#super excited to update something soon though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itstheghostofmypast · 3 months ago

Text

Awake - (Maknae Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 9.5K

Est.Read Time: 47 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Hyung Line: Here

A/N: A little update, this took forever- Also I no longer remember how to write a literature review, yet, it is due on Monday (fml) .I'll update my requests soon and upload the next chapter of Meow soon, too! (I AM SORRY SAN'S PART IS EXTREMELY LONG)

Choi San

“I…what?” you paused, looking up from the vacuum-packed pillow in your lap. Sitting at the center of his bed, surrounded by various items, you blinked at the man in the swivel chair.

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.” The beanie clad man spat back, crossing his arms over his chest, the black shirt clinging onto his form. An eerie silence settled between the two, neither making their next move, nor deciding to back down.

The evening had started extremely well. Tonight she was going to spend the night at his place, for the first time ever, which is why she was extremely excited and nervous. The two had spent a week planning the various activities for Friday night. He had volunteered to arrange the movies and bring the gaming console to his room, thrilled when she told him she'd bring the skincare products, claiming the two could do facials and wear face masks! It got better when he asked if perhaps they could play board games to which she instantly agreed, adding - “Let's bake too! I'll get the ingredients!”

Hence, as soon as you had entered his room, you had dumped the contents of your back on his bed, showing him the numerous facemasks, UNO cards, a board game, some hair accessories, makeup and an unhealthy amount of snack (yes, you were planning on doing cutesy couple things) you had brought, the ingredients for the ‘special Friday night brownie’ on the computer desk beside him. What you did not expect was for it to all go down hill once you took out the pillows.

“What’s that?” he asked, watching you pull a vacuumed white thing out of your bag, one after another. Placing them on his bed, before taking out two pillow covers. You smiled at him, before ripping off the seal of one of the pillows, pulling the plastic off, and watching as it fluffed up. “Pillows!” you smiled, “You only have one, the poor boy is all worn out, lumpy, and old, so I got two more! You can replace it with them!” looking at him, you pressed the cotton pillow, to show him, “They’re super soft and have memory foam, I got them, especially for your neck and shoulders!”

You grabbed the second one and placed it on your lap when he spoke, “No.”

“What?”

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.”

Blinking at him, you moved the sealed pillow aside and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, trying not to push any of the multiple things you had brought off the bed. Feet pressing against the floor you looked up at him, hands on your knees, leaning closer, “Sannie…it’s just a pillow-”

That was perhaps all it took for the mood to go sour, real quick. He had got up from his seat and marched towards her, causing her eyes to widen in surprise, especially when he had stood right above her, hands on his hips, saying something she’d never even imagined, before reaching beside her - though she had flinched when his hand came closer, something he had noticed but chose to ignore- grabbing his pillow and pulling back. He stared at her, not even sparing her a glance as he walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him as he did so, his words still ringing in her ears as she blinked down at her hands, wondering what she had said, if she had done something to offend him, if she really was inconsiderate.

“I didn’t know you could be so inconsiderate and spoiled- or maybe you’re just selfish.”

Honestly, you had thought of going after him, but you had never seen react like this- this uncharacteristic outburst was extremely new to you, the cold words thrown at you were worse, this wasn’t what you were used to. This wasn’t the same Sannie who would whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you were sad, this wasn’t the same Sannie who once came over when he found out you were sick, only leaving when you were asleep and well fed. This definitely wasn’t the same man who had taken hold of your heart, delicately placing it in his pocket- no, you really didn’t know who that was. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t go after him, at one point, you had thought of packing up and going home, but when you glanced at the clock 01.23 AM was not a very appropriate time to travel back home alone. With that you had neatly packed up everything but the essentials needed for your nightly routine,making sure all you’d have to do was change before leaving as soon as the sun woke up.

You peaked out the door to find complete darkness, sighing in relief as you took your essentials and walked down the hall towards the washroom, passing by Seonghwa’s room, making sure to be quiet when you noticed the light peaking through from under the door. If you focused, you could make out Seonghwa’s muffled voice, though it was like he was talking to himself, or he was on the phone, but he did not sound pleased at all. Due to which you tried to rush through your routine, making sure to be as quiet as before, slowly closing the door, your breath hitching at the soft click, a hand gripping the door handle, while your palm pressed against the wood, trying to listen to any sounds of movements, luckily there was nothing.

With a sigh you walked over to the mirror, grimacing at the sight, your new night suit was but a simple but a cute cotton outfit, a lavender camisole with a patching pair of loose fitted shorts, ensuring maximum comfort and well…it was supposed to ensure his liking as well. The mere thought of him squeezed your heart, wanting to go after him and sort it out- but no, you were a big girl and a smart one, no man could just say something so brash and throw a fit before leaving, not even the man who held your heart in his warm palm.

You had assumed that these thoughts were going to consume and feed off your sleep, but boy, were you wrong, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, off to dreaming about who knows what, but it was a pleasant dream, a very soft, warm and nice dream, maybe it was because of the new pillow, who knows- but it was a very life like dream, where you felt all fuzzy and secure, as if you were in a comforting hug, ones like he’d give you, a bit too…realistic.

Though she only jerked awake at the feeling of something trailing up her spine, a small gasp breaking the silence, as she tried to move away, only to be pulled closer, a groan from above her head vibrating through her whole being. Oh.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you tilted your head up, to the best of your ability, forcing the man’s chin off your head as he blinked down at you with droopy eyes, a sheepish pout, ever so visible even in the dim light. The thing trailing up your spine, was in fact, his fingers, his fingertips tracing your spine, in a soothing manner. Your own hand squeezed in between their bodies, trying to push him away but he didn't budge, only his palm pressed against the small of your back, trying to keep you near him.

“You don’t get to be mean, and assume a little skinship is gonna fix that.”

Your words were harsh, and your tone was even more harsh, but you wanted it to be, you wanted it to sting, enough for him to realise this wasn't a joke, he had ruined the entire night and the mood.

His grip loosened at your words, enough for you to slip away from you to move onto the other pillow, sighing at the cold sensation on your cheek, now at the same eye level as the moron who was on the other pillow- internally you wanted to be petty and snatch it from under his head, he didn't deserve it, but the sight of his mochi cheek smashed against the soft pillow had your inner girl squealing at at the sight.

“I…I've had this same pillow since my trainee days.” he mumbled, reaching behind him to pull out the lumpy, beat up, tired pillow and pulling it to his chest, hugging it closer, “I had it when I got picked…I had it when we went to Gangnam…when grandpa…passed and…well…I- did you think I was gonna...hurt you?” He whispered, referring to the way you had flinched, of course the guilt was eating him up, that's why he had gone to Seonghwa to talk about it- maybe he looked to scary for his own good, but hell, an angry Seonghwa was even more frightening, and that's whom he had to deal with.

With a deep breath you reached over and placed your hand on top of his hand, "It was...reflex...I knew you wouldn't...at least not physically," , noticing how his fingers gripped the pillow harder at contact, “Why…didn't you just…say that before?”

His breath hitched at your question, looking everywhere but at your face, the insecurities brewing inside as he chewed on his lower lip, unsure if he should answer you, what would you think about him if he told you? What if you find it weird, what if his insecurities and his past makes you question the worth of this relationshipz- he's not the boy he used to be, he's not sensitive or weak or-

“Sannie…” she whispered, slowly moving closer to him, her face on the same fluffy pillow he was on, the old pillow now squished between the two as she sighed, “You can tell me…” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the warm skin, trying fo coax whatever it was out of him. She was still upset, but, she'd never seen him this conflicted.

“I just…” with a sigh he closed his eyes, thinking of what to say, only to end up blank. He opened his eyes to meet hers, mumbling, “Seonghwa yelled at me for what I said to you…he's right…I shouldn't have said that…I just…you don't really know…I mean I wasn't always…like this…this big or…manly or strong-” his grip on the pillow loosened, instead his arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him in one go, his lips curled into a small smile at her squeak, his pillow between the two, pressed to the max, “And when…you said its just a pillow I- I kind of…I mean its stupid but it scared me how I… if you were to realise I just grew bigger, I'm not that different, I'm still scared of bugs, I still hate vegetables and -”

“You really are a little dumb.” you cut him off, pressing a finger on his lips, to shush him, “I don't care if you're not all buff and big, I don't care if you were lanky and whiney- I just know you were San then and you are San now- as long as that big ol'heart of yours stays the same, I'm all yours.”

You felt his grip tighten around you, pressing your forehead against him as he relaxed against you, letting out a breath of relief.

“Sure, these big boys add a great amount to your aura points though.” You giggled, patting his muscular arms, “A softie with big guns is all a girl wants~” you smiled at the way his face contorted in confusion, only to quickly press your lips against him, laughing at his surprised squeak.

“I'll make it up to you…” he whispered, finally feeling the exhaustion of the entire confession settling in, moving to remove the pillow from between them but she stopped him, surprising him yet again as she smiled at him, one that had his heart beat so loud that's all he could hear.

“I said don't use it as a pillow because your neck will hurt, but I never said throw away a part of yourself- plus its nice…smells like you.” her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his arm over the pillow and herself, snuggling closer to him, “You're lucky I was staying over for the whole weekend.”

With your head tucked under his chin, arm wrapped around him, smoothly rubbing his back, his wrapped around your waist, he sighed nuzzling into the new pillows, happy that they carried your scent more than his, “Lucky to have you in my life.”

Song Mingi

Of course you were mad at him, how could you not be? He was supposed to come home by 6- he was supposed to spend the evening with you, have dinner with you, watch a movie with you, and spend your anniversary together. Well technically, it was your 6 month anniversary, but hey, half a year meant something to you, and as much as you were mature and ‘a cold-hearted’ b*tch, as claimed by your male coworkers, you were just soft for the giant man child who somehow managed to thaw the glacier you had for a heart.

So, when you had texted him earlier today he had instantly replied with an excited confirmation, what you did not think that after that he wouldn’t respond to you. You tried calling too, but his phone went straight to voicemail, so you waited and waited and waited- until you got a little notification of a certain white haired man doing a live, one that wasn’t scheduled. Were you upset because he was doing his job? No. Were you upset he didn’t tell you? Yes. He should’ve been decent enough to at least text you that he was going to be late, that he had work- you’d never asked him to prioritise you over his work, you knew what you were getting into, and with your workaholic personality, he knew yours, which is why he should have known that you would have understood wherever he was coming from.

Naturally she was furious when he stepped into the apartment, though being Mingi, he had no clue what she was upset about, even after he saw the cold pizza, the melted candles and small gift that lay wrapped in glossy paper. Instead he had walked over to her with a smile, ready to hug her- wrong move.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Her voice boomed across the hall, followed by the echo of her slap resonated in the confines of his aching heart, staring down at her with utter shock, a whimper at the tip of his tongue, an apology right after but hey- this was Song Mingi, and using his actual emotional maturity was never his first move.

Hence the platinum blonde gasped, giving her an offended look and mumbling, "Why are you being so pissy? It's literally a pizza, not some homemade meal." He eyed the table before turning to her, though she looked as if she were about to explode- somewhere deep down he was kind of afraid, he’d never seen her this angry, she was often quite calm and composed, extremely reserved. That would explain why her reaction caught him off guard, especially when he tried to talk to her, tried to hold her hand so she’d stop leaving every damn room she walked into.

“Look, I have a job!!” he called out walking after her, into the kitchen, “You of all people should know that, I can’t just leave my fans because you wanna celebrate some made up event!”

“Its not made up Mingi!” you turned around and glared at him, “I- I asked you two days ago about this, I told you it meant something to me and- I just, I can’t believe you didn’t even think of texting me! What’s the difference between you and any other guy from my office if you can’t communicate properly!”

Granted, if he took a minute to process her words, but sometimes she was so complicated. Moreover, he knew what he got into once he began to chase after her for months, he knew what he was getting into when she directly told him about her issues and insecurities, her reserved attitude and persona, one that she often let go off when she was with her giant, lovable dummy. If he kept all those factors in mind, and just took a moment to think, he would have understood the premise of her argument, but he really didn’t want to, or perhaps he just didn’t take it seriously, either way, his next words were the reason for which he was back in his form, wondering why the hell he didn’t think of apologising like a normal person.

“They’re lucky because they don't have a Runik's cube for a girlfriend.”

That was all it took for the bomb to go off;

"GET YOUR FAKE GOJO LOOKIN ASS OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”

“W-what-” his question was cut off when she shoved him away, going to grab the nearest object which happened to be the very present she had spent most of her salary on, swinging it right at his face- screw his job. But the bastard was quick when he ducked and tried to get to her, only to get whacked in the head with a candle, “Babe-”

“I SAID LEAVE!” you yelled, staring at him through bleary eyes, trying to keep the whirlwind of emotions, taking a deep breath as you pointed towards the door, feeling the cold slither up your fingertips, choosing the words that would end it all, whoever said dating was fun, was wrong, you’d rather stay single than feel any similar form of pain, though you did feel like you should have the final say in this. It didnt matter that the tall man in front of you looked like he was fumbling with the pieces of your so called relationship, tripping over his words has he tried to sprout out an apology, “Leave, let me relieve you of this burden.”

For you, the conversation had ended there, especially when he was standing outside, not sparing him a moment as you slammed the door on his face. After that, like any San individual you had cleared up the table, initially thinking of throwing out the pizza, but then it hit you - “I work hard to earn too, its not just him.” So you kept that, threw away the candles and the other decorations (stabbed the balloons-naturally). Honestly, you didn't know where his gift went, probably smashed into pieces after it ‘boinked’ off his stupid, giant head. After that you had washed up (cried in the shower for about an hour or so), stumbled towards your bed and knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The worst kind of ‘black-out’ sleep known to man, is what you endured that night, only to wake up when the fire alarm went off, fighting off the blankets, almost tumbling to your demise several times before entering the kitchen, coughing as the smoke entered your lungs. You opened the nearest window and turned around to bump into a softer form, arms wrapping around your form, before you were dragged out of the apartment and into the balcony, wheezing for your life, taking in as much clean air in one go as possible.

Mingi rubbed her back in a circular motion, a hand holding onto hers, helping her sit down on one of the stools, pulling one closer and sitting right next to her as he held her hand, thinking of going back inside to get her water, though when he felt her squeeze his hand he face turned to meet hers, blinking at her stoic face. Damn, she’s still mad at him.

As soon as clarity hit, she had realised, this moron was back, not only that, it was still night out, so he had graciously trespassed into her apartment, set something on fire, almost killed her and then dragged her out on the balcony, of all the idiots she could’ve picked from to date, she chose the their leader.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was…trying to make you breakfast.”

“I told you its over-the hell? What time is it?”

She got up only to feel him tug her back down, this time onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape, as she glared down at him, “Let go.”

“No…” shaking his head he buried his face in her neck, “ its 5 something, I…I’m sorry.” he whispered, feeling her stiffen in his hold, he knew a mere apology wouldn’t be enough, but he had to start somewhere, especially when he had gone back to the apartment and narrated the entire incident to his two bros- both thus throwing him back out, San adding an, “And don’t come back until you fix your mess, you ungrateful idiot.” Truthfully, he didn’t need to tell him that he had f*cked up, he was well aware of that fact, he just needed a push- that and he was terrified of her, he’d only seen her get angry at her coworkers when they’d mess up work, or that one time she got mad at a couple of highschoolers who thought kicking a puppy was fun, he’d never been the one at the receiving end of her wrath, until today. Perhaps that’s why he had assumed he was all forgiven, all safe, he had some form of immunity, thus, giving him the privilege of being mean to her- well, that theory was stupid. Wat made him assume he could just be mean to her because he felt like it? Since when was he, someone who knows what it felt like to be neglected, begin to neglect his own loved ones? She never fell in love with a man who was like this- what was he doing?

She was about to push him off, especially after he didn’t bother adding anything after his sorry, no explanation, nothing, only to stop when she felt something damp on her skin, realising that he in fact was not rocking them back and forth, but the man child was crying.

“Dude…are you…crying?” she asked, gripping her shoulders as she pushed him away, earning a whine, as the bigger man tried to cover his face with his hands, “Song Mingi, what is wrong with you-”

“I’m sorry, okay!” his whimper had her freezing, eying his face, “I- I didn’t mean it! I don’t know why I said it, okay? It wasn’t cool and I-I know tha- I just- you’ve never, I mean- angry- upset because of me-” his words when she squeezed his cheeks, cupping his warm face, glaring down at him, frowning at the wetness.

“The Song Mingi I fell in love with was a softie- not a red flag like Gojo.”

He could only nod at her statement, fingers gripping onto her harder, cherishing the lack of past tense in her statement.

“Am I going to get him back, or is this the new you?”

She moved her hands to let him speak, only he pulled her flush against him, instinctively her arms wrapped around his shoulders, sighing when she felt his hold tighten. Her small squeak echoed in the quiet of the early morning, blending in with the soft symphony of the birds that had woken up before the sun, as he stood up, slowly walking back inside the apartment. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she blinked up at him, catching his little pout, only to sigh, as he carried her to her bedroom, only stopping at the edge of his bed.

“Can I…sleep with you?”

She hummed for a moment, biting her lip to hide her smile, when she noticed him frown at the time she was taking to answer his question, “What if I say no-SONG MINGI!”

He rolled his eyes at your little scream, he didn’t put his entire body weight on you, though, he did roll around until both of you were wrapped in a soft cocoon, with your back pressed against his warm, broad chest, his arm wrapped around you, as he shamelessly draped a heavy leg over yours. For a while, the two of you lay there silently, watching as the golden beams of the warm morning sun, sifted through the slits of the curtains, creating an luminous mosaic across the opposite wall, the song of the world waking up around you was slowly lulling you to sleep, and just when it became just right, he instantly broke the peaceful atmosphere, “Thank you for the ring.”

“Oh.” so it didnt vanish, he had taken it,

“Most welcome…”you whispered, trying to cling onto the strings of tranquility that were wrapped around you, “Did you take it before I threw you out?”

“Mhmm…is it…a couple ring?” he asked, though a moment later he got no response, causing him to peer down at her, and let out a chuckle, she had fallen asleep- she must’ve been tired, especially after all the stupid things he did yesterday, though his smile widened after his hand trailed down her arm, hand clasping hers, almost shivering with joy at the feeling of the cold metal on her finger.

Jung Wooyoung

Wooyoung had a sharp tongue, he knew that, the guys knew that, hell, you knew that too, but did that mean you were prepared for it? No, of course not, you were his little, itty-bitty, cute pookie- don't hate the name, hate the man who had bestowed it upon you.

He gave you the name when you called him to your apartment for the first time, mind you, it wasn't what Wooyoung was expecting. The first time you had invited him over for the night had him rolling on the ground like a dog, his shy and quiet little girlfriend was willingly fueling his weird side, he couldn't wait to barge into her private space, ask her all sort of questions, learn more about her, tease her, test her limits, take in her reactions, in every sense; physical and psychological.

The moment she had opened the door and his eyes landed on her cotton baby pink shorts, he felt himself shiver with excitement, trying not to howl like a mad dog, scaring her away- though that entire fantasy was short lived when he realised by ‘sleep over’ she literally meant ‘sleep over’, like a …slumber party. So yes, that night they didn't do what he thought they would, but they did; give each other facials, watch a movie while wearing her newly bought sheet masks, paint each other’s nails (well he just made a mess of hers) and do each other's hair, honestly the night ended with him going straight to dreamland once she began to brush his hair, only waking up in the morning to find her snuggled with him, clinging onto him. He liked it, never thought he would, but the moment his eyes noticed the way she was gripping onto his shirt, his heart leaped with joy- it felt nice being loved like this, being needed. Hence, sleepovers like these had become a norm, so much so that sometimes she'd go over to his place unannounced, and surprise him with her little surprise sleepover, one he'd often love it. Instantly attacking her with unlimited smooches, hugging and squeezing her till the air in her lungs would run out.

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights, in fact, when he had walked into his room, the sight of you actually irked him- unsure of why, but your shy smile and gentle eyes just had just made his blood boil. Perhaps it was the stress of the entire day, or the argument he had with San over something stupid, or how Mingi ate his chicken piece, or because Jongho kept on humming a silly tune even on the ride back home. The point is, he was not pleased, and like the love-struck puppy you were, you didn’t register his loud sigh or the way he dropped his bag on the floor, instead, you chose to slide his swivel chair to him, smiling up at him and reaching for his hand, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said before slipping his hand out of yours and going to his cupboard, all the while struggling to take off his sweatshirt and tossing it somewhere once he was done. He could hear the squeak of the wheel as he turned around and looked at you, taking in the way you were pouting at him, somewhere deep down he found you adorable, but on the surface, he really couldn’t deal with you right now- he just wanted to be alone. Moving around you, he went back out of the room, leaving you confused and a bit hurt. It wasn’t like Wooyoung to react like this, to completely leave you hanging. Sure, he had moments where his social battery would run out, when he’d just come to her apartment and lay on her bed, idly scrolling on his phone, just making enough space for her, when she’d come and lay with him, letting her snuggle into his while he continued doing what he was quietly, neither saying a word- but he had never ignored her.

He looked tired…like he was tired of her? Shaking your head at the thought, you instantly thought of ways to make him feel better, considering his flatmates were outside and he was still in the shower (probably), you looked around his room, you could tidy it up, and you did, and once you were done, you picked up his jacket to hang it in his cupboard only to frown at the mess inside; hang clothes, fold them neatly, align the shoes- as long as Youngie Is less stressed and feels better, that was your goal.

By the time you were done, it had already been an hour. You were hanging the last jacket when the man walked back in, staring at you with the same unreadable expression, completely ignoring your cute smile, watching as you closed the cupboard. You were about to ask him what was bothering him when he tossed the wet towel on the chair and walked out of the room again, but this time you trailed after him, asking him all sorts of questions, just to get him to finally say something.

“How was your day?”

“Fine.”

He walked into the kitchen, you just followed.

“Did you take a rest between practice?”

“Yeah.”

He opened the fridge to take out last night’s pizza, well, this was it then, he turned around and almost cursed, she was standing there with a plate for him. He took it, mumbling a thanks, before putting it in the microwave. Standing there, arms crossed as he glared at the device to bloody hurry up.

“How was the photoshoot?”

“Fine. Nothing new.”

“I brought face masks, wanna wear one later?”

“No.”

“Oh,okay …I got my bonus today.”

“Great.”

“Wanna spend it with me on cute things?”

“No.” he mumbled, “Invest it.” he sighed, before opening the microwave, taking the plate and turning around, only to sigh when he saw her holding a chair out for him, pouting when he frowned at her. Truth be told, he’d never reacted like this, she wasn’t sure what to do? He’d often match her energy- or ‘her freak’, as he’d say. Maybe being nice to him would make him feel better? She sat down on the chair beside him, facing him, though he just started to eat quietly, not really saying anything.

“You want some tea?”

“No.”

“Oh…” you mumbled, looking at your lap, taking a moment to think, before looking up at him, again, watching him take a bite, he was chewing quietly when you gently reached over to tuck some of the stray wet strands behind his ear- though he didn’t seem pleased, in fact, he just let out an irritated huff and turned his head to look at you. You quickly recoiled, mumbling an apology, new tactic, stay quiet, maybe just staying by him would make him feel better. Therefore, you watched him go about his business, watching him wash the plate and put it on the rack before going out of the kitchen.

He finally sat down in front of the TV, rubbing his aching neck, waiting for the damn thing to turn on when he felt the sofa dip, feeling her sitting close to him. He side eyed her before putting on a game, whatever, he’d watch the match on repeat. Hunched forward, elbows on his knees, frowning as he stared at the screen. Okay, so she said she wouldn’t touch him, but if he was in pain, maybe she could help out, massage his shoulders or neck? She moved closer to him, enough for her fingers to graze his arm, “Youngie… you need me to massage it?”

“What I need is for you to not act like an attention deprived clingy girlfriend for a while.”

She froze at his words, slowly watching him get up and walk away mumbling something else about wanting to be left alone, or how he never had a moment of peace- honestly it didn’t matter anymore, his previous sentence had done enough damage. If he wanted to be left alone so be it, she was going to give him exactly what he wanted. Once she heard the door slam shut she sniffled, finally letting the fat tears roll down her flushed cheeks, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, his words kept repeating in her mind, over and over again. Without glancing at the time, she decided to go to the only place she'd be able to cry in peace, without giving him the satisfaction of the hurt of his words- that and she wanted to fulfil his wish, she was going to give him some peace and quiet.

Slamming the door shut behind him he mumbled something about being smothered by her as he flopped down on the bed, turning to the side to face the wall as he huffed, closing his eyes. Moments passed but sleep was not something he was blessed with, instead he kept on tossing and turning, finally turning to other side, often her side, of the bed, glaring at it. Why wasn't she here? she’s the one who wanted to spend time with him, rudely showing up here unannounced, interrupting his normal routine, talking away when he was eating, even offering to massage his neck. Was she a masseuse!?

With a huff he sat up and glared around the room, spotting her pink small suitcase, neatly placed at the corner of the room. His eyes flickered to the desk, organised and clean. On it where a variety of neatly stacked face masks, some nail polishes and her makeup pouch. Sliding off the bed, he walked out of the room, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he continued grumbling. Granted he was still annoyed but he did need her to sleep and- where was she?

Confused, he looked around the living room, then walked into the kitchen, wondering if she was making tea. She was nowhere in sight. He made his was down the hall to look for her in the washroom, knocking when the door wouldn't open, “You in there?”

“Yes, now scram.”

Ignoring Jongho he walked back into his room, perhaps she had gone back into the room- the panic was beginning to settle in as he slammed open the door to be met with a clean room. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Where did she go?! His panic began to morph into guilt once the memories of his behaviour with her began to play at the back of his mind.

“Cupcake!?”

Grabbing his phone he went through his contact, tapping on her contact ID 🧚‍♀Bby Gurl🧚‍♀️. He pressed the phone against his ear, chewing on his lower lip as he waited for her to pick up, but when he heard the muffled sound of her ringer coming from her PURSE!? Cue Wooyoung going into full panic mode as he ran to her purse, flipping it over on his desk, staring at the phone. Shit. Where did she go?! It was- oh hell no, it was 2 am. He wracked his brain for what could he have said, it was something mean, but truth be told he didn't remember- a toxic trait, he knows, and he's not proud of it, especially since he used it to hurt her.

Deciding it was time to find her, he opened his cupboard to take out a jacket, only to feel his gut clench…she had organised his cupboard too. What the hell Wooyoung? She wasn't your maid, she was only being nice to you! The image of her small frown flashed before his eyes as he zipped up his jacket. He grimaced at the thought of tone he had used with her, how he had ignored her when she tried to touch him, since when he was against skinship? Pulling the door open he came face to face with none other than-

“Mind telling me why I found her crying in the parking lot?”

“Hongjoong move I- What?” his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw his girl standing there behind Hongjoong, staring at the ground with bloodshot eyes.

“I- HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?”

You flinched at his tone, whining and hiding behind the man who had spent almost an hour trying to convince you to come back to the apartment. Hongjoong was parking his car when he saw someone sitting there on the concrete ground, next to a very familiar car. You hadn’t said much to him, only that you left your keys upstairs and if he could be kind enough to get them- he wasn’t an idiot, one look at your pink nose and puffy eyes, he knew this had Wooyoung written all over it. Hence, he had to spend an hour trying to convince you to at least come upstairs, it was already too late to go back home.

“Wooyoung.” the older one warned, eying his bandmate who could only sigh and nod, letting him know that his defences were down and he was no longer in the mood for hurting her in any manner, in fact, he wanted nothing more to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Though, perhaps that’s not how Hongjoong saw it, for he let the girl go into her boyfriend’s room before closing the door so he could have a heart-to-heart talk with this moron.

Once the door closed you walked over to your makeup pouch, taking out your wet wipes and removing the mascara and makeup that had smeared because of all the crying. You quickly changed your clothes, glancing at the door every five seconds in case he was coming in, you were in no mood to talk to him. As soon as you were done you turned off the lights- yeah, you wanted him to trip and land on his stupidly handsome face- and jumped onto the bed, cocooning yourself in his blanket. No, you did not plan on sharing it, though the fact that you were now surrounded by him had a very paradoxical effect; on one hand, you were extremely furious at the man, wanting nothing more than to avoid him for the rest of your life, on the other hand, being surrounded by his being, in his sheets, made you feel safer, made you feel warmer, you liked it- you hated it- you liked it- you hated it- you loved him.

Yet, for some unforsaken reason, he thought shaking you awake from a blissful slumber would be a wonderful idea. As soon as Hongjoong was done with his lecture, he slipped back into the room to talk to her but found her asleep. A part of him wanted her to rest, especially when he removed the blanket from her face, sighing in guilt as he noticed how tired she looked, her brows furrowed even in her sleep- no, he wasn't going be one of those couples that went to bed after a fight.

Her world shook as she gasped, hand grabbing whatever was shaking her, until she flung the hand off her shoulder and turned to the other side mumbling, “Stop it…I'm tired.”

“And I'm sorry.”

You had heard him loud and clear, you even her the guilt in his tone, but did you care? No. you weren't going to be a clingy deprived girlfriend, so you did what he wanted, and ignored him as you closed your eyes again. Trying to ignore him when he apologised again, this type pressing his cheek against yours, rubbing it against yours, and throwing his leg over yours, basically laying half on top of you, “I really am sorry.”

With a huff you shoved him off and sat up, back against the headrest as you glared at him with your arms crossed, cheeks puffed out and-

Oh my god, Wooyoung, she’s pouting. He internally screamed, taking in your droopy eyes, your puffed out rosy cheeks and the way you were pouting- his cutie really was something. He tried to reach for your cheek but you slapped his hand away, causing him to yelp and frown, “I am apologising here.”

“Don’t talk to me, you’re horrible and mean! I just wanna go to sleep, stop pretending you like me!”

Horrible and mean…well, he’s heard worse, so he’d take it. He was mean to you, incredibly mean, and his attitude towards you was horrible. You were right about that, but you were terribly wrong about the last part. Extremely wrong, if he says so himself.

He looked at her intently, almost too intently, and he figured out he’d been giving her the ‘I’m a bastard’ stare when her form, faltered, her eyes began to water, as she bit her lip and broke the stare off, instead, dipping her head in shame like she was the one who was at fault here. Man, what was wrong with him today?

Her grip tightened on the cotton, pulling the blanket closer as if it were to bring her some form of comfort, if he wanted to break up with her that was fine, she just never thought her first break-up would be this nasty. She had mentioned a few times to him how this was her first relationship and although he seemed a bit hesitant, he had explained to her how his job made certain normal couple activities difficult for him sometimes, and if she’d want their relationship to flourish, she’d have to accept this fact. And she did, everything was fine, it was all going well, then what could she have possibly done for him to lash out at her like that? Maybe she was never cut out for this-

“That’s not true…” he whispered, placing his hands on hers, slowly unclenching her fists, his grip tightening on her hands when he heard her whimper, frowning at the way she hiccupped an apology again, looking up at him this time, as if she were trying to cling onto something that had slipped through her fingers. “That’s not true…and that’s not right,” with a heavy sigh he pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, manoeuvring them, till he was in her position, and now she was on his lap, arms around his neck, clinging onto him, dampening his shirt as loud sobs wracked through her petite frame, mumbling nonsense that he couldn’t interpret, “And…I’m sorry I made you think like that today.” Gently, he pressed his lips against her head, rubbing her back in a soothing motion, slowly giving her a squeeze every so often, pulling her closer, if possible. By the time she had calmed down, a bit, he slowly pushed her off his chest so he could look at her, but she never met his gaze, causing him to gently grip her chin, making her look up at him, “Hey…don’t look away,” he smiled at her, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” His smile faltered when he noticed her lower lip tremble, sighing as he cupped her face with both hands, “I am truly, extremely sorry for what I did and said today,” leaning closer he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Nothing I said or did today was triggered because of you being here- there is no explanation for my behaviour other than the fact that I handled my emotions poorly, and took it all out on that one person,” he paused to give her a smile, especially when he felt her grip tighten on his shirt, “the only person, who is concerned about my wellbeing and livelihood, and wants nothing but my love in return.”

“Woo…” she sniffed, pouting at him as she tugged on his shirt, “What made you so upset today?”

He could chuckle at the way she was still worried about him, of course, leave it to his little love bug to be more concerned about ‘why’ he did what he did, just as soon as he apologises. Shaking his head in disbelief he booped her nose, shrugging, ��Never mind that, do you want something to eat? I’ll whip up something real good, an apology feast for my lovely pookie.” His laugh bounced off the walls of his room once he noticed her visibly cringing at the nickname, “No? Well, how about I make sweet love to you, enough to have you screaming for more-” her hands clasped over his mouth, muffling his stupidity as she sighed in relief, resting her forehead against and closing her eyes to recover from the blush.

When she felt him tap her waist she moved her hands and sighed, “Just hold me close.”

“Well, don’t need to ask me twice.” Wooyoung declared before pushing her off him cackling when he heard her squeak, wiggling her eyebrows at her, admiring how she almost bounced on his bed, before laying down, pulling her closer. His smile widened when she snuggled into him, gripping onto the back of his shirt, before her lips gently pressed against his skin, admiring the warmth, basking in his presence. He pulled up the blanket, covering them both, before placing his chin on top of her head, sighing in relief, trying to rid of the bad memories of the day. Letting the tranquil love envelope the two, enjoying just being there…that is until a soft whisper broke the silence, followed by another;

“Make it up to me tomorrow.”

“I’ll make it up to you for the rest of your life”

Choi Jongho

Okay, yes, he was a bastard, he was well aware of that, but right now, the charming man had something else on his mind. What you ask, oh its simple, it was the same question almost every guy in the world had, the same dilemma every man in the world suffers through, an event every man self-induces; the, ‘How do I make my girlfriend feel better after I brought up her insecurities’. Now, one may wonder, what did this sweet little lad do? How could he possibly manage to upset his girl, his daisy, his lover, his sweety- well, it all started when he came down with a little cold, and the dictator Kim Hongjoong banned him from the studio and the dorm, which meant there would be no one acting at his every whim, hence, the little lad had to go to the next best thing, go to the only person who made his heart flutter like he just devoured some mentos after chugging a cola- his girlfriend.

It all started fine, with you opening the door, ready to go for a nightly jog when you saw your cute boy standing at the door, with his nose all pink and stuffy and his pout making your heart clench. Next thing he knew he was pulled inside and tucked into your fluffy, soft bed, being taken care of like there was no tomorrow. You were kind and sweet and ever caring, you’d always been like that, even before the two had started dating.

You were so kind to him that you actually had the poor boy chasing you for almost a year. Now why is that one may wonder, simple, you were older than him- two years to be precise. The two of you had met by complete accident, you were out for your nightly jog and you had somehow managed to trip on the cracked footpath. Honestly you had thought no one was around so you hobbled to the nearest bench, trying to untie your shoe, when you heard someone clear their throat, causing you to freeze. He was big, you could tell and it wasn't just because of that hoodie and cap or mask- no, he looked borderline threatening. With an audible gulp you whispered, “Y-yes?”

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, lowering his mask a bit and standing up before crouching next to your foot, causing you to flinch and shake your head but he was already slipping it off your foot, trying to not react to your bright yellow, Pikachu themed sock.

“You should be careful” he mumbled, inspecting the damage, “I think you just sprained it, if you want I could take you to an ER near by-”

“No thank you!” You cut him off, he was cute, there was no doubt in that, he looked sweet but hey, he was a guy and he was a guy who looked big enough to kill yo-

“My name's Jongho.” He sighed, and looked around, before sitting next to her, “And you are, strange nighters jogger?”

You blinked at him and sighed out your name, before mumbling, “What's an Ateez member doing out here in the middle of the night?”

His blood ran cold at the mention of his band, causing him to slowly side eye her, though she looked as composed as ever, like she had just talked about the weather.

“I…uh-”

“Don't worry,” she mumbled, before sitting straight and stretching her, “Okay, I'm gonna go now.”

“Let me help you out.”

Honestly, the words had left him sooner than he could process them, his body had moved on its own, and in a matter of minutes she found herself sitting in an apartment she had never dreamt of before too, pressing an ice pack on her ankle, listening to Jongho and another man, Hongjoong battle it out.

“I’m sorry, but a random stranger?”

“Technically I see her jogging every day- or well at night.”

“So??”

“Technically she’s hurt.”

“Technically, Choi Jongho this isn’t a hospital.”

“Technically, it's rude to discuss someone in front of them, pretending they can’t hear you.”

That had led the older man to apologise and leave them alone. That very statement had led Jongho to believe that he had found someone who could ‘match his freak’. So, after a year of jogging with her, he had finally managed to woo her. He liked their dynamic, he was the eldest in his home, he was bossy and of course mature, hence, he had assumed he’d prefer someone younger than him, someone more timid and shy, someone who’d be impressed by him- though the only thing she was severely impressed with was his potential to snap several apples in half, which was great, because she loved eating apples and he loved snapping them in half- he loved you.

Then, how come, you were now sitting on the same bench, where you had met the moron, questioning your entire relationship- oh yeah, because when you forced him to drink his soup so he’d get better quicker, he decided to be a brat and snap at her;

“If I wanted to be coddled, I would’ve gone to my mom, you’re older, but not that old.”

Sure, leave it to Choi Jongho to bring up your insecurities because- well, not really, Jongho was often very sweet and considerate, he was attentive and mindful of both his actions, and his words, so if he had decided to let out something so bitter and rude, it really did mean he was sick. But did that make it any better? Did that mean he could just bring up something they’d discuss in the late hours of the night, alone with one another, surrounded by one another, vulnerable to one another. It was during these hours he had confessed how he was afraid she’d leave him for someone older, smarter, more mature, only for his whispers to turn into a snort when she told him how she was afraid that he’d leave her for someone younger than him, someone sweeter, and cuter, more shy and more timid. The two had slept better that night, snuggled up against each other, she loved how he had held her tighter than night, he had loved how she had let them sleep in the next morning, only to spend a few more minutes together.

So, no, he could not just say whatever he wanted because he was sick-

“You wanna get sick too?”

She flinched at the question, before letting out a small sigh at the familiarity of the voice, though she never turned to look at him, instead decided to leave.

He turned to glance at you when you had ignored him, only for him to panic when you stood up to leave, instinctively reaching over and gripping your wrist he met your cold glare. For once he felt as if being cute was not going to make the cut, that you were not going to ‘act mature’ or ‘overtly understanding’, for once, he was scared. Though his grip never faltered, instead, you heard a meek, “Please,” so soft that if the world around the two of you was not deathly silent, you would’ve missed it. With a sigh you sat back down, but kept your distance, choosing to stare at the empty park, rather than looking at your lover, who was scooting closer to you. You let him, you let him, till his arm brushed against yours, the two of you staring at the empty park together, both waiting for the other to speak- technically you were waiting for an apology, while he was waiting for you to give him the signal to speak, he was too afraid to say anything else which could be more stupid than his last statement.

So, like a pair of fools, the two of you sat there, out in the cold, silently, for god knows how long. Honestly, you were surprised with his patience sometimes, you were also a bit disappointed he chose not to speak, but then again since when was speaking about your feelings his or your strongest trait- oh shit.You gasped when you felt his head drop on your shoulder, suddenly turning to the man, cupping his cold cheeks, as you shook him, “Jongho? Jong? Jongho wake up, come on, this isn’t funny- shit.”

With a groan he turned to his side, snuggling closer to the source of the warmth- oh he was back in his bed. HE WAS BACK IN HIS BED?? Sitting up he looked around in the dimly lit room, noting how the door was slightly open, deciding to go outside to look for her when she walked in holding a tray, eying him before mumbling something about laying back down. Honestly, it was difficult for him to process whatever she was saying next…he remembered fainting, well, actually he felt sleepy so he had just closed his eyes for a moment, and right now, he was more amazed by the sheer physical strength this woman possessed. Lord forgive if she were to smack him, he would’ve needed facial reconstructive surgery.

You placed the tray on the nightstand, and turned to him, helping him sit up against the headboard, before checking his temperature with the back of your hand, “You fainted…I called Hongjoong, who then called San…apparently you’re very difficult to carry.” You mumbled, moving to grab the tray, placing it on his lap, “Chicken soup, will help with the congestion and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

He blinked at her and nodded slowly before looking at the soup and staring at it, a moment had slipped before he chuckled, turning to look at her, admiring how she was now sitting on her side of the bed, facing him, “I thought you carried me here- was so scared if you were actually to smack me, I’d pass away.”

“Is this your way of apologising to me? Maybe I should be looking for guys my age or older” you frowned, only to end up snorting when you saw his eyes widen in fear, taking in the way he had stopped eating, staring at you like he was about to explode. Honestly, you wanted to let it simmer for a while, but when he whispered out your name, the way his voice cracked had you sighing in defeat, moving the tray off him and placing it at a safe distance, before you were tackled by him. His arms tightened around you, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something, which you couldn’t make out, but you presumed it was an apology, considering how your neck felt wet- oh no he was crying- well, didn’t mean to take it that far. Gently patting his head you slid down into the sheets, taking him with you, though he didn’t really do anything but hold you closer, his little sniffles making your heart ache.

“It was a joke…” sighing you kissed the top of his head, “I didn’t mean it…but at least now you know how I felt.”

He pulled back a little to glare at you, “It’s not funny, you can pull anyone you want, I only managed to date you because you tripped.”

“That’s because I fell for you, baby bear-hey!”

“And the moment is gone.” he mumbled, pushing her away and laying on his back, clearing his throat, “Got more sick after that pick up line,” he felt her snuggle next to him as he smiled with his eyes closed, “Even more gross how I like it.”

“You like being sick?”

“Only if it means spending time with you.”

“Oh good, because my head hurts and I can feel the flu comin’ up.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to treat my lady right.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

412 notes · View notes

whalesforhands · 8 months ago

Text

what’s yours is mine (1/?)

masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse, rating may change with every update.)

“Ito Saya, reporting in for your daily broadcast. In a noteworthy shift, Omegas are increasingly finding more employment opportunities in positions of power. With a positive trend towards reduced oppression of—“

You’re averse to this sort of thing. A folly, something you can barely care about as your eyes squint at big words floating around the screen, a pretty lady holding papers and looking all serious and… Boring. TV shows are supposed to be fun, supposed to be playing that anime you had been waiting all week to see, supposed to be… Interesting so that you can feel less alone.

You definitely don’t want some silly lady on the screen talking about— Those things that you can barely understand. Why do they always talk so much? A picture could probably end their entire long spiels in seconds.

Your nose scrunches, your fingers cupping your chin like those TV characters did when they were thinking really hard. So why don’t they just use pictures? They’re more colourful and tell you stuff faster, won’t they? It’s not your fault that the TV station people are always so inefficient.

(It’s the television’s fault isn’t it? Definitely, right? Mama always did tell you it was a little old.)

Or maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot of things.

You’re 4, staring up at the glowing screen of your all too old television, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor in this wide, wide room that was a little too empty for your liking. Your nose picks up on the scent of coffee, ears barely picking up on a clink of porcelain against a cheap wooden coaster. Mama circles things in newspapers, the gliding of her red marker against the sheet attracting your attention to the focused look in her eyes, the furrow of her brows, the way she just held that pen so elegantly…

(Your Mama is so much prettier than the lady on the TV.)

You like it when she’s focused like that, so serious-looking! This must be the pinnacle of a hard worker. Brains… And beety? Or whatever you heard some other old man on the TV used to cheer about.

So you decide you don’t wanna watch anymore, Getting up onto your small feet and barely catching yourself before you topple over, toddling over to your Mama with socks padding against the wooden floors.

You’re soon taking decisive peeks at your all too focused mother, watching over her shoulder in silence to let her focus. There should be a reason why she’s so serious, right?

Maybe it’s something fun? Something exciting? That’s why she’s so focused on it— right?

“J…Ob list…ings open…” Your eyes are narrowed, licking over your lips to wet them as you take another deep breath in. “Mini—um, ex-peer-i-sense?”

You can see the red marker coming to a halt, her sweet chuckle perhaps to humor you, to acknowledge your attempt. Patting your head when she turns her head around, and a smile upon her face as she smooths over the fabric of her skirt, as you feel yourself being lifted and plopped gently into the warm confines of her lap.

“That was a nice try, sweetie.” Her eyes meet yours when you take the decisive move to lean back, a ruffle of your hair and your quiet giggle as the short relief of her attention leaves you, though not without sating your curiosity. “Mama’s looking for a job.”

You know what that is. It’s for adults to make money, disappear for hours in a day and only come back super, super late at night.

(You think your father had one. Or… Did he really?)

And it means they spend all that time in a place nowhere close to their home or cute, adorable, obedient daughters either.

“Does that mean you can’t stay home with me anymore, Mama?” You’re still leaning back into her chest, staring up at her chin from your position as you bring yourself impossibly closer to her, the calm smell of vanilla and honey in your nostrils making you all warm and fuzzy, calm and happy.

(You always liked it when she smelled like this.)

“Maybe, sweetie.” She pulls away briefly to tap the end of the marker against your nose. “But Mama will be able to buy you more delicious food,” She pauses to smile so sweetly down at you, a pinch to your cheek. “And finally get you some toys.”

Toys. You realize that you don’t have any toys. At least— You couldn’t bring any of your toys with you when your mother had so urgently scooped you up into her arms in the dead of the night, a luggage rolling behind her as your nose picks up on an urgent, intruding scent of sour milk and rotting flowers, your senses spiked with uncertainty and fear as you soundlessly drink in the last sight of your old home for those few seconds before the darkness ate it all away.

You remember boarding 1 train, 2 trains, 3 trains… You lost count after that. Only simply remembering getting pulled along, Mama’s soft whispering and cooing promises that this is for the best, that your Papa won’t be able to follow you here, that you’ll be happier than ever. You remember her scent, less rigid, less frightened but still steeped in misplaced excitement. Like a fragrant scent of calm that beckoned you to follow and imitate.

You remember living in small apartments, tiny, squeezy and virtually no space. You remember how sickly, horridly sweet Mama’s scent was, caked in perfume when she rushes out every night for her job at the local izakaya. Her uniform always a little messed up in her haste before she leaves your dinner usually already in your hands as you slurp on ramen or eat another scoop of curry rice.

She would pat your head as you offer her a bite, giving you a smile before she tells you to be good, several locks clicking into place when she closes the door behind her.

It wasn’t much, wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life, but it was comfortable. You were happy with that simple life with her. But one day, you heard jangling at the front door, you hear hurried, panicked movements, smell sour fear despite the thick odour of perfume as your Mama hurriedly slams the door shut behind her, cold sweat on her as she hugs you close, buries her face into your hair.

You don’t like it when she’s like this.

You remember a man with a scent so different from your father come knocking at your door for weeks on end, gradually changing from slow knocks to furious banging on the metal with a rough pleads begging that he won’t hurt your mother, that she was beautiful, the she was—

That’s how you ended up here now. It’s been at least a year since then. And only about a month since you moved in.

(You think. You’re not really good at telling time yet.)

“Mama, I don’t need toys.” It’s not like you don’t want them, you just don’t need them. A lesson taught to you by more pretty ladies on the TV screen, you’ve also stopped by many a toy store only to see too many zeroes on price tags, and it’s been steeled in your mind that you just don’t need them. Not when you have Mama to play together with now that she’s smiling so much more.

So you’re adamant on not wanting any.

“Is that so, darling?” You feel a mindless pinch to your cheek as she circles another paragraph of words. “Then how are you going to keep yourself from getting bored when I’m not around?”

Now that has you in a slight dilemma, your hands freezing in place from where they had been twirling with her hair. You blink once, and again when you quietly see her marker tap against the paper, as if awaiting your thoughts as your eyes start to dart all over the room.

(She makes really good points. Too good. As expected of your Mama.)

The television? No. Mama would tell you too much is bad for your eyes. The pillows you both use for your futons? No. You’ll probably dirty it and make more work for her. Your eyes silently trail over to the window, sun shining through the panes and onto the floor as a glowing thought arises.

“I can just play outside.”

——

Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

An amused chuckle from Mama as she pushes you towards the door, nimble fingers excitedly doing up the straps of your old sandals and arming you with a couple of handmade cookies, a pat on your head and parting words of;

“Don’t wander anywhere past the playground, don’t follow anyone strange, be back by sunset and make some friends.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that you’ll go play outside.

“Honey, I know it’s only been so long since we’ve moved here.” She’s clears her throat, a cloth being gently rubbed against your face to help get rid of any stray rice grains. “But,” She sucks in a breath, a rise and fall of her chest as you blink at her.

“Have you…” She has to take another breath in. Does she have breathing problems—

“Made any friends yet?”

Oh.

The answer is no. Your go-to counter being, ‘I don’t go outside, so how can I make any?’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you give her a smile.

(This isn’t something you’re meant to be proud of.)

And all she’ll give you is winced smile, ruffling your hair and saying that there was no rush. That you’ll get your chance. That you’re the sweetest kid there was. That she has faith in you and wants you to work hard!

But it’s not like it’s as easy as your capable mother makes it sound, and not like you wanted to be out here, anyway. You think the sun is too hot, that there aren’t enough clouds, that the wind isn’t picking up enough, the cicadas are too loud, that you need water—

And that you need to stop complaining so much.

You’re kicking at the path, a long stick in your hands poking at the ground beneath you, cookies pinched between your fingers as you wander and wonder. You can make friends. Surely, you can. That’s what the the cookies are for, right?

Other kids your age should love cookies. You sure do, and you’re Mama’s number 1 fan when it comes to her baking.

(Or her… Anything, really.)

So… You know her inside out, you swear you do. You love her, she loves you, she makes good food and she wants you to make friends, come back with no cookies and a new bond forged.

(Anyone would do, right?)

But you don’t see any kids, the playground you just arrived at deserted and empty. It looks sleek, almost as if it were brand new. Dark wood and galvanized steel, it was so… Clean. So untouched. Yet nobody was here? Your shoulders slump forwards in mild disappointment, yet your heart thrills at the thought of being able to have the whole place to yourself. Alone.

Well, choosers can’t be beggars… Or was it the other way around? Either way, it’s not like Mama would know if you ate them both yourself.

——

So you find yourself sat down comfortably within the top of the little hut housing the slide, your feet splayed out in front of you as you prepare to take a bite. You feel the straps of your sandals relax against your feet, a slight breeze picking up despite the shade you had hidden under. Perfect. This was perfect—

“Are those cookies?”

You can feel your shoulders jump in shock, fear pulling at your heartstrings and a startle nearly making you drop your precious dessert. So much for a peaceful time. You have to physically lurch yourself back before any harm was done to your food. Just who do they think they are? To just come up to you and—

A flurry of white snow and icicles of frost. But you’re pretty sure the summer heat is still beating down, the cicadas are still singing, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Yet the one before you defies all of that. He had an aura about him, a commanding curiosity. And he does definitely—

“Look weird.”

His eyes widen for just that fraction of a second, before he furrows his brows, the long sleeves of the firefly kimono swaying when he crosses his arms in rebuttal.

“You’re weirder.”

You blink maybe twice. Once in surprise, and the other to really blink back into reality. He must’ve heard your thoughts.

“I didn’t. Ya just said it out loud, weirdo.”

Oh. You have to say your sorries, then. Mama didn’t raise you to be rude.

“This is my playground.” Your eyes catch a glimmer of the wara zori his feet donned. They were too neat, too well put together. “Nobody else is allowed in.” His tone sounds so proper, his pronunciation so abnormally clear, especially for someone who looks your age.

“Oh.” You didn’t know that. Though to be fair, you don’t know a lot of things. “Sorry. I didn’t know playgrounds can be owned…”

“That’s only for poor people.” You hear the tap of his shoes against pressure treated wood. “If more people were like me, they’d have their own playgrounds too.”

“Oh. Sorry then.” You really are. You just thought playgrounds were a place for every kid…

“S’that all you can say?” You can see the shine of iridescent blue, making use of his standing height to belittle and threaten your sitting position. He makes himself look big, makes the glimmer in his eye turn into one of malice and impatience. It twists his features, turns them into something rugged and rough and uncomfortable.

And you think it’s such a waste of the cute face he has.

“Sorry.” To his Mama who gave him such a nice looking profile, and to him, you guess. You don’t really know if you should be apologizing, don’t really know if what you’re doing is right.

(But apologising has always worked. It felt right to you.)

And you think he’s satisfied now.

He harrumphs, unfolding his hands. “Some old lady put me on a sweets ban.” He settles down next to you, pushing you aside to make space for himself as he plops down, and you notice the shifting of the pretty blue fabric he donned matching perfectly with the crystal blue of his eyes. You notice the print quality being one so clear and vivid, despite the simple design. That’s a really nice kimono. “So I can’t eat anymore for the rest of the month.”

(He really is cute.)

“But since you’re trespassing on my playground,” He holds a dainty, porcelain hand out, a small twitch of his fingers that itch for your compliance. “I’m charging you cookies for it.” He’s smiling now. A proud, smug grin with the upturn of his eyes into crescents.

”It’s okay for me to eat ‘em cause it’s tax.”

He’s kind of irritating, but… Anyone would do, right?

You swallow the lump you weren’t aware of in your throat, the sweat that you didn’t know that was starting to form on your hand. You think you have an idea. A good one, at that.

“Okay,” You produce the other packaging. “But you have to promise to be my friend.”

Now it’s his turn to blink at you in utter confusion.

“Are you—“ His eyebrows furrow deeper than before, his smile dissipating into this confused frown. His eyes scrutinize and watch you closely, as if he was scouring your every breath, your every movement to uncover something that just wasn’t there.

“Being serious?”

Why… Wouldn’t you be? The way you just blink back at him, waiting on him to continue only to be met with glaring silence… Is there something on your face? Is there a bug you didn’t see crawling in your hair?

Or maybe he just wants the cookie.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hand is warm as they grip his wrist, gently dropping the wrinkled plastic onto his hand with a tilt of your head and eyes that flick up to meet his. It’s innocent, genuine, even. Frightfully so. The way you smile with nothing else, the way your intent was shown upon your very sleeve.

Nothing. He garners absolutely nothing from you. Your hands feel too warm, the chocolate chips within the cookie already look like they were melting, sweat is starting to stick your hair to your skin— And he thinks it doesn’t get anymore real than this.

“Okay.”

Oh, good. He agreed. You have a friend now, and it makes your heart squeeze with just that bit of excitement, of joy. It felt like you were swinging too high off the ground, felt like you were going to be swept off your feet.

It felt good. Maybe you should make more friends.

“Do the thing with me.” His pinky is held out, pushed into your face. “Ya gotta promise me something too. That’s how promises work.”

Is that how it works? You didn’t know that either.

“Yeah.” It isn’t. “That’s how it works here, you dunno that cause you’re new.”

Well… Okay then. “What’s the promise?”

You see his lips curl up, his eyes sparkling with something unknown as you begin to stick your own pinky out. “You’re already my friend, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” There’s a smugness to his face now. “So you can’t be friends with other kids from this neighbourhood. That’s betrayal to me.”

You catch a whiff of something spicy, hot. As if it were burning you to the very edges of your body— Before it disappears completely, as if it were never there. He makes sense, to you at least, and it sounds… Fair enough, you guess.

Your pinky wraps tight around his, in spite of how foreboding and suffocating his hold feels. Your nose picks up on the scent of fabric cleaner, the scent of summer weighing heavy on your nose in this moment. You see blue and white, see oranges and pink light starting to envelop his hand from where the sun had begun to set, making his hand glow as your promise becomes sealed in this very moment forward.

“Hey,” His eyes still don’t leave the way your fingers were intertwined with each other. “Which house do you live in?”

(“I’m forgiven for coming in here without permission, right?” Your hands are stained with sticky chocolate that you’re trying to dab off with your dry handkerchief, bits of crumbs littering your lips.

“Ya can come here whenever you want now.” He wipes the remnants of soft biscuit and gooey chocolate off with a dismissive sleeve.

“That’s such a waste of a pretty kimono…”)

——

Even when your pinkies have lost their binding to each other, you still find his hand holding onto yours, adamant on them being intertwined as he huffs in annoyance at your stare.

“I’m only leadin’ ya back cause I wanna see your house.”

You give him that owlish stare again. The blank one that looks like you don’t have a thought passing through your head at all. “Okay,” You smile again.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

It’s a dismissive question, one that had only just occurred to you. You’re far more interested in watching the way the sun casted your shadows together on the concrete pavement, how your silhouettes gave you a sense of weird unity. Having a friend feels really nice, you think.

You take a glance at him when he takes too long to reply, catching an icy cold gaze that contrasted the warmth of your hands conjoined.

“You first.” Well, if he insists, you guess. It’s just your name.

“(last name) (name).” You’re pretty sure you got the pronunciation right.

“Gojo… Satoru.” You can hear him hold his breath as his name leaves his lips, his voice ever steady and confident, though with a tinge of hesitance. As if he expects something, as if he wants it to be over and done with.

It never comes. Only a confused tilt of your head as you keep staring at him like he was the crazy one in this situation.

And you can see his face change into one of disbelief, one that barely tilts over the edge of what you can only describe as ‘shocked relief’. Maybe he is as weird as he looks. Does he have some sort of weird complex? You can swear you’ve heard about it on TV before. Or maybe he just has really bad comedic timing? You can at least compliment him.

“You’re funny, Satoru-san.” Because he’s genuinely making you smile now.

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my name.”

“Oh.” You thought friends were allowed to be on first name basis immediately. Were you wrong about friendships afterall? You stare at the ground for a little longer than needed as punishment for yourself, “Sorry, Gojo-s—“

“I didn’t give you permission to call me by my last name either.” His hand squeezes yours ever tighter in small retaliation, his face turned away from yours to hide the way he was starting to grow red with rapid embarrassment.

(You can still see the tips of his ears burning red.)

Now you’re just confused. A scratch of your head as you try to think a little bit harder.

“…do I just call you friend, then?” And you can hear him stifle a snort.

“You’re really weird.” He squeezes your palm again. “Lose the honourifics, weirdo.”

(“So, Gojo…?” You test the waters again. You see his eyes stare off to the side in thought for just that one moment before they flick back to meet your gaze.

“Satoru.”)

“My house is that one,” Your small fingers point towards the horizon, a quaint, unassuming home coming into sight. “You have to walk 3 houses down from the playground.”

You stop before the front. Trying to loosen your grip only to feel his hand tighten significantly around yours.

“Satoru.” You call his name when he’s seemingly lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly at your humble home. It almost looked as if he hasn’t seen one before. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh.” Is he copying you now?

“Don’t you need to go back home? Your Mama would be mad if you’re late, wouldn’t she?” You probe a little more in efforts to snap him out of his trance, poking at his squishy face to get his attention.

But to no avail.

He doesn’t say anything, his head only turning to the side to stare you straight in the eye as you await. You see how pinks and blues are practically reflecting off of those crystalline optics, the sky reflected in them as they shine with a certain warmth.

“Can I come by tomorrow?”

——

A small knock at your front door early into the morning, when the sun had barely risen and the skies were still painted in shades of night blue.

To be specific, it was 6:00 AM. Your Mama was startled as she sipped coffee in the kitchen, you hear her shuffling downstairs, hear the clatter of the very few kitchenware you had as you begin to stir from your sleep, your brain flaring into overdrive as you try to sniff out the air— Trying to capture whiffs of that rancid scent that you hate so much—

Nothing. Nothing but the growing smell of rotting flowers that sends jitters down your spine. It worries you, sends you into a panic as you practically trip over yourself to run downstairs, disregarding any of the instructions of hiding away in the closet like your Mama had taught you beforehand. You have to check— Have to see if she’s okay—

The door is already open.

“Is (name) home?” He’s the first to talk, eyes flicking back and forth between the slightly open door and the dim light from within your home and your sleepy mother.

Mama only blinks down at him, her phone on speed-dial to the police releasing its tense grip as her shoulders visibly slump forward. Her scent calming from the initial flare up as she opens the door just that little more to allow her full view of Gojo Satoru standing before your home accompanied solely by a pretty lady dressed in a simple kimono.

“Yes… She is—“

“Good morning, (last name)-sama.” A low bow that takes your mother by surprise. “Our young master has scheduled a playdate with your daughter for today.”

“I— Um, heard, yes. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be this early—“ Your Mama shifts in place a little uncomfortably, taking note of how the sun had yet to rise, how the street lamps were still alight.

“We apologize for the disturbance.” The servant girl swoops down into another polite bow, head low and hands holding out a neatly wrapped gift before her. “These are snacks to show our gratitude for hosting this event. Young Master Gojo was looking forward to this arrangement, and had made preparations to come as early as possible.”

What an… Interesting child.

“As I am not allowed to accompany him inside due to his request, please also take this number with you, (last name)-sama. Do not hesitate to call us if anything arises. I will arrive to pick him up when he wishes to go.”

“Ah, um… Thank you…” The box feels heavy in your Mama’s hands as you tug on her pajamas from behind, peeking out slightly once you hear the door close.

“Gojo-kun… Was it?” She has to blink a few times to really get a good look at the snowy-haired boy.

“How did you say your friend looked again?” She’s picking up a dumpling with her chopsticks, gently laying the food onto your plate as you continue to chew in humming delight.

Your training chopsticks are clacking against each other as you smile up at her, all toothy grin and happy glow.

“He’s really cute.”

She figures it checks out, the doll-like, porcelain features of his face, the shiny blue eyes and his silky looking hair. He doesn’t say anything, furrowed brows and curiosity in his eyes as he scrutinizes her too, the air starting to still just that little bit when he nods at her in greeting.

As if he was acknowledging her… And as if he didn’t know how else to react.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She leans down to shake his hand, noticing the softness of his skin, the grip of his hand. “And thank you for the gift.”

You pop out from hiding behind your Mama’s legs, blinking at how his clothing had switched from the pretty kimono yesterday— To a simple shirt and shorts.

“Satoru.” You smile only slightly, your voice dimmed with the raspiness of just waking up, waving your hand in greeting. “You’re not wearing your pretty clothes anymore.”

Mama watches, watches how his gaze had been fixated on you the moment you appeared, how he’s waiting—

“I’ll leave you both to it, then.” A ruffle of your hair as you let out a quiet giggle. “Make sure to wash up and brush your teeth.”

“Okay.”

And when she’s out of sight, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway— He starts to speak more.

“Your house is tiny.” Small. Inferior. Almost unlivable. He swears he’s seen servant quarters bigger than this as he kicks his sneakers off by the genkan, dusting himself of imaginary dust as he climbs up the step, his hand somehow finding yours with almost scary accuracy.

Is it? You always felt that it was too big. Always having too much space that you didn’t know what to do with.

“I think it’s nice.” You can feel yourself squeezing his palm with gentle self-assurance, leading him up the stairs and into the bedroom where your futon still laid upon the ground messily.

He sees darkness, hears the soft pads of your socks against tatami mats. Smells the faintest scent of honey within this room.

He stares. Silently, quietly. At the hadakake of your futon, at the thinner blanket that your Mama had taken out to deal with the sweltering heat of summer, at the overall state of the room.

“Are you poor?” You blink at him when he lays down next to you on his side, the softness of the bedding making your body feel heavy and sleepy, feeling a bit too lazy to want to keep the comfy sheets away.

“No.” Your whisper is quiet, soft. As if you were slowly fading away into sleep. “I have enough.” And he knows you’re telling the truth when you just give him a sleepy smile, a yawn escaping your lips as you cuddle against your pillow, eyes losing focus and turning the sight of your friend into a bleary blue and white.

”So I’m happy with just this.”

And he thinks you’ve really gone crazy.

“Good morning, Satoru…” Because you’re pretty sure you have yet to say it, as weird as it is when you’re in the midst of falling asleep.

“…morning.”

He’s fun to be around.

——

A couple weeks have passed, the same days of Satoru coming around to knock at your door too early in the morning, your sleep-deprived Mama getting the door and letting him in—

Only to end with both you and him sleeping in on your futon until early afternoon, when you both awaken only to play… Whatever, really. The playground, drawing at home, building pillow forts…

Mama tells you she doesn’t mind if he wants to come over, doesn’t mind if Satoru wants to play with you so often when she’s off to work. She tells you what really matters is what you want, that its up to you if you want him to come over this often, that it’s your choice to play with him.

(Mama described him once as ‘clingy’. You don’t know what that means, but you think it’s good. You have a friend. Your only friend.)

So you told him to only come once every 2 days, that you think too much interaction may ruin your alone time with Mama… Only to be met with a pout and eyes that teetered almost on watery even as you pat his head and apologise.

He still listened to you, though. Despite the glare to the side and the very evident pout on his face everytime he realises he doesn’t get to see you the next day—

Though, as of recently, Satoru had been the last thing on your mind. Your eyes taking interest in and stuck onto the house next door instead. It’s always been empty, more barren than your own. But it’s gotten ‘renovated’ as your Mama said, the walls losing their dull shade and obtaining a new shine, the boarded windows replaced with shiny, clear glass.

It looked really nice.

“Stop staring at the ugly house and look at me insteaddddddd!” Ever selfish, ever vying and whining for you to give him your undivided attention.

“(nameeeeeeeeeeee).”

“It’s not ugly, though.” You think it looks quaint, looks prettier than your own. “It looks pretty.” You’re curious what kind of people are gonna live there. Are they gonna be an old couple like how Satoru always claims? Maybe it’ll be a nice middle aged lady who likes to share her pickled vegetable dishes?

You just hope they’re nice.

“How much do you think it costs to rent-uh-vate?” Your stare is still pointed at the house next door, your window directly facing one of their rooms as you stare with curious intensity.

He narrows his eyes at the view of the empty rooms, the windows that still lacked curtains and the blank white of their freshly painted walls.

“Not much, I’m pretty sure.”

Probably not much in his terms, anyway.

“Mama said she thinks they’re gonna move in today.”

“Really? Then let’s watch ‘em later then.” He lets out a huff as he rolls around your floor, watching you settle down cross-legged next to him as he makes a grab for you. “I don’t wanna play at the playground t’day.”

“Oh. Okay then, let’s play the cards you brought then—“ Your words die on your lips, body reeling back to the window at the telltale beep of a horn, the loud rumbling of a truck starting to pull into the street just mere meters away from you.

And that has the both of you clambering up to the window, his hand holding yours to ensure you don’t fall as you both squeeze to stand on the same stool, hands pressed up against the glass as your cheeks squish against each other in hopes of getting a view of what these people will look like.

“If it’s not an old couple, can we play on the swing today?”

“Y’er on.”

Your eyes watch the dark blue Toyota pull in close behind, your heart starting to race in palpitating beats that make you think you’re gonna be sick.

“Looks cheap.” Satoru’s still as snarky as ever.

The passenger door swings open, mesmerizing you with the sight of someone new, someone unfamiliar; a stranger that you’ve never seen before. Your gaze is stuck, unable to leave the features that capture your mind first—

Black hair and purple eyes.

masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader

477 notes · View notes

exaltedfuzz · 6 months ago

Note

INVESTIGATIONS 2 OFFICIAL TRANSLATION/PORT REAL??? CANON ENGLISH NAMES???? /)oOo(\

I SAW! Super excited! My brother called me to come watch it as soon as the AA segment started, haha.

Rest in peace Uncle Ray... Eddie Fender isn't the worst he could have gotten. Seb's new name is Eustace Winner which is... Something. He'll always be Sebastian Debeste to me. I wonder what Blaise will be called. I kind of love Verity Gavèlle though. High camp. Really don't envy whoever's going to update the Fandom wiki with all this. Or AO3 taggers.

New Ema official art (and sprites) too! Exciting! And Tyrell Badd. Yahoo! Maybe we'll get more new official art with Ema in as well. That would be really cool. Love her stupid outfit in these games.

#ace attorney #exaltedfuzz #aai2

185 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 18, Unread - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 970

Previously On...: Bucky made all kinds of sweet suggestions for your future together.

A/N: Almost there...

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc]

After Bucky had kissed you goodbye and left for his debrief, you set about getting ready for your day. You showered and brushed your teeth, pleasantly noticing that you hadn’t vomited since last night. Maybe good cock was the cure you’d needed all this time, you thought with a laugh.

You stripped and remade your bed because, though you knew you’d probably just be getting it filthy again as soon as Bucky was back, you weren’t excited about getting back into cold, damp sheets. Maybe you should invest in one of those absorbent sex blankets you’d read about online. You could buy one for your new place!

That thought led you to open up Zillow on your laptop to browse available apartments in the general area. You didn’t want to move too far away; you both still needed to be at the Tower for work, after all. You had to admit, now that you were giving it some real thought, the idea excited you. Not just because you wanted to move in with Bucky, but because you’d be creating, for the first time in your entire life, a home of your very own, without feeling beholden to anyone for it, whether out of love or a sense of obligation. The very notion was elating.

You were browsing through some gorgeous but ridiculously overpriced condos when you heard a phone buzz. You glanced at your screen, but it was black. Frowning, you glanced around and noticed Bucky’s cell sitting on one of your bedside tables. He must have forgotten it before he left for his meeting.

You walked over to it and glanced at the screen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the newly received message from Sam that caught your attention. It was the notification below it, informing Bucky that he had one new text message from ‘Vix <3.’

That’s not possible, you thought as you picked up the phone. I blocked her number, myself. There’s no way she should be able to text him. Against your better judgment, you typed in your birthday to unlock his phone. Biting your lip, a sudden surge of anxiety flooding your system, you navigated to his SMS app and opened up his thread with Jade.

Your stomach soured and your blood turned to ice as you scrolled up, reading the contents of the thread. This couldn’t be possible. He wouldn’t– but yet, there it was, staring you right in the face. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you ran to the bathroom and vomited, this time having nothing to do with your stomach bug and everything to do with your heart breaking.

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. But no. You read through the thread again and again, and again. There was no mistaking it. You slid down the bathroom wall to the floor, clutching the phone to your chest, but no tears came.

No, instead of falling apart, you felt your walls come back up, going so high that they merged together above you, encasing you in a dome of icy rage. Instead of sadness, you felt resolve. He had lied to your face and played you for a fool. Well, it had been for the last time. There was no coming back from this. Not ever. You’d give him no more chances to betray you.

You were a fucking fool to have believed his pretty lies, his hollow promises. An idiot for constantly forgiving him, when it was clear, now, that he had never really loved you. Oh, he may have thought he did. But this… what you had just seen evidence of– this was not love.

With a shaking breath, you stood up. You took screenshots of every incriminating text and sent them to yourself. You needed to move quickly so you were finished before he got back. Running to your computer, you printed out multiple copies of the screenshots then, you meticulously went through your room, collecting everything of Bucky’s that had migrated across the hall from his room to yours over the course of your relationship and crammed it all into a box.

You found one of his precious knives under the bed, and thought about throwing it out the window, but then an idea struck you. Taking the knife, the box of stuff, and a copy of the screenshots, you opened your door and walked across the hall. You unceremoniously dumped the contents of the box into a heap in front of Bucky’s door, then, using all of your strength, rammed the knife through the wooden door, pinning the screenshots in place. Let him run face-first into the evidence of his betrayal.

Running back into your room, you grabbed your go-bag, tossing some essentials in it. You couldn’t stay in this room, not right now, after everything that had happened last night and this morning. Besides, it would be too easy for him to find you here. You needed to go somewhere where he wouldn’t think to look for you. You didn’t trust yourself right now not to claw his eyes out if you saw him. Though lord knows he would fucking deserve it.

Before you left your room, you called out to FRIDAY. “Lock my door behind me, and under no circumstances are you to let Sergeant Barnes into my room,” you told the AI.

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she responded.

“Oh, and FRIDAY? One more thing,” you added, “if Sergeant Barnes asks where I am, tell him ‘fucking dead to him.”

It was sickening how cheerfully the AI responded to your depressing command, promising that she would deliver the message to him, should he inquire.

With a final look around, and a cage of ice around your heart, you closed the door to your room, to your love for Bucky, and you didn’t look back.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

160 notes · View notes

desparaic · 8 months ago

Text

Imagine Rengoku's son traveling to the past

Rengoku X Fem! Reader

I’m sorry, I never really do this kinda stuff before, but this has just been rotting my mind

read part 2 here

So, imagine Rengoku's teenage son traveling to the past when trying to fight a demon.

He is confused by the fact the demon just used his BDA and ran away just like that. He looks around and even checks himself, nothing.

Tf this demon do?????

Sun is almost up. Weird. He swears it just set only a few hours ago.

He tries to chase after the demon but with the thick trees, it’s hard to see where he went.

Defeated, he decides to go back to the corps headquarters, maybe visit the estate and go see his mother again

Imagine his surprise when he finds that things are a bit different than the last time he left the hq

I’m sorry what do you mean the current oyakata is Kagaya??? Isn’t that Kiriya-sama’s late father????

wait is that Uzui-san????? He has both of his eyes???? And he’s back being a slayer now?????

And why does everyone look at him weird????? Wait, where are his friends????

He has to take a double take when he sees the news post near the garden and realizes the year of the news is set in 19XX, more than 15 years back into the past.

He swears it’s a prank

it isn’t lol

After a liiiitttlee panic attack and existential crisis, he realizes he’s in the past

Down side, he doesn’t know how to get back and what this means

Upside, he can see his mom in action as a hashira!

She retired when he was born, so he didn’t get to see her in action aside from training sessions.

Excited (as if he wasn’t just panicking about this lmao), he rushes all over the place to find his mother

people be staring at him

who is this carbon copy of the flame hashira and why is he running

Eventually finds her just about to take off for a mission

“MOTHERRRRRR!”

I’m sorry huh?

You look at the kid surprised. Not only is he look exactly like your husband, this kid just called you mom.

I’m?????? Did Kyojuro have a secret love child???? or a relative he never told you about?????

Your future son is just so hyped seeing you in your uniform the first time he almost forgot to explain himself LMAO

When he quickly introduces as your son you’re just there like 🧍‍♀️

This kid needs to find a physician quick

Well, turns out he isn’t lying, especially after telling you an intimate detail that only a few people know.

You’re flustered, surprised, bewildered, but most importantly…

You’re excited to see him! You and Rengoku have always talked about having a family, so you’re so glad you both eventually do!!!

Immediate bond. Get along super well. Almost like y’all are related dang who would’ve thought

You excitedly say, “Oh, I can’t wait for Kyojuro to meet you! I bet He’s excited to see his son from the future! You look just like him!”

his genes do be strong

but as soon as you say that, your son’s smile fades.

Your motherly instincts tell you something is wrong.

“Is everything okay?”

You didn’t miss the way he furrows his eyebrows and lift the corner of his lip in annoyance, even if it was just a split second.

He only smiles (though your mama bear instinct is like “no, no, this kid definitely hidin’ smn), “no, nothing’s wrong.”

”Oh! Can you show me your breathing technique, Mother? You never get to show me your breathing style!”

Huh. Weird.

Okay gonna write a part 2 because this way too long brother

UPDATE: aight here it is part 2

#rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #kny rengoku #rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #kyojuro my beloved #this is gon be angst muahaha #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader

158 notes · View notes

weaselandfriends · 5 months ago

Text

Are ARGs the new avant garde?

There's this unfiction ARG on YouTube about a fake video game called Valle Verde. Here's episode 1, there are three episodes:

youtube

Watch this and the other two episodes. This is the most technically impressive thing I've seen on YouTube that was made by a single person, and if you watch this video for 54 seconds you'll start to see why.

Once you've watched Valle Verde, you can read this post.

ARGs, or alternate reality games, were a natural outgrowth of creepypasta (as the great Jenny Nicholson once put it, "campfire stories on a global scale"). With creepypasta, people, usually young people, would hop onto the internet and tell a spooky story about a haunted Sonic cartridge with realistic blood or a super evil serial killer who was never caught or Slenderman or something.

Due to the memetic nature of these stories, though, there became an arms race to make them on increasingly elaborate scales. Soon, people were ROMhacking their favorite old games to actually show the spooky haunted realistic blood. A famous example, Ben Drowned, showed modded/corrupted Majora's Mask footage that was generally effective because Majora's Mask is already sort of a creepy game.

Ben Drowned was also notable for being a story that was continually updated. Originally, most creepypasta would be a single story, usually short, posted once. This is an effective medium for horror, which loses effectiveness the more things get explained, but at the same time, when people like something, they want more.

Okay, so how do you make an ongoing horror series that doesn't outright explain everything, and thus retains its horror aspect? The answer, seemingly independently reached by a wide variety of indie horror creators at the same time (Ben Drowned, Marble Hornets, and the godfather Five Nights at Freddy's) was arcane hidden lore.

That's basically what separates an ARG from creepypasta: the "game" in "alternate reality game" is that sprinkled throughout a series of videos are scraps of hints toward a broader narrative, and the viewer is expected to locate those hints, piece them together, and figure out what's actually happening.

The logic is similar to the appeal of a mystery novel, so it's no wonder this took off. Channels like Game Theory posting lore breakdowns of FNAF or other popular series raked in beaucoup views. Indie horror devs would start putting dumbass lore hints in their goofball games to piggyback off FNAF's memetic success. Pathetic things like this happened:

But ARGs are fundamentally different from a mystery novel. In a mystery novel, the terms of the mystery are overtly made known. Someone has been murdered and a world famous detective has arrived to find out who did it/how they did it. By contrast, ARGs are often abstracted to the point that it is difficult to know whether there actually is a mystery. And besides, the mystery in an ARG isn't "who is the killer," it's "what is even the plot?"

Heavily abstracted, often fragmented storylines, with no clear plot, disjointed organization, and only scattered ambiguously meaningful moments that could be arranged in any number of ways to attempt coherence. What does this remind me of?

They reinvented postmodernism!

This realization came home when Skinamarink received a theatrical release in 2022. Skinamarink was an analog horror (another offshoot branch of creepypasta/ARGs) video blown up to cinema length, created by an analog horror YouTuber based on an original 20 minute video they made. Mainstream critics who saw this film, being completely unaware of what analog horror was, extolled the film for its Lynchian, Kubrickian influences. They were unaware its actual greatest influence was Mandela Catalogue. They were unaware that a thrillingly unique, abstract form of storytelling had organically been created by a group of outsider artists on the internet.

Kubrick would be proud.

I find this especially exciting in a mainstream pop cultural milieu that is trending toward, at least in my appraisal, increasing obviousness and simplicity in how it communicates ideas, which is not only boring but also annihilates the capacity for nuance, interpretation, and even meaning itself.

This also comes alongside ARG creators often pushing themselves to new technical extremes, extremes that are absurdly impressive for individuals. Kane Pixels has created amazing found footage videos using Blender-made labyrinths. The Mandela Catalogue guy was doing some crazy shit with puppets(?) last I checked. And, of course, the act of modding old games has evolved into the act of creating whole video games entirely as a vehicle for an ARG. The first example of this I know of is Petscop, and there have been others like Catastrophe Crow (which splices in an extremely accurate pastiche of a retro gaming video essayist, plus period-accurate game magazine articles), but Valle Verde takes it to a new level.

Since you've all seen Valle Verde by now, I won't waste time explaining the seriously impressive stuff it pulls off.

Instead, I'll let the other shoe drop.

I have a fundamental problem with all these ARGs, one that pains me all the more because I am so thrilled by so many aspects of them. The problem is that once you dig into them, once you piece together the underlying narrative from all the tiny clues, interpret the ambiguities, and see the broader picture -

The picture sort of sucks.

Ben Drowned, FNAF, Petscop, Catastrophe Crow boil down to the same residual dew: Children died. (Either murdered or just tragically.) Their spirits haunt the game cartridge/animatronics. All the scant hints point to the cause. (Ben Drowned spoils it in the title.) It's not only sort of banal but also the story that you could probably guess at without reading into the deep lore, just from the story's general vibe.

It's a fundamentally boring answer to a fascinating puzzle, and worse, it reveals that there was no true value in the puzzle being presented as it was. The abstraction and postmodern technique of the narrative contribute nothing to its overall meaning. They exist with the sole aim to obfuscate, because horror only works when unexplained. Rather than leave the horror unexplained, though, the way Kubrick would in The Shining (which deliberately strips out overt explanations that exist in the book it adapts), or Lynch would in anything, these works are attempting to have their cake and eat it: there's stupid lore that explains everything, but it's just a little hard to find. In that sense, rather than being a rejection of the current cultural milieu toward works that make simple sense, this trend seems more like an attempt to reinject that milieu into one of the few genres of storytelling that had effectively rejected it. (It reads similarly to all the Babadook-inspired indie horror films of the past decade where the monster is some transparent allegory for grief or trauma or something.)

So what's the story of Valle Verde?

I won't go into a Game Theory breakdown of every symbol and detail. As far as I can tell, this is what's going on:

Valle Verde, the fiction within the fiction, is a Japanese video game developed with experimental technology called THBrain that gives it a sophisticated and advanced artificial intelligence capable of making on-the-fly alterations to the game's script. Valle Verde, the series of videos, depicts an investigation into certain malfunctioning elements of the game prior to its release. The player character, self-identified as TEST05, is actually played by two "agents" (of what agency is unclear) named Pablo and Robert testing the game and chronicling anomalous behavior.

The series of glitches and other bizarre things they record seems to depict a theological battle between Valle Verde's freemasonic villagers, led by Foxxo (remember that the next elections), and the Catholic Church, led by Pietro (possibly an avatar for St. Peter, the first pope and guardian of the gates of heaven).

Joseph of Cupertino is the patron saint of aviation. It's a "time flies" pun.

It's unclear how much autonomy either of these factions have, even knowing that there is apparently a super-sophisticated AI capable of injecting novel information. Pietro at times breaks the fourth wall and addresses Pablo directly by name; the villagers don't break the fourth wall, but do all sorts of stuff that is described by the tapes as anomalous. The AI seems like the obvious culprit, but in Valle Verde 2, Pablo actually meets the AI, who claims to have sequestered themselves from the rest of the game because they didn't want to partake in the villagers' rituals, and who has even disabled all their language libraries except Spanish to avoid comprehending the screams of the children trapped inside the game.

Oh yeah. Children are dying.

The THBrain seems to not only enable incredible AI, but is a way to upload humans into the video game (maybe this is unrelated to THBrain? I'm fuzzy on that point). Several children have already been uploaded and are presumed dead; currently, an Argentinian child named Matias is trapped in the game. Matias is the only other character besides Pietro capable of breaking the fourth wall, due to being a real person; he is aware of Pablo as an "agent" and suggests at some sort of conspiracy outside the game, which has not been explicated in much detail in the available videos.

The reason the children are dying is eventually revealed: the freemasonic villagers are sacrificing them to their false god, Moloch.

I'm not kidding about the freemasonry. Note the Argentinian flag.

There are other plot elements that are a bit murkier; Valle Verde seems to be a nexus of several unrelated video games, which can be accessed through an in-game library, and it is within this nexus that Moloch lives, and perhaps where the underlying purpose behind the villagers' actions lurk. There is also a recurring motif of a coming Christian apocalypse, likened to Noah's flood. After the freemasonic sacrifice, a doomsday clock ticks closer to midnight. Are the masons unwittingly provoking God's wrath? The series is framed as footage from 1997 that was unearthed in the modern day, so was this apocalypse averted, or did the apocalypse simply exist within the game, with no bearing on reality? The series remains ongoing; future installments may clarify.

But the underlying issue remains that, for me at least, the basic conflict in its simplicity and lack of ambiguity seems inadequately matched to the unique, impressive, and open-ended presentation. It retroactively makes me wonder what the point is of telling the story the way Valle Verde is told, if its story is in essence the Church versus Satan-worshippers, with clear moral and ideological lines drawn. Doesn't a more conventional narrative make sense for this sort of story?

There's a scene early on when the player character traverses a series of rooms corresponding to the Seven Deadly Sins. The sin of greed is depicted, not simply with stacks of gold, but with works of modern art:

As the player proceeds through the room, they discover a dumpster where Renaissance artwork by Titian and Michelangelo is trashed:

The message here is almost fatuous. It's also deeply ironic. Valle Verde is a work that has far more in common, in terms of its formalistic technique, with Picasso than Titian. Is it a lack of self-awareness that puts this here? Or perhaps something else?

The novel Infinite Jest ends abruptly, with none of its plot points resolved. In this way it's similar to the titan of American postmodern literature, Gravity's Rainbow, which peters out without explaining the conspiracy that has driven its narrative. Infinite Jest plays a trick, though, as devious as it is facile. The final 200 pages of the book have been cut off and moved to the front. The story's beginning is a flash forward that, in its lack of context and confusing abstractions, is difficult to make sense of on first read. Upon rereading after finishing the book, though, it clearly contains the answers to all the unresolved plot threads.

If postmodernism could be described as an artistic period of uncertainty and obscured truth that was a response to the similarly uncertain Cold War era, where the inner machinations of governments may at any time cause the annihilation of the entire world, then what Infinite Jest did, published just a few years after the Cold War's end, could be seen as a reclamation of truth.

Truth itself is a concept deeply interwoven with Christianity. In Valle Verde, Pietro even calls it out with a green highlight to indicate its importance:

La Verdad sounds suspiciously similar to Valle Verde. Coincidence?

The context of this quote comes after the villagers destroy the church; Pietro reassures the player that La Verdad remains unchanging, and that this tribulation shall pass.

Might Valle Verde itself then be an Infinite Jest style reclamation, using the formalistic techniques of postmodernism that are so useful for obscuring truth to obscure what is, at its core, a simple and morally black-and-white tale of Christianity versus wicked idolatry?

There is a real-world allegorical undercurrent to Valle Verde that makes this reading even more appealing. Valle Verde's creator, Alluvium, is Argentinian, and the game is steeped in references to Argentinian history and politics.

That's a map of the Falkland Islands and a picture of former Argentine dictator Juan Peron.

At one point, when the villagers destroy the church (with the unwitting? help of the player character, who seems to have no moral interest in anything happening, and who only does whatever anyone asks him, whether it's Pietro or Foxxo), a highly overt reference is made to the death of Pope John Paul I, who reigned for only 33 days in the late 1970s before he died, officially, of a heart attack. The abruptness of his death, and the failure of the corrupt, Mafia- and freemason-connected Vatican Bank in the years that followed, have led to conspiracy theories that John Paul was actually murdered by freemasons within the Vatican so that they may continue to corrupt the Catholic Church.

Specifically, the conspiracy posits the assassination was done by the freemasonic branch P2, or Propaganda Due, an illegal fascistic secret society that contained many high-ranking members of Italian politics (including Silvio Berlusconi), whose goal was to act as a shadow government that could prevent the rise of communism within Italy. (P2 definitely existed; how much it actually influenced Italian politics is a matter of debate.)

Though primarily an Italian organization, P2 had several influential members from other countries, notably Argentina, where several politicians and military leaders at the highest levels were involved. As a nation, Argentina is something of a tragedy; at one point considered a rising economic powerhouse, its excellent geographic and demographic advantages were squandered by a long succession of corrupt leaders, including those involved in P2. It makes sense, then, why an Argentinian creator like Alluvium might be so interested in critiquing the evils of freemasonic corruption.

Valle Verde satirizes Argentina's leadership via Foxxo, not only through his freemasonic devil rituals, but also in more down-to-earth ways. In his introduction, Foxxo provides the player character 100 coins, telling him to "remember that the next elections" (Foxxo's catchphrase, despite him clearly stating he has been given absolute authority over the area by The Smiling One); moments later, when the player turns to leave, Foxxo mugs him from behind and puts him 99,999 coins in debt.

Through the use of masonic slogans like liberté, égalité, fraternité (which is written over what appears to be a portal to Hell) and masonic symbols such as the Statue of Liberty and Washington Monument, there's an undercurrent that expands this freemasonic secular/Satanic conspiracy beyond Argentinian politics and into the post-Enlightenment secular governments that have come to rule the so-called free world. "Progress is God," the freemasons state during their child sacrifice ritual. (Foxxo is joined in this scene by the village's museum curator, representing knowledge, and its scientist, representing progress.)

It's this kind of framing that makes me wonder about the previous scene depicting Picasso paintings as emblematic of the sin of Greed, compared to Renaissance paintings in the dumpster; is there a general theme here raging against modernity in all its forms, compared to a fundamentally good and absolute Christian religious truth? If so, it makes sense why Valle Verde is presented as it is, so abstractly; it shows a world rendered incomprehensible by modernity, but one that can be sifted and parsed to find incontrovertible religious salvation still shining underneath.

It is a rejection of "progress," using the formal techniques of "progress." In a milieu where the promises of the Enlightenment seem to have hit a dead end, where the freedom secularism once promised has given rise to corruption and abuses akin to those the Catholic Church of the Renaissance once inflicted, perhaps the sense of going back appeals.

The English literary world post-Infinite Jest itself also seems to have returned to the past; the works published today are realistic in style and scope, eschewing most formal techniques pioneered across the preceding century. Though I doubt that was David Foster Wallace's goal, it's what he created. Valle Verde, which is so explicit in its fundamental belief in Christianity, is probably far more deliberate in its rejection of the world as it currently exists.

Though there have always been voices calling for a return to the past, perhaps this is a mindset particularly enticing in the information age, when meaning seems so fragmented as to be ungraspable. Though Valle Verde is conscious of what it is doing formally in a way that, say, Ben Drowned is not, the inner simplicity of these ARG narratives obfuscated by abstraction strikes me as a collective yearning for clearly explicated, graspable truths in a world where such a thing seems increasingly impossible. Almost a fantasy: If only this incomprehensible eldritch horror could be explained by a 10-minute Game Theory video!

(The eldritch itself is a horror rooted in incomprehensibility. Making it explicable banishes it entirely, the way the protagonist of Valle Verde banishes a demon by holding aloft a crucifix. La Verdad triumphs. Couldn't our lives be so simple?)

Not every ARG is like this. Kane Pixels, another creator I would highlight for their exceptional technical talent and avant garde storytelling, has created far more nuanced and ambiguous narratives with works like The Oldest View, which deals with themes of nostalgia and memory without being resolvable into a simple pat sentence synopsis. Overall, I consider this entire collection of web original horror creators to be blessed with both the talent and mindset to create truly innovative works of fiction, even if many of them are outsider artists fumbling around just trying to scare someone; as outsiders, these confused anti-confusions of theme and meaning might be par for the course.

Valle Verde is an impressive work of art, even if it is an avant garde work that paradoxically rejects itself. Perhaps in that paradox more could be said than had it remained fully self-consistent. Either way, I eagerly await what comes next.

#Valle Verde #ARGs #creepypasta #analog horror #digital horror #postmodernism #art #unfiction

74 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!!! Last episode of LOR was super awesome, you two make a great work! but now I'm super worried for Alex, poor guy :((( Since you've mentioned it, what are your general thoughts on A Tale Of Two Rulers? I just read it and I liked it A LOT (but I'm terrified for Rinku 0_0)

A Tale of Two Rulers is great! I was astounded by the art when I found it, it felt like a dream come true to see a Zelda comic drawn so beautifully. And I am such a sucker for enemies to lovers relationships, I'm pretty sure that comic was what originally got me on the Zelda x Ganondorf train, prior to that I was like "ew???? why the fuck-" but now I'm like nah, it works, this is my jam LOL

IIRC I started reading around the time their marriage was officially happening which is... wild, because that was YEARS AGO LOL Pretty sure I have my name printed in the first volume of the comic as a Patreon supporter as well ;D

The unfortunate thing though is that updates are very slow, so the schedule can be a bit erratic and I feel like the pacing has definitely suffered a bit due to that. But fortunately they announced they'd be going back to regular monthly uploads soon. In their defense, they're currently dealing with a lot of scary health stuff, so that's definitely something that takes precedent over uploads!!! And it makes it feel even more special when it does update, whenever I see the Patreon email notification pop I get so excited, it's like Christmas LOL

P.S. this is my go-to sass response that I only bring out for special occasions LMAO

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #a tale of two rulers

71 notes · View notes

rainbowmoonstonestories · 4 months ago

Text

Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 6

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. ------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

Feel free to read this on AO3 if it is more comfortable for you due to its length. I only ask to support me with a like and reblog if you enjoy my work. ☺️

Tagging: @nerium21

Author's note: Yep, you guessed it; another super long chapter. This one also includes some very detailed smut, which I had to split because otherwise the chapter would become gigantic. You can totally expect the continuation in the next update.

Being with Sanji was everything you could wish for, even though you had to make do with secret moments to steal kisses away from Zeff and the rest of the crew. However, when your deepest desires began to emerge, you discovered that Sanji was even more hesitant than you.

You went to bed with Sanji's taste lingering on your lips, his warmth making your entire body tremble and tingle, to the point that falling asleep felt like an impossible endeavor.

That kiss was the most remarkable and satisfying one you had ever shared with a man. It lasted so long that the muscles around your mouth began to ache, and even your jaw felt strained and exhausted. Neither of you could find the will to pull away. Whenever you tried to step back, your feet remained firmly planted. His lips were irresistible, and the way he held you—strong yet gentle—made your heart swell with emotion the entire time.

Ultimately, it was Sanji who managed to regain his composure. You needed to rest, and both of you understood that if you had continued, you might have crossed a forbidden line—one that you secretly desired but weren't ready to face with him at the time.

Your mind swirled with thoughts as you grappled with anxieties about the day ahead. How could you possibly conceal it from everyone, particularly Zeff, who always had his watchful eyes on you? You were lucky he didn’t catch you in the act; otherwise, you might have dealt with the repercussions, ears pulled in reprimand.

In reality, Sanji appeared just as excited as you were. The last peck he gave you before you left the kitchen was the most reassuring sign you could have hoped for. You contemplated whether this indicated a significant change in your relationship, pondering if labeling him as your boyfriend was too forward or merely acknowledged the truth of the current situation. You were cautious not to appear overly clingy or presumptuous, uncertain if he even harbored enough affection to envision you as a life partner. Would he even be able to resist flirting with any other attractive girl who walked into the Baratie? The mere thought of him offering that same attention to someone else made your stomach churn.

The situation was complex and demanded some introspection. Still, no matter what the future had in store, you were resolved not to let your insecurities hinder you again. At last, you had decided to let go and wholeheartedly embrace the growing affection you felt for the cook. You had no intention of retreating into your shell and pretending it never occurred.

You longed for more. You craved more.

And so, you drifted off to sleep with a smile spreading across your face, Sanji's image etched into your mind.

As dawn broke, your eyes opened instinctively, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the cabin window. You yawned, stretched your arms and legs, and slipped off the mattress, still groggy from sleep.

Your heart pounded as memories of the previous night flooded back like a cold shower. On one hand, you were thrilled at the prospect of seeing Sanji again, while another part tempted you to feign illness to skip work altogether.

Fortunately, you were wise enough to see that such an excuse would have been both childish and absurd. Regardless of how things would turn out from that point on, you were confident in your ability to move forward with your head held high, without retreating or running away. After all, a lifetime of being assertive and vulnerable had taught you important lessons.

You quickly freshened up, applied some flattering makeup, and ensured you looked your absolute best. Aware of Sanji's admiration for beauty, you wanted to give him every reason to notice you (and only you) above the other women vying for his attention. Those ladies better be prepared, because you weren't going to let them win.

As you stepped out of your cabin, the clinking of cups, glasses, and dishes from the kitchen reached your ears. The atmosphere was serene, marking one of the most relaxing moments of the day. You descended the stairs, straightened the buttons on your uniform, and tucked a few loose strands of hair away. Just as you were about to enter the dining room to set the tables and tidy up, someone gently grasped your hand and led you into a secluded area.

Sanji looked at you with a captivating glint in his eyes. A joyful smile formed on his lips as his arms wrapped around your back the moment you leaned into his chest. Surprise and joy surged through you, causing your shoulders to relax as you melted into his embrace.

"Good morning, love," he murmured, gently grazing his nose against yours.

"Hey, good morning," You responded with a beaming expression. "What are you doing?”

"Taking every chance to have you all to myself."

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Then we should probably hurry, we don’t have much time.”

“It will be enough.”

There was no hesitation, shyness, or playful teasing. His lips met yours with a tender, slow, and innocent touch, something that was barely there but electrifying nonetheless. His familiar scent enveloped you, and the hair falling over his left eye tickled your cheek delightfully.

His hands tenderly cradled your face, his thumbs gently stroking your skin. Your fingers threaded through his silky hair as his lips pressed firmly against yours. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entry, which you eagerly granted. The experience was extraordinary—a perfect way to kickstart your day as you savored his taste and the warmth of his kiss.

When he finally pulled back, a wet sound signaled your separation, and Sanji let out a satisfied sigh. "I could kiss you all day.”

"Wouldn’t that get tiring though?”

He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a gentle peck on your knuckles. "It would be so worth it, my lovely. I can't bear the thought of waiting until tonight.”

His ardor to be with you was invigorating. Regrettably, you were not permitted to indulge in it.

"We need to behave. You don't want to be kicked back to waiting tables, and who knows what Zeff would do to punish me.”

"You're a woman; he wouldn't do anything to you.”

"So the blame would fall solely on you? That's all the more reason to avoid it."

Despite your best efforts, Sanji's arms found their way around your waist once more, pressing you against the wooden wall as your back collided with it. His mouth found yours again, grazing your bottom lip, as your breaths mingled in a sweet, intimate dance.

"I'd be a waiter for a month straigh

t if it meant I could have another kiss from you.”

How could his smooth words and leg-shaking voice resonate from his chest all the way to the depths of your core?

"You can have all the kisses you want," you whispered. "As long as you don't seek them somewhere else.”

You threw out the bait almost impulsively and immediately regretted your boldness. However, Sanji didn't seem offended in the slightest; his smile only broadened at your remark.

"How could I ever do that when I have the most beautiful and perfect woman right here in front of me?”

Your cheeks flushed, and his words sent a jolt straight to your heart. "Right. Why should you?”

"I mean it," Sanji continued, his eyes locking onto yours with such passion that it made your breath catch.

As you stood there, emotions churning within, a mix of excitement and vulnerability cascaded over you. He gave you another kiss before you could respond, making your entire world tumble over and collapse. His tongue ventured into your mouth with a restrained hunger, sending shivers down your spine through deliberate, sensual movements. His free hand traced along your hips, drawing you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

His lips descended, leaving a path of soft, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline to your neck. It felt unbelievably amazing and intensely hot, exactly the type of contact you had been waiting for. The euphoria, the taste of his saliva, the heat surrounding you. It had been so long since you experienced anything like that, and none of your past encounters could compare to what he embodied.

He was unlike anyone or anything you could ever imagine. It felt utterly perilous.

As spectacular as it was, you couldn't allow yourself to get lost in it. Every passing second heightened the risk of being discovered by your team, and that was neither the time nor the place to explain why you were making out just steps away from the kitchen.

Moreover, you questioned whether your self-control would hold if things progressed any further. Truthfully, you were skeptical.

"Sanji, we... we need to get to work.”

He hummed against your skin, lingering a bit longer before returning to your lips. Finally, albeit reluctantly, he released you.

"Ah, I think we have a problem," he said, amusement in his voice. "Your cheeks are a little red.”

“Wait, what??”

You instinctively lifted your hands to your face, feeling the warmth radiating from it. You muttered a curse under your breath, pressing yourself against the partition, as if you wished to disappear into it.

In contrast, Sanji seemed unbothered by your predicament. He chuckled and rubbed your back as you buried your face in his chest, clearly entertained by your attempts to conceal your spontaneous responses.

"It's not funny," you retorted like an offended child.

"I'm sorry, love. I got carried away for a moment there.”

"…I never said I didn't like it.”

Moved by your heartfelt and courageous words, Sanji pulled you into another strong hold. "What am I going to do with you? You're so adorable I could eat you up.”

"Just great. Now you're making it worse.”

He seemed to be having the time of his life, completely at ease and treating you like the most cherished person in the world. He paused, gently stroking your cheeks, giving you a moment to unwind and steady your racing heart.

Finally, as your heartbeat steadied and your skin cooled, you emerged from your hiding place with Sanji’s fingers still lightly touching yours. While he made his way to the kitchen, you took a different route to the dining hall. The tables were only partially returned to their original positions, still looking barren and unready, requiring your meticulous care and attention.

Parting from him with a knowing glance was even more difficult than you had expected. As it turned out, you simply couldn't get enough of him anymore.

Even though he was close by during the entire shift, those few inches felt like an insurmountable distance. Minutes stretched into hours, and the hours dragged on, feeling as heavy and excruciatingly long as an entire week.

Fortunately, your first day as Sanji’s lover went off without a hitch. The well-known connection the two of you had formed played to your advantage; his customary caring and flirtatious demeanor towards you raised no eyebrows among your colleagues or Zeff. Nevertheless, restraining your desires throughout your work was sheer torture. Every time you were near him, the temptation to cast aside your uniform, kiss him, and whisk him away was practically irresistible.

That night, the times you nearly lost control with each other were innumerable. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly to feel you against him. Your hands roamed up and down his chest, drifting dangerously close to the edge of his trousers. No words were exchanged, only smiles, joyful grins, and swallowed breaths to contain the agonizing actions you both longed to savor, waiting for a moment that didn’t feel so rushed.

Mari’s hand slapped her forehead in a defeated facepalm, the sound echoing through the Snail Phone. The reproach that followed was entirely expected, leaving you with no choice but to nod silently as she spoke.

“I swear, I'd give anything to spend just one day inside your head,” she said. “What were you thinking? He was right there in your bed, completely at your mercy. He wouldn't have refused if you had made a move.”

“I know, it’s just….”

"Let me guess, you prefer to take things slowly."

“Yeah.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled you finally initiated that kiss. I just don’t see why sleeping together at this point would be a bad idea. You’ve been working alongside him for weeks.”

You exhaled deeply and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Honestly? Because I really think he might be the right one.”

“...Oh.”

“Do you think I’m delusional?”

She laughed softly. “No, Y/N, I’m just surprised. I thought you were worried that he might not be serious.”

“Right. My statements are pretty contradictory, I know.”

"To be fair, you also feared that he wouldn't reciprocate your advances to that degree, and that his flirting was actually just a form of kindness, a game he wasn't interested in taking further."

“True.”

“But now, you know that wasn’t the case. To me, it seemed like he really had a difficult time pulling away from you.”

"It was probably the opposite, but... you get the idea."

After a brief pause, she kept the conversation going. "Like I've said before, this is your life. Only you can determine what's best. If you need more time before taking such a big step, then take it."

You smiled. “Thank you Mari.”

“Just let me ask you one thing.”

Uh oh.

"Considering how heated things became in bed, how did he manage to leave under those circumstances?"

“Well, he just… did?”

“Yes, but how?”

“What do you mean by ‘how’? He got up and walked away.”

She cleared her throat ominously. “So, he didn’t have…. you know…”

"Mari, what exactly are you implying?"

Somehow, you foresaw the direction the dialogue was taking, and in retrospect, you should have let it go.

“Jeez, how can you be so oblivious? I’m asking if he got hard, duh!”

As a result, you almost choked on your own breath. “Mari!!! What the hell?!”

"What? Are you saying he managed to avoid it? That would require an incredible amount of self-control. Honestly, I'd find it quite offensive."

“No! I mean, I don’t know.”

“You mean you didn’t even look?”

“Of course not!”

“Ugh, seriously. You’re so hopeless.”

You placed a hand over your mouth and spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Do we seriously have to talk about it?”

"Why not? Men talk about this stuff all the time. And as your best friend, I'm genuinely curious."

You scowled. "As if I'd tell you either way."

“Rude.”

“I’m not being rude. I just don’t think it’s fair. How would you feel if the man you were interested in went around talking about your womanhood?”

"I’d be quite flattered. After all, the way to my heart is through my vagin-"

“Mari!!!”

She erupted in boisterous laughter, wheezing and struggling to catch her breath. You heard something topple over, and her voice straining from the effort. "S-Sorry! You know I love teasing you."

You looked upward, rolling your eyes. “Yes. Could you not?”

“Okay, okay. My bad.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “Thanks for keeping me company. You should all come visit me on my day off.”

"That would be wonderful. The guys can't stop talking about you."

“Really?”

“They miss you, Y/N. And so do I.”

"Aww, I miss you all too. Honestly, you’re my only regret."

You had adapted to your new routine at the Baratie, but the loneliness during your free moments was a persistent downside. As the saying goes, you cannot have it all.

“Well. Don’t you even think about coming back just for us.”

“I love you, but I have no intention of returning anytime soon.”

"Good. The old you wouldn't have even found the courage to leave, so this is a significant step forward."

And she was right. You had spent so much time trying to please your family and everyone they brought into your life that you lost sight of your own dreams. But from the moment you first walked into that restaurant, it felt like you had been reborn. You had an epiphany, quite literally, emerging from a state of comatose subservience.

It was Sanji who sparked your awakening. He instilled in you a newfound belief in yourself and gave you the courage to break free from your chains.

And just like that, the caged bird that loved to sing found its freedom.

Unfortunately, securing a private moment with him away from the kitchen was more troublesome than you had planned. On some nights, Sanji prolonged his stay under the guise of taste-testing, only to end up with you pressed against the counter, his tongue entwined with yours. You reveled in the excitement, but the ever-present risk of being caught loomed, with others potentially noticing a change between the two of you. There was always a nagging worry that Patty or the head chef might walk in at the most inconvenient moment.

For days, you artfully avoided them, finding refuge in the hidden corners of the Baratie or sipping a drink on the starlit balconies. Every instant in his company was extraordinary, and you savored each second, your shoulders occasionally touching as you exchanged heartfelt anecdotes. Sanji often recounted tales from his childhood, emphasizing the humorous incidents he experienced under Zeff’s care. Having lived most of your life under the control of others, with decisions made on your behalf, you found yourself with few stories of your own to tell. Nevertheless, Sanji was always understanding and loving, showing sincere interest in your friends and anything that wouldn't remind you of your family.

When his fingers met yours, enveloping your hand in the most comforting grasp, you realized you needed nothing more. It was so simple—just the touch of his skin or a smile from him, and your entire world instantly lit up.

You secretly longed to explore the ocean with him one day, perhaps even in search of the All Blue together. You hadn't yet discovered a new dream to pursue, because all you wanted was right there beside you.

Your secret rendezvous continued for quite some time, evolving into an essential ritual for both of you. It was a thrilling adventure, a mission to remain unnoticed. Every kiss felt enchanting, and your cuddling grew more assured and daring with every passing day. As long as you remained dedicated to your work and kept your emotions in check, no one had any grounds for criticism. In fact, Sanji's presence seemed to enhance your efficiency, leaving you thoroughly pleased with your job.

He became your confidant and anchor. His cheerful spirit, playful smiles, and secret touches meant solely for you rejuvenated your energy and further bolstered your confidence.

Saying goodbye to him every night was the hardest part of your day. Sanji never imposed on you, never asked for more than what you freely offered, and never crossed boundaries, though he often came close enough to make you consider breaking them.

However, you should have known there was only so much you could do to hold back your physical desires, and that eventually, all that you had would no longer suffice to fulfill them.

One day, you and Sanji were assigned the task of managing the storage inventory. Although it was one of the most tedious duties, it provided a rare opportunity to be alone together at work without needing an excuse. Resisting your natural impulses was a true test of endurance, but despite a few occasional kisses and the usual banter, you both completed your lists diligently and without any improper distractions.

It was only after setting the notebooks aside and leaning against the wall together that things started to escalate.

Again, it began innocently enough—a gentle touch of your hand as he rested his head on your shoulder. You allowed it, softly swirling your thumb over his knuckles and tracing the contours of his silver ring. You kissed his forehead, your free hand gliding along his forearm, where his rolled-up sleeves exposed his skin up to the elbow—his muscles, his tendons.

Your jackets lay draped over a nearby chair, giving you more freedom to move around the room. Inevitably, that brought you closer, leading to more intimate contact between your bodies.

Sanji looked deeply into your eyes, straightening his posture and tightening his hold. His gaze was magnetic, his pupils dilated, but his smile never wavered. He left you breathless, brushing his nose against yours in an affectionate gesture before claiming your lips in another kiss.

"I don't know what to do with myself," he confessed, caressing your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear. "You're so beautiful I could shout it from the rooftops."

Your eyes dropped as a shy smile tugged at your lips. "You're exaggerating."

“I’m not, my lovely. Every night, the moon envies your beauty.”

His words, delivered with the sweetest tone, were the most sincere you could ever hope to hear.

His eyes shimmered with admiration and tenderness. "I’m the luckiest man in all the seas to have you by my side. You’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my entire life.”

Your family insisted that you were unworthy of love, and over time, you came to believe it, thinking it was something you could never attain or truly deserve. He had twisted everything you once held as true, exposing it all as one enormous lie.

Driven by urgency, you pressed your lips to his once more, clutching the lapels of his shirt and squeezing your eyes shut. The cook responded immediately, cupping your face—a motion you couldn't get enough of—with one hand slowly trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and all-encompassing, leaving you both breathless and hungering for more. Enveloped in the sensation of his mouth and the familiar, delicious taste of tobacco, spices and vanilla, you scarcely noticed his hand slipping lower, pausing slightly before coming to rest on your covered breast.

For a moment, you remained still, enjoying the contact and secretly hoping it would last longer. But as soon as it continued, delicately spreading around your mound with a tentative squeeze, familiar alarm bells went off in your head.

Your desire for him was undeniable. Yet, no matter how strong your growing need, a storage room was far from the ideal setting you had envisioned for your first time together.

Reluctantly, you slowed your pace and gently moved his hand away, signaling him to pull back. Panting and at a loss for words, Sanji stared at you with eyes full of unfulfilled craving.

His eyes averted, a sudden wave of embarrassment overcame him. He jolted to his feet, touching the back of his head as he turned his body away from you.

"I'm really sorry, love. I shouldn’t have done that."

If only he had known that stopping was the one thing you didn't want.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, standing up and placing a comforting hand on his back. “I just don’t feel safe here. We should return.”

Sanji swept his hair aside, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. “You’re right, we should.”

Seeing him so guilt-ridden and defeated hit you hard. You knew it was necessary to avoid future regret, but being so close, so ready for it to become more, now left you feeling completely downhearted. You picked up the notebook filled with inventory notes, reached for your jacket, and put it on as if it weighed a ton of bricks.

Sanji looked away the instant your eyes met his. Shame flooded him as he struggled with the realization that he had lost control and betrayed the principles that had been ingrained in him since childhood. The notion that he might have initiated something you didn't want was a severe blow to his pride.

Yet, he couldn't have been more mistaken.

"Sanji," you whispered, moving nearer to him. "You have nothing to apologize for, I promise.”

You sensed him tense under your touch, but when you wrapped your fingers around his in an encouraging hold from behind, he relaxed with relief.

“I’ll join you in a moment. There's something I need to look into.”

After thoroughly searching the storage room, you assumed he needed some time alone to gather himself from the built-up tension. And so, without questioning him, you kissed the back of his shoulder and left with a heavy heart, silently promising to continue where you left off another time.

Because you needed him. You wanted to be explored, tantalizingly stimulated, and lifted to the highest star you could ever reach.

You simply couldn't bear to wait any longer. That much was clear.

The storage room was oppressively hot, challenging Sanji's physical stamina. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, desperate for air, as his heart raced wildly and pounded against his chest.

What truly kept him unmoved was the unmistakable anticipation straining against his pants, which he successfully maintained hidden from you. He was already ashamed of his behavior and couldn't endure the idea of adding more to his mortification.

How could this have happened? He was taught to view women as the most delicate flowers, deserving of utmost respect regardless of their character or background. Despite your kindness and understanding, the mere fact that he touched you so intimately without your consent was enough for him to harshly condemn himself.

And there he was now, staring in disbelief at his intense, throbbing arousal.

Sanji desperately tried to steady his heartbeat, resting against the storage shelves in a futile attempt to regain his composure. Every second felt like an eternity as his mind spun with conflicting desires and responsibilities.

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, making an effort to divert his mind from the stifling heat and his persistent erection. Thoughts of you, with your wonderful smile and angelic touch, only intensified his growing excitement. Memories of your lips on his and the sensation of your body pressed against him caused an exhilarating rush through his veins, kindling a deep warmth in his belly.

"Get it together, man," he murmured, raking a hand through his hair.

The process was excruciatingly slow. His arousal continued, pulsing and demanding a release he refused to grant. The temptation was overpowering, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He resisted the urge, staying firm and resolute, not daring to grasp it for even a moment of gratification.

It required considerable effort, self-reproach, and mental affirmations for him to finally quell it.

To Sanji, you were a precious jewel—one he wanted to protect and never part from. No matter how his body reacted, he wouldn't let his primal instincts override his judgment again. Not without your explicit permission.

Eventually, with a final exhalation, Sanji straightened himself, smoothing down his shirt and adjusting his tie. The composed, professional stance he was expected to maintain began to reassert itself, though it was a thin veneer over a tumultuous sea of emotions.

When Sanji returned, his usual confident demeanor was intact, but you could still detect a subtle hint of nervousness that only you seemed to notice around the kitchen.

He wasn't avoiding you—still joking and smiling—but he was moving away a bit too quickly, as if the fear of having offended you was keeping him from staying close.

You went to great lengths to include him and engage in normal conversation, as there was no reason for any resentment on your part. It pained you to see him so troubled, especially since, in your eyes, Sanji's actions were entirely natural and not inappropriate.

If only you were in a more private setting, your mind would wander to all the things he could do with his hands and tongue. That gentle squeeze on your breasts was enough to imagine more—him moving further, undressing you, and caressing your bare skin directly.

No, you couldn't let him blame himself for something that affected you so profoundly.

As you drew closer, organizing his cooking station and providing the needed ingredients, Sanji's tension slowly melted away. A soft touch on his hand, a tender brush of fingers along his back or arms as you walked by, the sound of your joyous laughter, the lightness in your voice—all these gestures brought him a sense of calm and silently affirmed your complete comfort.

Or so you thought.

As the kitchen cleared out and your colleagues departed one by one, you eagerly anticipated the moment you would finally be alone together again. His steady gaze followed your every move, and you couldn't help but smile at the attention, wishing it would never cease.

The moment you recognized that things wouldn't go as planned, you felt completely devastated.

Inevitably, Sanji’s creative freedom had backfired, prompting Zeff to demand an explanation for the new, unapproved dessert he had felt inspired to create again without his supervision. Feelings were already running high, and the discussion quickly turned into a heated debate filled with insults and criticisms. It didn't take long for you to understand the seriousness of the situation, and Zeff kindly suggested that you retire for the night.

In other words, your opportunity to speak with Sanji alone had entirely slipped away.

You had little say in the matter. All you could do was wish them both a good night (as much as it could be, given the circumstances) and shuffle off to your room. Your feet moved heavily along the wooden boards, and a headache pulsed from the tension in your nerves.

With a long, pained sigh, you slumped against the door before collapsing onto the bed, as though you were swimming against the current. You buried your face in the mattress, groaning as your legs shifted restlessly.

It exasperated you to no end. Although you admired and respected Zeff, his harshness toward Sanji often felt a tad excessive. On that particular day, his intervention was especially ill-timed, as Sanji's simmering frustration indicated his emotional turmoil was far from properly resolved.

The prospect of enduring another day without a private conversation with the cook felt unbearable. For a moment, you questioned whether stopping him had been the right choice or if you should have seized the opportunity when it presented itself. The storage room was dim and damp, far from the ideal spot for intimacy. Making love with Sanji was something you had envisioned very differently, and there was too much activity outside for the two of you to act impulsively.

Getting caught with your pants down and his arousal buried inside you was definitely not the way you wanted to lose your job (not that you wanted to lose it in any way). You acted on instinct, fully aware it wasn't the right moment for such a significant step. So why did it feel like you'd made a huge mistake, treating Sanji like a casual fling when he meant so much more to you?

Ever since he touched it, your breast had been pulsing with need, and you found yourself hugging your torso as you curled up in a ball on the bed. He applied only the faintest pressure, just barely cupping it in his hand through your clothes. Yet, for reasons beyond understanding, it felt as though he had done a lot more, causing your nipples to harden against your bra just from the memory.

You shook your head, dispelling the mental images your brain was conjuring. If you closed your eyes and concentrated on the background sounds, you could make out the distant voices of Sanji and Zeff, still engaged in their heated argument with remarkable persistence.

It only lasted a few minutes, with your body teetering between reality and dreams, before you drifted away on a sea of restless thoughts.

You remained like that, fully dressed and lying on your back, your hands resting by your sides for an indeterminate amount of time.

You woke up to the sound of knocking at your door. As your eyes adjusted and the ceiling came into focus, you listened intently. By the time the third, fourth, and fifth knocks reverberated through the room, you realized someone was truly there and not just a figment of your dreams.

You sprang to your feet, strode to the door, and opened it while combing your bed hair. Sanji stood in front of you, his face etched with concern and hesitation. It seemed like he was on the verge of turning away, but the moment he saw you step out of your cabin, his expression melted into a broad, relieved smile.

“I’m sorry love, did I wake you up?”

"It's alright. Would you like to come in?"

"I should probably let you rest."

You laughed softly. "I’m awake now. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it."

You grabbed him by the elbow and promptly pulled him inside, closing the door behind him and locking it to ensure your conversation wouldn’t get disturbed. You were done with any potential or direct interruptions.

Sanji remained silent, hands on his hips, with fatigue written across his features.

“Are you okay?” you inquired, stepping closer.

In response to your question, Sanji shook his head resignedly. "I really made a mess of things today."

"You're not referring to the dessert, are you?"

“Not exactly.”

With a sigh, you sat on the bed and patted the spot beside you, inviting him to join. Sanji obliged, settling beside you, his knee softly touching yours.

"I've said this before, but it looks like it needs repeating: you did nothing wrong today."

“Y/N, you are a sweetheart for trying to cheer me up, but you can be honest with me.”

"I am."

His gaze stayed on you as you spoke, but your words failed to achieve the desired effect. He averted his eyes, looking apprehensive, as he struggled to find the right response.

"You were never treated the way you deserved before. The last thing I want is for you to feel any pressure from me."

"Pressure?"

He swallowed. "I don’t want you to do anything with me that you might not truly want."

Did he honestly believe you didn't find any pleasure in what occurred in the storage room?

"Who said I don’t want that? Because as far as I can recall, I never did."

“Y/N….”

“Sanji, I’m serious. You don’t need to worry about it.”

There was nothing you wanted more than to be with him, and only him, in ways that your mind could barely fathom due to the impropriety of your imagination.

It was ironic that he, of all people, felt so uncertain and afraid. You had always taken his charm and flirtatious nature for granted, assuming it had built up his confidence for moments like these. His fear of destroying what you both had created, and of losing you along with your consideration, reflected your own anxieties before it all started.

If nothing else, it validated what you had been wondering all along: to him, you were undeniably the only one.

You clasped his hand with both of yours, tightening your grip. "There's nothing you could do that would ever push me away."

He remained unsure, his mouth slightly open, but no sound came out.

"What do I need to do to make you believe me? I love everything you do, Sanji. And I genuinely mean everything."

This time, he finally accepted your admission. With a relieved sigh, he exhaled deeply, his fingers gliding over your knuckles. "You're beautiful, intelligent, and have a heart of gold."

Ah, there it was, the exuberant and gallant side of him that you had grown to treasure.

You brought his hand to your lips, kissed his fingers softly, and then rested your chin on them. “Well, we have these things in common too.”

Sanji's face brightened as he pressed his lips together, looking at you with the most genuine, sparly eyes you had ever seen.

He was irresistibly and strikingly handsome. Even though you weren't as vocal about it, you wished he knew that no other man could ever measure up.

You moved forward, meeting him halfway for a sealing kiss. His lips were warm, moist, and delicate, carrying a hint of the fruity dessert he had made when Zeff wasn’t looking. It felt so good that you couldn't bring yourself to break away, the sound of your kisses filling the cabin like a song with a steady rhythm and harmonious melody.

Sanji paused, allowing you both a moment to catch your breath. You giggled, a bit winded, your hands still intertwined.

"Do you have any idea how incredible you are?" he asked.

"You've mentioned that before," you said sincerely. "I don't see myself in such a lofty light, though."

"Oh, my lovely, the old man practically adores you. You outwork all of us put together, and I have to keep an eye on Patty because I'm sure he has a crush on you.”

You arched an eyebrow. "Patty? Interested in me?"

"It's either that, or he enjoys getting under my skin."

“You can’t seriously be jealous of Patty. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Men are powerless in the presence of an extraordinary woman like you.”

You shrugged. “Maybe. But I’ve already found my man.”

Damn. That didn't come out the way you intended. Or did it?

Sanji's focus lingered on your face, lost in contemplation, until a sudden spark of realization illuminated his expression. "Have you?"

At that point, with everything taken into account, denying it was no longer an option.

"Honestly, if it weren't for you, I would have never found the courage to leave my old life behind. To step away from my family and all the expectations they placed on me. I did it all because I wanted to know you, to be with you."

His eyes glowed with adoration.

"You made me feel important and special, more than anyone else ever has—even more than my friends."

“Because you are, Y/N,” he whispered with conviction. “You are far better than all those wretched people who made you think otherwise.”

You nodded. “This is exactly why I like you. Without even knowing me, you already understood.”

He played with your fingers, twirling and caressing them in his grasp. “You looked so sad. I couldn't stand to see you like that.”

In truth, he couldn't bear to see any woman in such pain. But now you knew that what began as mere compassion had evolved into something more significant.

“And now that you’re by my side,” he continued, “even my worst days have become the best moments of my life.”

Your heart was racing so intensely that you feared it might burst from your chest and fall right into his lap.

"What will I do when the day comes that you decide to leave?"

Your breath trembled as you blinked rapidly, fighting to hold back the burning tears welling up in your eyes. Your family constantly made you feel worthless and expendable, never able to live up to anyone's expectations. Though your friends loved you and sustained you with their unflinching support through years of emotional turmoil, they often seemed distant and out of reach. Their lives unfolded effortlessly as intended, while you found yourself stuck, aimless, and lagging far behind.

You felt an emptiness, a sense that something important was missing and never meant for you. Unexpectedly, that one casual night at the Baratie restaurant altered the course of your life forever.

“I haven’t been here long,” you replied. “And I have no intention of leaving.”

"Do you really enjoy being here?"

"I do. More than I ever imagined I would."

Sanji's smile widened as his hand slid upward to encircle your wrist.

"And just so you're aware, Patty is a good friend and great company. But he's not you."

His countenance radiated pride and satisfaction. “’Course he isn’t.”

"Right,” you smiled. “So there's no need for you to be jealous of him."

“Nah, I’m not jealous.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m just looking out for my girl.”

‘My girl’…

Your heart skipped a beat as his declaration sank in. No matter how you tried to view it, there was only one way to interpret his words. It was heartening to witness how deeply he cared about your happiness and well-being. He was a refreshing breeze, a guiding light in your darkest moments.

Heavens above, you were truly in love with him. It was a daunting realization, one you hadn’t anticipated arriving so soon. Deep down, however, you had always known.

From the instant you noticed his smile, his eyes, his polite mannerisms, his protective nature, and his physical strength, you struggled against your emotions like a ship caught in a tempest. Finally, your arduous journey had brought you to the safe harbor that Sanji represented for you.

Being with him felt like finding your true home.

"Well, your girl can never get enough of that."

He grinned contentedly, kissed your forehead, and then the tip of your nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

All you needed to do was ask, and he would fulfill your wish immediately.

Yes. You only needed to ask.

Could you find the courage to venture into unknown territory, uncertain of what awaited? Could you even dare to hope for more, after all the dedication you put in to reach that point?

Sanji was always there for you, with his kindness and affectionate gestures, ready to catch you whenever you were about to fall. He was nurtured by exceptional teachings, with Zeff playing a significant role in his upbringing, molding him into the admirable man he had become. But just like you, there was always a part of him that longed for more, for things that seemed so distant and impossible to reach.

You were two solitary souls adrift in a vast ocean, kindred spirits who found each other through challenging times.

Your eyes welled up with tears you could no longer control, one slipping down your cheek and landing on his wrist. Sanji’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a furrowed brow as he brushed his thumb along your jaw.

“What’s going on, my lovely? Why are you crying?”

How could you possibly explain to him that his mere presence, his voice, and his smile were all you needed to feel whole and satisfied?

“Sanji…” Your voice was low, as thin and strained as a pulled thread.

“Yes, beautiful. What is it?”

“Stay.”

Sanji's gaze immediatly softened. You knew he required no further explanation; your intentions were unmistakable.

“Do you want me to spend the night with you…?”

“I do,” you confirmed. “Please, I need you. Stay with me.”

He swallowed again, more audibly this time, and withdrew his hand from yours. Then, he tenderly cradled your face in his familiar comforting manner, his breath warm against your skin. “Are you sure about this? Because once we start, I won’t be able to hold back.”

“I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Y/N—”

“Sanji, I only stopped you today because I want this to be special, not something that happens in a storage room where anyone from our crew could walk in on us.”

You reached for his tie, your nails delicately tracing the knot. “I actually wished you had never stopped.”

The air around you grew increasingly magnetic, and your body temperature soared to an impossible level.

“Then you’ll have me,” he vowed. “If this is what you want, I’ll be yours until dawn.”

“That won’t be enough.”

“How about for as long as you want me?”

"That's better. But I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you."

His lips barely touched yours, a gentle caress brimming with promise. “Then I’ll keep giving you reasons to want me.”

All your self-control had dissipated, leaving you with an overwhelming desire for his body. With desperate fingers, you untangled the knot and yanked, letting his tie fall to the floor. Sanji happily let you take control, lovingly brushing your hair aside to kiss your cheek, chin, neck, and collarbones.

It felt suffocating, your head spinning like a tornado, but you quenched your thirst by straddling his waist, positioning your knees on either side. Sanji consumed you, relishing the flavor of your lips and tongue, as his hands traced gentle circles on your lower back.

With a sense of urgency, you began unbuttoning his shirt, opening the top and revealing his chest. You fought the impulse to tear his shirt off and reveal him all at once, his delicate touch contrasting sharply with your impatience. His fingertips slipped under your shirt to gently caress your back dimples, causing your upper body to jolt slightly, a moan escaping your lips.

Your breath quickened. As you continued unbuttoning his shirt, you intentionally let your fingers glide over the warmth and smoothness of his skin. Sanji's hands tightened around you as you instinctively moved your hips against his.

Through the gap in his shirt, his chiseled physique was on full display, with sculpted muscles that made your mouth water. Sanji grinned at your evident appreciation, swept his hair back with that characteristic flick, then returned to your lips and began lifting the hem of your shirt. You raised your arms, letting him slip off the garment to reveal the lace of your bra.

Sanji delicately set the shirt on the floor beside his tie. His careful handling of even your clothes was genuinely endearing. Your hair had fallen into disarray, partially obscuring your face. He smiled tenderly, tucking the stray strands behind your ears, his blue eyes locking onto yours.

His ability to remain romantic even in the heat of the moment was something you weren't accustomed to during lovemaking. He valued you, treating you like the most delicate piece of glass, holding back his own desires even as you felt his hardness pressing against your core.

His eyes paused briefly on your breasts, snug within your bra. He cast a fleeting glance, just long enough to admire their shape and the outline of your nipples through the fabric.

"So beautiful," he breathed, pulling you into another passionate kiss.

“Look who’s talking,” you said with enthusiasm, easing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.

Sanji quickly discarded the rest of the garment, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes at his feet. It was amusing to see the stark difference in how he treated his own belongings compared to the care he took with yours.

"Let's get you more comfortable, my lovely."

You bit your lower lip, pressing your hips into him with more insistence. “I’m comfortable right here.”

He took a deep breath, stifling a laugh that came out as a muffled gasp. “Then let me ensure you're even more satisfied.”

With his warm hands gripping your sides, he adjusted his position and gently lowered you onto your back against the mattress. Your legs, already spread with him nestled between them, wrapped fully around his waist. Sanji’s arousal was palpable through his pants, pressing insistently against your trousers. Your inner walls clenched involuntarily and your clit throbbed from the friction of his bulge. The intensity was all-consuming, yet you wished for it to never end.

He kissed you repeatedly, his fingers skillfully unbuttoning your lower clothing. With gentle precision, he slid them down your thighs, prompting you to arch your hips to assist.

Something had clearly snapped inside him. As soon as your pants came off, he quickly kicked off his shoes. He unbuttoned and took off his black trousers with such frenzy that you feared they might rip, but he was too careful for that to happen. You hungrily took in the sight of his hard thigh muscles, sculpted knees, and strong calves, like a woman starved for a long time.

It had been years since your last sexual encounter, and you couldn't remember ever feeling so intensely aroused. This time, there were no fears of disappointing your partner or insecurities about your body not matching his expectations. No, his sweetness and protectiveness left no room for doubt in your heart.

Sanji's hands moved up your hips, teasing the elastic band of your underwear before gliding over your belly. It took all your willpower to avoid staring at the prominent erection straining beneath the tight fabric of his dark briefs, pushing forward so forcefully that you wondered how he could endure such discomfort without flinching.

His fingertips hovered just below your breasts, barely grazing their curves as he sought your permission with his eyes. He remained still, not daring to repeat his earlier move from the storage room. He needed your reassurance, and you had no reason or desire to stop him from doing what you wanted most in the world.

With a confident smile, you placed his hands on your mounds, letting him savor their softness as you let out a delightful sigh. He breathed in deeply, gently wrapping his fingers around your flesh and squeezing as if it were the most precious silk.

"Y/N," he murmured. "Is this all right with you?"

You furrowed your brow. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because my only wish is to make you the happiest woman alive. If anything I do feels inappropriate or makes you uncomfortable—”

“Sanji. I swear.”

How could he be so remarkable? Even as his desire intensified, he held himself against you with a restraint that would drive any other man to madness. Yet, he curbed his impulses and waited for your explicit consent, making your heart race like never before and your eyes well with emotion.

His respect for you was boundless and limitless.

“Do I look uncomfortable to you in any way?”

“No, but I—”

"Believe me when I say you can do anything you want to me."

He wet his lips, his jaw clenched as the tension coursed through his veins. “Anything?”

To prove your point, you kissed him gently, slipping the tip of your tongue inside to caress his. “Anything.”

And that, at last, seemed to evoke the right reaction in him. His pupils dilated, and the corners of his lips curled into the most prideful smile he had ever shown.

"Just relax and let me pamper you, beautiful."

Well, if that didn’t send a shiver of pleasure straight to your core, you couldn't imagine what the rest of the night had in store for you.

You nodded fervently just before his lips crashed against yours again. The kisses were hot, sensual, and ravenous, with your tongues taking center stage in the passionate exchange. His hands squeezed, massaged, and lifted your breasts with the same expertise he used in the kitchen, his culinary skills translating seamlessly into the bedroom. And then, as his forefinger daringly slipped beneath the edge of your bra's cup, your mind went blank.

With a gentle tug, he effortlessly exposed your nipple, pink and stiff, for his eyes to finally behold. You felt a sudden pang of self-consciousness, but before you could fully grasp it, Sanji’s lips were already tantalizingly close to the sensitive bud. Your mind was in turmoil, and your stomach clenched with pleasure as his mouth barely parted, gently grazing your nipple and eliciting an uncontrollable moan.

His tongue darted forward, swirling around it as if relishing a cherry on top of a cake. A sigh escaped your lips, and you squirmed as he uncovered your other breast, his thumb instantly beginning to stimulate it. The sensation was utterly intoxicating, sending shivers straight to your clit and inner walls.

Sanji kept going, adjusting himself between your legs, his eyes locked with yours as he sucked on your hardened nipple. The sight was incredibly arousing, and despite your best efforts, you threw your head back as the pleasure became uncontainable.

Your chest arched, giving him the perfect chance to amplify your pleasure. With one breast in his mouth, his other hand journeyed downward, bypassing your mound to explore further. He traced gentle circles over your stomach, abdomen, and hip bone.

Your fingers wove through the back of his hair. Though you didn't pull, the simple gesture anchored you as your world seemed on the brink of unraveling. You shivered, whispering his name like a prayer, waves of pleasure crashing over you relentlessly.

His fingers slid over the waistband of your underwear, tracing your pubic bone and sensing your warmth through the cotton. Everything he did was meticulously orchestrated and seamlessly executed, setting your nerves on fire and making them sing.

Sanji knew precisely what he was doing, and he carried it out with mastery.

"Are you okay, my lovely?" He asked, his lips just barely parting from your breast.

You spoke with such resolute speed that even you were taken aback by your own zeal. “Yes. Keep going.”

Sanji conveyed his contentment with another kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to your breasts, alternating sides as his fingers continued their exploration. You yielded to his touch, your hips lifting as his tongue circled your neglected nipple, while his fingertips teased just above your covered clit.

He paused, tracing his thumb along your clothed entrance without making direct contact with the pulsing nub.

“Sanji—”

"See how wet you are," he noted casually, with the excitement of a child discovering their new favorite toy.

"Oof. And who do you think is responsible for that?"

“Definitely not Patty.”

“Are you serious? Patty again?”

Sanji laughed heartily, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the cabin. His blond hair, though partly uncombed, remained spectacularly beautiful. He appeared both ruggedly sexy and astonishingly sweet, consistently attentive and considerate, no matter the situation.

Even in the throes of passion, he never appeared weathered or out of place.

“I’m sorry, love. Maybe I am a little jealous.”

"But why? I'm practically naked in front of you. There's no other man I'd rather be with or think about. Ever."

Could your friendship with Patty have truly unsettled him, while your biggest worry was never being enough to make him fall for you?

Sanji's smile grew even wider as he propped himself up on his elbows, bringing his lips to your face once more. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Honestly, if you don’t do something soon, I feel like I might burst.”

Oh, he was reveling in every second, covering you in kisses and looking completely ecstatic.

“I would never leave you like this. I like tasting good food before eating it, and right now, you are more delicious than a Clafoutis.”

You chuckled. “A what now?”

"Clafoutis. It's a tart made with whole black cherries, enveloped in a sweet, custard-like batter."

“Great. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Sanji shook his head, amused. “No dessert on earth could ever rival your flavor.”

‘Except that you haven’t fully tasted me yet,” you said to yourself.

His fingers pressed more firmly against your labia, feeling your wetness seep into your underwear. You nibbled your lower lip and inhaled sharply, another moan escaping as he established a consistent rhythm.

The straps of your bra slid off your shoulders, revealing more of your breasts. Under different circumstances, this might have embarrassed you, but he made everything feel natural and free of shame. Your nipples, erect and slightly flushed, tingled with sensitivity, which only fueled Sanji's arousal. His fingers traced upward, barely brushing your clit and flicking it through the garment with the most delicate touch.

You shivered and gasped, anticipating his next move, only to find him gazing at you, spellbound.

“What…?”

His eyes turned red, and his lower lip trembled faintly, but his feelings were undeniable. "You really are extraordinarily enchanting."

How many times had he complimented you in a single day? His affection was so genuine that you found yourself starting to believe every word.

“Being with you like this makes me question what I ever did to deserve you.”

His reassurance began to dismantle the walls you had built around your self-doubt. It was clear how much he meant it—how deeply he trusted in you.

How often had you yearned for someone who could recognize your true worth without pressuring you to meet their standards? Years of reshaping yourself to fit others' preferences had left you like a clay doll—constantly broken, scratched, and never quite measuring up to what they wanted.

Then Sanji entered your life, lifting you from the mental slums you were trapped in and mending every crack with the purest gold.

You sat up abruptly, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply, channeling all your love and desperation into it.

"Where have you been all my life?" you asked, breaking the kiss with a loud, wet pop.

“I’ve been right here, waiting for a woman like you to walk through the restaurant’s door,” he replied, his voice husky.

“There are plenty of pretty ones, you know.”

"Mm," he whispered against your lips. "But as you said, my lovely, they aren't you."

It felt as if an arrow had pierced the center of your chest, leaving you breathless in an instant.

"Please, I need you to touch me," you begged. "I want to feel you right now."

He cherished your honesty, the richness of your voice, and the comforting warmth of your bare body beneath his.

Gently laying you back, he deftly unhooked your bra, capturing both straps between his thumbs and forefingers. His eyes darkened with desire as the tip of his hardness pressed more insistently along your inner thigh through his underwear.

“Can I take this off?”

He was just too charming to resist.

“Absolutely.”

You felt his strong hands on your upper back, tracing over your shoulder blades and down your arms. With care, he lowered the straps, removing your final piece of clothing and letting it fall to the floor.

Unable to resist any longer, his lips pressed against yours for what felt like the hundredth time, his hands kneading your breasts as he hummed against your tongue. He trailed kisses along your jawline, found the sensitive spot on your neck, then returned to your nipples, sucking one and then the other like a chef savoring the most delectable creation.

But he didn’t stop there, oh no. While keeping one of your buds engaged, his hand returned to your clit without hesitation. Through the delicate fabric of your panties, he located your sensitive spot, swollen and craving more attention. This time, he stroked your clit up and down, faster and faster, making your legs spread wider instinctively.

With his fervent massage and the prior attentions, it didn’t take long for that familiar knot to form in your belly. Your hips moved in harmony with his hand as he caressed your clit in the most exquisite way, at the perfect pace.

"Sanji, I’m almost there," you announced, your voice quivering.

“You’re close?”

“Mhm.”

“Then let me make this feel even better for you.”

Intrigued by his next move, you watched as he eased away from your chest and moved down the bed. He slipped his fingers beneath the elastic, lacy band of your lingerie and began to slide it off. You let him, feeling your panties roll down your legs until you were completely bare and exposed for him to see.

Sanji shifted his position, drawing his face closer to your core and gently spreading your thighs wider. His eyes absorbed every intimate detail of your womanhood. With anyone else, you would have felt extremely uneasy, considering such scrutiny offensive and remendously mortifying. With Sanji, it was different. He sincerely admired every part of you in every way you offered, devoid of any vulgarity or hidden agendas.

“Every inch of you is a work of art,” he expressed, his thumb lightly caressing your clit again. “You’re divine, like a beautiful flower deserving of the utmost reverence and adoration. I’m mesmerized by you."

Hit and sunk. Quite literally. Should he ever, for some absurd reason, abandon his cooking career, you could easily envision him as the most talented poet in the entire East Blue, if not the world.

“Sanji—”

“Shh, I’ll take care of you.”

And so he did, expertly stimulating your clit with precise movements, while two of his fingers effortlessly found their way inside you. You were completely soaked, making his access to your inner walls smooth and easy. He entered you slowly, his fingers advancing and searching for that sensitive spot he knew would make you lose control. Your hands gripped the sheets, your chest heaving as your breath became more rapid.

The moment he found it, your G-spot reacted instantly, making your eyes roll back and your voice falter. You were on the verge of release, holding on the brink but not quite able to soar.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, his thumb was replaced by his tongue, which danced over your clitoris in rapid circles, causing a series of sounds that made your skin flush and burn.

It was unexpected but welcomed nonetheless.

Sanji groaned against your core. The interplay of his mouth and fingers became intoxicating, the sensation in your abdomen intensifying and drawing you closer to an agonizing climax. He pleasured you with insatiable hunger, savoring every moment as if you were his most prized delicacy.

You gathered a handful of his hair, sweeping it aside to get a clear view of his eyes. They were full of pleasure and reverence, connecting with yours in a way that made you want to cry anew.

"I need you," you repeated, your hips trembling.

He smiled knowingly, his fingers skillfully beckoning you closer to completion. "I'm here, my lovely. I'm not going anywhere."

With each touch and stroke, he elevated you to heights of pleasure you had never dreamed of. Your body responded exquisitely, moving in perfect unison with him, as if guided by instinct. He played you like a finely tuned instrument, akin to a bard crafting the most wonderful love song in existence.

And finally, with just the right lick and press deep inside you, your orgasm arrived like a powerful sea wave, sweeping you away from the shore. You covered your mouth to contain your moans, otherwise too loud for anyone else on the ship to ignore. Your legs trembled and your hips bucked, but Sanji's arms kept your thighs secure. Though his fingers had withdrawn, his mouth stayed fixed on your clit, drawing out the pleasure until your orgasm subsided.

You were panting, your body weak and trembling, as Sanji brought his wet fingers to his mouth. His nostrils flared, and his eyes closed as he indulged in your taste with the same rapture he reserved for his finest ingredients.

Your walls were still shaking, pulsing and clenching around nothing, already feeling empty and requiring something else. As soon as he returned to you, his kiss infused with your essence, the evident rigidity of his arousal made it clear that your night had only just begun.

And you were more than enthusiastic to explore every aspect of Sanji’s devotion.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 7 (coming soon) ->

#one piece liveaction #opla sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #opla fanfic #one piece liveaction fanfic

44 notes · View notes

neyslover · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do one where you fainted suddenly cause you are pregnant you didn't know then when neymar brought you to the hospital he was super shocked

ofc i cannnn thank u for sending this in!! hope u enjoy

i was cutting up fruits for ney and i in the kitchen when i suddenly didn’t feel good.

i put the knife down and took deep breaths.

when i realized that i still didn’t feel any better i started calling out for ney.

“ney!” i yelled faintly.

“yes, amor?” he yelled back.

“can you come for a second?”

he must’ve heard the urgency in my voice and came over quick.

“is everything okay, amor?”

“yea.” i sighed, walking over to him.

“i just don’t feel so good…” i trailed off.

his hands were holding the side of my arms before i suddenly fainted.

“shit!” he hugged me to prevent me from falling to the floor.

he carried me to the couch and laid me down.

he was so stressed, he didn’t know what to do, so he called his mom.

“hi ma.” he greeted.

“hi, jr. is everything okay?” she could tell by the tone of his voice that something was off.

“yea, um.. y/n just fainted and i don’t know what to do.”

“oh! splash a little water on her face and also bring her water to drink. take her to the hospital as soon as she wakes up, just in case. okay?”

“okay, thank you so much ma.”

“anytime. keep me updated, okay?”

“definitely. bye.”

“bye.”

he did what she told him to do, and soon after, i woke up.

“amor!“ he helped me sit up, “are you okay? what was that.”

“i don’t know.”

“ma said we should go to the hospital, so come on.”

“ney..”

“no, i won’t take no for an answer we have to go.”

“i think i’m gonna-“ i stood up and ran to the bathroom, vomiting in the toilet seat.

he held my hair up and rubbed my back.

“let’s go to the hospital.” i sighed, washing my mouth.

we went to the hospital and the doctor ran blood tests that told him i was pregnant.

“congratulations, your wife is pregnant.”

i blushed by being addressed as his wife.

“that’s so amazing!” neymar was over the moon, he kissed my head and congratulated me.

“the baby’s okay though, right?” i asked.

“yes, the baby is fine. fainting during pregnancy is quit common, pregnancy hormones usually lead to low blood pressure, which leads to fainting spells.” he explained.

“you’re free to be discharged, you just have to watch your blood sugar.”

“thank you so much, doctor.” neymar thanked.

the doctor smiled and left.

“woah.” i looked down at my stomach.

“you’re gonna be mom!” he smiled excitedly.

“i’m already a mom to davi, this is just the first time i’m pregnant.” i shrugged, my hand caressing my stomach subconsciously.

“i’m so excited for this. i didn’t expect it, to be honest. i’m kinda really shocked but i’m not complaining.”

“you’re a fucking animal, ney. how could you not expect it?” i laughed.

“shh! don’t use words like that in front of the baby!” he covered the sides of my stomach.

“you do realize it probably didn’t even develop ears yet?”

“we have to practice, amor.”

“okay, anything for you.” i laughed once more.

#football #neymar jr #football imagine #football one shot #futbol #neymar #neymar junior #neymar imagines #neymar x reader #neyslover

535 notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 2 years ago

Text

Fine Print ༓ jjk, kth (m) || ch. I

✑ Summary: Your boss needs you to strike a deal with one of South Korea's biggest business tycoon, Kim Taehyung. What he didn't tell you though, was that Jeon Jungkook, his negligent heir, would be accompanying you the whole time. Isn't this just peachy?

Pairing: company heir!jungkook x fem!reader x ceo!taehyung (not poly)

AU/genre: angst, humor, fluff, smut, stuck together, office au, coworkers2lovers, lo-love triangle (do I dare? yes, yes I do), mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4.1k+

Now playing: Softcore, Do I Wanna Know?, Blank Space...

Warnings: Not too many this chapter but main ones are swearing, bickering, jk is kind of a kluts so he ain't exactly prince charming right now, reader is ticked obvs, accidental t*tty flash, oh and reader has a cat!

Taglist:

@coralmusicblaze @seokjins-luigi @oopscoop @chanjwl @taebangtanbabe @j3oooonsnsns

A/N: Here it is! Late again, I know, so thank you to anyone who's been waiting. I'm super excited about this mini-series! FYI I've decided not to make chapters too long so I'm more likely to update faster. Enjoy and lmk what you think. My asks are open 💞

One.

Two.

Three.

It's been three hours on the phone with your sister.

'Have you eaten anything yet? Oh dear, why not? Go eat right now!'

'You better not be pregnant __. I'm not ready to be an aunt yet!'

"There are more important things than work you know. I know it's hard to admit but, distance is good so you don't become dull and boring. Get away for a while. You can come up to my place for a few if you need.'

Although Y/S/N is only four years older, she's always had the compulsion to act like your mother. Constantly checking up on you, giving unsolicited advice, and spewing opinions were her specialty.

It's not that you mind hours of conversations over the phone and it's not entirely dreadful. But your energy is surely spent after. Guess that's family for you.

"Really, I'm fine," you answer back. "Don't worry about me so much. And yes I ate, no I'm not pregnant, and I can't afford a break from work right now but I'll see you as soon as I can."

Once the phone slips from your ear, you release a soft huff. Finally. You allow your mind to go blank before something long and sleek brushes against your calf. You can't help but break into a smile and crouch down on the floor to confront the source.

"Did you miss me baby?"

Meow.

"I missed you too." You pick up Kumo, your 3-year-old Siamese. Kumo lived at a local rescue league for a year before you adopted him. You weren't sure you'd be able to take care of a cat when a friend suggested it. But once you saw Kumo's shimmering blue eyes, you knew you weren't walking out empty-handed.

Meowmeowmeow

Kumo kneads your sleeve, ears relaxing as you stroke his back. Each gentle purr reminds you why you consider him your best form of therapy. "Good boy Kumo. I wish I could take you to work with me...silly company policy."

A few strokes later and Kumo starts wiggling in your arms. Claws prick your skin, telling you he's had enough lovey-dovey for now. You suppose it's nearly time for his late night snack.

Meooooow

"Alright I gotcha," you say, setting him near his food dish. Kumo gladly jumps out of your arms to attack the last remaining pebbles in his bowl. "Mom should get something to eat too shouldn't she?"

Truth be told you actually hadn't eaten all day. And though you never meant for it to happen, it's a regular occurrence. Your sister would go absolutely off if she found out which is why you sorta...don't tell her?

Feeling your body aching, you pop a few pieces of fruit in your mouth before deciding to hit the shower. Not the most substantial option but you're ready to crash and crash hard. You'll eat in the morning, for sure. You plug your cell in by the nightstand but before you turn to leave, a notification drops on the screen.

CEO Jeon: __, sorry to be reaching out this late. I need you to come by my office around 2:30 tomorrow if you can. There's something urgent I need to discuss with you. [sent at 9:03pm]

You re-read the message twice before typing out a reply. What could be this urgent? Are you being let go? Dammit, don't think like that. Surely he wouldn't.

__: Of course Saengnim. I'll be there at 2:30pm. Is everything alright? [sent at 9:07pm]

CEO Jeon: Thank you __. Everything's fine, only a slight change of plans. Have a good night. [sent at 9:08pm]

Still unsettled, you're tempted to press further. But being your boss, you let it go. The risk of grilling him for answers wasn't something you were willing to take.

Probably has to do with a new product launch or something, you think. The company's always pumping out new tech. Nothing's been as successful as those smart lights though. They were the true turning point for the company.

With a long exasperated sigh, you grab a towel from the bathroom closet and turn on the shower knob. Whatever it is, you'll find out tomorrow.

"Get your feet off my desk Jungkook."

He looks at you with his notorious bambi eyes, hands laced behind his neck. He's got a stripped dress shirt on, untucked, over a pair of light-washed jeans. Who let the kid in your office?

"I did." He says. "And you're not allowed to call me kid when I'm only three years younger than you."

So you said that kid thing out loud—classic.

"You can't be in here without permission Jungkook." You ignore his comment and hang your jacket on the hook behind the door.

Jungkook eyes you from the other other side of the desk. He takes in your perfectly fitted white blouse, sleek black slacks, and shiny heels. Always so put together, he thinks. A little too posh for his taste personally.

"You know my daddy owns this office." He clicks his tongue. "So technically, I kinda already got permission and all."

You hate when he uses that card. Like being the boss's son suddenly alleviates him from standard office protocol. You promise, the day this irritable little prick takes over the company will be the day you quit. Good thing that won't be for a long time though. Jungkook is far from ready to run a multibillion-dollar company.

You place a hand on your hip. "Is there something I can do for you? Because I have a very generous to-do list and babysitting you isn't on there."

Jungkook sweeps his feet off the mahogany surface. His posture straightens as he strolls his chair, or rather your chair, closer to the desk. "I'm glad you asked." He clutches his hands together, as if serious. "I need a partner."

You hold back a snort. This better not be what it sounds like. "Nice try but I'm not going out with you Jungkook."

"Oh gosh no, that's not what I meant." He shakes his head. "Pretty sure we'd both get in trouble then, given our relationship. Plus…you're not really my type."

"Okay, so there's something we can agree on." Jungkook openly admitting he isn't attracted to you is the least of your concerns. You aren't necessarily fond of him either. "What do you need me to do then? Set you up with someone? Get to the point please."

"I'm not talking about that type of partner __. I mean a work partner."

You feel the hand on your hip slowly glide down your figure. Work partner? Jungkook notices the blood immediately rush from your face. "I'm listening," you mumble.

"Yeah so uh, my dad wants me to get more exposure to the company because I'll be running it one day or whatever. Apparently, there's some business trip coming up that's a really big deal and I'm supposed to go. I was told you have the reigns on it. So I'm gonna need to be like your partner or something. I guess it's already decided actually, sorry.”

The words hardly register in your brain. He couldn't be talking about the business trip. The one that's been rattling in your brain, keeping you up day and night. Your boss assigned it to you months in advance, saying you'd be able to network with the company's potential client best.

You were confident in taking on such a task until you learned it wasn't just any client. It was Kim Taehyung, CEO of the biggest and most luxurious hotel chain in South Korea; White Lotus. Hearing his name alone made your toes curl. Nevertheless, you've been doing all you can to prepare for the official meeting. Having Jungkook there to breathe unnecessary stress down your neck wasn't part of the plan. And oh my god...it's in two days!

"Uh, well um, okay" is all you can reply amongst your jumbled-up thoughts.

Jungkook, completely opposite expression, breaks out into a big wide grin. "Okay, it's settled then! Who we meeting? Kim Taeyang or something?"

"Really Jungkook? Kim Taeyang?" You circle your temple knowing full well what your future was about to behold. This must be what your boss wanted to meet about. The fact that he said this was merely a "slight change of plans" is alarmingly irksome. Oh, you're definitely getting that drink after work. "It's Taehyung," you correct. "Wait...what time is it?"

Jungkook checks his phone. "Uhm..about 2:20."

Dammit. Pressed for time, you stride around your desk and pick up a folder from a stack of documents. "Sorry to cut this short but you're going to have to leave now. I have a meeting in ten minutes and you can't be here."

With furrowed brows, Jungkook lets out a small grunt. It doesn't seem to be from a place of anger but rather, disappointment. "What about the business trip with Taehyang? You still have to get me up to speed and stuff!"

"For the last time, it's Kim Taehyung. Taehyung." You stress every syllable of his name before rubbing your forehead. "You might wanna get his name right before you shake his hand in two days!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I'm here all day! I kinda need you."

Anxiously, you flip the folder open and scan through each page. "I don't know, do some research about Kim and his hotel chain. If you're coming on the trip you need to know a thing or two."

"But—"

"Off you go," you say, smacking him with the folder in hand. "Beat it."

"That's no way to treat your work partner or better yet, future ceo __."

"Out Jungkook. I'll talk you to later."

Your boss rounds the corner of his desk, a glass of scotch in hand. He invites you to take a seat before getting down to the heart of it. "Now that Jungkook's 25 he needs to start preparing for his future," he says. "I'm well aware that he's not yet ready to take over as CEO, which is why I've decided that he go with you on this very critical business trip. You've been a loyal part of my team these past five years and I trust you to help guide Jungkook into the next stage of his life."

"Sir, I am pleased that you'd think of me in this way, however, the meeting is in two days. Kim Taehyung is someone who we both know expects perfection. I'm well prepared to have this discussion with him regarding our transaction but I'm concerned that Jungkook won't have enough time to."

"I understand your concern. But not to worry, Ms. __. Jungkook is merely there to observe so you shouldn't need to worry about him saying something he shan't. You'll still be taking the lead on everything."

"Sir I–"

"__. I know its very last minute. And my son has his challenges but I'm afraid this isn't a choice for you. But I tell you what. If you do this for me and you manage to seal the deal with Kim, I guarantee you'll be very well compensated."

The replay of your earlier meeting with your boss brews in the back of your mind. You nearly forget where you are until your friend pipes up from across the table.

“You’re kidding," the younger woman says, nearly spitting out her drink.

“I wish I was.” The dryness in your tone is unmistakable. "My boss said he insists that his son, who by the way has barely stepped foot in the company, be involved in one of the biggest business transactions in years. How am I supposed to sell smart tech to Kim Taehyung with that kid fiddling with god knows what beside me?"

The woman, Eun-ji, flashes you her famous side-eye. “Oh stop complaining __, it'll cause wrinkles. Besides that kid is basically the same age as you. But more importantly, he's hot.” She gives you a light shove. “Don’t pretend you don't know it.”

You shake your head and take a sip of your cocktail. Eun-ji may be one of your closest friends but damn was that girl relentless. Constantly giggling over you and Jungkook going away for a few days is just another one of her matchmaking attempts. Yesterday it was the overly friendly man at the bakery, today it’s your boss’s nuisance of a son.

A blaring light suddenly gets shoved in front of you mid-thought, causing your face to jolt back. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the blinding brightness of the phone screen. “What the hell Eun-ji? Get Jungkook out of my face.”

Eun-ji swipes left, revealing another ridiculous photo of Jungkook posing as the next prodigy of business. “The one to watch” or some shit. “Look at that face __, and those muscles. You can’t hate him forever.”

You scrunch your face. “I never said I hated him Eun-ji. I’m a grown woman for god sak–okay that's enough!” You push the phone abruptly back. “I don’t want to see my boss’s son in Calvin Klien's underwear, please.”

Eun-ji chuckles and sets her phone down. “Sorry, accident.” She casually folds her arms on the wood surface and leans forward. “But seriously, three days alone with Jungkook in the most glamorous hotel in Seoul and you don’t think anything of it?”

“I’m not having sex with Jungkook if that's what you're getting at. And yes, we’ll be in a fancy-ass hotel with joint rooms,” you say emphasizing the joint part. “But it’s not a leisure trip. I’m going there to form some sort of partnership or deal with Kim and Jungkook happens to be carry-on luggage. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Slowly, Eun-ji falls back in her chair. Her eyes flicker to a far corner of the restaurant before the same sly expression returns. “So how do you feel about meeting Kim Taehyung, the beast of business and hospitality himself?”

“Still a little shaken up but I've had several variations of these meetings before. Kim Taehyung is just a man and I can handle him.”

“Come on __, extend me a branch," Eun-ji say with a slight whine. "Maybe Jungkook gets by but not Kim Taheyung. We both know you've been head over heels for him in Lalaland ever since he made front and center with the press."

Tugging your bottom lip you desperately try suppressing a grin. "That's such an exaggeration. I'm not–"

"I've known you for ten years __. You're always, and I mean always weak for an intelligent, sexy, business-savvy brain. Kim far surpasses the bill."

"Alright fine, fine fine fine," you chant, giving up. "You're right. I'm still nervous as hell about meeting Taehyung and hope to death I don't fumble. Happy?"

Pleased, Eun-ji lets out a wide grin that tells you she's now concocting a soap opera with you and Taehyung as the main leads. "That's all I wanted to hear," she coos.

"Promise me you'll take good care of Komu? We leave Friday morning."

"Of course, I will," she says, leaning forward to gently grip your shoulder. "Kumo and I are going to have three full days of watching reruns of Love Island. Kai Fagan and Sanam Harrinanan are his favorites."

Friday - 8:04 a.m.

"If you don't get here in the next fifteen minutes I'm leaving with or without you Jungkook." You stroll your suitcase into the boarding line outside your gate. You and Jungkook's flight to Seoul was scheduled to take off in twenty minutes but your partner, get this, woke up late and is now running ridiculously behind.

"Yeah, try explaining why you ditched me at the airport to my dad __." Was it just you or was Jungkook's voice even more annoying over the phone than in person? God you could strangle him right now. You suggested carpooling over well ahead of time to make it easy but no, his highness didn't want to.

"Listen __,"Jungkook continues. "I'm at security right now and I'm rushing as fast as I can. The line isn't too bad now so I'll be there in ten. I'm sure."

"Okay, but don't muck around too much. And make sure to take off your belt before you go through security."

"Yes mom."

"Don't ever call me that," you grit.

On the other end, Jungkook chuckles, relishing in your distaste. "What if I put a couple letters on the end though? You seem the type to be into momm—"

"Just get here!" You hang up instantly. What the hell was he on?

Twelve minutes pass and you're again checking your phone feverishly. Jungkook was supposed to be here by now but there hasn't been any sight of him. You're about to ring him up for the third time today when you feel a body brush against your arm.

"Sorry!" Jungkook leans on the handle of his suitcase, taking deep breaths. "There was...someone had a pocket knife in front of me and it held us up."

"Well if you had–" You pause realizing you really are starting to sound like a mom. So much so that you're making your own skin crawl. You recall Eun-ji's wise words a couple days ago. 'Stop complaining __, it'll cause wrinkles.'

'"It's alright," you mutter. "At least you're here."

"Really? That's it? Thought you were gonna scold me again. 'Jungkook you friggin' embarrassment, I told you to leave early so we'd be here on time. You're lucky I don't send you back to your dad and doom your future right now'."

Oh fuck no. He did not just try imitating you and in such a horrid voice too.

"That's not how I sound and you know it."

Jungkook snorts at your sour face. He isn't trying to be a thorn in the side but he's also not about to let you keep your stiff exterior. Being a CEO's son showed him the true price of being an uptight businessman and it isn't in his interest to let another person, especially his age, live life not knowing how to relax and what was that phrase...smell the roses?

"C'mon sunshine, I'm just kidding around," he says. "Also, glass half full, I did make it here before the plane took off. First day on the job and I'm already killing it."

"How about I make you my assistant instead of a partner," you bite. "And you only talk when spoken to?"

"You wouldn't."

Line finally starting to move you tighten the grip on your luggage and move with the crowd. You tilt your head to the side and flash Jungkook a tight lipped smile that said, 'try it bitch'.

"You're cruel you know that?" Jungkook grabs his own luggage and follows your lead.

Stunning. Immaculate. Expensive.

The list goes on as you and Jungkook walk through the golden doors of White Lotus. Everywhere you look, masterpieces from the great masters hang from the walls and cover the ceiling. You notice the same gold on the door is used as trim for the ceiling as decorative accents mount its corners. Dangling above is a giant glass chandelier, while below you are beige marble floors.

Taehyung certainly doesn't skimp, does he...

"Welcome to White Lotus," the receptionist says. "Do you have a reservation?"

Blinking yourself out of your daze, you walk up to the receptionist's desk. "Yes, we're here under the name Jeon." You usher Jungkook over who takes his ID out of his wallet. The receptionist scans both yours and his before sliding them back.

"Saengnim has been expecting you Ms. __," the woman says. "He's absolutely delighted you're here. Your rooms will be on the 29th floor, breakfast is 7am-10am, and wifi is inside." You're handed two key cards with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Hana," you say, reading the woman's name tag. "We're privileged to be in such a beautiful place."

"Isn't it?" Hana sweeps her eyes around the room with wonder. "Saengnim chooses each and every part of this hotel with immense detail. He wants every guest to be met with the best service and completely dazzled."

"It would seem so," you reply, following her trail. "This is by far, the most extravagant hotel I've ever stayed in. It's clear how it has earned an unbelievably positive reputation. Its creator loves it, cherishes it as his own."

Meeting your eyes again, Hana retains her warm smile. "I'm glad you see it too. It's true Saengnim has poured his heart and soul into White Lotus. Guests from all over the world have come just to see what Saengnim designed. And sometimes, they even get to meet him." Hana suddenly pauses, a hint of shyness creeping up on her cheeks. "Forgive me, I don't mean to keep you. I should let you both rest."

"No, please don't apologize," you urge. "It's great to see such admiration." Evidently, Kim Taheyung isn't the only one who has been dedicated to White Lotus. You and Jungkook bid Hana good night for the evening then follow the bellhop to the elevator.

"So tomorrow, remember, let me handle Kim."

"Okay yeah, I gotcha." Jungkook grazes the blackout curtains with the tips of his fingers. He peaks out the window next, taking in the breathtaking view of Seoul at night.

"Are you even listening to me?"

The man turns around, flinging his arms in the air. "Honestly, not really. Look at this room __. It's fucking huge!"

"I know, it's so ethereal. But I need you to concentrate for a second. Our meeting starts tomorrow and I need us to be on the same page. Technically, we'll be touring the hotel with Kim and whatnot so nothing's getting signed, but still. We can't be underprepared."

"I will talk as little as possible. I give you my word."

"Good." You give a slight nod and hoist your suitcase on the bed. "By the way, did you find out anything about Kim's background?"

"Uh shit–knew I forgot something. I'm going to read up about him right now!" In a mad hurry, Jungkook heads for his room.

"Wait, before you go–"

Dammit. You'll just text him.

__: Don't forget we meet Kim at 9 a.m. [sent at 9:56pm]

Jungkook: I'll be up at 6 a.m. Gotta scope out Kim's gym while I'm here. Bet it's loaded with the best equipment. You should join me! [sent at 9:58pm]

__: Mm, thanks but no thanks. [sent at 10:00pm]

Jungkook: Suit yourself. See ya in the morning!! [sent at 10:03pm]

Alright __, you've showered, gone over your notes, hell you even practiced a few lines in front of the bathroom mirror. It's time to sleep. Lazily, you flop yourself on the bed, starfish and all. You feel your eyelids closing, pulling you into dreamland until a cool breeze tickles your bare thighs.

"Ugh", you groan.

You forgot you were still in your robe. Would it be horrible to just sleep naked tonight? Sitting upright you fiddle with the knot of the silk material. Not a bad idea, __. You start loosening the knot before shaking the robe off your shoulders. You let out a–

"__!" Without warning the joint door between you and Jungkook thrusts open. Your partner bursts through your room, eyes shifting into a bugged-out expression when he sees your nearly bare state.

"Oh my god, Jungkook! You can't just come in like that, fuck!" Panicked, you wrap the material back around your chest, clinging it tight against your breasts. "Go back, go back until I say come in!"

Stunned look on his face, Jungkook retreats to his room. He ends up bumping into the doorframe clumsily before slamming the door shut. "I'm so sorry __! Shit, I didn't mean to walk in on you or anything. It's...I came in because something happened. Fuck, I swear I didn't see anything. It was like a blur."

Shutupshutupshutup

You quickly retie the straps of your robe, mentally calming yourself. "Jungkook if you have any respect for me, please forget this. And for the love of might, don't tell anyone!"

"No, of course not! I-I've forgotten already." On the other side of the door, Jungkook curses himself. 'Are you a fucking idiot or something? Just walking into her room like that this late at night.' He paces in a small circle, fists clenched. "Okay, breathe. It's just tits. Tits Jungkook, you've seen–fuck!'

Why? Why did he have to be here?! From Jungkook almost missing this morning's flight to being overwhelmingly underprepared for tomorrow's meeting and now walking in on you, tits out and all, Jungkook is easily the worst partner you've had! No wonder you prefer working alone.

"Uhm, something..." You clear your throat. "Something happened you said?" You brace yourself for whatever chaos Jungkook's brought this time.

Jungkook is slow to form a reply but in a near whisper, he says, "I think I just met Taehyung. Actually, I know I met him. Yeah 'cause, I shook his hand...right before I spilled ice over his perfectly shined loafers. Gucci. Please don't send me back to my dad!"

A/N: Thanks for stopping by! As always, lmk your thoughts. See ya! 💞

Masterlist

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #jungkook angst #taehyung angst #fic:fineprint #kookslastbutton

377 notes · View notes