they were going to be at the gala tonight -- he simply said no and you couldn’t have been more grateful -- it allowed you to walk around like any another guest and for once in a very long time to gauge how people saw your artwork. It’s a little scary, but you are more excited than anything else.

However before you can move forward with anything else, you stop when you see a bright orange light in the corner of your eye. She is dressed in her finest clothes and there is a huge smile on her face, though she doesn’t make any commotion. She simply whispers:

“You did a really great job,” she puffs her chest like a proud mother before giving you a wink and leaving you to your own devices.

As you look around and can’t help that her words are a little true, as pink pops a bit more than before from the corner of your eyes, then you start making the gallery rounds.

Bruce is the first one you find starting at his art piece -- a dark green background with all the words you could think of etched in gold alongside equations that you knew that he worked on, though not just the one turned made him the Hulk. He is mumbling the numbers to himself when he finally sees you.

He gives you an awkward but proud smile before going on his way and you hoped with all your heart that he enjoyed the piece in some way.

Thor’s is the third largest piece and placed in an area with soft lightning. It’s an array of color, all the ones you could get your hands on to replicate the Bifrost and while he isn’t essentially in the picture -- all the people and legends that are connected to him are, combining the old Norse myths with people he knew today. There is soft but huge grin on his face, as you see him walk through it once and then twice.

“My friend,” he starts off, knowing that you are standing there to the side, “She would be very proud of how you have depicted her in battle...and Loki--”

You end up standing there for a good while, as people move to and fro, listening to the God of Thunder’s story once more. Though this time, they are happier in the reminiscence as you are blinded by all the colors of the rainbow.

You can’t see Wanda’s face from where you are standing though her side is mostly empty --there is still sentiment that lingers over the things she has done and her powers--, but it is clear that her back is hunched over just a bit as Vision draws her into his body. Their art pieces are together because in essence, they both became part of the Avengers through the same event, from losses that aren’t easy to forget. The Wanda’s magenta is darker than usual, but the center --ever present blue-- is circling around and spinning, almost joyful for finally being noticed.

In her current state, you would rather not bother Wanda, but as one of the first that welcomed you into the Avengers -- you hope you brought a piece of home back to her.

You see Tony and Pepper staring at his piece for a good while. The way the center lights up from light to dark gray makes you hopefully that everything is functioning correctly. You pause for a moment before coughing, the couple turning to stare at you with awe as their colors seem to move in the same beat of curiosity. Mr. Stark seems speechless for a moment staring at how the red and orange you first saw him as blend into purple and dark schemes with pops of gold to signify stars and endless possibilities -- the colors you are sure someone might not usually associate him with.

“I’m hoping that speechlessness means you like it,” you add in and Pepper comes in to give you a hug and congratulations, as Tony continues to stay silent.

“It’s beautiful,” Pepper states and in her bright, calming orange you know she’s telling you the truth, as you nod and smile, “This is really everything we hoped for and more.”

“I am glad that you think so,” you start off, “But, I really should be thank you two. I’ve learned and experienced a lot of things that I wouldn’t have if you two hadn’t knocked on my door. So, thank you!”

Both of you stare at you in shock for a moment before laughing. Tony finally managing to add in: “Didn’t I tell you that you were going to have a masterpiece because of this, kiddo.”

“Yes, you did, Mr. Stark,” you state with genuine happiness as he gives you a grin and a wink before going back to walking around with Ms. Potts, as she is completely unaware that she has a surprise waiting for her back in their high-tower apartment.

You know that there is a possibility that Steve is in the gala event when you see Sam mingling with people in front of people of his own painting -- yellow shining like the sun as he draws all of them in with whatever story he is telling, an old story connected to the small Redwing at the upper left corner of the painting that he had grown fond of recalling one too many time with you . He stops you once through the crowd, but says nothing that might make anyone curious of who you are.

Sam shines too brightly and fiercely that you have to look away, but you have a feeling that it’s right where he belongs.

It isn’t until the end of the night that you finally see him -- Steve Rogers in a three piece suit with his hair gelled back as people welcome him, while trying to grab his attention for a moment. However, his eyes were on something else -- the three pieces near the back of the gallery that were dedicated not just to one aspect of Captain America but to Steven Grant Rogers as well -- as stated in the decal of the center picture. You stay a ways back as you watch him look around since there are fewer people due to it is the end but still going around and trying to ask him questions.

It recalled different stages of his life in each piece, but the dark blue sunburst motif could be seen clearly in all of them. Bits and pieces from Brooklyn and WWII that you tried recreating and bringing back to life as best you could. The middle one centered around his early years, the right centered around Captain America both before and after the war, and the left a bit murky -- as if holding out to a future that still hasn’t completely been written yet where maybe Steve could finally put those dream into something solid or go for something completely different.

However, it isn’t until much later when you are sitting across from him, in the Avengers Tower after the after-after party had ended, that you finally get the chance to ask him what he really thought about the whole thing.

“It was something else,” he states with a smile, “I can really see you put a lot of dedication and time into every piece.”

You smile and nod before taking another bite out from your tub of ice cream as he stares at you for a second before moving forward with his next question -- the nervousness palpable in the air, even without you touching him, the sudden darkness of his blue told you well enough.

“So, what are your plans after this?”

“I don’t know,” you state with a shrug he keeps staring at you, “Martha says I should look into making art book catalogue. I also have some commissions from Mr. Stark. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands for now, maybe even catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

“You know,” he adds with a grin, as if he’s proud of his sudden idea, “I could help with that...the whole catching up thing, sort of been doing it for awhile.”

“I would like that a lot actually,” you state without missing a heartbeat, as you place your hand in front of him. He stares at you seriously for a moment, understanding that you weren’t going to try to read him.

He places his hands on top of your and that’s when he feels it -- all the happiness, hope, and apprehension bubbling up inside you like a soda can at everything you are looking forward to. He might not see it, but you know that your shade of pink is brightening into a light red and his blue is sinking into something you have never seen before -- maybe, it’s what the bright blue summer sky looked over the Brooklyn Bridge, like all his stories you have grown fond of. He smiles before letting out a soft laugh, as you wonder if this is what everyone feels like when they might be falling in love.

You weren’t sure where all this and everything with Steve was going to lead, but for the first time in your life -- you were more than willing to find out.

#captainarielbarnes4k #Steve Rogers #steve grant rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #series: sunburst #fabiola trying to write

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

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Devil’s own Luck - Epilogue

Warning: Mob styling warlords, strong language

Masterlist

---

Epilogue

He told himself each time was the last time and like some helpless addict he caved and went back. After everything had happened [Name] had managed to go back to a normal life. He reminded himself that it was only going to continue that way if he stayed away. He wished for her happiness from the bottom of his shrivelled heart.

The funeral had been quite a modest and he was secretly a little glad that he had been around to see it. She was a vision in black lace, he had to remind himself several times that he was dead to stop himself from just running up to her and hugging her tightly. After it was over and she had left in a car and he had walked up next to the rest of the men in the graveyard and laughed as all but Nobunaga jumped out of their skins at his sudden appearance.

“Oh, for fuck sake can’t you even die properly?” Ieyasu was the first to talk to him. His face a little red as he remembered how he screamed at Mitsuhide’s sight when he touched his shoulder.

“And miss seeing that charming look on your face my dear Yasu?” Mitsuhide winked and smiled.

“I give up I’m not even going to ask where the Hell you’ve been.” Hideyoshi let out a big puff of air as he resigned himself to the fate that Mitsuhide will never change.

“Nice to see you too Hideyoshi.” The snake like grin on his face held real warmth to it as Mitsuhide recalled all the times he had been reprimanded before. You know you love me just get over it.

He wasn’t allowed a moments peace until the he had explained over and over again to the rest of the men about why he had to ‘die’ and yes of course he felt sorry for what he did to [Name] but eventually they did allow him to move past the subject.

“Say what did happen to the guy in my car?” Mitsuhide asked as he took a drink from his glass of single malt.

“Oh, now you remember?” Masa laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Sorry I was a bit busy being dead.” Mitsuhide adjusted his arm so as to not spill his drink.

“It’s all been sorted, both that man and Kennyo are in the facility run by the good doctor.” Nobunaga was swirling his drink in his glass watching the amber coloured liquid as if it was a scrying mirror.

Nothing else needed to be said Mitsuhide was already aware of the facility Nobunaga was talking about and whilst he was glad that it had all been taken care of, a part of him was screaming because he couldn’t take part in any of the ‘treatments’ they would be receiving. Part of that feels wildly unsatisfying, but I guess it can’t be helped.

---

Her routine was the same every day. She would leave for work, grabbing a coffee from the corner shop along the way. Buy a bento at the station and hop on the underground train to the office building. She would have her lunch in the park by the office or sit at her desk in her tiny grey cubical as she continued to organise whatever it was she had been given to do. Then she would return home alone, eat alone, watch tv with her cat and go to bed.

She would often let her mind wander imagining what the guys in the Azuki building would be doing right now. Masa in the kitchen cooking up a storm, Ieyasu mixing up something in his office that smelt strongly of herbs, Hideyoshi shouting at people to stop running in the hallways or just smothering people with his over bearing concern for them. Mitsunari sitting in the study nose in a book forgetting to eat. She even thought of Nobunaga sitting in his office tapping away at his computer or taking a walk around his roof top garden. She had to stop there she couldn’t allow herself to go any further down that path. She knew the next face that she would see and it was the same one she had seen everyday since she was told he was no longer around.

The funeral was quiet and the lack of people had shocked her but she supposed it was just like him. Since then she had just returned to her normal boring unassuming life. Se sighed in her apartment and looked at the boxes she had been sent from Azuki. All her ‘gifts’ and her eyes fell on one painting.

“I really must do something about that.” She picked it up and pulled out some paints and a brush and set to work.

---

It was a hazard of the job he was once again in the neighbourhood gathering intel on something Nobunaga required as he put together his political campaign. He was sitting in his car sorting out papers and checking lists. At least that is what he made it look like he was doing, he was in fact watching her.

She was in a public gym again. One of those pay per session places that popped up everywhere a few years back. Mitsuhide had gone in once when she was there she was running on a trend mill and didn’t notice him when he was talking to an instructor about available classes. He watched her hair sway back and forth as she moved and remembered how they met, and smiled.

“You know at some point you will either have to tell her or stop doing this to yourself.” Masa spoke matter-of-factly as he opened the car door on the front passenger side and just sat in the seat.

“It would be rather pointless to ask why you have decided to just turn up in my car uninvited I suppose?” Mitsuhide averted his eyes from the gym back to his papers before giving and exasperated sigh at the intruder.

“Yes, I suppose it would.” Masa didn’t care he leaned back in the seat and just looked towards the gym as well. The two men sat in silence in a parking space It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was clear there was words that remained unsaid.

“So… you really liked the Lass huh?” Masa eventually spoke.

“I’m merely keeping a promise.” Mitsuhide replied

“Promise?” Masa tilted his head like a curious puppy.

“I promised I’d keep her safe.” Mitsuhide had thought about forgetting it trying to move on away from it but he felt at least this way he could be sure she was ok. It hurt but it did bring him a little peace.

“Safe? Oh, safe is good very good. But tell me Mitsu does safe always make you happy?” Masa had pulled out two things wrapped in foil from his jacket and was opening one that looked like a burrito.

“What?” The question made Mitsuhide stop and look at the man next to him.

“Well I mean a promise is a promise and kudos for you doing the whole good boy scout thing and holding true to it but some of the happiest things in life are the ones that have a bit of risk to them. It’s that gamble ya know, the whole ‘jeez this is gonna kill me’ buzz that you can’t find anywhere else it really makes you feel alive. You gotta live in the moment sometimes is my point man. The Lass is a wonderful girl you don’t do something about it someone else who is less scared is going to swoop in and take her from you.” Masa was speaking and eating at the same time it was amazing that he could be so audible given the amount of food he was stuffing into his face. Masa was a man with his heart tin the right place even if the execution of such care was lacking sometimes.

“You think I’m scared!?” Mitsuhide was dumbfounded.

“Aren’t you? Anyway, here I brought you food. Eat it.” Masa shoved the other foil packet into Mitsuhide’s hand and left the car as fast as he had entered it. Mitsuhide couldn’t help but laugh.

Hearing Masa describe how he saw the situation was adorably uncomplicated. You really have no idea. Even if I was to over look the fact that I am supposed to be dead she is the one thing I can never ever have. Sometimes the things you have that you want to keep safe are the ones you have to just let go. He took a bite of the burrito that he was sure was delicious, even if he couldn’t judge that for himself looking across the road.

---

“Thank you so much” [Name] smiled at the gallery owner who almost looked like he was beaming since he managed to convince her to allow him to sell her artwork.

It had been something she had put off for a while she hadn’t ever been happy with anything she had done but now well now she had finished something that she could say from the bottom of her heart she was truly happy with.

“Oh no thank you it’s a fantastic piece we’re glad to have it. We’ll contact you as soon as we find a buyer. I’m sure it won’t take long, it really is great.”

“I’ll be waiting… Thanks again.” [Name] was happy she felt light on her feet and as she left the gallery owner gave a polite little bow to her and she returned his gesture.

---

Mitsuhide pulled his car into a familiar spot near her apartment building. He didn’t know why he should really be somewhere, anywhere else right now but so help him he just couldn’t. He saw her eating her lunch in the park she looked tired and he wondered what had put that look of melancholier on her face. He hadn’t seen her look so glum since his funeral.

She came out of the building dressed in running gear, head phones in her ears and hair tied back in a high pony tail. He laughed as he looked at her thinking that she really hadn’t changed one little bit from the night she ran into that gun fight. After stretching a little she started jogging away from the building and he was almost ready to let her leave when he noticed someone move in the direction she had just gone in.

Nothing unusual it’s a public street but still something about how they moved bothered Mitsuhide. He quietly got out of his car and tailed after the mysterious figure that was following [Name].

---

It had been a crappy day she had hoped that eating outside at lunch would have helped but it just didn’t shift anything of how she felt. She couldn’t place it she felt like she was being watched. It was the strangest thing and made her feel really stupid. After she got home and fed the cat she decided that she should go for a run and clear her head. It was getting dark outside but there was still time before it was pitch black and she knew she always felt better after a run.

Standing at the front of her apartment she fiddled with her MP3 player. What she really wanted was to blast her head with music and feel the pavement beneath her feet as she just ran. She almost felt better just thinking of it.

It wasn’t long after she started that she thought she could ‘feel’ someone else around her. She changed routes a few times taking better lit paths busier more crowded areas. She took a wrong turn and found herself in a much quieter place. Ok this isn’t good. If this was a horror film I would so be dead by now.

She turned off her MP3 slipping one of the headphones from her ear and tucking it into her top as she kept moving. Sure, as Hell not making the mistake of not hearing danger this time.

---

Mitsuhide watched as she ducked from place to place and the figure still followed on her heels. Yes, this was definitely wrong. A smile creeped over his face as he watched her. She was aware she was doing everything right and then… oh dear little one wrong way. He moved faster this time once he knew she had made a mistake he slipped like a ghost between some buildings and came out a little ahead of where she was now running. Thank God for knowing the alleyways so well in the city.

She ran right past him and then the figure approached. Mitsuhide could hear the foot falls closer and closer until … he shot his arm out from the gap in the buildings and dragged the would-be attacker into the darkness with him.

Mitsuhide smiled as he looked at the young man he had just captured. He was dressed head to foot in black. How cliché. There was little to the young man’s body the only thing that he could have hoped to have in his benefit had he managed to attack [Name] was his size dominating her. In fact, on closer look he seemed familiar, he looked like one of those gym guys that had been watching her. Mitsuhide pushed hard on his hand that was over the man’s mouth and shoved him back against the wall with a thump.

“Now then what shall I do with you?”

---

Panting [Name] finally made it back to a street she recognised and paused under a shop lamp. She thought she had heard something behind her but she didn’t have the inner strength to actually turn around and check. She just ran.

While she gathered her breath, she felt something cold and wet hit her skin. Oh great. She ducked into the doorway of the building she was standing near and then realised exactly where she was. The gallery.

She smiled and then she caught sight of the painting in the window. A blurry cityscape all blacks and whites, bright neon lights smudged and stark against the background… but the bit that really stood out was the figure in the painting.

A tall figure leaning against a wall dressed in a suit white hair falling into his yellow eyes a cigarette in his hand the smoke curling up and mixing with the greys of the world around him.

[Name] put her hand to the cold glass and smiled before turning around and going home. Perhaps everything had just been in my head since losing you.

---

After [Name] left, a pair of shiny black shoes appeared in the spot by the window that she had been standing on. The rain falling on a tailored trench coat running off glossy black hair as the man smiled at the painting in the gallery.

“I’ll have to have a word in the morning about buying that.” A pair of red eyes shone as he imagined the look on his friends face when he put it on a wall in his office.

---

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sucaritra · 7 years ago

Text

Bāṛi - Chapter 13

Word Count: 1937

Warnings: language, anxiety, Negan

Summary: haircut and dinner

A/N: so sorry for the wait! let me know how i’m doing

Masterlist

“I wanna cut your hair.”

“You're not going anywhere near my hair.”

“Oh, please?! I love Negan but it gets so damn boring in the boudoir. C’mon, let me at least even it out a little?”

“Hmm.” At Sherry’s pitiful puppy dog eyes, you conceded. “Fine! I guess it could do with a trim.”

You managed to finish work a little early today and met up with Sherry in the stairwell for a quick smoke. James was out scavenging who knows where and everyone else will still be working, so you figured hanging out with Sherry would be better than going back to your room.

With all of the new residents streaming in over the past few months, the communal living area was even more cramped and smellier than ever. You tried to spend as little time in there as possible these days.

Waiting for Sherry to be done with her smoke, you catch sight of Mason making his way up the stairs. He doesn't linger, sending a wink your way as he marches on up, heading towards Negan’s office.

Following Sherry through the double doors and down the corridor towards the boudoir, you try and take in everything you can. Though you have walked past the fifth floor doors everyday on your way up to the office, and not to mention your, albeit slightly odd, friendship with Sherry, you have never actually seen what Negan and his wives’ living area is like.

Suffice it to say, you were pretty damn curious.

The corridor alone was better looking than the rest of the Sanctuary, with various artwork lining the walls and fake potted plants dotted along as you went.

You followed Sherry through a set of intricately carved wooden doors that were just a touch more extravagant than the office doors, immediately feeling as though you’d entered another world.

Rich, velvet curtains, plush rugs, ottomans, chaise lounges - the room had it all and more. You were in complete awe of the luxury these women were living in. You knew that they had it good, being with the boss and all, but you had no idea of the sheer amount of grandeur they resided in. While it’s not exactly a huge surprise, given who Negan is and his tendency for showmanship, it sure was jarring to the senses.

“This is fucking amazing.” Your wide eyes greedily took in everything around you, before landing where the glorious smell of a home-cooked meal was coming from. To the right of you was a modest sized kitchenette where two of the wives were busy cooking.

Taking notice of you, they both smile politely before quickly resuming their tasks, flitting from one countertop to another.

“That's Tanya and Kira. Lovely girls. You'll like ‘em.”

Turning back to Sherry, half forgetting she was even there, you find that she's already walking away from you down a little narrow hallway to the left. Unsure if you're meant to follow, you slowly make your way towards her direction, only to awkwardly stumble back to avoid colliding with her as she promptly returns holding a little cosmetics bag.

“C’mon, this way.” It was quite amusing watching Sherry take charge and order you about, considering your entire friendship was just you stealing her cigarettes.

You follow her into a decent sized bathroom, closing the door behind you, and frown at her when she gestures you to sit in the chair she’s placed facing away from the sink.

“I said just a trim. You don't need to wash my hair for that.”

“Oh, c’mon, let an ol’ girl have some fun.”

“This is your idea of fun?”

“It’s what I used to do before. I miss it. I don't get to do it nearly as much as I’d like to these days.”

Rolling your eyes at her second attempt to manipulate you with her doe eyes, you exaggerate a sigh before dropping down in the chair. Placing a towel around your neck, Sherry gently tips your head back and begins the process of shampooing and conditioning your hair.

And that's when it happens.

You have no idea where it came from, but all of a sudden you find yourself trying to stifle your sobs as waves of tears pour from your eyes. You're suddenly feeling incredibly overwhelmed and try to regulate your breathing as you feel Sherry softly comb your hair with her fingers to evenly distribute the shampoo all the way through.

Alarmed, Sherry takes notice of your hitching breath and abruptly stops.

“Oh my god, did I hurt you? Did I get shampoo in your eye? What's wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing, really, I think. I don’t even know why I’m so upset!” Your voice wobbles terribly and you're sniffling, trying to regain your composure, but it’s a losing battle.

“Oh, sweetheart! It’s okay! Aw, it’s alright. Believe it or not, this isn't the first time this has happened.”

“Really?”

Smiling sweetly at your hopeful expression, she replies, “Really! Honestly, the first time I did Amber’s hair she started bawling her eyes out. It’s just one of those things, getting your hair done, get’s you feeling all nostalgic and thinking about the times before, about your life before all of this mess, all of the simple things you didn't realise you missed and the people left behind.”

You mulled that over, realizing why it was that you suddenly fell apart.

“I think it was ‘cause the last person to wash my hair like this was my mum.” A broken sob escapes your lips before you’re able to continue, “we hardly ever went to the hairdressers, only occasionally treating ourselves on our birthdays since it was always too expensive for us to go regularly. I try not to think about her, you know, cause it’s too hard to accept the real possibility of what's happened to her. And I feel so guilty for not thinking about her, cause I miss her so fucking much… I just… I don’t know, too much is just hitting me at once.”

Sherry, bless her fucking heart, listens sympathetically to your ramble before hugging you tightly with shining eyes. You imagined she was thinking of her own family as she held onto you a little tighter, breathing deeply. No words were said, because, truly, there are no words for such a shitty positions that everyone has found themselves in now.

After pulling apart and regaining your composure, Sherry gets back to work on your hair. She finishes quickly, which you're wholly grateful for as you were feeling a little embarrassed over your breakdown. You pushed those feelings away and concentrated on watching Sherry in the mirror as she grabs a comb and scissors.

“So, are you gonna tell me what's going on with you and James?” she raises an eyebrow at you through the mirror before diverting her attention back to your hair.

“I’m not too sure really. I mean, I like the guy, but we haven't spent enough time together. I see him about once or twice every couple of weeks, and I really enjoy myself when I’m with him, but it’s just too much time apart. I like him though, and he's said he likes me. This is the last run he's on now though, for the winter supplies, so once he's back we’re gonna spend some time together. I wanna see if there's anything real there or if I just like the way he looks, you know what I mean?”

“Mm, I get you. You can't really commit to any feelings right now can you? He is a good guy, you'd go well together. Plus, he’s very easy on the eyes.”

Sherry’s little eyebrow wiggle had you trying to fight back a laugh so as not to ruin the cuts she's making, before replying, “mhm, that he is.”

Waiting a beat, Sherry asked, “what about Mason? Don't think I didn't catch that little wink he sent you before.”

“Nah, that's all harmless. He's just nice to me. We get along well. Besides, I’m just trying to take this one man at a time.”

After your haircut, Sherry blow-dried your hair, smacking your hand away when you tried to put it into a bun once she was done. Glaring at her back, you follow her out of the bathroom to find the relaxed form of Negan lounging on one of the plush couches with a drink in hand.

“Ooh la la, you ladies doing something you're not supposed to do in that fucking bathroom?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at the lecherous grin seemingly glued to his face.

“Behave, Negan. I was giving her a haircut.”

Narrowing his eyes slightly at Sherry, he asked “what was wrong with her hair before?”

Rolling her eyes as she made her way towards the kitchenette, Sherry replied, “nothing, I was just evening it out a little, she wouldn't let me do much else to it.”

You tried not to get offended at them talking about you as if you weren't even there.

Looking back at you, Negan commented, “yeah, it was looking a little ratty before.”

Oh, now you were fucking offended. Though, before you could get a word in, the man was talking again.

“You staying for dinner?”

That surprised you.

“Um… I don't know. What are you having?”

“Lasagna!” a voice shouted from the kitchenette, coming from the curly-haired woman, Kira.

This really was paradise. Lasagna?! When was the last time you had that? Definitely not since the shit hit the fan.

Rising from his seat, Negan threw an arm over your shoulder and led you to the dining table, pulling a chair out for you like the gentleman you knew he wasn't and taking a seat next to you.

The food was absolutely amazing, and though you did feel a little out of place at the start, surrounded by all of the wives, they made sure to include you in conversation and regale you with stories about themselves to make you feel a little less anxious.

You were enjoying a particularly amusing story Kira was recounting regarding Negan’s, surprising, arachnophobia - “That fucker was the size of my fist, of course I’d get away from the hairy bastard!” - when you felt and heard something that literally shook you to your core.

An almost deafening bang was heard, quickly followed by the entire building shaking. Dust rained down on you from the ceiling as cutlery dropped from the table. Shouting a quick order through the noise, Negan grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you down under the table, making sure the wives all followed. You could hear the unmistakable crack of the windows fracturing from the pressure of whatever the fuck just blew up out there and you were suddenly entirely grateful to have Negan’s arm still over you, shielding you from whatever damage may arise.

After what felt like forever, and once Negan deemed it safe enough to do so, you all scrambled out from under the table and immediately made a beeline for the windows. Luckily, none of them had shattered and only a couple of them had cracks running through them.

Looking out over the Sanctuary, you could see the residents and Saviors running around and panicking, wondering what the hell had just happened and if they were under attack.

“Holy. Shit.”

Drawing your eyes up to Negan, you follow the direction of his eyesight to find the source of his ashen face.

Out in the distance, thick black smoke quickly rose through the air, visible even in the quickly darkening sky, the base of which glowed orange.

tagging: @neganisking @backseat-negan @jdms-network

#negan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #twd fanfiction #negan x you #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #jdm fanfiction #jdm

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yg-got7scenarios · 8 years ago

Text

Oh, You Again?

Seungri | First Meeting

with mentions of Hanna and another OC, Seoyeon

2,102 words

Requested by Anon

A/N: So it was too long to be considered as a drabble haha! I will include this one on the main masterlist once all is done :) I will do this to every request that exceeds 2k words!

“Is this all?” Seungri asks his executive assistant as he looks over a few resumes of applicants who wanted to work at the latest branch of Aori Ramen that he is about to open in about a few weeks.

“Yes, Si- Uhm – I mean, Seungri. Yes, that’s everything. Are you interested in anyone of them by any chance?” Seoyeon gapes at her boss and Seungri pursed his lips before looking at the ceiling with his eyebrows scrunched.

“Hmm… I should say yes. This –“ He handed about 4 CVs to the girl and placed the rest on top of his table. “Please schedule them an interview with my sister Hanna within this week. I will be out of the country for some events so I won’t be able to do it.” Seoyeon nods before grabbing the papers from Seungri. “So she’ll decide whether to take them or not, alright?” Seungri confirms and Seoyeon lets out a small laugh.

“She will be thrilled if she hears this.” She giggles heartily and her boss just scrunched his nose at her.

“Tell her to not be too happy; this will be the last time.” He stands up from his seat and she just giggled even further before bowing at him.

“Alright, have a safe trip, Ri. I guess we’ll see you next week?”

Seungri is trying to get used to the loud music that almost split his head into half as well as the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat lingering in the air. He was invited yet again for another DJ-in event outside the country – which he gladly took because it was a good friend who requested. Also, he enjoys DJing in huge clubs and the free drinks, it’s just the smoking part that he doesn’t like so much.

Just when he was about to wrap up his performance for the night, a girl caught his attention from one corner of the bar. The girl is stunning; however, she looks like she wanted to step out of the place soon enough. She wasn’t dancing as usual, just seated on a stool while sipping her beer.

Cute.

Seungri is known to be very friendly and since he is a member of one of the most popular Kpop idol groups ever, he is pretty damn popular, so he doesn’t normally approach people and socialize, it is always the other way around, no matter where he goes. So seeing a girl on his event looking bored and, well, unhappy for some reason, he cannot help but feel curious.

The crowd went wild when he played a mix of Bangbangbang, Mental Breakdown, and Song Mino’s I’m Him through the speakers and he knows that he did well – making a note to himself to approach the girl after his set.

“So, who did you select out of the four, Hanna-yah?” He gives a call to his sister as soon as he lands at Incheon. He needs to visit the new site since it is almost done, he just needs to take one last look before it opens tomorrow. Also, he needs to meet the new staffs that his sister managed to hire – still not trusting Hanna to do a good job – though it’s mostly just for his entertainment (meaning, pissing his little sister off).

“Oppa, you will see them later. I am sure you do not even remember their names anymore.” “Hanna, I remember them, why don’t you just tell me?”

“And why don’t you just wait? Do you not trust me?”

“Yah! How dare you yell at your older brother!”

“It’s because you’re annoying! And I did send you their photos and profiles on your email two days ago, it’s not your fault you’re not checking them. I will tell Dad!” His sister hangs up even before he can argue. He just stared at his phone before shaking his head incredulously. He steps out of the automatic doors and he can hear the yells from fans and the shutter of cameras. He smiles at them but quickly remembered that he is wearing a mask, so they won’t see it anyway.

On his trip to the new site of Aori Ramen, he cannot help but think about what happened a few nights before. He was about to talk to the cute girl at the bar after his set, when he was able to throw a new, dry shirt on and sprayed some generous amount of expensive perfume, only to find the girl, well, missing. He had searched the entire place – randomly chatting with some strangers and people – until he stopped, feeling disappointed on top of his heavy breathing and curled up fists.

Where is she?

This isn’t what Seungri was expecting when he went to the newest branch of his popular restaurant.

Standing behind the counter is the girl who had never left his mind for the last week. She is wearing the restaurant’s uniform – the stupidly cute eye smile and pink lips still didn’t fail to make him smile a bit.

“Seungri-yah, she might melt, stop staring so hard.” Seoyeon nudged her boss/friend by the elbow and the boy was snapped out of his reverie.

“Y-yes, what’s up?” He asks mindlessly before turning his gaze towards his friend. The woman just shakes her head before guiding the stuttering boy deeper inside the place.

“Her name is ______, she’s one of the staffs that your sister selected from the last set of CVs you handed to her through me.” Seoyeon said and Seungri’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Seriously? I actually selected her?” Seungri gasped loudly and that caught the attention of everyone; including the girl she’s been eye-ing on.

“Oh, so, you’re here!” Hanna shouted from behind the counter and gestured for her brother to come. Seoyeon just pinched his cheek before walking him towards his sister’s side.

“Just try not to drool over her, okay? I know she’s a good catch!”

Before Seungri can even playfully slap his friend’s shoulder, Seoyeon was already running towards the other side of the café.

She looked at the guy where the loud rambling came from, and she squinted her eyes in recognition. He was the DJ at the bar where she got ditched by a cute guy and made her pay for all the drinks and snacks the two of them had eaten and drank– so she were forced to leave the place immediately with a few dollars left on her pocket – swearing to herself to not talk to any other guys in that bar that night. Good thing the bar is just near the hotel where she is staying, so the cab fare will not be too high.

She also recognizes him as a member of the popular Kpop group BIGBANG – however, she is not expecting to see him here; to the place where she will have her first managerial job.

“Oh, so you’re here!” Hanna, who claimed to be the sister of the owner, shouted at him and he immediately came over.

“Hey guys, so this is my brother, and he is the owner of this restaurant. Oppa – introduce yourself to the new employees!” Hanna exclaimed and smiled, feeling victorious or somewhat playful; making her brother scrunched her nose at his sister. Seungri eyed each and every one of the new staffs, and she felt her cheeks turn into a dark shade of pink when her boss stared at her a bit longer, lingering and flashing toothy smile at her before quickly shifting his gaze towards the guy next to her.

When the introductions were given, she was instructed to be with no other than her boss to look around the store – since she will be the future manager after a few months once she was able to adjust and trained properly by Seoyeon.

“So, uh, shall we?” Seungri smiled at her shyly and she nodded, mumbling a yes quietly and they both walked around the dining area.

They’ve exchanged random comments about the table and chair arrangements, as well as the decorations and artworks painted on the walls – and the two of them had agreed on removing the large chrome painted artwork since it doesn’t blend well with the others, making Seoyeon pinch Seungri’s arm, for whatever reason, he doesn’t know.

The next hour and a half were spent like that and she and her boss are now seated adjacent to each other – waiting for their requested drinks and food to be served.

“So, how do you like the place, _____?” Seungri asks her and she lets out a nod.

“It was perfect; and I am excited to work here – it is a great place… and… I have a great boss.” She flashes her cute smile and Seungri sips his water to hide his blushing face.

“Oh, thank you.” He says and damn, he is not used to being this shy infront of people – he is normally the ones who initiates the conversation whenever he meets someone new – but for this lady, it is totally different.

“So – I actually have something to ask if you don’t mind? It is something… not work related.” Seungri says and she looks up to him before nodding.

“Sure – Sir –“ Seungri holds his hand up and she gaped at him.

“Just call me Seungri – no need to call me boss or anything – it makes me feel old when people call me that.” He rubs the back of his neck and she just nodded before sipping her water. Their coffees arrived and they just silently stirred them –mostly out of nervousness.

“Hey… // Seungri?” The two of them spoke at the same time.

“You go first –“

“No it’s OK, _____, go ahead.” Seungri smiles and she feels her cheeks burn – his boss is just too cute not to stare at.

“A-Alright.” She brushes the strands of hair that block her face and Seungri followed the movements of her fingers which is just too graceful and cute. What?

“I – I was at the event – last week.” She says shyly and Seungri smiled and nods his head.

“I know.” Seungri wore his signature smirk.

“W-what? H-how?” These are the only words that she was able to mutter – he knows she was there? She was sure that there’re lots of people at that club that time so it is nearly impossible for this guy to see her.

“I saw you. You were the sulking, pouting but cute girl at the bar – it looks like you weren’t having that much fun and I feel curious…” Seungri bites his lower lip and she let out a soft gasp, both of her hands flying on top of her mouth before she covers her beet-red face; too shy to face the boy in front of him.

“Oh God I am so embarrassing – I – I didn’t know that you’ll notice me there – there is a sea of people – oh gosh!” She removes her hands from her face before looking down at the table.

“You don’t need to be shy, _____.” He teased her and she sinks on her seat further, making the boy laugh heartily.

“You really are so cute – and now you’re pouting!”

“I don’t! And… I didn’t pout that night too!”

“You were! I saw you!”

“HEY!” She blurted a little too loud and does her face can get any darker now? She just shouted at her boss and everyone in the restaurant is eyeing her, as well as Seoyeon who is now carrying their snacks and standing next to Seungri with a knowing smile on her face. Seungri laughed loudly, amused by his new Restaurant Manager, finding the girl really pretty, witty, and… wait did he just think of her being pretty?

“Looks like you two are getting along well, huh?” Seoyeon winked at Seungri before smiling dearly at the girl in front of him. Seungri let out a nervous laugh and the girl cups her face with her hands, her burning cheeks making Seoyeon giggle cutely at her before bidding her good bye, muttering that she needs to leave the two alone.

“Sorry about that… I – I was just –“

“No need, ______. It is not necessary. I am sorry if I teased you too.” Seungri rubs the back of his neck before sipping on his iced latte. The two of them grew silent – just enjoying their drinks and glancing at each other from time to time.

The girl smiled when she met the boy’s gaze – thinking secretly to herself that it has been wonderful meeting him.

What she doesn’t know is that it was equally fascinating for Seungri – if not more.

#seungri #seungri fluff #lee seunghyun #lee seunghyun fluff #bigbang #bigbang fluff #seungri scenario #seungri scenarios #lee seunghyun scenarios #lee seunghyun scenario #bigbang scenario #bigbang scenarios #drabbles #will remove it from the drabbles masterlist once I've posted everything #will delete the drabbles tag here too #<3

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