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kookslastbutton · 6 months ago

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

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Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.” The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

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notlhecxzsa · 14 days ago

Text

The Shade Of Harkness - A.H

Summary: Finally, the day has come for you to have an interview in the company your friend has applied you to. Almost flying away from the known notorious CEO, Agatha Harkness, you were caught in her orbit—and you don't even know it yet. Was it an accident that you also saw her in your workplace, the one you told her you work on? No, maybe it wasn't. Just like how you saw her again at your school.

Author's Note: Happy holidays! Here's the first chapter of CEO!AgathaXFem!reader, mweheheh. Hope you'll like it! Again, this is inspired of 50 Shades Of Grey, so you might see some preference and familiar lines along!

Warnings: Cursing, stalking (but, y/n doesn't have to know that, right?), not that much for now, a little weirdo agatha (what's a dark fic if she's not weird), SIMP AGATHA

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3rd Person's POV:

"The 5th interviewee will come up in 5, Agatha..." Wanda called out to her boss—who she could also call a friend, peeking her head through the unreasonable huge doors of the room when she was met by a wide view of the expensive city through the big windows behind the woman who was sitting in the middle of the room.

"Hmm..." Wanda rolled her eyes at the answer she received, already used to it as the right hand of one of the woman who seemed to be colder as the ice in Antarctica and harder than the stone that littered on the moon.

Agatha finished what she was reading as Wanda closed the door, almost rolling her eyes at the thought of another stupid presence to float in her orbit. Shame on Wanda for even thinking an assistant would do her any good—unfortunately, the countless employees who ran out crying from her office were not enough for Wanda.

After putting the red head in a higher position, she refused to be Agatha's part time assistant. Knowing that Agatha wouldn't fire her for declining the demand of the job, Maximoff won.

"Y/L/N?..." Y/n snapped her head from looking at the direction where an interviewee had come running to— crying as she did so, to the red head who has been the one managing them all. Ms. Maximoff, whom she learned her name of, was a beautiful red head dressed in a very professional dress, making her feel so self conscious.

All of them here are so beautiful, so professional that Y/n thought she'd only fit in and get a job of a cleaner. Shaking her thoughts away, she stood up, clad in her jeans, comfortable sandals and a cute plain blouse that was covered by a blue cardigan. God, why did she even let Miya send an application to this kind of company?

"Ms. Harkness will meet you now." The warm welcoming smile almost made Y/n feel a little less scared, she was the last one and so, she entered the hug doors that was held open by Ms. Maximoff with little to no hope in her heart.

She offered a small nod and a small nervous smile in return, gripping her bag in front of her as if she was trying to hide from the fatal truth that she has no chance in this and probably just wasted her time driving for almost an hour just to get here.

Before she could even appreciate the view that was laid out in front of her, she tripped and landed on the floor, with the door already closed, she didn't have Ms. Maximoff coming towards her to help her up. Only the sound of heels marching towards her is what she was met with. Immediately looking up with a flustered face, she saw the woman who she'd only seen on billboards and countless news and articles.

She was wearing a noticeably expensive red suit, that Y/n could confirm. Without even thinking anymore, she scrambled up on her feet, already standing up to take the hand that was supposed to help her up and shook it, almost cursing herself with how her hands trembled and felt cold.

Y/n could feel a shiver ran down her spine at the striking look she received from those blue eyes. Great! Just great, now she has more reason to run away and never look back from this place.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" Even her voice sounded so expensive, Y/n thought as she she stammered for the answer she could barely offer the woman.

"Y-yes..." Immediately clearing her throat, the flush in her face was already spreading on her neck. "Yes, Ms. Harkness." Swallowing the lump on her throat, she saw how the woman's gaze stayed on her face with something she couldn't fathom before it went down to their hands that are still entwined. "Oh..." She almost inaudibly let out before pulling away, keeping her gaze down on the floor.

"Come sit." Looking up, she saw that Ms. Harkness was already walking away from her and towards the big and once again, expensive office table in the middle of the room that Y/n wished to take her time exploring her eyes on.

Y/n waited until the woman was sat, waiting for her to motion to her that she can start introducing herself. She couldn't help but to analyze the woman in front of her. She looked so much more beautiful than the pictures she'd seen online, she's breathtaking.

Once again, feeling conscious about how she looked like, her gaze snapped down on what she was wearing, swallowing the invisible rock that seemed to be stuck in her throat.

"Do you want me to wait for you until you're done checking yourself or what?" Y/n eyes widen as her head snapped up faster that any human could to face the woman.

"I-I... I'm sorry, Ms. Harkness..." Clearing her throat, she saw how the woman opened the envelope that she gave to Ms. Maximoff earlier that contains everything about her. Deciding that it was her sign to start introducing herself, she inhaled before starting to talk.

"I'm Y/n Y/l/n, I'm currently graduating for college and I applied in your company hoping for it to give me a certain experience that I will need for when I start working." Gazing at the older woman's face, Y/n could feel her heart trying to escape her chest as she noticed the woman's eyes scanning the whole application form.

"And what exactly are you expecting from my company..." Before Y/n could even continue, Ms. Harkness spoke up, trailing off as she slowly gaze back up at the young woman's face. "Ms. Y/l/n?" She saw how she swallowed for the nth time ever since she came here, Agatha's gaze trailing from her neck up to her lips as she started talking.

"Uh... I know how big your company is, Ms. Harkness and so I do expect that you will give me a job that would make me credible for any position that I would want to have in the future. I can do so many things..." Y/n could feel her throat tightening with how the woman was gazing at her face—like she knows all her secrets, all her problems and all that she is. "I uh... I worked before, in a coffee shop... uhm, I also joined in a lot of organizations from high school and until now..." She tried to find some more things to say, her voice trailing off only to think of nothing when the older woman stood up slowly, her head moving up at the same pace.

She watched as the woman sauntered in front of her slowly. "Hmm? Tell me more of what you can do, Ms. Y/l/n. I'm sure my company—well, I, could give you experiences you've never done before... and you could use in the future." Y/n could feel the heat from earlier now boiling with an anticipation bubbling up inside her, one she couldn't name what kind.

Stopping in front of the table, leaning her lower part on it, Agatha crossed her arms, looking down at the girl who seemed to have caught her attention more that she intended to give a person. "W-well, I also write books... uhm, I am currently working as an employee in a hardware shop. And now, I am looking for a more... compatible job for the course I'm taking and for my future job, which I-..." Y/n shrugged, looking down as if her next words makes her feel shy.

Maybe that was the reason, or maybe it was because she couldn't handle holding the gaze of the woman in front of her anymore. "... I hopefully get."

"Hmm..." Squinting, Agatha, exhaled. "You don't seem too... sure about your... future." It sounded like she was mocking her, and if it weren't for the nervousness that Y/n was feeling, she would've thought about that.

Looking up through lashes, Y/n bit her lip as she tempted what to tell the woman, not noticing how Agatha's fist seemed to be tightened up beneath her arms that was crossed. "I am currently taking a Psychology course... I am sure of it... it's just that..." Seeing the serious attention she was getting from the woman, Y/n continued.

"My parents never really... supported it. So now, I'm hoping for a flexible experience when I can still use my degree on for when I apply for a job in the future." Y/n doesn't seem to notice it, but as she let out an information she never knew she'd be getting out in this, the weight on her shoulder flew away little by little as she continued.

"They kept... thinking that Psychology isn't a good start on having the perfect life they wished for me to have, but, it was what I wanted so I went with it. I know it wasn't just about mental care just like what they always think about... but, sometimes I just hope they supported me a little more." Biting her lips, she looked down, not wanting to witness the pitiful look that she would always receive from Miya, her friend whenever she would talk about that.

But, she doubt Ms. Harkness would even give her such thing.

You do know your parents loves you yo death, and they make you feel that, always. You just wished sometimes that they are better when it comes to the things you wanted, such as taking that course where you see yourself being in the future.

"Stop biting your lip." A small frown of confusion appeared on her face as she looked up at the woman in front of her again.

Still biting her lip, Agatha took her time scanning the younger girl's face. Her eyes held an amusement she never inteded to give as her lips was in a thin line that almost gave away what she was thinking.

It wasn't often that people would open up personal things like that with Agatha, but whow as she to compalin when she was the one who asked of it. Just confused with how easily the girl seemed to be talking to Agatha with everything, the woman felt a little surprised.

"You should not think of what the others though of you... what you do." Agatha shrugged, uncrossing her arms before putting both of it on her side, her palms flat on the table as she crossed her foot. "Your destiny is what you want it to be..." Gazing at the girl who was looking at her that made her feel an unknown... warmth. A familiarity she wasn't familiar with.

An unexplainable feeling of unknown.

"Your future is yours to hold and make." She finishes, still gazing deeply in your fac, as if she was trying to remember every part of it like how she did in the many application forms that fell on her desk.

The 2x2 professional picture on your application form did not do you any mercy, that she could confirm.

"Well... they're my parents." There was a sudden small chuckle that came out of your mouth as if what she said makes you laugh.

"And? Are they the ones who will make your future for you, Y/l/n? The ones who will do the hard work while you offer your life to a boss that doesn't show you an ounce of appreciation? They are your parents, but they are just your parents, and you... you hold what you will be." Agatha said so casually, she almost wanted to stop talking when she became self aware of how personal the conversation are seeming to become.

But, with those eyes that seemed to be catching every word that came out of her mouth, those wandering eyes that seemed be so... sparkling with so much wonder than the world had intended it to be. She couldn't stop, as if your attention caught her tounge... and it makes her seek more of it.

"I guess, I just... care about them too much..." Y/n said, as if she's talking herself.

There was a moment of silence, as you both hold your gaze. Agatha could tell that you were lost, seeing the gears running inside your head to process what she just said. She couldn't help but take her time on scanning your face once more, analyzing too deeply than she intended herself to do.

Too deep that she had ever done.

The line that was invisible in the atmosphere above you that seemed to be getting longer in each moment, was cut short by the knock in the door. Only your head snapping to it, only to see Ms. Maximoff's head and half body poking through it.

Out from the trance you were in, but your attention on the certain red head, the pair of eyes that was burning holes on the side of your head weny unnoticed by you.

"Time's up, the next interviewee will come see you now-" She was cut off by the voice that seemed to be less cold earlier when talking to you.

"Cancel it, we're not done yet." Seeing how the red head's eyes narrowed in wonder, you cleared your throat and got up.

"N-no, it's... it's fine, Ms. Harkness." Looking back at the woman, you almost flinched with how she was looking at you. As if right there and then, she knew that you were the one who ate Miya's cake from the fridge last saturday night. "I can go now-"

Agatha's head turned to Wanda, dismissing you as she stood up straight. "Cancel all the remaining interviews. I'll tell you when we're done." She said, only to receive a nod from the red head that held a hopefull gaze.

The gaze you didn't noticed as you stood there, all your attention on the woman in front of you. Just then, you noticed the height difference between that both of you, how she overtowered your small frame and how her scent invaded your senses.

You hands trembled as it hold the strap of your bag, not knowing what to do or think. Then, it was like a fleeting moment before her eyes were on you again, it didn't hold the sharp professional gaze she gave the red head earlier. There was a certain amusement with how she looked at you, a spark you couldn't name if it's confusion or something along the lines of wanting more information.

As you stand there, you watched as one of the side of her lips turned up, before walking towards the expensive singke sofa beside yours. Sitting down on it oh so casually, she patted her hand on the arm of the sofa and motioned her gaze for you to sit back, which you did.

"So, tell me more about you, Ms. Y/l/n."

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"Its smart business." Agatha explained after Y/n asked about the charity she did on Africa."You don't agree?" Agatha immediately asked, seeing the uncertain look she received from the young girl.

"I don't know enough about it." Y/n said truthfully, her face full of innocence about businesses. "I just wonder, if your heart might be a bit bigger than you want to let on?" She continued, saying it carefully as if she fears that she'll say something that the woman would not like or be offended from.

"But some people say I don't have a heart." Agatha sai flatly, her eyes looking for something on Y/n's face before looking away.

"Why would they say that?" Seeing the confused frown for the young woman's face, she smiled as if she was asked about a joke.

Shaking her head as if she's in disbelief, she answered, "Because they know me well." Hearing the silence from the other person inside the room with her, Agatha felt her heart jump a little at the distant look on Y/n's face.

Agatha thought deeply on what she might be thinking. Does she think bad of her now? Just like what everyone thought her to be. Made her to be.

Before she could even overthink more, a question casually fell out of Y/n's lips that she had caught herself gazing at for the nth time.

Y/n shook the thought of her interaction with the famous CEO in the city of Westview, one of the big cities in the country of New York City. Y/n thought how she was so far from what they pictured her to be.

Those tabloid that reported how men and women were left on her trail with a heart broken and a company crumbled into pieces. She's the infamous CEO that either often bad mouthed on or praised. Y/n doesn't know, but she saw she saw and experienced what she did.

There was kindness underneath that walls that Y/n could see she built so high, it makes her think so deep if she's the only interviewee that Agatha had talked to like that, maybe, the universe was just in good mood.

The interview ended when Ms. Maximoff once again went in, telling the CEO that she has an important meeting to go to. It might've been just Y/n being delusional, but she saw how Ms. Harkness—or should she say, Agatha, stared at her for too long. Contemplating wether to end the conversation or once again cancel something.

With a few more serious demand from the red head, she heard the CEO sighed and they bid their goodbyes with Agatha accompanying the young girl on the way to the elevator.

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Y/n's POV:

"Y/n." Agatha said, it sounded so rich. My mouth agaped as the elevator dinged, surprised with how it rolled off on her tounge. I'd die to hear it one more time—what?! No, shut up, Y/n.

Before the door closed, I managed to let out, "Agatha." A smile playing on my face.

Shaking my head as I restock a layer of locks, being in the hardware could so boring, tiring and at the same time satisfying. And what I mean by satisfying is I get to organized things like this.

"Hey, would you mind helping me back there?" Eric asked snapping me out of my thoughts, one my co-worker who is on shift today with me.

"Oh-, yeah, yeah, sure." He nodded with a grateful smile and walked past me, going straight to the storage room.

Sighing, I put aside the box and took a mental note to finish it all off later. Inhaling with closed eyes before I started walking off, stretching my neck as I did so.

"Thought it was you." Jumping at the sound of a familiar voice, deep and with a certain playful tone.

"What the fuck?..." Thankfully, I managed to whisper it and tone my voice down, but with the look on her face, I knew she heard it.

"What a pleasant surprise, Ms. Y/L/N." She said with the same smirk that she gave me so many times back in her office.

"Y/n." I blurted out, waving her off as I started walking slowly towards her unconsciously. "Just... Y/n." Stopping when I'm a few feet away. "You're here?" I asked, looking behind her when I saw that another customer just got it.

She shrugged. "I was in the area of business. Need to pick up a few things." She looked back behind her, noticing that I was checking the hardware. "Are you free?" My eyes snapped at her, not clearly understanding what she was asking.

Mentally cursing myself, I immediately answered. "Yeah, what can I help you with?" She shook her head before looking down while chuckling quietly, as if having a silent conversation with herself.

She started listing off the things she needs and I nodded. "Cable ties, yes we do have those. I can show you if you want." I offered, looking at her as I bite my lip, waiting for her answer.

I caught her staring at my lips, making me pull away and lick it. "Lead the way, Ms. Y/L/N." She said, now with her voice sounding a little bit lower than usual, just then her gaze met mine.

Smiling slightly. "It's Y/n." I reminded before turning to lead her where the cable ties are.

"You know, when you said you were working in a hardware... I was having thoughts about it. But... here you are." Frowning as I gave her the cable ties, which she accepted immediately.

I saw a smile playing on her face. "Why?" I asked curiously, a short giggle coming out from my mouth.

She shook her head. "Nothing, just that... you don't seem like a girl who would deal with so much testosterone around her." Shrugging, she pointed on the rope, and gestured a number 6 with her fingers.

Nodding, I went over to it and started measuring. "Hmm, stereotyping, aren't we, Ms. Harkness?" I narrowed my eyes at her and once again, I was met with one of the most gorgeous chuckle in my lifetime.

She looked at me with a certain amusement playing in her eyes, shaking her head as she took the rope from my hand. "Just kidding." She put everything in one hand, before looking around. "Do you have tapes?" I nodded and pointed on an aisle we haven't passed through.

"We have one inch and two inches, but the truly self respecting handyman would have both in his tool box. Of course he will. It's rare to find a connoisseur these days..." I rambled, not giving her chance to reply, I gave her both.

"Are you a girls scout?" I smiled and shook my head.

"I told you, I'm a member of so many recreational... organization." I said as I look at her things, only then noticing what she was wearing. She looks so simple but so... argh, magnificent at the same time. Clad in purple long sleeves and slacks.

"Are you done checking me out or do I have to wait til I can check these out?" She joked, and I giggled, looking away, trying to hide the mark of an embarrassment crossing my face.

"I just thought how you'd be a perfect casting for a serial killer in a movie right now. We have overalls, if you'd like. Blood might stick on your million dollar clothes." I bite back, looking up at her teasingly, only to find her smirking at me as if she's very entertained by our banter.

Well, I am too. I don't know where I'm getting all that courage to even try on coming toe to toe with her. Maybe it's the way she seemed to be listening so intently on me, hanging on to every words that I say, or maybe it's because I feel comfortable in her atmosphere.

"Could just take off my clothes." Immediately pulling out the smile on my face, my eyes widen a little before she chuckled once again.

"Okay, let me lead you to the counter now." I said, finishing whatever's going to happen in our conversation.

She was still chuckling quietly until we reached the counter when I started checking out the things she got. "Did the company emailed you already?" She asked out of nowhere, making me frown in confusion and look at her face.

"Hmm, my laptop's down... I haven't really checked my email yet, why?" Looking at the computed before I bagged her things up, not thinking much of her question.

"Well, you should. Wanda's been tearing my ear off because you're taking too long to answer and she's—unfortunately, getting tired of me." Rolling her eyes while shrugging.

My eyes narrowed. "Wait... does that mean?..." I asked, not knowing what to say but she seemed to know what it was as she smiled softly and nodded.

"If you don't email back until today, I might change my mind." She shrugged, looking at me teasingly and I gasped, jumping on my tippy toes.

"No! No, no! I'll check it out and send something as soon as possible! I promise! I'll just borrow Miya's laptop." I rambled, and she nodded.

"Your friend, right? Roomate?" She said, taking the bag from my hand and I smiled, amused and surprised that she even remembered that.

"Wow, you remembered..." I said, amusement lacing my tone. "Yeah, yeah, my friend and roomate." I confirmed.

"Well then, I'll be waiting for your email, Y/n." She smiled at me before a person lined up behind her to check out.

"Very well, Agat—Ms. Harkness." Smilling back up at her.

"It's Agatha." She replied, already turning to leave.

"Not until today." I said, giggling, only to receive a shrugged from her, just like that she's gone.

God, the universe might have been having a very good week.

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Sighing, I got out of my knocked up classic car—still the car that I love so much. It's from my dad, gifted it to me for Christmas when I turned 18. Thankfully, it was not that busy on the hardware earlier today, I managed to get off of work early.

It's almost dinner, I doubt Miya would be here, since she's been spending more time on her girlfriend's house for the semestral break. But, as soon as I step inside the house, a body collided with mind and warmth filled my body as I smiled.

"Oh my god! I missed you!" I giggled, almost carrying her with how she's putting all her weight on me.

"Miya! You're here." I laughed. "When did you get home?" I asked and it took her several seconds to pull away before answering, pulling me with her on the couch.

"Yelena dropped me off earlier, and you! We have so many things to catch up! What happened to the interview? How've you been? Did you get that dog you've been wanting to adopt?" I looked at her weirdly but in a playful away, putting my hand on her mouth.

"Okay, okay, slow your horses down." She giggled and pushed my hands away, only to intertwine hers with it and put it in between of us. "First of all, you're acting like we haven't seen each other in months, gosh." I exasperated, rolling my eyes with the same smile playing on my face.

"Hey!" She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms in front of her. "A week is too long! We barely even text." She bit back and I rolled my eyes.

"Well, if you didn't always choose your girlfriend over me then you won't miss me big time." I teased. "Okay, let's stop this..." I crisscross my legs and put my whole front facing her.

She giggled and did the same, looking at me with awaiting eyes, making me smile once more. "Start at the interview! Was she hot? Oh! Is she like... mean? God, I bet all you could think was those fictions you read on wattpad." She laughed, throwing her head back and I frowned.

"Hey! You mean, those weird things that you made me read? And, I am certainly not like that or into that. Okay, wait! The interview went..." I trailed off, now did I only pondered deeply how did it really went. Gosh, I knew I thought of it—or her, mostly.

I mean, I knew I won't pass the intervew and get the job, the less expectations the better. That's why I was really shocked to hear her say that I got it, which I took a mental note on borrowing Miya's laptop later that she left on her room.

"Well?..." I said, not knowing even to myself if I am saying it to her or myself. Her mouth opened and I knew I am getting a whole bunch of heavy and loud questions, demanding a straight answer, but before she could even continue, the doorbell rang and we both looked towards the door then back at each other.

"I got it!" She stood up quickly, rushing to it and I was left thinking what should I tell her.

I mean, I know she'll think of so many things if I told her that the interview didn't really went as an... interview about the job, right? And, I can't tell her about how oh so casual did the famous CEO of our city acted so... casual and normal with me. God, I certainly can't tell her that I saw her again earlier.

Miya will yap my ear off about her weird fantasies that I sometimes get tired of... and also plagues my mind in the most annoying way.

"Hey, you got a gift." Before I even knew it, her feet came into my view and I looked up at her frowning, looking at the big box in her hands, not daring to take it.

"What? What's that?" Full of curiosity lacing my voice.

"How could I know, dumbass." She dropped it on my lap before taking a sit next to me.

I was left to hold the box, gazing at it as it would give me answers only to see a note peeking on the side. It was only a paper folded in a half, making it easier for me to get a glimpse of what is inside when I opened it, which is a short letter and an initial at the end.

Hoping for my assistant's immediate answer, Ms. Y/L/N. Maximoff so close to resigning.

-A.H

"What does it say?" Leaning towards me to get a glimpse of the note, she pondered. "A.H?" She asked out loud.

Then it hit me. Before I could even take it away from her sight, I heard her gasp. My heart jumping miles away from the sky. Not bothering to look at her, I opened the box and was met with a brand new MacBook that probably cost my income for 10 months.

"Oh my god..." I mumbled, not knowing what to feel.

"Ms. Hakrness sent you this?!"

"Oh god."

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Author's Note: Merry Christmas! 🎁

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #CEO!Agatha Harkness #CEO!Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 months ago

Text

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #cod smut #smut #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas fanfic #los vaqueros

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shedoessoshedoes · 21 days ago

Text

Never Let Me Go

Merry Christmas, @inkedinshadows! I hope you enjoy part one of your gift, and I hope the angst is good for you. Personally, I am OBSESSED with how much comfort we have in this fic, too! So grateful that @acotargiftexchange put all of this together 🥰 You can read chapter one under the cut or on ao3.

wc: ~2500

cw: none!

It was still dark when Elain woke up. She had–an itch, or something like it. She swatted her hand back at her shoulder, and when it made contact with a face, Azriel smiled into her skin. Oh. She rolled over into him, sighing happily when his kisses travelled up her neck and to her lips.

“Good morning,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her deeply again. “I love you.”

Elain giggled, breaking the kiss until it was just their two smiles pressed against each other, laughter slipping out between them.

“I love you,” he said for a second time, climbing on top of her to press her further into the bed. “Do you know that? That I love you?”

“No,” Elain whispered, playing into his joke. “Tell me again. Tell me until you are sick of it.”

“Ah, but there’s your mistake. I could never be sick of it.” Azriel’s legs were straddling Elain’s by then, his wings stretching over them, his hands clasping her face as he kissed her over and over and over, whispering his venerations as he went. Elain’s hands fell over his own, rubbing aimlessly at the band on his ring finger.

“Don’t you need to leave?” Elain asked, peeking over his wing to see the sky turning the barest shade of grey, dawn just beginning to break.

Azriel hummed, tilting her chin back towards him to bury her in more kisses. “Not now. Not when you’re here.”

She shoved him off of her then, and he flopped dramatically onto his back, hand splayed across his forehead like some sort of damsel in distress. One of his wings came to lie on top of her, and Elain revelled in the last bits of his warmth.

“And this is the treatment I get from my wife?” he complained, eyes squeezing shut. “She refuses to let me waste the day away in bed with her? Forces me away from her? Requires me to work?”

“Oh, hush,” Elain replied, pushing his wing back at him and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to reach for the tea that they spelled to keep warm all night on the bedside table. “You’ve put this mission off for weeks and now you’re upset you have to go right before Solstice.”

Azriel lolled his head to the side as he watched Elain make their tea. “Forgive me, Lain, if your company is more exciting than the Illyrian warlords’.”

“Well then,” she said, handing him a teacup and leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You just must hurry back to me. I have quite a good present for you this year.”

Azriel pouted for another moment, and then heaved himself up off of the bed. “I suppose one of your gifts could be incentive enough to freeze all week.”

She hummed, moving to her dressing table and leaning back into Azriel when he leaned down to wrap his arms around her. “And just think, it’s not only gifts from me you’re coming back to. We’re making dinner, and everyone will be here, and we can celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and think about that time two years ago when–”

Azriel cut her off with a snarl. “When I made a complete ass of myself and almost lost you forever? Yes, Elain, I’ll be sure to think of that when I’m cold and lonely and wishing that I was home with you.”

She patted his cheek. “I’m kidding. Besides, I like your second piece of jewelry even more than the first one.”

His eyes caught on her wedding ring in the mirror, and Elain watched him pull himself out of his pool of lust and into his role as a Shadowsinger, watched him prepare to leave for a week instead of tumble back into bed with her. “Good,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “That one never had all the shame attached to it, anyways.”

“Or the big, bad, scary High-Lord-orders,” she joked, and Azriel’s face turned bright red. Elain got up to spin away from him before he could catch her and punish her for her teasing. “Go. Get ready. I’ll be in the kitchen when you want to come eat and say goodbye.”

She could hear him grumbling all the way down to the kitchen about “Blood-sworn to this court since I was fucking eighteen years old, Elain,” and she smiled as she set about making herself breakfast. Blood-sworn since he was eighteen years old, indeed, and yet her husband had defied all of it for her.

Two weeks after Nyx had been born, Elain had wandered into the townhouse in search of a respite from Rhysand’s hovering and–she hated to admit it–Nyx’s cries. She’d found Azriel drunk out of his mind, and he wouldn’t stop muttering about mating bonds and necklaces and headache powder and blood duels until she had hauled him to bed. When she woke up the next morning to check on her garden, she opened the door to Azriel, mouth agape and hand raised as though he had been about to knock. He tried to apologize for the night before, but Elain had started arguing with him before he had even had a chance. She’d told him about the falseness of her bond with Lucien, had explained that what she felt for Azriel had come so naturally that when she felt the tugging towards him she went easily. She’d told him that she assumed he felt the same. She’d told him about her awful thought process on Solstice: that she was cursed to find false bonds over and over, to be rejected again and again–to relive her engagement to Graysen again and again–and to never be able to See any of it in advance. He’d fallen to his knees at that, burying his head into her stomach, tears soaking through her dress. He’d explained everything: Rhys’s orders, what he’d done with her necklace, the draw he’d felt towards her since that first day at Archeron manor. The love he’d felt for her since then.

They’d both cried, then, mourning all the time they had lost, wrapped in each other in the early morning light. Eventually, Azriel pulled his head out of Elain’s shoulder, pressed two kisses to her forehead, and said, in a voice no louder than a whisper, “You’re my mate. I love you.” His words made Elain cry even harder, and she’d not been able to sob out an “I love you,” in return, choosing instead to pull him down for a kiss. He’d come easily, and before they knew it, they were on the floor, so completely tangled up in each other that Elain didn’t know if they’d ever be able to separate themselves again. Later, she’d fed him half of a scone (because he was too impatient to finish the other half), and he’d laughed in exaltation at the feeling of that true bridge between them completing itself. Elain gasped as the string tying her to Lucien fell away, and no one saw Elain or Azriel for a month after that.

They’d been officially married for six months now, although they’d been calling each other husband and wife since those first weeks together. It had been something that Elain had thought about–secretly–while she pined over him. While their mating bond was powerful, and had perhaps played a part in their initial attraction to each other, she had fallen in love with her husband in spite of it–after all, she had believed she had a different mate for the first few years of her fae life. Azriel enjoyed the titles, too. No one had ever put him first–no one ever chose him–and when Elain called him her husband, the world knew that she had picked him. The Mother hadn’t simply thrown them together because of their equity. They had chosen each other because they knew how well they fit.

Elain was drawn out of her reverie by one of Azriel’s shadows preceding him to the kitchen, and she smiled as it twirled its way around her ankles like a cat. She turned to face him, pressing a mug of coffee into his hand as she leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He smelled like soap and himself and her, and Elain took another deep breath before stepping away.

He sat down at the counter and watched as she finished making breakfast, the quiet settling over them. She put his plate down in front of him and he pulled her into his lap while he ate. Elain had learned that Azriel became especially clingy when he had to leave her, and she traced the scars on his hand soothingly while he ate with his other one.

When he was finished, he washed his dish and put it away, and came over to her again. He pressed kisses to her hair and then to her temple, pulling her along through the house as he gathered what he needed to go. They stood by the door, and Azriel held out his hand expectantly. Elain huffed a smile and dropped a bundle of sage, thyme, and lavender into his hand, collected from her garden and grown with the intention of protecting him.

“You’ll be just fine.” she told him, reassuring herself as much as she was him. “You’ve done this for nearly six hundred years. You’ll be just fine, and I will see you in a week, and I love you more than you will ever, ever know.”

He smiled faintly, his jaw working as he turned to look out the front door. “I just hate not being with you.”

“I know,” she said lightly, twisting her fingers through his own. “I miss you, too.”

He sighed, then, seeming to resign himself to his fate, nodded once before turning to face her. He dipped down to kiss her once, twice, three times, and then straightened back up.

“Make the Illyrians very scared of you,” Elain said. “Just because you have a wife doesn’t mean you’re soft. I’m an Archeron too, you know.”

“They’re terrified of your herbs,” he responded. “They think it’s witchcraft.”

At this, Elain shrugged, since it was, technically, witchcraft, and he looked down at her intently.

“They’re also terrified of your reputation, Lady Shadowsinger.”

Elain shrugged again. She and Azriel had quickly realized that they made a formidable interrogation team, her plants torturing in ways Truthteller could not, and her visions helping to identify the masterminds behind plots and treason. “Then they should know to be afraid of you, too.”

He laughed faintly, his shadows dancing anxiously around him. Elain pulled him down for one last kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With that, he pulled back, starting for the door. “I’ll be back in a week,” he said, seeming to remind himself as much as her. “And you’ll be here.”

“And I’ll be here,” she agreed, opening the door for him. He took one last look at her and then was gone, kicking up into the sky. Elain shivered in the winter air and turned to head back inside, steeling herself for the week ahead.

The days slipped by easily. Elain visited her sisters, tended to her greenhouses, prepared for the Solstice celebrations, and thought about Azriel. When Solstice Eve finally came, she could hardly contain the nervous energy that surrounded her husband’s return. She busied herself in the kitchen of the townhouse, preparing for her family’s arrival and greeting them one by one: Nesta and Cassian, who arrived first in a blur of leathers and banter, and Feyre and Rhys, who had left a sick Nyx at home and seemed content to laze about in the living room.

Nesta sat in the kitchen with Elain and read while Elain cooked, and they laughed at what they could hear from their family in the living room. Eventually, Rhys made his way into the kitchen too, asking if there was anything he could do to help. Elain scoffed. “As though you could do anything to help with this meal that wouldn’t result in the house on fire.”

He held his hands up. “I’m also happy to set the table or rearrange decorations or taste test.”

Elain laughed, whirling around to check the bread, grabbing a towel to protect her hand as she bent over and pulled it out of the oven, dropping it on top of the stove before flitting over to return to work on her cookies, Rhysand watching in amusement. She picked up her frosting and immediately doubled over, vision whiting out as she dropped to her hands and knees. In the distance, she could hear Rhys shouting her name, could hear Feyre running into the kitchen, could feel Nesta dropping to the floor and grasping Elain’s hands with her own. It all faded away as the vision came into view, crowding out all of her other senses.

Azriel faded into view, soaring over the Illyrian mountains. His wings stretched nearly past what Elain could see, and even through the haze of the vision, Elain felt her breath catch at just how stunning he looked. He adjusted his wings, and she could tell that he was getting ready to pull himself through his shadows to step back into Velaris’s skies. Before he could, Elain saw something flying towards him out of the corner of her eye, and she shrieked as she watched another Illyrian barrel into him and stab at Azriel’s side. His eyes went wide, and Elain watched in horror as the two males fell out of the sky. She reached out to try and reach them, and was snapped out of the vision when her hand twisted into the soft fabric of Nesta’s dress instead of the hard leather of Azriel’s armor.

She looked up at Nesta in horror, opening her mouth to try to speak. Nothing came out. Feyre knelt down next to the two of them, pulling Elain into her side, Nesta still grasping at her hands. Tears started tracking down Elain’s face, and Feyre tapped incredibly lightly into her mind.

Can I see? she asked, voice as tender as the one she used with Nyx.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to speak, and was barely able to relive the memory of her vision while Feyre watched.

Do you think it’s from today? Feyre asked quietly. As Elain’s powers developed they had learned that she could See the past, present, and future, and that it was sometimes difficult to discern what–and when–her visions were depicting.

Elain just shook her head. I don’t know. He has his ring on, but he goes to the mountains so frequently that–that I don’t know when this one would be.

When Feyre gently pulled away, Elain’s tears became sobs. She curled into Nesta’s arms as Feyre got up.

“Where–exactly–did you send Azriel today?” Feyre asked Rhys, slipping into the High Lady version of herself.

Cassian cut in before Rhys could. “To check in with some of our informants in the more remote Illyrian camps. Why?” Elain choked out an answer before Feyre could explain. “Because he’s gone.”

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

Let me know what you think!! Comments/feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome. My ask box is open--let me know what you want to read next!

#elriel fanfic #elriel #acotar gift exchange #EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK

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mawlbone · 3 days ago

Text

MARKED MINES - NIKTO

SNIPPET: The lingering sensation of pain is more than enough proof that you’re human enough to still feel the sharp sting of pain when you feel there’s no one there to hold you in all your numbness.

[CW: gender neutral reader, dom reader, mean reader, kidnapper reader, manipulative reader, insecure nikto, soft sex, dehumanization, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, unhealthy codependent relationship, mention of sh scars and brief vivid description of previous sexual assault and torture (not from nikto and reader), vomit, water boarding, knifeplay, masochist nikto, mild bloodplay, self depreciating thoughts, scarring, degradation, marking, touch-starved nikto, forced proximity, dry-humping, and lots of cuddling and a Kreuger appearance.]

[COMMENT: If you are sensitive to the topics listed above, I recommend you to read my other fics because yes, the warnings are heavy in this one. What is a happy ending is subjective to the reader’s opinion.]

Time touches all that is living. It’s the simplest fact that all men know.

It’s ever so present with the way the young burst into towering adults, the way they mature with fine lines growing onto one’s face, and the greying hair that sparkle onto one’s head once they turn back into little old creatures. But for all what time can touch, it cannot heal all wounds as much as the people like to preach it from their mighty ground that everything will eventually be alright.

Does it truly?

For what the brain cannot remember, the body pays in tenfold.

So it’ll desire a release. A means to end an illness all stuck in your head as a desperate measure to prove it’s all real and still there. Why else would one’s body constantly clutch over in pain trying to piece the fragments of an once clear image? All that stress, all that anger, and all those tears makes a terrible sight for everyone. It’s shameful. It’s not like one can control these emotions, much to the disappointment of the world.

Time comes and goes, and it’ll forever leaves everyone behind in its mess. For time does not heal all wounds. All it does is make you forget in the obscurity of itself.

Maybe that’s why Nikto is so desperate to be around people. People are permanent. People are alive. But why does he always feel so lonely in the company of others, even when he tries to escape it by fleeing to the emptiness of other rooms. Maybe it’s himself that he cannot stand to be around, he thinks as he collapses into the bushes, hissing as he clutched his stomach feeling the bullet inside his flesh. A failed mission, he was left behind. His fault for not paying attention.

It’s fine.

He’ll just make his way back again once he recover, he thinks, just barely dragging his body, following the lights in the woods to a little house hidden amongst the grasping branches of the forests.

Hopefully a good samaritan is nice enough to house him for a little while.

—

You always wanted a pet.

For all your assortment of critters you had over the years, despite all the love and care you can put into ensuring they get the best meals and enrichment. All of them had inevitably die to the hands of the clock and left in heartache.

Your family suggested that you find something else to accompany you instead, tired of you griefing over every animal you ever had. Young and old, big or small, fur or scales.

Animals are not meant for a human lifespan, no matter how long humans tried to domesticate them. So people were naturally your next choice, but a lifelong companion never last long anyways as much as you like to try again and again. Many failed dates, whether through online dating apps or setups from your friends all ultimately failed. None of them were half as loving or loyal as any ol’ hound you had before.

Hell, if anything they were worse.

So when a thump was heard at your door, you can only hold in a squeal seeing a collapsed man at your door. All big and brawny, a perfect pet. How perfect, you thought as you pulled your back to drag the man inside your home and down into your basement.

You don’t receive much visitors nowadays, simply hunting and fishing around the area to occupy yourself. Isolating yourself to the ends of the woods was what you prefer to the bustle of the city life. So nobody should mind if you keep another pet, right?

You got a big enough kennel for him down there, he’ll be all healthy again once you get that bullet sorted out.

—

Like all strays, Maybe you should had expected your new dog to be so reactive once he woke up bounded to your bed, cussing and all as he tugged against the chains holding his ankles back from grasping the bars of his cage. It was fairly spacious, if anything, more than what you’ll usually give, but the whole basement was designed to keep some guy’s exotic pet collection once before, so you suppose this dog of yours still perfectly suits the room’s purpose.

But damn was he a bitch to handle, biting your fingers every time you tried to feed him, barking at you whenever you tried to bond with him and even threating to kill you, calling you disgusting and pervert for keeping him down here. Seething anytime you come down to check on him and saying his men will come find him and torture you for what you done to him.

How mean.

That didn’t stop him from crying though when you held him down to clean him up, too weak to fight back from constantly spitting out your food as he shivered at the cold water wiping away the mess. There’s no bathroom in the basement after all, only a bucket to relieve himself in.

As much as, what your dog, Nikto, which he liked to calls himself, likes to bark at you. You learned he was terribly easy to break, absolutely despising being alone as you watched him from your cameras down below.

The constant whines, the pleading, the lack of time down there made it all too easy within the darkness of the room. You’ll watch him hold himself tight as his arm cling tight around his head or chest to protect himself crying and screaming, demanding you to come down. If you’re lucky enough, you’ll find him whimpering quietly trying to relieve himself to ease his stress.

At first, he’ll turn his back to the camera trying to get off as he whines into the room unable to get his fix. But no longer he cares anymore once you dropped several of your old pillows and blankets to comfort him and watching him snuggle against them, a pillow settled underneath his hips to rut against as he presses into nose to your things.

What a freak, you thought as he watched him sigh and mewl so prettily, even taking a hand back to thrust back into his own fingers. Biting into the blankets to muffle his screams when he finally got his release.

But you’re impatient. You want a companion still.

His reactions were fun for you to bully him with every time you came down to tease him. You made it a routine to drop many of his meals off and leaving for multiple days on end to fuck with his concept of time. Seconds turn into hours, and days turn into months as you lied about what day is it everytime you come down. But eventually it got tiring, you gotbored with the same response over and over again anytime you try to be nice to Nikto.

Perhaps it’s true that you’re not fated for a lifelong companion, maybe this dog is not meant to be yours. So you gave up on him.

Your final test was when you left the cell and basement door ajar, no word directed at Nikto as he whined at you to let him go still. His voice softer, weaker now with the lack of water you give him after splashing his glass onto you. If he doesn’t want to stay here, fine. You won’t keep such an ungrateful thing here anymore if he keeps fighting back at you. You had a work trip to go to anyways back at the city.

He could be freed and gone from your house for all you could care once when you arrived back.

Though the last thing you could had expected was the sight of him sitting on your porch, just like the day you find him, dazed as you pulled into the driveway. Naked with nothing more his briefs and blanket strapped over his shoulders as he stared at you blankly, whining at you once more to ask why you left him as fat tears fall down his face.

You watch his struggle to stand up, wobbling as his hands reach outward trying to grasp you and apologizing for behaving so badly to you.

Oh… He thinks you’re a hallucination, you thought as he cutely stumbles over to you, sniffing in his sobs as he loudly cries your name. Looks like he’s could still be good dog after all, you hummed to yourself as you walked forward to allow him to collapse against you, taking him back to your house once more.

Finally he is properly broken in and all yours.

—

For what little Nikto can remember, between the grasps of many nitrile blue hands clenching his face and the sting of scalpels pushing onto his skin as if he was a human pincushion, he cannot for the life of him remember the faces of the many men that held him in that icy metal chair those long nights once ago.

A blessing or a curse?

He is unsure.

Perhaps he was too preoccupied in that moment taking in the circumstances of his fate as he rattled in those chains hissing from the sharp stings of thin cuts lined across his stomach as he is forced to endure hearing the laughter of the crowd that surrounded his form splashing him with cold water running down his naked form.

In that time, he was a showstopper. Their entertainer for them to please as they push and pull him all around. So it’s no wonder when he had threw up so violently over himself that he knocked himself out once those nitrite blues started crawling down his hips and grasping at his skin to cut further into. He remembers nothing further of that eventful day but the fade of hysterical laughter will always be drilled into his ears.

He doesn’t know who he is without his trauma anymore. It’s almost intimate to him of how he feels reassured with the numerous scars decorating his skin. It’s something that had become whom he is.

Almost a lover.

But, how do you explain that to someone? It’ll seem like to anyone that he doesn’t want to get better but he already lost so much of himself. He had already become so familiar with this sight that its disappearance will toss him further back into the ends of his mind to find himself back. This sight, these scars are what’s left of him, a reminder that’s he’s still undeniably human and one of them, one of you.

Back in the basement, at least you didn’t hit him, taunt him, or stop feeding him.

You’re different. You always allow him to touch you and he’ll feel soft skin, and not latex on his fingers. Instead of drills and mocking laughter, there’s you peering down on him and praising him and giving him easy affections as you pat down and take care of all his wounds.

Maybe that’s what he finds so fascinating about this sight, Nikto thinks as he watches you bandage his arms, gently scolding him after catching him picking his scabs all bloody again in the bathroom that night, deciding to not punish him.

He doesn’t know why he did it.

You two just had a nice romp that afternoon with you spoiling him hours on end. Constantly cuddling and caressing his face, even giving him plenty of attention to his dick, easing him from the mess of his mind. Every sweet croon of your voice as you squeezed him dry had him gasping for air, head too full of that overwhelming pleasure as you bullied him to tears as you pushed him over and over to spill over your hand until he was empty, leaving him fuzzy enough to sleep as you cleaned and kiss his cries quiet. A reward for behaving so well, you said.

So why did he had to go and fuck it all up and ruin all your trust, he was doing so well!

Was it to remind himself that good things don’t last long when he snuck out the bed that hour, that this much happiness doesn’t belong to him, that he needed a relief to remind him of whom he was? What he came from?

He isn’t sure.

None of the rest do either.

Despite your best efforts to help him from his vices, as nowadays, you help him shave after telling you doesn’t trust himself with something so sharp near his face anymore. Sweetly enough, you said you don’t mind him hairy anyways if he so wishes to keep it that way, it’s cute, as you smoothed your terribly warm hands on his chest and patting it like he’s some big dog.

Humiliating.

But damn if he’s isn’t enjoying your attention as you cradled his face, calling him your good boy and how he’s still cute and all even when his face is obscured by his mask and saying it’s little happy hoodie to calm him down, you said once day, dropping multiple pairs on the bed for him to try on. Even allowing him to gather your clothes to sleep with. Compared to before, the comfort of the mattress in your bedroom does wonders to his body compared to the one from the basement, as he rumbles happily as you scratch his tummy and letting him thump against the cushion all tucked up in your lap as you watched some old television.

He’s undeniably warm and full from dinner hours ago, too sated with all the heat surrounding but that didn’t stop his stomach from dropping once you place a knife on his tummy.

Your neck is already littered with his marks: from the long scratches down your back, the cheeky playful nips at your fingers, and the dark bruises littering your throat. You know he likes claiming you. But you always wondered if he would had liked a more permanent mark on him from you.

“Nikto”, he’ll hear you speak ever so softly as you dragged the blade against his stomach.

Your breath is hot and heavy, against the back of his neck. You can feel him shiver at the coldness of the blade against his skin goosebumps arise from it. Your voice is clear as you dragged the sharpened weapon against, he’s deadly still.

“Would you mind if I place my initials here”, as you pointed the tip of the blade just a hair away from piercing into him

Fuck…

Yeah he would like that.

He will really like that.

Belonging somewhere, belonging to you. It’ll means you won’t abandon him. You’re just proving that. Anyone one who can see it will know he belongs to you. You can only laugh at seeing the tent forming in his pants as you pulled his shirt away, ensuring you wipe your hands and his skin clean with an alcohol wipe clean before placing on a glove to ensure his wound won’t get infected.

You’ll be a bad owner after all if he got too hurt.

As you settled better behind him, back pressed your chest, it will be your own little secret between him and you, whenever he can see your initials as you gently press the knife against his stomach, ensuring you are pressing into the meat of his lower tummy. No need to actually kill your doggie by cutting too deep, you’ll be a careless owner then.

Slow and precise, you made sure to keep a hand on Nikto’s chest so he won’t move as your made your cuts onto his skin. One by one, a letter formed onto his skin as Nikto hitched his breath, feeling the familiar sharp stings pressing onto his skin.

Soon enough, you were finished with your work as you wiped away the blood and begin cleaning yourself up as you cleaned the cuts with some alcohol spray and pressing a bandage over it. All while praising your boy for behaving so well as Nikto pants away as he grips onto your arm for comfort.

You’ll laugh seeing the tent in his jeans as you cooed the man for behaving so well, though you had to swat away Nikto’s hands from pressing down on the wound, however assuring him that since it’s only light cuts that it’ll heal soon and he can admire it later. As he lift his head up, you had little moments to prepare yourself as he flipped himself over to tackle you onto the bed, licking your face as he nuzzled into your neck thanking you for keeping him.

Time will touch all that is yours, but perhaps it will allow you to keep Nikto until your eventual end.

How sweet.

Though you will have to do something about that strange little green netted man who keeps popping up in your woods and disrupting your traps.

Maybe you’ll ought to get Nikto a little friend to occupy himself. He did say something about his men finding you.

The more the merrier, right?

#💀…cod #🐾…pet au #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto cod #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #dom reader #mawlbone’s empty pen

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hyuny-bunny · 8 months ago

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Hi Rose!

Can you do a fic where SKZ are in an interview and one of the questions for each of them is, "If you have a sister, whom would you want her to date?" And Minho vehemently objects to his metaphoric sister dating his friends, then notices Changbin looking all suspicious. Turns out Changbin has been chatting up Minho's cousin. Juicy, juicy.

Thank you! But please, please don't feel obligated if you're not comfy writing this, okay?

of course ! thank you so much for the request and i hope this does it justice :') i did tweak the details abit and kinda ran with it 😅. i hope not too much to disappoint. if you want something a little more spicy feel free to submit again and i can do a follow up pt 2☺️

i'll wait | C.B. ft minho

genre: fluff overload, friends to lovers, slow burn romance

content warning: cuteness overload, kissing, slightly upset minho, minho threatening to break changbin.

Minho had always been like an older brother to you. You weren't too far apart in age, you were glued to the hip at 3 and it's always been that way. Both sets of parents had to have a difficult talk with the two of you, explaining you weren't siblings. It didn't stop him referring to you as his sister and for you your brother.

Even during his time as a trainee, you were always there supporting. Whether it was dropping by the company building for a 15 minute break to have coffee and catch up, you'd always make time for him. When he was recruited by Chan to be a part of a group, you were ecstatic for him but your time together was cut down significantly when he went on to do the survival show.

After getting his big break to debut, he spent a lot of time out with his group doing street performances and advertising their group. You'd often join him with passing out flyers or just helping them record videos as they hadn't been supplied with staff just yet. You got more familiar with the rest of his group but you were always shy around them, not really knowing your place in how to interact with them.

Changbin and Jisung were the first ones you warmed up to. Han was always respectful but treated you like a friend, always making you feel comfortable around them. Changbin was much shyer with his approach. He found you pretty the moment Minho introduced you to all of them. He'd always crack jokes to you when you were around. Teasing your camera work when they were going back of their vlogs. It wasn't until one afternoon, you were supposed to be meeting Minho & Changbin for lunch, Minho had been running behind with his dance practice. This was the most nervous Changbin had felt in a long time, not even his performance review came close to he felt knowing he'd be alone with you until Minho would arrive.

All his worries washed away when he saw you sitting out on the terrace of that cafe. You were wearing a grey sweater with a black skirt. It was fall so the cold hadn't set it but he could see your legs shivering. Without thinking about it, he was already pulling his jacket off. He walked over to you seeing the way you beamed at him melted his heart.

"Here, for your legs." He extended the jacket out to you.

"Oh... it's fine, binnie," His heart skipped a beat at the nickname, "I'm not that cold! I don't want you getting cold either."

He cocked an eyebrow at you before laying the jacket over your lap himself, he didn't know where the confidence to do that came from. Your heart swooned at the gesture, your legs find a new found warmth from the heat that came from the worn jacket and the blood rushing in you. From that day on you had kept a close friendship to him, one Minho himself would've seen.

Much later down the line your friendship grew closer but never anything more. It wasn't until a few months before their new comeback, Changbin was stressing beyond belief. The pressure to have a big impact on the music charts this time around was getting to his head. He was practically calling you every night to talk. One night he couldn't take it anymore, he needed to see you. It was 2 in the morning, he was letting his legs were move and think for him.

He's standing at your door debating on whether or not to ring your bell, not a second is able to pass before you're already there opening the door. The next moment we're all a blur because once he's stepped into your apartment, his shoes kicked off, his lips are on yours. After a moment or so he stops, apologizing for not having asked for your permission but you're already pulling him back down to kiss him some more. After the night he swears off kissing, he wants to be able to date you properly. The other obstacle you face is your beloved cousin. You know the one who brought you two together, the one who doesn't know the details of your relationship with his group member.

From then, you both find time to sneak off for dates. Your dates mainly consist of eating dinner at his studio, or he's bringing you food to your place for a movie night. You're trying you best to make things work, away from prying eyes, deranged fans, and most importantly, from Minho.

The truth about the two of you comes spilling out suddenly and unexpectedly when SKZ is on a variety show. Their staff at this point had a vague idea of you relationship status to Binnie but it was unbeknownst to them that Minho did not know. Minho had invited you to come watch the variety show so you could all grab dinner afterwards. Things took a turn when the host was going around asking about the members siblings.

Lee Know candidly spoke about a cousin that was practically his sister, you could see Binnie glancing your way past the camera.

"Would any of you let your sisters date another member of the group?" The host asked.

Seung is the first to adamantly say 'no'. He's waving and shaking his head no in disgust, they're all laughing at his reaction but Minho soon joins in on him.

"Nope, never. Not happening, maybe when I'm dead." Minho deadpans looking across his members but his eyes land on Changbin who is dead staring at you.

He clocks it then. Minhos eyes are darting back and forth between you two. It takes Chan kicking the back of Changbins chair for him to snap out of his daze letting out a loud 'huh'. Minho's eyes are narrowed on him.

He knows something but he doesn't know for fact.

"Would you let your sister date any of the members?... Or better yet would you date any of the members sisters?" The host is laughing while repeating the question. Minho isn't laughing though.

Changbin flusters out a 'no' but his cheeks are a tint of pink now that he was caught staring you down. The filming wraps up and staff are asking the production to send them over the final product before they release it, just as an extra precaution. Minho says nothing when he brushes past you. He's pissed.

Shit maybe he does know.

You're standing out by your car waiting for Minho. It was supposed to be 4 of you. Jisung, Minho, Changbin, and you. You wave your goodbyes to rest of the members, finally seeing the three of them walking out together. You can tell Jisung is yapping about something based off the way he's moving his hands while talking. Changbin walks beside him head low and Minho walks on the opposite side of Han. He's staring you down all the way till he gets to you.

You're all standing outside the car but no one is moving.

"Do you have something to tell me?" Minho's never had such a cold tone with you, it makes you straighten up.

"I uh... We wanted to... I just..." You can't find the words but Changbin steps up.

"Take it out on me," He's stepped in between you two now. "We didn't know how to tell you, I asked to keep it quiet until the time came."

"And when was that time? Because I just had to find out in front an entire production crew and our staff. Was that your ideal time?" He's pissed but he's also hurt. Hurt that you would hide this from him.

"I'm sorry, Min. I am really. I was just scared that you wouldn't..."

"That I wouldn't what?" He snaps at you.

"You wouldn't approve of it."

beat

His eyes soften looking at you. He looks to Changbin.

"Do you love her?"

"I love her"

It was the first time you heard him say he loved you. It wasn't the way he imagined it going. Minho sighs looking at you again, he can tell it was your first time hearing this too.

"Okay.... If you so much as lay a hand on her or do anything to break her heart, i will break your fingers off one by one, and you'll never lift a weight again, got it?" Minho has a hand on his shoulder and a finger pointing in his face like a parent scolding a child.

Jisung has been stuck in same pose for the last 20 minutes with his jaw slack to the floor while clutching his hand over his heart. You're right there with him ever since you heard Changbin say 'I love her'.

Minho moves to open the car to put his bag in the back, unfortunately you're still frozen in place and haven't unlocked.

"You know the least you could do is feed me now?" He looks at you gesturing the car keys in hand. He grabs the keys from you to unlock the car now. He hugs you for a moment before patting changbin on the shoulder.

You look at Changbin who is matching the flush on your face. He kisses your forehead trying to bring you out of your state of shock.

" You know 'I love you, too' would've been nice to hear ," He laughs taking the keys and walking to the passenger side to usher you in "But I'll wait."

#changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin oneshot #changbin x you #changbin comfort #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #changbin fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Life in the City 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: <3

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Clark drops you off right at the front doors. You’re early. Typically the bus would drop you off a block away about ten minutes later. At least you have your own office to hang out in.

You head into the office, your iced matcha latte condensating down your hand and wrist. You step off as you try to sop up the mess, distracted as you walk blindly to your cubicle. You stop at the empty desk and scoff at yourself. Your so forgetful sometimes.

You continue down to your office and let yourself in with the key. You shuffle inside and slip your bag off your arm onto your chair. You swipe several tissues from the box and fold it under the cup, setting it down carefully on top of the layers. You shake the moisture from your fingers and go to your chair, moving your bag onto the desk as you search inside for your phone.

“You need a coaster,” a deep timbre breaks the early lull.

You look up as Thor stands in the doorway, smirking as he watches you. You offer a sheepish smile as you put your phone down and fish out your rose gold pen. You place is by your keyboard and find your agenda to put with it.

“Huh, yeah, I could bring one from home,” you shrug.

“Mm, and what flavour is that? It’s rather... bright,” he muses as he breaks the threshold slowly.

“Oh, it’s matcha,” you back up as he comes closer, peering down over your monitors.

“Hm, I’ve never had it. Perhaps one day I might indulge,” he says, “a nice treat to start the day. I’d have guessed something sweeter. You know, the cafe downstairs, they have a cinnamon roll latte. Oh, yes,” he pats his stomach under his jacket, “dangerous.”

You offer a courteous laugh. You can’t help but be intimidated and slightly put off by his spontaneity. You didn’t expect him to just wander in. Nor can you keep him out; after all, he is your boss. He gave you this office.

“I’ve actually never been to the cafe. Bit steep,” you say, “I suppose I should get started.”

You roll the chair back and pivot it, lowering yourself slowly. He hovers as he is, turning to peer around the office. He sucks his teeth loudly and looks at his watch. As you peek up at him, he taps his fingers against his chin.

“This place is so dull. So boring. It does not inspire,” he puts his hands up, stretching out his long fingers, “I believe that atmosphere is everything. My whole vision for this company is innovation and you can’t be creative with... grey walls.”

You look between him and the walls. You didn’t choose the colour. You just took what you got.

“Come, I think we need to do some important purchasing,” he snaps his fingers. “Coasters, don’t want rings,” he points down, “and some art.” He turns and makes a frame with his index fingers thumbs, “mm, and maybe a pop of colour elsewhere. A vase. Flowers always do liven a place up.”

“Oh, well, I actually should...” your voice trails off. You should do what your boss tells you. “Sure, uh, I suppose I could push a few things.”

“Yes, well, fits in nicely, as you always do,” he says, “I did break my mouse... they make those things much too small.”

“Oh no,” you murmur, “let me just...” you grab your phone and put it back in your bag, a notification flashing back at you. Later. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be running around.”

You step out from behind the desk in your platform oxfords. He looks you up and down, “ah, I did wonder if you had a growth spurt. Late bloomer or something.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “I wish.”

You go to walk around your desk and he points past you, “don’t forget your drink.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

You take the cup, most of the condensation has soaked into the tissue. You throw the sodden kleenex in the bin and turn to Thor. You give a bright but shaky smile. You knew today would be a lot but with him, it’s all so fast.

“Staples?” You wonder.

“Hm, sure, I suppose they have what we need.”

“Do you have an Apple computer? You could get one of their pads instead of a mouse,” you suggest.

“Mm, clever,” he remarks as he waves you ahead of him, “already showing innovation.”

“Well, it’s just a thought,” you say.

“That’s where the best ideas begin,” he follows you out into the hall. “Never underestimate the small things,” he comes up beside you and brushes his hand across your lower back before dropping his arm straight, “they do surprise us.”

🏙️

The tall shelves of the office depot tower over you. Most things do. You stop to admire the colourful gel pens, knowing they’re impractical, but still covetous of their glittery inserts.

Your phone vibes in your bag just as you check the time. An hour into your day and all you’ve done is wander the store. It hardly feels like a promotion, it’s aimless. You’re just going along for the ride. Quite literally.

‘Are you free tonight?’ The message expands at a tap.

At first, you assume it’s Melanie. Clark’s name stares back at you, followed in quick succession by a second messaged.

‘Wanted to start planning!’

You measure your response. You don’t have much going on but you’re already exhausted. The week is hardly midway and it’s been a whirlwind.

You type with your thumbs as you sidle along, ‘tomorrow? Don’t have much energy.’

You lower your phone as you hear your name. For such a big man, Thor can sneak right up on you. He’s only a few feet away as he struts up with a full basket. Wow. You smile and press your cell to your leg.

“You on the phone?” He asks as he approaches.

“Oh, no, just... just a message,” you hit the lock button and put your phone in your pocket. “Nothing important. Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be. I get it. Boyfriend checking in?”

You nearly scoff. You just shake your head, “what did you find?” You point to the basket and he quickly refocuses, lifting it higher to sift through the contents.

“Coasters,” he fishes out a set of flower-shaped coasters and grins broadly, “I thought these were very you.”

“Oh?” You take them and admire them, “cute.”

“And I found this,” he pulls out another item, a long fluffy cloud looking piece of foam, “a wrist rest; ergonomical and all.”

“Right, ha,” you chuckle thinly, “yeah, I like it.” As you look at it, it seems like it will only be in the way.

“But then, you can’t have that without the mouse pad,” he plucks out another item, the same pale blue as the wrist pad.

“Did you get your mouse?” You ask.

“Mm, that’s where I require your input. I can’t quite decide,” he turns to lay out his options on the shelf, “I like the colour of this one but this one’s bigger and this one lights up.”

He’s almost like a child as he explains; there’s just too many good things to choose from. You feel that pain but you’re not used to being the adult. Besides, isn’t he the boss?

“Well, I would say whatever you think would be most comfortable. You said the old one was too small, right? And this one’s pretty hefty.” You point to the center one, “oh, and ergonomic, hey.”

“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “wise. Yes, I do think I’ve made the right choice.”

He takes the center one and drops it into the basket before gathering the others.

“I’ll put these back then we can head back to the office. I almost forgot we have work to do,” he laughs.

You smile sheepishly and follow him. He takes his time putting away the accessories then you set out for the checkout. You’re nervous to start the real work. The hard-hitting stuff.

“I’ve some numbers to go over with you when we get back. We’ll get all this set up first and go from there,” he says as he stands parallel to you as you wait in queue.

“Oh, alright,” you cross your arms, “sounds good.”

🏙️

As promised, your day is more than just an impromptu shopping spree. You put the stack of coasters at the corner of the desk and lay out the new mousepad and wrist rest. Your space is looking a lot more brighter.

Your walls are even a little more colourful. As you review the files Thor sent you the day before, he hangs the modern art prints on the wall. You’re not entirely sure what the abstract shapes are supposed to be; maybe plants?

When he finally sits down, the anticipation has you wound tight. He brings a chair around to your side of the desk and looks over your shoulder. Of all the meetings you’ve had in your time there, everyone has their own device, their own screens. His proximity is overwhelming along with the endless rows of numbers and graphs.

“You’ll see here where Onyx Row was most successful. This should be where we focus. We’ve finally got all their data and so that will be your task,” he explains, “but it’s important to look into the low points too. It’s just as good to know what doesn’t work, eh?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He’s over explaining a bit. You’re an analyst. Your job is to look at it all. Maybe he doesn’t trust you just yet. After all, you are new. You don’t have the same experience as the rest of the team. It would explain why he’s spending so much time with you too.

“So, how are you? Need a coffee yet? Tea?” He shifts his tone. It’s off putting how quickly he can swing from one extreme to the other. “I think I might hit the cafe downstairs as I mentioned.”

“Really, I’m good,” you assure him, “that matcha’s got me jittering.”

“Mm, another day then. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“You’ve done so much already,” you smile, only then feeling how he grips the back of your chair, just behind your head.

“Any good leader knows they don’t lead by demanding, they make it possible for their needs to be met,” he stands, a little too close then slowly steps back. “You have my extension, you know where my office is.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod and grip your mouse tighter, “thank you.”

You turn your attention to the monitor and listen to him leave. You feel as if you might melt with impatience. You just want him gone so you can relax for one minute. The door shuts and you slump back with a huff.

You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. This is a lot of work. Sure, having your own office is great but at what cost? This is senior-level stuff and you’ve only just begun. You only got your diploma a year ago.

As nice as Thor is, he’s still your boss. He’s in charge. If you don’t meet his demands, it could ruin more than just your job here. It would cost you the only reference you have in the field.

You try to calm yourself down at the lines and numbers blur in your vision. You’re scaring yourself. Everyone else has been super awesome and you’re just being you. You sit up and a knock comes at the door. Oh, jeez.

“Come in?” You call.

The door opens and Thor peeks around.

“No coffee, but I couldn’t resist getting you something sweet,” he strolls in with a box in hand, “blueberry cinnamon scone.”

“Wow, oh, I’ll have to have it for lunch, thank you,” you accept it and set it by the coasters.

“For sure,” his grin beams down at you, “just some sustenance to keep you going.” He winks, “you’re in the big leagues now.”

“Sure am,” you agree breathily, “er, thanks again.”

“I’ll just get out of your way,” he raises his coffee cup just slightly, “I’ll be around.”

He leaves you again. You roll closer to the desk and plant your elbows. You hold your head as your eyes bore into the monitor. If you stare long enough into the abyss, it will stare back into you.

You finally get yourself going, falling into a rhythm as you click through the zipped folder. A lot of the information is poorly kept. You can assume a few reasons Onyx Row went under aside from their numbers.

The work is tedious and you find yourself going back and forth. The distant noise of the office can't touch you through your excel glazed trance. You're vaguely aware of a buzz and voices but your furrowed brow blocks the world out.

It isn't until a knock sounds and your name rips through your dry-eyed purgatory that you sit up straight enough to feel the crick in your neck. You reach to rub it as you squint at Thor. Back again?

“Thought I saw light in here,” he comments, “working late already?”

“Late?” You blink and look at the corner of your screen. Holy cow, it's six! “Uh… yeah.”

“I'm… actually glad you're still here, there was something I wanted to touch on sooner than later. Urgent, actually.” He pauses to check his expensive watch, “unless I'm keeping you from something? Someone?”

“No, just the bus,” you save the files and exit out.

“Hm, well, it is quite the conversation, maybe we might talk over dinner? It is late and you're probably too tired to cook, eh?”

“I… that's… you don't have to–”

“I do have a reservation and they have a policy,” he clucks and taps his watch, “you know, I'm getting a bit of a reputation for eating alone too.”

You frown. You want to say know but how can you? Besides, he's offering you a meal, not like he's asking you to stay and finish sorting through a swamp of numbers.

“Well, if it's urgent,” you stand and grab your phone, “I guess we should talk sooner than later.”

“Wonderful,” he pats his stomach, “I forgot my lunch. I'm starving.”

#thor #clark kent #dark thor #dark!thor #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #thor x reader #fic #series #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #dc #dcu #superman #avengers

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allurilove · 7 months ago

Note

Any face claims for your OCs?

Hey anon!

I’ve stated before that I don’t really imagine anyone in particular for my yandere men, and I don’t describe them as much because you guys can actually just insert whatever man you want to imagine.

Alright, I updated this and added heights and such!

Yandere Ghost:

Age: 500-528

Height: Can manipulate his height! He can be 5’0”-9’0” tall.

Looks: For this character, I do have a description of what he looks like. Long white silky hair that comes all the way down to his ankles. He has pale skin, and you can see faint purple veins. Light pink lips and a bit of rouge on his cheeks. It’s canon that he’s a pretty individual, and he looks androgynous.

Yandere Prince:

Age: 24-26

Height: 6’5” or 195 cm.

Occupation: A bloodthirsty prince from a well off kingdom.

Looks: For this character, I do have a description of what he looks like. He’s tall and imposing with jet black hair. He has blue eyes, and is basically Prince Eric cause I was inspired by The Little Mermaid.

Yandere Neighbor:

Age: ??? Is an adult.

Height: 6’5” or 195 cm.

Occupation: A handyman!

Looks: awkward as hell.

Yandere Knight:

Age: 26-28

Height: 6'4-5” or 193 or 195 cm.

Occupation: A trusted knight that protects the princess.

Yandere Husband:

Age: 32-36

Height: 6'4" or 193 cm.

Occupation: An actuary that makes about 260k a year.

Looks: For this character, I do have a description of what he looks like. He’s a muscular man that doesn’t like to miss a day at the gym. He’s been trim all of his life, and has never had the dad-bod phase (been too busy running around and chasing Henry). I’ve stated before that his build is sort of like Miguel O’Hara, and he has those nice strong shoulders and biceps. He looks clean, proper, and professional. He also occasionally wears glasses.

Yandere Best-friend:

Age: young 20’s to late 20’s in the time jump.

Height: 6’3” or 190 cm.

Occupation: Graduated from University, and is now opening his own restaurant.

Looks: Big. He takes the gym seriously. I also envision him being like Clark Kent from Smallville. Fluffy hair, wears baggy jeans and huge shirts. He doesn’t really care about fashion and what he looks like.

Yandere Manager:

Age: ???

Height: 6’3” or 190 cm.

Occupation: The manager for famous singer reader, and other artists. He makes a pretty decent amount of money, and he never discloses you how much though.

Looks: He wears dark navy sweaters, and a nice fancy watch on his wrist so he can tell you when to come back home.

Yandere Classmate:

Nationality/Ethnicity: Polish-American

Age: 18 in first fic, now 19-20's

Height: 6'2-3" or 187 or 190 cm.

Occupation: A high-school senior in the first fic, and now a graduated college student.

Looks: For this character, I do have a description of what he looks like. He’s a blond and blue eyed man. He is broad shouldered, well-built since he’s a swimmer, and it’s canon that he’s good-looking or shall I say… gorgeous?

Yandere Chaebol:

Ethnicity: Korean

Age: 37

Height: 6’1” or 185 cm.

Occupation: His family owns gas stations, huge malls, and a tech company that creates refrigerators and air conditioners. He’s also starting to dabble into the pharmaceutical industry. Easily makes millions upon millions of dollars.

Crybaby Yandere:

Age: 20-23

Height: 6’1” or 185 cm.

Yandere Professor:

Age: 30-33

Height: 6'0" or 182 cm.

Occupation: A psychology professor that makes 80-100k a year.

Looks: Pretty much lives in his business attire 24/7, but will opt for grey sweatpants when he’s alone at his house. Hes a stern, no-nonsense man.

Calm Yandere:

Age: 25

Height: 6'0" or 182 cm.

Occupation: A fairly new veterinarian that makes about 70-90k a year.

Looks: Has dark hair.

Yandere Survivor:

Age: 28

Height: 6’0” or 182 cm.

Occupation: He was a bartender, then sort of survived a zombie apocalypse, but then got turned.

Yandere Stalker:

Age: 24-26

Height: 5'11" or 180 cm.

Occupation: He works as a freelance artist.

Looks: Lol, someone asked about his hands so here’s all ur gonna get!

Yandere Prodigy:

Age: mid-late twenties

Height: 5’11” or 180 cm.

Occupation: Violin player.

Yandere Boyfriend:

Nationality/Ethnicity: Japanese-American

Age: 18 in first fic, now 19-20's

Height: 5'10-11" or 177 or 180 cm.

Occupation: He had or has a bajillion jobs. His resume is long, but now he’s working at a cafe near his house and is loving it.

Dumb Yandere:

Age: 22-24

Height: 5'8-9" or 172 or 175 cm. ?

Occupation: He is a stay-at-home husband.

#Allurilove asks #What do my oc’s look like?#What are their heights?#some have face claims #some are perceived as mid and some are hot #yandere oc #male yandere oc's #male yandere

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gabessquishytum · 4 months ago

Note

Hi Gabe and welcome back 💖💖 I’ve got a particularly delicious ask for you hehe

So TJ-Dragonblade and Delta-Pavonis both wrote incredible fics on the concept of immortal gigolo to the supernatural, Hob Gadling, and Dream finding out about said occupation in modern day.

But what if Hob had the opportunity to service Dream in 1389? Then 1489, and 1589…you get the gist.

Maybe Hob is the token mortal at the agency who happens to become immortal because Dream just finds him so irresistible and he wants to fuck this mortal way past his normal lifespan. Or maybe Hob’s already met Death and gotten immortality another way from her, and now he’s heard all about Dream and is eager to please.

Maybe they both think at first this is just a nice arrangement, a good way to get a mindblowing orgasm once a century but oops, Hob’s caught feels! And Dream has too but he’ll be the last to admit that.

Anyways, how do you think their 1789 meeting REALLY went in this scenario? 😏😏😏

Hey beloved seiya!!! Thank you for this ask - I have been thinking about immortal gigolo Hob SO MUCH. My brain immediately went to 'Hob started the agency and is like the brothel madame and only very occasionally takes on special clients'. The idea of Hob as a somewhat morally grey person who takes in supernatural waifs and strays and kind of grooms them into the perfect escorts really tickles my brain. Of course when he sees Dream, Hob immediately calls dibs on him because he's so fucking pretty no one else is allowed to have him.

As for their 1789 meeting, I have so many thoughts about Hob getting dressed up beforehand. I mean it in the nicest possible way but he looks like such a tart at that meeting (in all fairness so does Dream) so I can't help but imagine all the other employees helping Hob get ready for his big date - he's got a selkie coiffuring his hair, a couple of ghouls helping him with his garters, a werewolf giving him a manicure. It's like cinderella getting ready for the ball. Hob books the private room for them to have their little tete a tete... and of course he doesn't forget to specify that he wants a bedroom.

How can Dream resist this particularly tasty morsel? Hob looks better than ever in 1789, he's really made a go of it in the business world... Dream may disapprove, but he appreciates the results. Add the fact that Hob is so eager for him, so clearly prepared and thrilled to be fucked by his mysterious stranger... well, Dream has an ego. He's only too happy to sprawl back against the mattress and allow Hob to suck him off - not once, but twice. His hair comes lose from his pretty ribbon and Hob doesn't look so different from 1389, long haired and dishevelled and grinning. Dream is about 30 seconds from taking him off to the dreaming forever. Why limit himself to once a century, when he could have this every night?

Alas, they are interrupted.

Instead of accusing Hob of being the Wandering Jew, Lady Constantine calls him the Devil's Whore. She's not exactly far off. Lucifer is a client of the agency, but Hob never serves them personally. In fact, Hob only serves Dream. But Dream doesn't need to know that. He believes that Hob spends his immortal days in the debauched company of many, many beings. Believing anything else would be admission of something special between them, and Dream can't allow that...

Not for another 250 years or so, anyway!

#seiya-starsniper #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw sex work #cw transactional sex

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winterscaptain · 7 months ago

Text

A Joyful Future Masterlist - Part I

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

updated: november 15th, 2021 total finished works: 166 works in progress: 23 planned works: 107

summary: canon-divergent, big family!au

currently working on absence part ii and the mean-it era

beta’d by @ssaic-jareau, without whom none of this would be possible

resources and links:

inspo blog + media folder

faq + cheat sheets

headcanon masterlist

to-write list

find upcoming fics here | join my tag list! | submit an idea!

please read faq and key before asking a question!

▶ episodes i’m planning to adapt for ajf ✸ smut - explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors dni) ✦ suggestive content - non-explicit suggestions of intimacy, drinking, etc. ☰ fem!reader (all other fics are gender neutral) ◎ graphic/edit ✂ director’s commentary ☎ podfic

Part I: Cicatrize

Ao3 Link

2007

Advocate Cicatrize ✂ | 3x01 "Doubt" - 3x11 "Birthright" Ambition Aaron Hotchner's Letter of Recommendation ◎

2008

▶ Working Title: Reflections | 3x05 "Seven Seconds" ▶ Working Title: Worser Instincts | 3x16 "Elephant's Memory" ▶ Working Title: Developments | 3x17 "In Heat" Dreaming ✦ Intellectual Guesswork | 3x19 "Tabula Rasa" Familiarity | Crossover: NCIS 5x19 "Judgement Day, Part II" Focused | 3x20 "Lo-Fi" - 4x01 "Mayhem" Constellations | 4x02 "The Angel Maker" Buffer Through and Through | 4x03 "Minimal Loss" ▶ Working Title: Milestone | 4x05 "Catching Out" Players Bedtime ▶ Working Title: Grounded | 4x07 "Memoriam" Pride | 4x08 "Masterpiece" Dead Man's Hand ☰ | 4x09 "52 Pickup" Unfair Midnight ✦

2009

At Risk Part I | 4x10 "Brothers at Arms" - 4x11 "Normal" At Risk Part II | 4x12 "Soul Mates" - 4x13 "Bloodline" A Kindness | 4x16 "Pleasure is My Business"

Part II: Fear Itself

Ao3 Link

2009

2010

Exceeding Expectations | 5x11 "Retaliation" Three's Company Sunburnt ▶ Working Title: TBD | 5x18 "The Fight" A Horrible First | 5x16 "Right of Passage" Unbecoming | 5x21 "Exit Wounds" ▶ Working Title: Blackout | 5x23-6x01 "Darkest Hour/Longest Night" An Opinion

Part III: Berry Hill

Ao3 Link

2010

A Real Hero | 6x09 "Devil's Night" Short Notice Berry Hill ▶ Working Title: Berry Hill (Aaron's Version) Two Inches Stowaway ✸

2011

No Help A Chance of Snow Waldosia | 6x18 "Lauren" - 6x24 "The Big Sea" Absence | 6x24 "The Big Sea" - 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It ✸ ☰ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It (SFW + Gender Neutral) ✦ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Firsts ✦ Impression Gossip: A Prelude ✦ ☰ Surreal About Time Second Best Obligated | 7x10 "There's No Place Like Home" Conspiracy The Pleasures of the Elder ✦ ☎ Not Complaining ✸ Mistletoe ✦ ✂ Bring It ✸

2012

Gifts & Notices Symptoms Hide

Masterlist Part II

Masterlist Part III

#a joyful future #ajf update #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #tali talks cm #winterscaptain

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bbnibini · 1 year ago

Text

You, Over the World (Solomon)

So, I wasn't satisfied with the “snow” entry in the 9days of Solomon challenge and always intended to write another fic in the challenge outside of the continuing narrative I was working on, but life had plans and I ran out of time so I dedicate this oneshot to its wonderful organiser @impish-ivy. I switched out “humanity” for “the world” in the repeating dialogues cause it sounded more dramatic lol but this should have been an entry for ‘humanity’. If the vibes are familiar, I was thinking a lot about Frieren while writing this. :))

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He mutters a yes over the verdant foliage, amongst the spring flowers that bloomed over melted snow. He says it again as he traced the petals with his fingers, his memories simmering in the past—your understanding eyes, smiling and unwavering, as if he were waiting for you to say something else.

He held his breath,

“Would you choose the world over me?”

…and he says yes again under the shade of an umbrella overlooking the horizon. He squints his eyes against the hot air blowing on his face. The unchanging view he once saw with you became unrecognisable. The sky was blue as always; the summer sun, hot and cruel as he buried his feet under the warm sand—he strained his ears to listen to your stories, but even a whisper of them had been lost in time—the weight of his choice carried away by the thrashing waves. The world over you. “The greater good”. The “logical” choice that even you understood that he had to make. He thinks this over and over until the cicadas had stopped crying, and the punishing heat of the sun hid itself away to welcome a cool, moonless sky.

With nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, he walks towards the ocean again. Aimlessly, almost dragging his feet, until he heard the currents, the salty air welcoming him as his feet touched the seawater. He hated everything about it, but he couldn't get you it off his mind–he should not even care anymore. He never cared. Everything that carried a piece of you is seafoam dissolving in the tides, and your memories were nothing but a ghost haunting him in the night.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

He was at a loss for words as he remembered the question again when a leaf fell on his face, waking him up from an unplanned nap. He was never the earliest riser. Mornings to him were nothing but extra hours of sleep, but he found himself there again despite the absence of…everything. The busy crowds haggling for bargains—cinnamon and nutmeg and the falling leaves. Your hands were on his face, slapping him gently on his cheeks to rouse him from his slumber. Your voice was admonishing yet sweet.

It's gone too, I suppose.

He thought to himself as he waited for a flea market in the forgotten park, with nothing but the dents on the pavement and fading paint telling him that it was actually there. Years ago, maybe. Relocated somewhere else. Why didn't he bother to know? He did remember a stall there that he frequented with you. A kind stranger told him they have a whole chain of restaurants now; sold to a big company after the original owner’s passing. The orange leaves crunched beneath him as he left to take another train, waiting for hours on the queue to be seated.

He ordered your favourite.

But it didn't taste anything like it.

The texture was off. Something was wrong with the taste. It was too hot and too cold at the same time. That couldn't be right, so he tried again and ordered his usual but it tasted even weirder: an amalgamation of textures and flavours that barely paid homage to its humble roots. And he wasn't even much of a gourmet.

He left, letting his eyes linger on the seated crowd: their blissful faces obviously enjoying their meal. He sighs.

“Would you choose the world over me?”

Everything was grey; the orange and yellows and reds were being buried in the cold drafts. He asks you to close the door, only to be reminded that Cocytus Hall was nothing but ruins now; earth and dust. Rotting foundations and leaking ceilings. Seen better days.

“Why have you chosen the world over me?”

He didn't know. What should he have answered you? The more time passed, the more it felt as if the hours had gotten slower and slower. His youthful face was a painful reminder of an eternity waiting for him. There was an aching that lingered in his chest that never went away. The view from outside was pure white. A light fog formed on the window as he breathed out and drew faces. He had many thoughts, but most were barely comprehensible, mangling into static noise. He stared into the distance.

It must be a beautiful day. It was warmer than a usual December, and the view from outside was breathtaking. Didn't he just make a breakthrough in his research? The Demon Prince and his butler are set to arrive in a day to honour his contributions…or something like that. He wasn't sure. It was a feat that his academic peers envied greatly, for he had yet again proven why he was called “The Wise”.

Never “The Heartful.” Not even discerning. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. There, he saw you.

“Cheer up, Solomon!”

A gloved hand that took his own. There was a question lingering in his mind as you walked through the thick snow.

“Would you let me choose the world over you?”

He couldn't remember your face. He had imagined the scenes in his head so many times, and it only worsened every cold winter he had to spend on his own.

But he had no choice.

Company was all but warm bodies that didn't seep into his soul. They laced fingers with him and whispered sweet words, but he was a phantom whose presence they couldn't even touch.

He was barely there or anywhere. See-through and paper-thin; deaf to kindness even in the face of sincerity. He remembered caring more, maybe a century ago, when he could still count the numbers of your fading presence with his fingers. But now…

…he saw you walking away again, so he pulled you back into his arms where you fit perfectly.

Where dreams were his only comfort. Where centuries and aeons felt like minutes ago, and the entire world that remained at your loss had any semblance of meaning. He held your face and pressed your lips on his, hoping all of what he couldn't say would reach you,

“I wish I didn't.”

…even if it's too late.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #om! shall we date #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me fic

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runninriot · 7 months ago

Text

inspired by the song Solitude by Black Sabbath, written for @steddiesongfics june song fics

Memories I Have Remind Me Of You

wc: 1999 | rated: T | tags: modern au, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, marriage proposal, dealing with heartbreak and regrets, Steve needs a little push from a stranger to make it right, sad but with a happy ending

The girl is nice. She’s pretty. Big eyes, plush lips, a kind smile, dimples.

Fucking dimples.

Her hair’s long and curly, doesn’t remind Steve of anyone in particular.

It doesn’t.

He does not think about someone else when the warm colour of her brown irises makes him remember.

Steve tries to listen when she talks, tries to laugh when she giggles sweetly, tries not to jerk away when she brushes his hand in a flirty manner but it’s hard to focus when his mind isn’t where it should be.

Did she just ask him a question?

“You didn’t even listen, huh?”

Steve shakes his head, looks back up at her, tries for an apologetic smile but to his confusion, she doesn’t even seem mad at him for not paying attention.

No, it’s worse.

She’s got that empathic, knowing look in her eyes. Like she can see right through him.

You’re so easy to read, baby.

He was never good at pretending.

“I’m not boring you, am I.”

It’s not really a question. The girl knows she’s a good catch, knows she isn’t the problem – Steve is.

“No, uh. Sorry, I-“

Who is he even trying to fool? No excuse he’s trying to come up with would be good enough because if he looks how he feels, it must be written all over his face. No way to hide the obvious.

I can see it in your eyes, baby. Your eyes always tell the truth.

Steve should’ve known it was a bad idea the moment he saw her picture, noticed the similarities. She instantly reminded him of-

He shouldn’t have agreed to this date.

Not because he doesn’t like her, no. She’s perfect, really. Or she would be.

They matched on a dating app, texted a bit back an forth. She was fun to talk to, made him laugh. And when she asked him if he wanted to meet, he thought that maybe it would help. That maybe this was his sign to finally get his ass back out there. He’d been holed up at home for too long. Sulking, sad, depressed.

Life just hasn’t been the same ever since.

His favourite meal has lost its taste. His favourite songs all sound off-key. Going to his favourite bar just seems like a waste of time - Steve’s life has lost its light, making everything seem dark and grey and dull.

Nothing is right anymore because everything reminds him of Eddie.

And Steve himself is the one to blame for his misery.

“I-“ Steve hesitates. He doesn’t want to bother her with his mess, didn’t come here to whine about things he can’t change. She didn’t come here to listen to him talk about his goddamn ex for fuck’s sake!

“What’s wrong?” she asks and Steve knows there’s no point in trying to pretend that everything’s fine when nothing ever is. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry for being such bad company,” Steve apologises and means it. She deserves better, could’ve gone on a date with someone worth spending her time with.

Someone actually interested in... something. Anything. Whatever it is she’s looking for.

Steve’s not it, that much is clear.

He’s not ready to move on. Maybe he never will be. Because what he had was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed to be happy. Life was good, perfect, before he ruined it all. Let the love of his life slip away because he was too afraid of the what ifs. So he pushed and he fought and he hurt the one that would’ve given him everything.

Now, Steve is just an empty shell of the man he used to be. Because the day Eddie left, he took Steve’s heart and soul with him, left him empty and broken and sad.

So fucking sad.

“You remind me of my ex.” The words are out before he can swallow them back down.

“Oh,” she answers, expression neutral. “Bad break-up?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about the day his whole life fell apart but-

“It was my fault. He left me because I fucked it up.”

The truth still hurts, even after all those months.

“What did you do?”

Steve and Eddie had met through a mutual friend, Dustin. It wasn’t quite love at first sight but close to it.

They quickly became friends, started hanging out on weekends, then, soon, even during the week. Spending the evenings after work at each other’s places, cooking dinner together, watching movies, talking.

Steve had never felt so drawn to another person, had never felt so comfortable in someone else’s presence. Eddie was... he was funny, kind, loud and wild. He had all these big dreams about what he wanted to do with his life. Dreams that were so very different from the small-town life Steve had always resigned himself to. Eddie wanted to travel the country, sleep under the stars, wake up next to a lake, follow the wind to wherever it would take him.

He wanted to be free.

But he stayed.

Eddie stayed because when they shared their first kiss in a weak moment of alcohol-fuelled recklessness, they ignited a fire that became too big too fast, making it impossible to smother the flames before they turned into burning desire that took a hold of them both. Scorching its way into their hearts where it settled, warm and bright, making light in every dark corner of their being.

It was the second first kiss that sealed their fate – a sober, slow, and tentative kiss in the low light of the morning sun that wiped away any worries and doubts Steve had when he woke up in Eddie’s arms after a night spent giving into their unspoken feelings as they took each other apart, not thinking about the consequences.

Knowing what it was like to wake up next to each other made it impossible to go back to simply being friends, to stay apart, to not fall in love.

Eddie and Steve were meant to be.

Together, everything felt right.

Eddie willingly put his own dreams aside for Steve who knew he could never repay him for the sacrifices he made just to be with him, tried to thank him every day by showing and telling him how much he loved him. And things were good, perfect.

Until-

“I don’t understand,” she says quietly when Steve takes a moment to breathe away the ache in his heart and the tears threatening to spill, “that sounds like a dream come true. What happened?”

Steve smiles sadly, sighs.

“Yeah, felt like a dream, too. But the thing with dreams is that no matter how beautiful they are, inevitably you will wake up.”

And a beautiful dream it was. Life was full of love and laughter and happy moments spent together, until Eddie proposed and Steve said No and the world tumbled down.

Because it was in that moment – with Eddie down on one knee, the simple gold ring Steve knew had belonged to Eddie’s uncle held between his thumb and finger as an offer, a promise to be his forever – that Steve realised he couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t marry Eddie and keep him trapped in a life he never wanted just because Steve was too scared of giving up the safety of his home for a life on the road with no destination ahead and an unforeseeable future.

Steve said no to set him free but even then Eddie kept fighting for him, fucking apologised for putting ‘so much pressure’ on Steve with his question which- was insane because Eddie had done nothing wrong, ever. He had never been anything but wonderful and considerate and perfect. Steve had been the one not willing to compromise, who inadvertently put Eddie in a cage of his own making.

So he pushed and he fought and he hurt Eddie in order to give him back his freedom, thinking, believing he was doing the right thing. It was only when Eddie packed his bags and left that Steve realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

The moment Eddie walked out the door without looking back, Steve knew he had lost everything.

“Where is he now?”

“Hm?”

“Eddie. Where did he go?”

“I, uh...” Steve shouldn’t know the answer to this but he does. Because Dustin told him. Tells him whenever he gets a call or another letter from Eddie, ignoring the fact that it tears Steve apart every time. Or maybe he does it on purpose, punishing Steve for hurting his friend. And Steve lets him, never complains, always holds back his tears until he’s back in his fortress of solitude, where he can drown in his pain and sorrow.

He deserves to suffer for what he did.

“He’s in Michigan.”

“Huh.” She cocks her head, smiles. “It’s been what, 5 months you said? Pretty sure he could’ve gotten a lot further by now.”

“What do you mean?”

“For someone who’s always wanted to travel the whole damn country, he didn’t make it that far.”

“Eddie never made plans on where he wanted to go. Maybe he found a nice place to stay for a while before he lets his heart take him somewhere else.”

“Staying conveniently close for no reason whatsoever. Got it,” she scoffs.

Steve looks at her with pleading eyes, needs her to stop giving him ideas, can’t allow himself to let hope bloom.

“He’s free to go wherever he wants.”

“Maybe what Eddie really wants is for you to tell him to come home.”

Her words hit him hard like a slap across the face, ringing loudly in his ears.

“What if- What if he doesn’t?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

-------

“You left me.”

It’s not meant as an accusation, sounds like one though. And Steve can see in the way Eddie furrows his brows and tightens his lips, that it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“You told me to.” Eddie’s answer is short but calm, not filled with anger like Steve expected.

“I wanted you to stay!”

He knows it isn’t fair because Steve did tell him to leave. What right does he have to want him back, to ask for forgiveness?

“I didn’t want you to leave but I was scared that you’d wake up one day and realise that being with me isn’t enough. That being in love isn’t worth giving up your dreams. You shouldn’t have to give up your dreams for me! I should’ve gone with you. I love you. I-”

Steve is crying, can’t stop shaking. He’s so angry at himself, feels so powerless and stupid. And Eddie just stands there and stares at him confused like he doesn’t know that Steve would do everything for a second chance.

Just when Steve is about to give up, turns to go because if he stays here any longer, he’ll fall to his knees and make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, two strong arms wrap around him from behind, keeping him from walking away.

“Don’t go,” Eddie whispers into his hair, tightens his grip to emphasise his words. “Stay.”

It’s what Steve should’ve said all those months ago, when he said the opposite instead.

Slowly, Steve turns within the arms holding him until he’s facing Eddie again. Eddie, who is so close now, Steve could bring their lips together by only moving in another inch or two. Could kiss away the tears running down Eddie’s cheeks.

“I can’t live without you, Eddie.”

“Then let me be with you.”

Their third first kiss is an angry one, rough and desperate. Full of regrets they swallow from each other’s lips, drinking them up to make them go away. To make it better. To make it right.

“Marry me, Steve.”

The answer comes easy this time - one word, a promise.

Forever, never apart, wherever it'll take them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddiesongfics #writing prompt

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 1 year ago

Note

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: VOODOO WEIGHT GAIN. Anything that happens to the voodoo doll, happens to the person it's moulded after. You stuff the doll with more fluff, and the person's belly grows. You dunk the doll in beer or a glass of wine, it soaks into the fabric and the person gets wasted. You rub at the doll's privates, and you hear startled moaning from the other room. I don't know, I just saw the idea on DeviantArt and I think that it has a lot of potential..

*Note: I, the author of this silly, kinky, little Tumblr fic, am white. And because of the past association between white people saying “voodoo” and cruelty towards people of color, I will not be using the term “voodoo doll.” I know nothing good or bad was necessarily meant by your ask, grey-faced anon user 😊, but I just don’t want to use that! So I’m going to say magic doll 🤷🏻‍♂️*

I FUCKING LOVE THIS IDEA.

JESUS CHRIST.

I AM SO FUCKING HERE FOR THIS.

Immediately, immediately, when you sent this to me I had a whole fucking AU in my head. This idea gives rich-man-Rogers and house-husband-boy-toy-Bucky…

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink. Mostly rapid and magical weight gain, some vague dubious concent vibes but not really, etc.

I am picturing the full fantasy.

Steve is rich as fuck and is the CEO of his successful company. Whatever that is, it’s not important. What is important is that Steve is older than Bucky and is taller and bigger than him, too. Bucky is younger and twinkier. He’s sweet and needy *cough* slutty *cough*. Steve has needs too, though. Needs that are a special kind and can’t be met by just anyone, so rather than sorting through the whole fucking mess that is dating and sparking a new romance… he turns to hire someone who he can take his needs out on. A sex worker.

Steve hires a sex worker.

Specifically, Steve hires Bucky, striking up an exclusive contract with him. He wants Bucky to live with him, he wants Bucky to be ready for use at any time he needs him, and he wants Bucky to - within his limits - give into all of Steve’s dirtiest fantasies.

One of these fantasies is having a boy at home who is at his every beck and call, and who is totally, completely spoiled. Not bratty, but spoiled.

And Steve wants the evidence of Bucky’s spoiling to be on full display. He wants his houseboy - his toy - to be soft. Pale skin completely bare. Waxed, not shaved. Skin lotioned extensively. Soft. Clothed in the finest silk and lace and the like. Manners perfect. Not all skin and bones, not all bulky muscle, but fat and padded as if he’s never had to work a day in his life and is instead doughy and excessive. Always sitting on his comfortable, cushy backside.

Yeah… 🫦

Steve has specific tastes.

But Steve also has more than enough money to acquire said specific tastes. He has so much money, in fact, that he can afford to commission a small, hand-sewn, delicate doll from one of Natasha’s highest-recommended contacts. Said contact is secretive, illusive, and extensively expensive, but she agrees to Steve’s wants immediately, claiming she has just the thing and he doesn’t need to keep explaining, so… Steve has no complaints.

Steve has no complaints whatsoever, reclining in his desk chair with his belt and slacks undone, dick out, at his heavy wooden desk in his private office at work, the top floor, his solid wood door locked, with his personal secretary blocking all of his calls. On his otherwise spotless desk, there are two things: one is his laptop, and the other is a pile of fiber fill stuffing. In one hand he’s holding that little magic doll. Meanwhile, Steve’s other hand is poised to pack some of that stuffing into the doll’s body. But Steve isn’t looking at the doll, nor at the pile of awaiting stuffing, he’s looking at his laptop. The thing that is so interesting on his laptop is Bucky.

In perfect, crystal-clear quality the security camera feed from his penthouse is sprawled across the big screen. The penthouse he’s sharing with his contracted boy toy.

Bucky.

He’s been watching Bucky wander around, cleaning (Steve would prefer if he didn’t, he really does want Bucky helpless and spoiled, but he knows the younger man would go stir crazy if he didn’t have something to do, so he allows it), just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And…

Now is good, right?

Yeah.

Now is good.

So, Steve pushes a big, thick wad of stuffing into the doll and watches, dick jerking, as Bucky’s silence is interrupted by a cacophony of noise - all at once, his boy toy’s sweatpants rip to shreds and his toy lets out a sound that’s half-whimper, half-moan. He’s totally startled by the sudden woomph of his ass tripling, maybe even quadrupling, in size. Bucky is so blatantly confused that he ends up stumbling forward, nearly falling over but catching himself barely. With the flurry of movement, his ass jiggles.

Oh, Lord, Steve groans.

Big and fat.

Perfectly fat.

Bucky’s ass is unreal. It was before, firm and round, but now it is impossibly unreal. There’s no texture of dimpling cellulite and no striped stretch marks over the delicious surface of Bucky’s suddenly exposed ass. It’s perfect. Untouched. Unmarred. Only fat.

Bucky looks, well, Steve has started gnawing on his lower lip without realizing it, drawing blood already, so, it’s easy to say that he looks edible. Such a big ass on the most perfect, good-est boy. And Bucky is such a good boy that when he recovers, whimpering, after a brief, pornographic moment of groping himself, squeezing handfuls of fat where it’s mounding up behind him and twisting sharply around to try and investigate what has happened to his body, he just… goes on.

He keeps cleaning.

Steve is floored.

Oh, this is going to be so, so much more fun than he thought.

Bucky keeps cleaning as if nothing happened.

The only difference is now, Bucky is trying to stifle his precious little whines and he keeps sucking in sharp breaths like he’s embarrassed to let it show that he likes his shiny, new thick ass despite, to his knowledge, being completely alone. Unobserved.

Steve makes a whine of his own, a bitten-off, growling whine, but a whine nevertheless, when Bucky pauses cleaning to arch his back like he’s testing out how it might feel to get fucked with such a fat ass - like having such a big, heavy ass makes him feel sexy and he can’t help it. Immediately, Steve wants to make it better. He wants to make it worse. 😈 He wants to stuff as much stuffing as he can fit into the little doll’s chest to pack Bucky’s tits full of soft, malleable fat. If his boy likes how it feels to have fat, thick curves in the “right” places, then he’s going to give it to him. And then he’s going to ruin it by adding fat to the “wrong” places, too. He’s going to fatten him up. He’s going to make him huge with no effort at all.

Maybe he shouldn’t just give Bucky a taste of what it’s like to be curvy and sexy in a traditionally feminine way, all ass and tits, maybe he should pack him full of stuffing right this second, and see what he does, see how he preens and arches his back and touches himself, see how he spends his day alone, unknowing that Steve is peeping in on him, watching him get off to excess. Despite the dangerous pull... Steve doesn’t. Steve has self-control. Sometimes.

So. He lets it drag on…

He lets Bucky enjoy his fat ass for close to an hour. He simply watches, drooling and passively jerking off, as Bucky waddles around the penthouse, his ass wobbling and jiggling as he walks. His footsteps are much heavier than normal under the weight of his monstrous ass.

Bucky has removed his ruined sweatpants, but he hasn’t taken off his shirt. It should look silly. It doesn’t. It’s sexy as hell. Steve’s going to make him tear his way out of that shirt, too. He’s going to watch it be ripped to shreds. 😮‍💨

With another wave of lust, Steve decides he’s done waiting and he launches into action. He stuffs the doll again, focusing on a new, irresistible part of Bucky’s body that he wants to make even more irresistible by swelling him.

And instantly, with the doll stuffed, Bucky balloons.

His thighs, this time, widen with another sudden whoomph of magic.

His now colossal thighs match his ass delightfully. Thick and perfect. Doughy blubber that has to weigh too much for Steve to lift, despite his extensive gym routine.

Bucky moans outright this time. He’s less confused, too. He just accepts it. This is him now. The perfect, moldable toy. Adaptive and dumb.

Perfect.

He takes to the new fat packed onto his frame like a fish takes to water. Although… he’s nowhere near as physically graceful as that metaphor, Steve is talking purely about how Bucky reacts emotionally to seeing himself swell like a mound of dough left in the oven to proof overnight. Expanding. Bucky can hardly seem to walk now. His lower half is so puffy, so swollen that he’s waddling. Swaggering. Wobbling. All that fat moves captivatingly, jiggling in slow, swollen waves like the ocean after an intense storm. And because Bucky can’t walk anymore, Bucky plops down onto the nearby sofa. So heavy and overgrown that Steve’s expensive, expensive couch lets out a loud creak. Bucky swears, sounding panicked, but not too panicked to get up again and not too panicked to not start touching himself again.

His hands first make contact with his fat ass, squeezing inches of padding between his thumb and fingers at the sides of his body where his ass spills out away his hip flexors.

Steve feels a little faint. He feels more faint when Bucky scoots his thighs apart, setting them wider with a heavy, bothered sigh - they’re not only so fat that he can’t walk, they’re so fat that it’s hard to move.

Christ.

Bucky and this little doll are the best things that Steve has ever paid for. He swears. Then, Bucky moans, drawing his attention back to him and away from his money, the needy, little big minx.

Steve wants to give Bucky everything.

Steve takes the biggest ball of stuffing this far and packs it into the doll’s belly until its seams creak.

The force of the sudden fat being added to Bucky’s poor frame is so intense, whoomph, that Bucky is thrown back against the sofa. His head is thrown back too, eyes rolling to the back of his head, neck arched attractively, mouth hanging open, sweat appearing on his skin all at once. His skin. Oh, God, Steve growls to himself, he’s so fucking delighted that he’s recording all of this footage because he’s going to spend the rest of his life sneaking away into whatever nearby bathroom or closest or bedroom or wherever he can to replay the way Bucky’s shirt bursts off him, getting off to it.

The sound of the seams ripping, popping, and fabric shredding mixing orgasmically with Bucky’s cry of pleasure. Filled more than he could’ve ever dreamed of. Made so impossibly round that he’s stuck to the creaking, overburdened couch.

His gut fills all of the space in front of him.

The surface is taut like a drum and as round as a globe. Totally unmarred. No stretch marks, no bruises, not even the flush of skin struggling to contain so much blubber. He looks incredible. Mouth-watering. Pale. Fat. He’s rising like dough. And there’s only one thing left to do…

Steve stuffs his tits too, watching the way Bucky squirms, the way he writhes on the expensive, luxury couch as if he’s orgasming on the spot. So filled that he can’t take it anymore. He can’t hold anything in. He can’t keep himself from screaming. He can’t stop himself from coming. A blimp. A fat, excessive blimp sitting on top of a monstrous, thick ass and immense thighs with a belly that stretches out past his fat knees, so big and round that it shoves equally over-fattened tits up to his face, leaving him choking on them. He is overripe. Moaning with abandon, lost in the throws of pleasure from being so thoroughly gorged.

Swollen.

Filled.

(Here's part two)

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #rapid weight gain #magic weight gain #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #chubby bucky #fat bucky

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onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

Text

White Night. | J.JH

— Prologue: “He treats me well.” + “Good for you.” - “But he’s not you.”

— Summary: You’re in a relationship with Jungwoo, it’s healthy and sweet. It’s a relationship you’ve been dreaming about for a while. But it’s not your failed relationship Jung Jaehyun.

— Genre: Romance Smut, minors dni. Mention of Cheating (y/n is wrong for this) heavy kissing, hairpulling, giving head (f receiving), handcuffs are involved later on, fast and slow stimulation purposely. A lot of begging involved. Mentions of breeding. Y/n is a big red flag tbh. I don’t support cheating (this is only for fic purposes) dirty talk and lots of degrading going on.

— Notes: Was listening to White Night by Nct127 writing this…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were conflicted with your own body and feelings when you are standing outside your ex boyfriend’s apartment awfully late at night wondering why you are coming to the doorstep you aren’t supposed to. Somehow this whole forbidden sensation and time of space has been making you want to do it more, having your boyfriend not know what you are doing behind his back and this whole situation just makes your skin crawl with goosebumps. The past memories of this place makes it feel like a foreign place but you know deep down this place used to be your home. It used to be a place where you felt like you belonged with the one you loved.

But now it’s just a grey painted canvas in front of you looking like the home you never knew about. It was crazy how things can change in over a year. You wonder if Jaehyun changed or did he stay the same. You’re wondering if he was okay and if he still used the same cologne, if he still ate the same food he used to eat with you, if he still works at the same workplace at that company. There were thoughts like this running in and out of your head one by one.

The courage to knock on the door was very dim you could barely touch up on it. The very small part of your consciousness was holding you back telling you to stop and retreat back, yet the ninety percent of your body was practically ready to knock on it; you were desperate to see Jaehyun. You were longing for him day and night. It’s awful that you can’t stop thinking back on him. When you were single it was so easy to move and stop worrying about Jaehyun, he didn’t cross your mind once when you were single. But suddenly when you are in a relationship — in a loving and healthy relationship with a lovely boy your mind has been betraying you.

It is a horrible thing. You never want to do this. You don’t even approve of cheating but here you are knocking on someone’s door that you used to date for about three years. Now someone is going to get hurt in the middle because of you and your selfish decisions. You always make these wrong doings and somehow you never learn from them. As your hand caress on the door banging on it twice it would take a few minutes until you heard footsteps from the opposite door unlocking it. When the door swung open revealing a young man around six foot wearing a plain white tee shirt that fit his muscular build quite well and the glasses fitting the bridge.

The soft silky blonde locks were pushed back by his hands running through it to brush it out. Jaehyun stares at you with a dazed expression, equally as lost as yours, however the same lingering thoughts on you came up. How were you doing? What have you been up to? Do you still drink that tea he recommended to you? It was these questions that made his poor ole’ heart hurt and ache.

Jaehyun spoke out softly despite him questioning your real motives and wondering why so late you are knocking on his apartment door. “What are you doing here so late Y/n?”

It was such a small question but so hard to answer.

Your saliva sucks back into your throat. You weren’t expecting him to actually stay this calm and not tell you to get lost. He had every right to tell you to go away — afterall you broke up with him. You are the reason this situation has came to an extreme end like this. Jaehyun was a simple bystander to you. Your voice comes out small but enough to be heard. “I… don’t know i guess i wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your response was very clear. Jaehyun couldn’t read through it however. It’s as if one foot was on his side but your left foot was on the other side. He couldn’t tell the real answer and reality with different feet in very vast different ways to go. You can’t halfway ass this too. Jaehyun isn’t here for a giggle.

He stares you downwards. “You wanted to chat with me at three in the morning. That’s it?” He paused seeing you nod at his words. He looks back inside his apartment sully not understanding it. “Okay. How you been y/n?” Nevertheless he still asked how you were. He never once not asked you.

After all he still cares but this doesn’t give you an excuse to come out so late just for a little chat so unannounced.

You look at him couldn’t help but stare into his eyes so deeply that you could get lost in it for decades upon decades. “I’ve been well Jaehyun, you look like you’ve been fine too.” You add with a small smile.

Oh how Jaehyun wished that smile was something he can see every single day on his way to from and from his way to work. Your smile was heavenly enough for him to melt into a puddle. To hear you say you’re doing well was both a bittersweet feeling. He wants you to be happy. He is glad you are in fact happy. But he’s a bit more bitter that you’re not happy with him — it was a weird feeling.

And then his mind wonders off so far as much as his heart was further away from asking you something he had been yearning to hear you say. “And how’s… your boyfriend?” Jaehyun’s eyes fell down to the ground. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t of asked that.’ He thought deeply to himself.

The question brought you into a deep prance. You weren’t expecting Jaehyun to ask you about Jungwoo. Heck you weren’t even aware he knew but he does. Some part of you was hoping that perhaps he misses you just as much as you miss him.

“Oh… oh he’s good.” Your voice stops midway as you smile. “He treats me well.” You say to Jaehyun as your thumbs fiddle with each other nervously perking up to watching Jaehyun.

He gives you a smile full of irony. “Good for you.”

“But he’s not you.” You shut him up instantly with your words crash landing on him like he was a railway forward crushing underneath the weigh of your feet. The way his eyes widen as round as globe made you think you were never going to regret this even if this was the worse horrible decision you could ever do to another human being — you were tired of pretending you don’t miss Jaehyun. You were done with this act. You made a mistake letting someone like him go. Jaehyun pushed forward as you launch yourself to him kissing Jaehyun deeply.

For once again you were reconnected with a kiss you were dreaming every night, every night brought a depressing memory that was a happy one in the present and now it became a reality to you where you’re making out with your ex boyfriend. Jaehyun wanted to let you go and tell you to stop, that this is wrong because you’re with someone else, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to make you stop. You were a gem in his life he was missing just as much. You’re irreplaceable. Every little touch to your fingertip on his skin crawling up like as if spiders were roaming on the body. You give him goosebumps, adrenaline, fear and love. You give him everything he could ever ask for.

Your tongues brush together in a manner like you were drawing on a canvas together finally painting a new chapter together. Your mouths close and open up wide letting enough access between you to sensually kiss as your bodies were twirling in and round each other like a red ribbon to tie a knot. Your knot. Our knot. Jaehyun lifts your body up high pushing you down onto the bed where you lay flat there with your thighs open wide straddling his bottom half on the body. The white sweatpants he wore were soft but not as soft as his baby-like skin. It was a cold complexion but his emotions were a burning rage of ember.

It was unbelievably hot to be underneath Jaehyun watching the plain tee shirt slip and slide off his body just like with ease as if it were nothing but made up of air. Now to your body his hands were growing everywhere on you beginning to explore you once more even though he remembers every detail about you he couldn’t possibly forget you. If he tried it wasn’t possible for him and if he didn’t try he would wallow in your empty presence but now that you’re back it was like a little thing reborn to him. This night was going to be long and he’s going to make it right for you that you will never get enough.

Your mouths shift away for a breather but as your eyes were closed and your clothes were off on the ground scattering somewhere in his dark black bedroom you let out a murmur of pleasant sighs holding out your arms to grab his neck as he was burying his face deep down between your chests fondling them and kissing every little space and inch. Your nipples were sensitive to his kisses which always made him smile deep inside . He loves seeing them go hard with an instant second. It proves how much of an effect he has on you, just as much as you have on him between his legs growing hard just for you.

He could hear you gasp when he lifts your hips up as his body manoeuvres out to the nightstand opening the bottom drawer just to get a pair of silver metallic handcuffs. Your eyes glimpse at the item with pupils growing larger as if you were filled with a new excitement. ‘This was new’,, you thought. Your voice trails over to the handcuffs when Jaehyun reaches to your wrists you obedient gave and not fought back. “What’s with the handcuffs? This is new.” Your wrists stay in the air up to the frame attaching to the bed.

Jaehyun looks down at you from above lifting your chin up with the edge of his thumb putting it under your face. He whispers so sweetly but it was a dangerous kind of sweet gesture. As if he was going to give you the best night of your life ever given. “Oh just a little something i picked up on after you left… i knew they would come handy in the future.” Your ears perk up at the flirting signal on his eyes resting so coolly with his eyebrows. “Oh… that’s kinda hot.” You whisper as your eyes fell down to his lips kissing him deeply once again.

“Oh yeah? There will be plenty of more stuff to come baby don’t you worry.” He whispers in between the kisses taking breaks before fully he pulls away just to hover above your aching pussy pleading for some hand or any kind of pressure to it. Jaehyun was about to give you that right away you’ve been wanting so badly. His mouth reattached to your entrance giving it a plentiful boost amount of sucking and licking; it started off with kitten licks only to open wide and completely devour you from inside and out like you were a stuffy toy.

Your urge to release and come in that moment was so close but you didn’t want it to end just yet. Jaehyun was making it very hard not to finish so quickly you never had this much of a good feeling. You missed it. It brought back so many memories from the past you share with Jaehyun it’s just something you couldn’t get with Jungwoo. Sure he wasn’t bad in bed either but he hardly goes down on you. Unlike Jaehyun he was a master at going down on you with so much knowledge he could learn over the three years being with you. He not only knows your weakness spots where he could pleasure you easily but he knows your emotional weaknesses too. He knows what to whisper into your ear when he makes love with you. He knows you.

Your hips stutter back with each synching mount movement on the man eating you out like he must’ve been starved forever it was unbelievable how fast he would go in and not stop for so long. Not until you come as hard as you can and when you did release your mouth aches wide moaning out at the highest top of your lungs. “Jaehyun… I’m!”

He wanted to tell you he knows you are. He knows that you are at your limits because he could feel you and now he can taste you once again which he never wants to stop. Jaehyun looks up at your rosey cheeks and the warm heated smile you shown as you readjust on the bed. He lifts himself up and pulls your hair down pressing your head flat on the pillows to lay down there roughly. Suddenly his hips click into you and now a stretching yearning pull out on your body makes you jolt in surprise. The way his cock made you feel so much more overwhelmed than before was amazing you weren’t even aware of it until Jaehyun let’s you rest on his thick and girthy cock leaving your velvet walls take him in.

He wasn’t going to let this end however and he didn’t care if he was absolutely going to edge himself just to have a longer night with you. Jaehyun was deep down afraid of you leaving again after this. He didn’t want this to end he wanted it to last forever and only forever. The loneliness you left on his heart after you broke up with him was the biggest pain he has ever experienced and he’s not the type to cry over a lover before until it was you who held the gun to him with your words saying goodbye. If you’re leaving again he won’t know what to do but at least he can spent a loving night with you under him that he can remember you for. You were wanting to beg him underneath to move but something in your heart and head tells you that Jaehyun won’t do as you say.

You whisper tugging on the handcuff restraints forgetting you were tied up. You couldn’t reach him. “Jaehyun can you move?” Your insides were clenching for every bit pressure and friction they can get. You were needing a release. Jaehyun however only smirks down at you leaning down with a glint of evil behind those loving romantic eyes. “Beg for me if you really want it.” Jaehyun shot at you.

“Tell me you want me and not Jungwoo. Tell me you wanted me inside you all this time and not Jungwoo. Tell me how much you missed me.” His voice lowers down. “Tell me you regret breaking up with me.”

He shot at you like he was a wicked gun wanting to take you down. Jaehyun had a literal hold on you physically and spiritually you can see and hear his words having a good toll on you that you weren’t sa aware he did have. For anything you would do for him. Everything and anything even if it made you feel so pathetic. You weren’t ever so humiliated as you are now but something about being forced into submission by your ex boyfriend unaware that your boyfriend was sleeping peacefully and you were getting your brains fucked out by Jaehyun made you feel ashamed and humiliated.

You gasp when Jaehyun’s hands caress your bare throat before grabbing it tightly letting you feel a strong impact yet enough for you to be able to breathe. “I- I want you only you. I regret leaving you. Please fuck me already… I missed you so much.”

There was a sense of achievement inside Jaehyun he has been able to do and that is having you underneath him looking so sensually fucked out begging to be rail in on his bed even though you have a perfected fitted boyfriend you still wanted him. Jaehyun felt a massive ego boost and this was enough for him to take pleasure in looking back on. To see you crying and begging like this? It made him satisfied to say the least. And he obliged just as you gave in. His cock purse inside you like a weapon ready to go with every thrust there was a surprising turn to how your stomach curls up deep within taking every strong impactful force action — it made you want to twist and turn as your insides were railing against your ex boyfriend’s cock burying deep within you just makes this seem more natural.

It has only made you realise how much you missed this. You missed Jaehyun’s touch, kisses, love and words, the purest affection and how he treats you in bed like you’re a complete whore for him. You are just for him whatever he wants you to be. But just as much as he was to you, you couldn’t live with this regret of ever leaving behind your own family. Jaehyun loves seeing your lewd expressions go with every single bump going in you. He was ready for your walls to milk him dry just as much as he was ready to fill you up. His feral thoughts have left a trace of unfiltered words. Words he didn’t have the courage to say to you but now that he was so far lost inside you deep but going deeper now too.

“Look at yourself Y/n. You love going to your ex boyfriend’s doorstep and getting fucked on his bed? You love being slut out by me right? This is exactly what you wanted isn’t it.” You wanted to say yes to everything because it’s true. He read you as if you were a blank book.

Jaehyun exhales. “Fucking hell Y/n. You’re still as hot as before. But now you’re dirtier. How did you get so fucking lewd?” The way your ears loved hearing him talk down on you as he was something else. You couldn’t help but fall a little bit closer than before to climax. “If you’re going to cum then do it now. It’s what you’re good at.” He slurs on his last ends.

Your body couldn’t handle much more of that and just as he ends his words your body came crashing down and releasing a streak of water down below climaxing on his cock. Jaehyun sighs desperately seeing you releasing right there and then it only aroused him more to his finish soon. His gaze staring down at your legs trembling as you were shaken up by your gigantic orgasms he wasn’t going to stop now and practically lets his hands grab your thighs folding them up and starts ramming in to you at an inhuman speed you couldn’t ever imagine.

The metallic handcuffs rattle against the bed frame so much because Jaehyun was going in and out of you quickly you could tell by his messy pace he was nearing close and then after you. Your body was cramped and folded like a freaking ball just rammed in with pleasure overflowing with you and your wrists attached up becoming red and hurting now that he was dragging you down into the bedsheets so hard.

His voice was multitude of pants you couldn’t ignore. “I’m going to fill you up with my load so when you come back to Jungwoo he can have something to think about.” Your eyes clench shut imagining the scene already only to push Jaehyun to the limit where he finally released inside you.

The warmth levitating from his come inside you so deep made you jolt and softly smile at the thought of relieving himself in you. Jaehyun took a few moments to readjust and pull out slowly letting the liquid ooze out in a slow motion he would watch it slow before slanting next to your body dropping there and letting the handcuffs full off your wrists.

He spoke out against the bedsheets as he was watching you. “Leave him Y/n.”

Your gaze turns to Jaehyun.

“Please. Come back to me.” He asked you this time in a gentle tone completely different from what you saw earlier when he was on top of you ramming. You shift coming forward rolling on the side bringing his face in your hands pulling the man forward.

As you did your lips connect in a soft romantic kiss coming with a soft ending. It felt like time has stopped once again with you on his lips.

You hum pulling out. “Okay. Let’s spend the White Night together what do you say then?” Jaehyun couldn’t agree more to that idea.

NCT SMUT FICS.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu!! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

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