#do i normally turn the fuck around and wait despite there being two stalls? yes
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Worst thing in the world is needing to shit and going in the bathroom to find the only other female in the entire office is Also taking a shit
#solidarity? sure#extreme discomfort? absolutely#do i normally turn the fuck around and wait despite there being two stalls? yes#did i today? no#horrible experience
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Curious Gazes
prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.
word count: 4.3 k
warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.
**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)
notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.
PART ONE
----
RESERVATION RUN-IN
Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.
So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried.
However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.
Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.
As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.
They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.
He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec.
Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****
But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes.
His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.
He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.
The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.
But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be.
Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s.
They looked so happy and in love.
She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***
It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.
The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.
Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.
It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.
At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.
When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.
Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”
Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”
“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.
It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.
The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips.
By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing.
But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.
Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.
It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back - pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.
In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.
Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.
Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”
Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”
They all laugh and finish up their desserts.
---
MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING
Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.
Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes.
There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.
Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.
“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.
The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.
“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.
“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?”
Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.
“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.
The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.
“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.
“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.
Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”
Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.
Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”
Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek.
“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.
“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”
Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.
“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.
“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.
“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.
As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”
“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word.
“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.
Kasey was dumbfounded.
This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.
They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.
“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.
Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”
Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”
“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”
“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.
Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it.
Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.
“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.”
Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.
“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy.
Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”
Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.
It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.
After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.
“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s.
Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”
“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.
“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.
Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.
Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”
“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.
“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.
Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.
Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey.
They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”
“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.
“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store.
Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger.
—-
THE PARK
“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench.
She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.
“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.
“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.
Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”
“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”
“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.
“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”
Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”
Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.
“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack.
Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***
Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”
They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.
But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.
“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.
“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”
Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.
“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”
When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.
“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.
Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”
They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”
A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss.
The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away.
The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.
It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice.
But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.
‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.
Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.
Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.
“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.
“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.
“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.
“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.
Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”
Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.”
Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.
After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.
“It’s ok-“
“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.
Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”
His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.
“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.
“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.
“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath *** and little sneakers ****.
“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.
Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.
“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.
“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.
But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’
Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest.
“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.
“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”
The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”
Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.
And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.
Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.
After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.
The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.
Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.
—
THE GAME
Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.
She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”
Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.
—-
One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.
“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.
Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”
Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?”
Carole was her manager.
“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”
Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.
He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”
Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.
She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.
—
Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.
The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates.
Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.
Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.
It was just Harry and a woman in there.
They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.
His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.
When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.
His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.
For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.
They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.
At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.
It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.
As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.
Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.
The End.
Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.
#Harry Styles#harrystylesfanfic#harry styles smut#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#fan fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles dad#dad!harry#husband!harry#husband harry styles#ceo!harry#ceo Harry#harry styles fic rec#harry styles request#harry styles writing#harry styles writing request#harry styles masterlist#harry styles drabble#harry styles blurb#dark harry styles#one direction
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BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~
Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.
each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely
lmaoooooo
me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age
Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --
Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU
fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg
somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter
can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is
AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG
(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)
BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL
OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR
“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure
OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING
KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE
GASP
( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )
SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god
-- HEY WHAT
(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters
incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is
one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.
anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue
YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!
AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS
holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ
jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people
literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all
“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD
-- thank you!!
okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here
-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??
can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit
bro!!
ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD
meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”
it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit
this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids
I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now
KACCHAN SIGHTING
thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts
anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”
(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)
you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself
also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”
oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING
don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy
but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??
oh shit
there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!
so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg
(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece
everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on
wait what
what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm
(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)
I am so fucking confused lmao
speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is
aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind
Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great
IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW
what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach
Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come
is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun
last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive
lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??
oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high
HOLY FUCK
I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC
lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy
OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??
AHHHHHHHHH
(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)
(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)
HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol
-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for
OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE
well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate
what’s this now??
trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol
anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him
here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that
WELL, WELL, WELL
IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME
I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!
BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT
ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you
#bnha 325#midoriya izuku#u.a. clown mob#class 1-a#aizawa shouta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha
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can u do more of jealous jk drabbles?👉👈
this one kinda cute but theres smut 😃
The best time of the day is when the sun is just over the horizon, taking on a blue and orange hue in the sky, not shining bright enough to blind or give a heat stroke to the crowd in the amusement park. Just enough illumination to not have to rely on the lights provided from the ferris wheel, neon titles above the rides and games you stand before.
You can't contain your squeal and shake your interlocked hands with Jungkook while bouncing on your feet, the three companies you came with much more casual about the occasion. "Where should we go first?!"
Your boyfriend shrugs, Soyeon glances at Taehyung who makes the decision: "Rollercoaster." He has a crazed grin on his face, the sparkle and mischief in his eyes matching yours. Both of you are extremely fond of these thrillers.
"A rollercoaster...? I'll wait for you guys," Soyeon sheepishly holds her nape with a smile. You coo at her.
Jungkook scoffs arrogantly, "Are you afraid too, baby? You can hold onto my arm."
You blow raspberries and clutch onto your friend's arm, "I love rollercoasters." You and Soyeon gaze into each other's eyes as you say, "Don't worry. It'll be fun if you come with me."
She blushes, Taehyung and Jungkook watching the interaction with quirked brows. How boy-friendly of you.
The seats were decided. You all bought the tickets, and it's your turn to hop on the carts. Girls sit in front of the boys, and Soyeon hesitantly places her hand on top of yours on the railing. Taehyung wraps his hands around Jungkook's arm, who is slouching in his seat with a frown.
"I'm so scared, Jungkookie," Taehyung's teeth chatter, "w-will you protect me?"
All the carts are secured as the ride slowly moves forward, slightly creaking as Jungkook groans, "Let go of my fucking arm!" Despite his relentless shaking, his best friend only holds on tighter.
"Why? Your girlfriend is having a sexual awakening with her buddy girl, why can't we?!"
Jungkook gapes at him, brows meeting in perplexity before he looks at the row across. The two of you have your heads leaning on each other, and no, that was the romantic scene he was supposed to have with you, not Taehyung who snuggles into him in whimsical fear.
"She's straight," he counters weakly, not even caring about his numbing arm from the sight before him.
The carts reach the peak of the tracks, a sense of adrenaline stirring in everyone's stomach and you squeeze Soyeon's hand comfortingly seconds before Taehyung's scream torments the whole population's ears. Needless to say, Jungkook had it the worst.
—————
Your boyfriend winces with a finger in his left ear as he follows the group with Taehyung next to him, behind you and Soyeon.
"Remind me to never go on a rollercoaster with you," he seethes intimidatingly, emitting a snort from the guilty.
"Ooh, bumper cars!" Taehyung childishly points at the competitive game. Jungkook smiles wickedly, "I'm going to give you a fucking concussi–"
"Boys against girls!" Soyeon chirps, and you gasp at the amazing idea.
"Yes! That'd be so fun!"
Upon seeing Jungkook's incredulous face, Taehyung bursts out in laugher and clutches his stomach, tearing up when he instantly goes in denial mode.
Which didn't help, because Soyeon stole you for herself once more and he is stuck with the dumbest person he's ever met once more.
"Let's beat those bitches."
"That's my girlfriend, Tae."
Those words were thrown out the window the moment the game began, because he became ruthless. Even Taehyung was getting nauseous from how violently the car was bumping against yours, the one Soyeon claimed shotgun in, rocking your bodies back and forth. It's revenge for not giving him the attention he rightfully deserves, and leaving him with who was supposed to be a fourth wheel.
No mercy, you must suffer.
When you all got off the ride, Taehyung couldn't stop stumbling all over the place.
"I'm going to throw up," he groans and pinches Jungkook's shirt.
"That settles it: I won," he shrugs triumphantly. Soyeon is quick to bite back, "You almost killed us."
"Oh no," you jump to his defence with a giggle, "he's just very competitive."
Your boyfriend smiles at your first acknowledgement of his existence, relieved as he throws an arm around you. "I'm not about to lose to a bunch of–"
"Please don't finish that sentence," you smile at him; sickly sweet with your warning.
He forces a chuckle, "–a bunch of strong, independent women."
—————
"You ever seen lesbian porn, Jungkook?" Taehyung asks as he licks up a fat stripe on his ice cream. Jungkook doesn't bother responding. "It usually begins with one girl being all shy and reluctant until the sexual tension becomes too much. Say they're studying, gossipping, whatever, the normal stuff. Then... one of them makes the first move, and the other eventually gets into it." He glances at his friend to measure his reaction; nonchalant and barely listening. "Oh, but I have a boyfriend, oh this is wrong, oh friends don't do this," he imitates in a higher pitch. "Then they fuck."
"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks, flabbergasted and annoyed. He's holding onto your ice cream after you left to the bathroom with your friend, Taehyung protecting hers and licking the melted drops to keep the cone clean. What Soyeon doesn't know won't hurt her; the flavor is too good for him to waste.
"I'm just saying man, you never know with these girls," his cheeks puff out as he suppresses a laugh. Jungkook's paranoia is easy to mess with, and he knows he shouldn't do it so often, but it's just so fun. A snort slips.
"They've been roommates for two years, I'm sure if she was bisexual, she'd know by now," he spits defensively.
"Oh my God, do you think they got drunk and kiss–"
"We're back!" you announce and take your cone from Jungkook's hand, your friend doing the same.
"Welcome back, baby," he stands up to hug you, effectively pulling you a few steps away from Soyeon with a glare. You relish in it with joy, mushing your face against his chest.
"What should we go on next?" Taehyung casually cuts into your display of affection.
"The ferris wheel, maybe? Oh, Soyeon, you have–" you point at the corner of your lip, and she mirrors the opposite side, prompting you to reach out a hand and wipe off the stain with your thumb. Jungkook blinks in astonishment. Taehyung's eyes widen to saucers as he watches his soul leave his body. His words are getting to him.
Your hand is snatched away in a flash, and you're dragged away back to the stalls where he corners you, answering your unspoken question: "Hey, just wanted to privately ask you how your date is going with Soy milk." His voice drips with sarcasm, the attitude catching you off guard.
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, I feel like I'm third wheeling in front of my own girlfriend," he scowls, and your heart drops. "You haven't done a single thing with me today. I thought we came here to spend time with each other, yet we've done anything but. Be honest, are you..." he gulps and averts his gaze, "is there something going on...?"
"Jungkook," you startle and place a hand on his chest, "it's nothing like that. Of course I wanted to spend time with you, but Soyeon's been trying really hard to mend our friendship so I thought I would reciprocate. I didn't want things to be awkward between us, but I didn't realize I was neglecting you. I'm really sorry, love."
Your explanation endears him, shoulders slouching in relief just before he murmurs, "But in lesbian porn..."
"Oh my God," you exclaim in disbelief with a laugh, "I just hung out with her."
"You know I get needy!" he frowns with flushed cheeks. "That bitch wouldn't let go of you for one goddamned second, if I didn't know better I would've dragged you away a lot sooner."
You coo at him and squeeze his cheeks before he shakes you off grumpily. "I was going to go on the ferris wheel to make it up to you."
"Oh wow," he rolls his eyes, "can't believe you found the time to think about me."
"So jealous," you tease.
"Shut up," he pushes your forehead with his finger, "before I try to mend my friendship with Soy milk as well."
"She is not your friend," you glare at him with hooded eyes.
"So jealous."
—————
"The ride is five minutes long," Jungkook blurts out of thin air the moment you step into the moving cabin. "And we're going to stop at the top." At your gasp, he continues as he takes a seat, "Yeah, I did that movie cliché and paid extra."
"Jungkook," you coo with doe eyes and lay your head on his shoulder, "that's so romantic."
"Hey, don't get all cute. You said you were going to make it up to me." He tilts your chin, "How far are you willing to go?"
His question doesn't throw you off, and you chuckle, "Whatever you want."
"Yeah? Your time is running out," he looks past the window to see how high up you are. Four meters off the ground, give or take. "You think you can make me cum before we get off?"
Oh. "Better choose fast–"
You fondle with the buckle of his belt and make quick work of your hands to pull down his black jeans that hug his thighs. You lick your lips for moisture, and after what some experiences have thought you, you know to spit in your hand before wrapping your fingers around him.
"Damn, you didn't come here to play," he releases a humored breath as he watches you get him off. As if the limited time isn't bad enough, you have to get him erect in remarkable speed as well. He shifts slightly with a deep sigh, and when his cock starts to grow, you get on your knees before him and take the head of his length in your mouth. He sucks his teeth and weaves his fingers through your hair as he closes his eyes. Thirteen meters off the ground.
Mindful of your pace, you ease his length inside by taking him inch by inch, swirling your tongue the way he likes it and bobbing your head. His grip on your hair tightens as a low grunt resounds in the cabin. "You're doing so well," he looks down at you with half hooded eyes, lustful in their gaze, "you want to make it up to me that bad? Want to please me? Gosh," he sighs.
You deepthroat him with your hand covering what you can't reach until he thrusts into your mouth. You gag in reflex, and he uses your hair as leverage to do the rest for you. It's sloppy now, and saliva drools from the corner of your mouth with welling tears. You can only hope he reaches climax in time. Twenty two feet off the ground.
When his thrusts begin to slow down, you take it as your cue to pull away and jerk him off, your tongue taking care of the tip as his breaths grow more and more shallow. You assume he's holding back moans as to not attract any attention to your cabin. Thirty one meters. You make it a challenge for yourself to make him cum by the timr you reach the peak.
"Ah, go faster," he furrows his brows, face twisting in pleasure as he leans back on his seat. Your scalp starts to sting from his strong grasp.
Your hand listens, and you suck harder on the head while teasing the slit, and he gasps louder each passing second. He's panting while forty three feet off the ground, and a few moments later, his hips lift off the seat as he groans, his release on your tongue that you swallow. It comes in stutters, so you keep your mouth on him until you've swallowed every drop to avoid getting banned from the amusement park. Calling it simply taboo is an underestimatement.
"Shit, shit," he breathlessly says and thrusts into your mouth two last times before pulling out, a string of saliva still attached to your mouth. The ferris wheel stops. "You were fucking perfect, baby," he murmurs and his head goes limp, eyes dazed from the climax. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and smile despite the ache in your jaw.
"Thank you," you squeak and sit next to him. His head rolls to you. "Is my face okay?"
"Oh, you wore lipstick," he laughs quietly and uses the hem of his matching black shirt to clean up the smudge, his stomach on display from the action. You sit still as he fixes up your appearance, brushing your disheveled hair with his fingers, and just to be extra, he adjusts your collar, making you giggle and roll your eyes. "Like nothing happened. I'll eat you out at my dorm to return the favor."
You blush in surprise at his words, but he dismisses it by looking at the view. The sun has set, and all the lights sparkle from under you and the midnight black sky. It's beautiful. You admire it with him.
"I can't believe I paid extra for this. There's not even fireworks."
BONUS:
Soyeon and Taehyung sit across from each other without averting their gaze from the sky, effectively ignoring the presence of one another until he breaks the silence. "This is so romantic."
"Yeah."
"If we were a couple, this would be the perfect moment to kiss."
"Um... I guess," she shrugs off his unusual flirting.
"You want to be a couple for this ride?" he suggests and looks at her with wiggling brows.
She doesn't return the stare, softly speaking, "No, I think I'd rather jump off."
He chuckles under his breath, "Jungkook is going to have a field day when he finds out you're lesbian."
"Huh?"
"I said why don't you jump on this dick."
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glimpse of me and you
❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader
❈ genre: fluff. ❈ word count: 2.6k
❈ summary: It’s your first day out of the Underground District and on the surface. Levi helps you get settled.
❈ trigger warnings: profanity.
a/n: i would like to confess that i was in A Mood.
mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply
i. morning
The first thing you noticed was that it was bright. Too bright.
Not the kind of brightness you saw in the warm glowing lamps that littered the Underground District, but the kind that made your eyes squint and feel sore- like they were going to pop out of your head any time soon. Your hand slips out of Levi’s to block out the light hurting your irises.
He stops walking up the staircase and turns to look at you.
“Here.” He murmurs. He places down the boxes he was holding and takes off his green Survey Corps cape, draping it around your shoulders and clasping it at the front before drawing the hood over your face. The sunlight is no longer as harsh.
“Better?” He asks, and you nod.
“Much. Thank you, Levi.”
He hums in acknowledgement, one hand picking up the boxes with your luggage and the other one slipping through yours to slowly lead you up the staircase once more. He could tell from how you squeezed his hand and kept taking deep breaths behind him that you were nervous. He couldn’t blame you, either. He remembers being the same with Isabel and Farlan two years ago.
Two years. That’s how long it’s been since he was captured and taken to the surface. Since last saw your face and heard his name slip from your lips.
It took the better part of two years to barely scrape up enough money to buy you citizenship, but as he leads you through the stairway with your warm hand in his, he knows he wouldn’t hesitate do it all again.
For you.
“It’s going to be brighter once we reach the surface.” He says. The last step of the stairway was nearing. “I know you won’t, but close your eyes if you have to. You might get disoriented if you don’t.”
True to his words, you did end up getting disoriented because you refused to close your eyes. But really now, how could you? 26 years you’ve waited for this day to come. And you would be damned if you didn’t take everything in the second you set foot above ground for the first time.
As you reached the surface, Levi notices you flinching, turning your head away from the light and gritting your teeth once you set foot on the cobble stoned streets above. Despite your clear discomfort at the brightness, you made no move to close your eyes. In fact, you even braved to let them roam around.
“Stubborn dumbass.” He scolds quietly.
He leads you a little ways off from the exit of the stairway to put your stuff in the small wagon in front of you. The small wagon was drawn by a gorgeous black horse, and you realize that this was probably the beloved mare Levi spoke of in his letters.
“Is this Estreya?” You ask. Levi hums in agreement and takes the last box you were holding to place it with the rest of your luggage with a low grunt.
When he looks back at you he notices your eyes are still squinted, but your teeth were no longer gritted. The hood was still drawn over your face and one of your hands was still shielding your eyes from the burning light. You weren’t even going to lie, you were half terrified that your eyes were going to melt from how hot the sun was.
“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”
You scoff. “Yeah, because horses are really common in the Underground.”
He doesn’t reply to your quip. Though the way his eyebrows relax and his lips twitch up in the slightest doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Ride the wagon. You’ll fall on your ass if you try to go on horseback.”
“If you say so, Captain Levi.”
It was now his turn to grit his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t have told you about his promotion.
“Tch, just get on. Or I’ll leave you stranded in Wall Sina.”
ii. noon
The wagon ride to Wall Rose was something you could only describe as ethereal.
You hadn’t the faintest idea the sky was so big and blue, and how fluffy the clouds seemed to be. The sky seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and knowing that there wasn’t a ceiling above you almost made you want to cry.
Wall Sina was beautiful, as well. Especially the market. The market you passed by almost made you want to stop the wagon and drag Levi from stall to stall to see what they had. They housed probably the most vibrant colored fruits and vegetables you’ve ever seen, and the smell of freshly baked bread made your mouth water. Not to mention, the air didn’t smell like moisture or piss or shit.
“Don’t get any ideas.” He says, noticing your longing stare at the colorful tents. “You look like you’re about to jump off the wagon.”
“Will you leave me stranded if I do?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
Undoubtedly, though, your favorite view from the ride would be what Levi called “the suburbs.”
The tallness of the trees. The freshness of the air. The sounds of ruffling leaves. Birds and critters running around the ground and flying through the sky. The beautiful greens and blues were the biggest contrast to the drab grays and blacks you typically saw in the Underground District, and now you understood why Levi was so hellbent on taking you to the surface and never looking back.
“We’re almost there.” You hear him call out from in front of you.
Your eyes stop wandering around what Levi called a “valley”. You look past his figure sitting on the horse, spotting a castle made of bricks. It looked small from this distance but the closer you got, the more you realized that distance could be deceiving.
“Is that the Survey Corps’ base?”
“No, it’s a fucking circus.” He replies sarcastically.
“What’s a circus?”
“It’s— nevermind.”
iii. afternoon
When you got to Levi’s private quarters, you didn’t hesitate to ask for a spare towel so you could take a shower.
You didn’t even bother kissing him or unpacking your things or… making up for lost time, if you will. Instead you made a beeline for the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and spent a good hour inside, talking to him through the door about how you’ve been looking forward to taking a proper shower all week. Levi had to drag you out and stop you from wasting more of the Survey Corps’ water reservoir.
“So, let me get this straight.” You mutter.
You were sitting on his bed and he was sitting on a chair across from you. Your hair was still damp and your upper half was clad in a spare Survey Corps button down, while your bottom half was clad in nothing but your underwear.
Levi had complained that your clothes from the Underground were too dirty and would have to be washed. You called him rude, only relenting when he offered to do your laundry. But he wasn’t about to complain about the extra chores when it gave him this view.
“You’ve been captain for an entire year and only bothered to tell last week?”
“Yes.” Came his stoic reply.
“But why?!”
“I’m not hearing the end of this any time soon, am I?”
Before you could respond, Levi hears loud banging from his office door (which you noticed was connected to his bedroom) and he sighs as he wordlessly covers your bare legs with a blanket. Confused eyes met his, and all he could do was shrug as he heard the office door breakdown. The loud banging was now being directed at the bedroom door, the only thing separating you from what you assumed was some rabid raccoon.
“Levi motherfucking Ackerman!” You hear someone shriek from the other side of the wood. Okay, so maybe it’s not a rabid raccoon. “Open this door right this instant!”
You hear the lock clicking and the knob turning rapidly. Despite knowing you should probably be scared, you can’t help but smile at Levi’s clear irritation. It wasn’t the genuine kind of irritation. It was the kind he showed to Isabel— the one where he pretends to be annoyed but secretly enjoys their company.
“It’s not locked, four-eyes.” He replies.
Ah, so this must be the Hange he’s been complaining about.
“Then why can’t I open it?!”
“It’s push, not pull.”
Immediately, the banging stops, and silence takes over the room. But the silence is short lived when Hange suddenly kicks the door open and you jump from surprise.
“Don’t think that I wouldn’t find out about you bringing a civilian to the base, Ackerman!” Hange points an accusing finger at Levi’s bored face.
“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t. Considering I asked you to sign the authorization letter.”
The soldier ignores Levi’s quip and quickly makes their way over to you, sitting down next to your side and extending a hand.
“The name’s Hange Zoe, Section Commander of the Survey Corps. And you are?”
You warily accept their offer of a handshake. Your eyes briefly flit over to where Levi was still sat, relaxing a bit when he nods to your silent question of whether or not it was safe.
“Y/N.” You give them a polite smile.
“When Moblit told me Levi brought a civilian to the base, I was ecstatic!”
What the fuck is a Moblit? You wonder.
Your hands were still joined, and you weren’t sure if prolonged and drawn out handshakes were a custom of the surface. Not wanting to be rude, you continued to shake Hange’s hand, nodding along as they continued on.
“I didn’t peg shorty as the type to play boyfriend.”
“Neither did I.” You chuckled. “But he’s been more than wonderful. He’s more than I could ever ask for.”
Levi bites back the smile teasing his lips.
“Stop shaking Hange's hand. You’ll catch rabies or some shit.”
iv. evening
It was nearing six o’clock when Levi finally convinced Hange to go away, but only with the promise that he would introduce you to his squadron later at dinner. Normally he’d detest the idea of sharing intimate details about his personal life, but as he listens to you ask question after question about the surface, he deems the small sacrifice was more than worth this small moment with you.
“You said the surface was going to be hot. Why is it so cold now?” You ask, settling into the bed. Levi lifts up the blanket and begins to lie down beside you.
“Because it’s almost night.” He says simply. “It’s hot in the day and cold in the night.”
“Is it always like that?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It depends on the season.”
He feels you shift closer to him, lifting his arm up and placing it around your waist as your head rests on his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the smell that was so uniquely you fills up his lungs. He almost hums in delight because it’s been two years; he hasn’t had this in two years, and no force on earth could ever take it away from him again.
“Season?” You murmur, sleepy eyes staring into his.
Levi immediately knows that you’re a bedtime story away from snoozing, and he figures the fatigue is to be expected. You were, after all, being introduced to too many things at once. And judging by the bags under your eyes, you were probably too happy about going to the surface to get any sleep last night.
“Yeah. There are four seasons above ground: winter, summer, spring, and fall. Right now, it’s spring.”
“Will you tell me about the seasons?”
He feels you shift, pressing a kiss against his cheek.
“You missed.”
You smile. A hand gently reaches out to grasp his chin, pulling his face towards yours to give him a gentle kiss. When you try to pull away, Levi pulls you back in.
“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly.” He muses as your lips broke apart. The arm wrapped around your waist holds onto you a little tighter as you relax to his side once again, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His thumb rubs small, gentle circles into your arm.
“The flowers bloom in spring. Everything blooms.” He explains. “In fall, the temperature gets colder so the leaves start changing colors.”
“What colors do they become?”
“Mostly brown or orange.”
You nod.
“In winter, that’s when things start getting really cold. Colder than the Underground. Snow starts falling and everything gets covered in it. It’s annoying.”
“But don’t you use winter as an excuse to... y’know, convince your bosses to spend more money on tea leaves?”
It was now his turn to nod, and you merely let out a chuckle. He feels your breath fanning against his neck and he doesn’t stop his head from lulling into yours. He really did miss having you in his arms.
“Figures.” You yawn. “You’re obsessed with that stuff.”
He feels a sleepy kiss press against his collarbones, and he places a tender kiss to your forehead.
“Get some sleep.” He murmurs. “I’ll wake you up for dinner.”
“But you haven’t told me about summer yet.”
A small smile makes its way to his lips, and Levi was thankful that you couldn’t see. He’d never hear the end of your teasing if you did.
“If I tell you, will you stop annoying me?”
“Possibly.”
“Okay.”
v. midnight
The first thing Levi notices is that it was dark. Too dark.
A brief glimpse out his open window confirms his suspicions that it was, indeed, night time. He probably slept through dinner.
The second thing Levi notices is that his entire right side was numb and there was a heavy weight on his body, some of it crushing his arm. He hears your sleepy voice mumble his name in your sleep, and he relaxes once he remembers the events of today.
He kept his promise.
You had an entire future ahead of you, and Levi’s heart warms at the thought. Sure, you were a civilian who couldn’t stay in the Survey Corps base forever; and he should probably start helping you job hunt so you could both start saving up for a new house. He’d fight you tooth and nail if you tried to join the military though, and something tells him you probably wouldn’t listen.
But he kept his promise. And that’s all that mattered for now.
He hears you shift in his arms before taking a sharp inhale, and your eyes sleepily open. They glance around the room, trying to remember where you were, before landing on him. A small smile teases your lips, adoration blossoming in your heart at the man in front of you.
“What time is it?” You softly ask. One of your hands reaches out to rub your eyes before he feels a warm palm come to rest on his stomach.
“Late.” He replies. His free hand lands on your soft cheek, and he tilts your head down so he can kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
You only nod, too tired to argue. You break free from his grasp and Levi is momentarily disappointed when you turn the other way. But then your hand reaches out behind you to sling his arm over your waist, and he shifts closer when he realizes you wanted to spoon.
“So I don’t kill your arm.” You explain quietly.
Levi presses his chest to your back and his leg wraps around yours. His nose is buried into the crown of your hair and he couldn’t help but take a deep inhale and close his eyes. Your hand intertwines with the one slung around your waist, and he feels you lift up your conjoined hands to place a kiss to his knuckles.
“I love you, Levi.”
This time, Levi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. It wasn’t the first time you’ve said I love you, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. But it would never cease to amaze Levi how just three short words could turn his stoic and uninterested demeanor into one of smiles that reached his eyes.
“Y/N.”
“Hmm?”
“Marry me.”
mini sequel: truly, madly, deeply
alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.
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#i figured since i wrote a rlly angsty smut#i should write a rlly soft fluff#and this happened#also i was in A Mood#writing#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman imagine#levi imagine#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader#aot imagine#attack on titan imagine#snk x reader#shingeki no kyojin x reader#snk imagine#shingeki no kyojin imagine
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the heiress and the hotelier | ksj
summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.
{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}
pairing: kim seokjin x female reader
genre: fluff, comedy
word count: 21k
warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers
a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!
Your birthdays have never belonged to you.
Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips.
When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside.
They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?
The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?
You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day.
Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset.
Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore.
In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light.
Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that.
Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else.
The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business.
Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something.
You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom.
Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all.
He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.
You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it.
Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone.
“Y/N!”
Never mind.
You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion.
“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well.
“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question.
“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”
You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate.
“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks.
“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life.
“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”
“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”
“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”
“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”
“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”
“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”
“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you.
“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you.
“But, Dad—”
“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”
You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”
“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”
Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.
Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run.
You’re stuck.
Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been.
The room gets blurrier.
“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks.
You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to.
“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”
Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine.
It’s the balcony.
The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence.
Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up.
Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it.
At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.
Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night.
“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”
“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”
“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.
“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself.
“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.
“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door.
“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to.
The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else.
“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”
There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake.
“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to.
He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue.
“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”
He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”
“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”
“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh.
“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”
You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.
“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least.
“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”
“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often.
“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”
You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”
He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins.
“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly.
“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist.
Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more.
You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”
The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.
It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you.
“Hey, what’s wrong—?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”
You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”
“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone.
You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all.
It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened.
You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something.
It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with.
You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever.
Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same.
And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless.
It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new.
You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality.
You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen.
At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.
A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours.
You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up.
“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet.
“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”
“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”
“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up.
Oh, no.
“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast.
“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush.
“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”
“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.
“Yes, but I—”
“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”
“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”
“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?
“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing.
“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you.
“Dad—”
“I’ll be checking in.”
He hangs up.
Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?
Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number.
“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in.
“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual.
“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns.
“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore.
“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave.
“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.
“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?
“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”
“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him.
“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”
You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”
Mostly because it’s always been yours.
The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position.
So why are you the heir?
“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match.
“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys.
“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up.
Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him.
The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore.
Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice.
“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky.
“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks.
It looks like it’s barely been occupied.
The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter.
“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”
You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty.
You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him.
As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order.
You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin.
Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.
“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”
They nod, polite smiles on their faces.
“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly.
“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed.
“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms.
“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”
“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says.
“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”
“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised.
“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up.
“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.
You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.”
You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them.
“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”
“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent.
Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.
Perhaps this might not be so bad after all.
Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket.
“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”
“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless.
“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”
“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”
“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”
“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life.
“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”
“Yes—?”
“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again.
“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever.
“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”
“You what?”
“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”
“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.
“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”
“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”
“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman.
“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”
“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.
“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”
“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone.
“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was.
“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself.
“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—
“Miss Jeon?”
You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”
Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you.
“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands.
The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”
“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise.
“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”
“Like what?” You ask, head tilted.
He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”
You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”
You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack.
Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier.
From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well.
You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him.
“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”
Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure.
Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life.
“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”
Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining.
“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”
Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even.
But not Hoseok.
“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”
“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon.
“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens.
You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”
“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”
“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”
“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”
“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that.
“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”
“I will not!” You will.
Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go.
“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”
“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing.
“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”
“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”
Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”
“I know!”
“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”
“Just them, but yes,” you correct.
“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.
You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”
“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”
“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”
“You what?”
“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.
“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”
Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?
The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life.
Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you do anything to find him?”
You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”
“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”
“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”
“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries.
You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”
“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”
You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.
He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him.
Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier.
“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”
Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”
You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it.
The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.
“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”
There you are.
Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now.
Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day.
And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective.
Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help.
For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom.
Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon.
You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future.
Not an imminent happening.
Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort.
You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do.
Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly.
Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would.
The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you.
Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever.
Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate.
After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.
Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.
[Today, 12:27PM]
Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls
Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.
You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later.
You: I’m busy right now.
Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort
You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.
Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you
You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person.
You: Later.
Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?
You: Like what?
Jungkook: -_-
Jungkook: don’t play stupid
Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.
You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.
Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing
Jungkook: how is that professional????
Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N
Jungkook: you need to start acting like it
You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires.
You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.
Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t
Jungkook: as your brother, it is
You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?
You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.
Jungkook: yknow
Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it.
Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met
Jungkook: but
Jungkook: oh idk
You: What?
An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.
Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business
Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it
Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again.
What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him?
You aren’t ready.
You’re barely halfway.
You: Yeah, right.
Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N
Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are
You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.
Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it
You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later.
Jungkook: …
Jungkook: fine
Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you
You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right.
There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it.
“What?”
You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that.
Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”
“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.
“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”
“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”
You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”
“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”
“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face.
You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle.
Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”
“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”
“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”
And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too.
Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.
“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”
Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand.
Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right.
At least you’ll always have him.
You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch.
You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are.
Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.
Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.
The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed.
Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker.
You would say that he’s just brilliant.
Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress.
The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date.
The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?
You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised.
Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful.
The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end.
You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there.
You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin.
Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company.
Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick.
At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day.
Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice.
“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”
“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.
“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”
“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”
“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.
“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct.
Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always.
“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.
Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”
“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”
“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”
“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable.
(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.)
“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”
Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen.
“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”
Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?
He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you.
“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”
He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul.
Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up.
“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”
The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm.
“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know.
(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)
Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”
The third date is forgettable.
Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable.
You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse.
Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more.
You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list.
Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury.
Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily.
Today feels like a good day.
The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered.
One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?
“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls.
You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?
“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.
“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”
“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”
Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”
“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.
“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition.
You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”
Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”
“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”
“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”
“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it.
“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”
You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued.
“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”
You sigh.
Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new.
Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats.
It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now.
Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal.
Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends.
“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes.
The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well.
“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents.
“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised.
You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”
It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option.
“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material.
“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish.
Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit.
It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you.
The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all.
“Ready?”
You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.
A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes.
Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight.
The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers.
And yet, he looks stunning.
Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film.
God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream.
“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”
He must already know the answer to that.
You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”
A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”
“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”
The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him.
“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”
“How much is it?”
Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.
“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too.
“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist.
“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body.
Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”
“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”
“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”
“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room.
“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down.
You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”
“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.
“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”
“Ma’am?”
The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”
Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.
But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat.
You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead.
A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy.
Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs.
“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one.
“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth.
“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”
“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”
“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”
You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”
“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard.
“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”
“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”
At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless.
“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”
“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”
“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”
He is silent.
“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable.
It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you.
“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”
“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours.
“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face.
“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”
“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”
Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close.
You want him to be closer.
And then—
“Aw, what the—?”
The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business.
“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air.
You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”
“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”
“I just feel bad,” you tell him.
“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected.
Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you.
But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like.
The clock strikes three.
Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late.
Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye.
But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.
Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible.
But sometimes, you would rather just work.
Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified.
So some nights, you would rather just work.
Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away.
Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack.
The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.
When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here.
“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here.
Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says.
“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder.
You’re not.
“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.
“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon.
Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees.
“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself.
“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer.
You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”
“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you.
“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”
“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses.
You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”
“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously.
You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”
Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”
“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment.
“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”
You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”
He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”
“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”
Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”
You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand.
Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”
“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”
“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever.
Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”
“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”
You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes.
The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark.
The friendship was the fire.
“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”
“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”
Love?
Could it be?
You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way.
“You’re in love with me?” You ask.
“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely.
You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue.
He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do.
“This.”
The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too.
A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart.
A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love.
You think you could get used to this.
He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours.
When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face.
“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.
Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”
God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.
The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call.
Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate.
It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?
“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago.
You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.
“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”
“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”
“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”
“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.
You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”
“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking.
You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand.
Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”
You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”
“Of course,” Seokjin agrees.
“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.
Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer.
“How about Cinderella?”
↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!
#bts x reader#jin x reader#bts fic#jin fic#seokjin x reader#seokjin fic#seokjin fluff#seokjin angst#jin fluff#jin angst#bts fluff#bts angst#seokjin scenario#jin scenario#bts scenario#bts au#seokjin imagine#jin imagine#bts imagine#w: the heiress and the hotelier#AND NOW I TAKE MY LEAVE#aka go on vacation and finally relax for once
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man up. [m] | pt.4
h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au
— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.
or alternatively;
Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞
WORD COUNT: 5.4k
CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au
WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?
A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)
▸ request
CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +
blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song
© jeonqqin 2020
—UNEDITED
Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.
Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.
“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.
You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.
“Yeah?”
You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.
“Would you ever date a guy like me?”
And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.
“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.
Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”
You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.
A date.
Had you even been on a date before?
You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.
Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.
The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.
You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?
No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.
The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.
Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.
You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?
Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.
“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.
The voice was familiar—
“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”
You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.
“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”
Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”
“You’re a sadistic bastard.”
“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”
You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”
“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”
“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”
Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”
Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.
You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.
“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”
Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.
He was supposed to be older than you?
The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”
You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.
Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.
“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”
Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.
You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.
“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”
Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”
Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”
“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.”
Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.
Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.
You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.
“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.
Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.
“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.
“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”
“He did?”
Well, you thought he was a good listeners
“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”
“Or something?”
You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.
“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.
“I am too.”
You froze—huh?
Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.
Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.
“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”
You frowned. “Why?”
“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”
“But…?”
He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.
He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.
“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”
“Became anything?”
That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.
But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.
“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.
Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.
“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”
“Is this you warning me?”
“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”
Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.
You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.
“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”
Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.
“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”
You smiled.
“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”
As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.
He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.
“So this is a date?”
You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.
He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.
And you still had no idea what to say.
“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.
He had to have gone down at least four streets already—
“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”
“A what?”
You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?
“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”
“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.
His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.
You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”
Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”
“He didn’t.”
“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”
You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.
“He did what?”
“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”
That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.
You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.
And you were crazy.
You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.
“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.
Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.
“We’re almost there, hold on.”
“That doesn’t tell me where—”
Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.
Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.
“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.
With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?
Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.
But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.
Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.
Something else—you definitely were.
“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.
You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.
Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.
Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.
“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.
“It’s an old fire station.”
Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.
“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”
It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.
He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?
You cleared your throat.
“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.
You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.
“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.
“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”
He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”
“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”
Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.
You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.
He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.
It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.
The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.
Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.
Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.
“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.
Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.
“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.
“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”
Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.
He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”
“Are you rambling?”
Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.
“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.
You smiled.
“Sounds good to me.”
You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.
The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.
And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.
Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.
That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.
Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?
Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.
“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?
Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.
“Come down the pole with me.”
His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.
“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”
“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”
You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.
“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”
“I try.”
With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.
“Your turn!”
“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”
Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.
“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.
The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.
“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”
“Slide down here and find out.”
He got you there. You really did want to find out.
So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.
“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”
And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.
“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”
Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.
You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”
Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.
“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”
“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”
He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.
And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.
You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.
His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.
Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.
It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.
Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.
The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.
He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.
"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.
You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.
#stray kids#skz#inkidz#stayverse#jisung#han jisung#bang chan#han jisung x reader smut#han jisung x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids reader insert#smut#stray kids smut#stray kids scenarios#stray kids blurbs#stray kids requests#han jisung imagines#han jisung scenarios#stray kids reactions#stray kids fanfic#jisung/reader#series#fic; man up
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Secrets in the tower
Summary: y/n’s secret is threatening to come out and he’s just simply not ready for that, he doesn’t want this dad, the famous Tony Stark to find out just yet. Yet, things never go according to plan, but that shouldn’t matter, however, what matters is how we react to it.
📝Words:📝 3.2k
⚠️Warnings:⚠️ internalised homophobia, sexual jokes, anxiety
💙Pairing:💙 Tony Stark!dad and reader!son, Peter Parker x male!reader (Steve Rogers x Tony Stark mentioned)
📎Note:📎Yet again, the timeline doesn’t make sense. Also, no proof read.
Being the child of an impulsive man was difficult, to say the least. And to make matters worse, that man just happened to be Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist all that jazz. Your father had a habit of being pushy, controlling and a straight-up dick. Yet, despite all of that, you loved him. He could be a pain in the ass but he never did it on purpose. You had inherited his sharp tongue so there never really was a quiet moment in the Stark-Rogers household. Steve was the man who kept your father grounded, didn’t let him get too ahead of himself. However, sometimes Tony slipped past Steve’s fingers, and on those occasions, Tony raised a lot of hell wherever he pleased and could only be talked down by you. Nick Fury had tried a couple of times, only receiving a bunch of curse words and a request to go fuck himself.
Needless to say, there was a lot of respect between your dad and you. Tony respected your wishes of having no part in the Avengers mess or you not wanting anything to do with the Stark Industries. It was a hard choice that you had to make, the company was his life’s work but you weren’t passionate about the things he was. You weren’t interested in robots or whatever it was that he was working on.
You wanted to do things you were passionate about, even if you weren’t sure what that was yet. I mean, you were still in high school, you didn’t need to know what you were interested in pursuing in the future.
Your locker slammed shut, bringing you back to reality, or more like Hell. You blinked once before turning your head to look at the man who had slammed your locker shut, somebody from the football team. They all looked the same to you, you only knew they were from the football team because of the jerseys they wore, it was all ridiculous in your opinion. Like a cult. Why do they need to wear jackets 24/7? Do they ever wash them?
The boy smiled at you, stretching out his disgusting face, ”Y/n.” He said, trying to make his voice smoky, but ended up just trembling.
”A guy who’s name I don’t even remember. What do you want?” You asked, tired already.
His face dropped a little when you showed no emotion, but he composed himself quickly.
”Is it true what everybody keeps saying about you?” He asked, leaning a little closer.
Your brows burrowed, ”what?”
He looked around a little before leaning in further, ”you know. Are you like gay?”
The voice rang throughout the halls it seemed, it tried to freeze you, it really did. You had to push through, nobody could know.
You cleared your throat and shook your head. ”No, of course not. What do you take me for?” You asked, already turning away to leave.
”You can walk away all you want Stark boy, I know your secrets”, the boy yelled after you, catching a few looks from other students. The last part was said in a taunting sign-song way.
You fished out your phone to text Peter. ”Did you tell someone?” You typed, nervous. Peter was the only one who knew, well he had to since you two were kind of dating.
”Did I tell who what?” He asked, from behind you, startling you. He held out his phone when you turned to look at him. You stared at him, still a little spooked.
”One of the football guys came up to me. Apparently, people have been talking.” You muttered, anxious.
Peter was still lost. You sighed, ”Peter, you poor sweet thing. You don’t have a thought behind those eyes, do you Peter?”
He shook his head, confused. You sighed again and showed Peter your limp wrist. Peter’s mouth immediately gaped open ”oh, you mean that. And no, I didn’t tell anyone.”
”Well somebody did. Now everybody knows!” You whisper-yelled. You were panicking. You could not have your dad finding out about this, you couldn’t. Your hands reached for your hair to pull on it. Peter luckily saw your frustration and led you away from all the people. He led you into a bathroom and made sure every stall was empty. ”Just breathe, we’ll figure this out.” Peter said and wet a paper towel with cold water, he pressed the cold paper towel on your forehead to calm you down. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe normally. It felt odd to have the power dynamic changed this way, usually, it was Peter freaking out and you reassuring him. ”I don’t really get why you’re so freaked about this. Your dad is dating Captain America, the environment doesn’t get more accepting than that.” Peter said after he figured out that your breathing had evened out. ”You’re right, I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet.” You sighed and grabbed Peter’s hand. You kissed his knuckles as a sign of thankfulness. ”Where would I be without you?” You said and cupped Peter’s cheek with the hand that previously held his hand. Peter smiled down at you, Peter was at an average height but you had gotten the little height you had from your dad, so not much.
”Why are you smiling like that?” You asked after Peter hadn’t stopped smiling at you even though it had been quite a while already. ”Just appreciating the little things in life,” he said, already laughing a little. ”Oh really?” You said and kicked Peter so that he almost toppled over. Peter groaned at the pain, it wasn’t the first time he had made that joke and it wasn’t the first time you had kicked him. You watched as Peter tried to recover before giving him your hand, ”let’s get to class shall we?” You asked and began leading him out.
You cried once you got home, you had been with Peter all day and it was already dark. You had figured that it was the best to hole away in your own room for the time being.
The elevator and your phone dinged in synch, the elevator signalling that you had reached your floor and the phone alerting you of a text message from Peter. You stepped out of the elevator and eyed the message, a link to a news article. Your finger hovered over the link for a couple of seconds before you finally clicked on it. The further you read the article the more you wanted to claw your own eyes out. ”Tony Stark’s secret child has even a bigger secret” not a title you optimally wanted to go with if you were writing an article. It does catch the eye but could use some work. The article contained some general information like your name and where you went to school, that was before a candid picture filled your screen. You and Peter in the school bathroom that morning. The article went on theorising about what was going on between the two of you, it was even hinted that you had in fact been aware of the picture being taken and only did all of that for your dad to notice you.
A rippled cry left your chest as you threw your phone. You officially hated the world and your life. It was only a matter of time before your dad found out and that is if he didn’t already know, you weren’t ready to have that conversation. It was also a matter of time before all of this was all over the news.
There was a part in your brain that thought that you being gay was an obvious thing in the sense that people would just assume your sexuality just because your dad was married to another man, that part was small but it was loud. You didn’t mind your own sexuality and you loved that your dad had found someone who he was happy with, and the fact that the person happened to be a man was just a nice plus to it all. However, you weren’t sure if everyone else saw it that way. You hadn’t grown up in the spotlight like your dad but it was only a matter of time before you ended up in it and when that happens there’s no telling how the world will react. But overall, really nice thoughts to have when you’re exhausted, you were lucky that it was Friday, you didn’t have to wake up early the next morning. You turned the light switch on in your room, only to find your dad sitting on your bed. He knew.
Tony turned to look at you when the lights turned on, he saw the fresh tear streaks on your cheeks and immediately stood up. ”What happened?” He asked and hugged you. You dropped your bag on the floor, not caring if something broke inside, you buried your head in the crook of his neck and only cried harder. Tony rubbed your back and tried to comfort you without really knowing what was wrong. You didn’t cry that often, yes you got upset pretty regularly and stuff like that but you didn’t really cry that much and even when you did cry, it wasn’t that often that your dad was there to comfort you. In his mind, you cried close to never and those times when you cried you were impossible to console. He thought that when you cried something was seriously wrong. To Tony’s relief, you quieted down after a few minutes and let go of Tony, he copied you.
You sat down on your bed, feeling a little embarrassed that you just cried into your dad’s shoulder like you were eight all over again. Both of you were silent, you waited for Tony to say something and he waited for you to collect yourself.
”You know, if somebody hurt you-” he started, only to be cut off. ”No, no dad nothing like that,” you sniffled and looked at him dead in the eye. He seemed to relax a little at that. ”Even if it was-” he continued quickly, not wanting to be cut off but was anyway. ”No, no one hurt me.” You reassured, sniffling a little. ”Why were you waiting for me anyway?” You asked after Tony remained silent. ”No it’s nothing we can talk about in the morning you seem exhausted.” He said and begun to leave. You grabbed his hand. ”No dad stay. I am tired yes but I can’t fall asleep.” You admitted. Tony sighed and sat down next to you. You let go of his hand only for him to grab it back. ”I heard a rumour.” Tony said quietly. Your shoulders stiffened as more tears filled your eyes. Tony heard your breath hitch and he turned to look at you, the sight broke his heart.
Tony shook his head, this isn’t how he thought he had raised his son, this isn’t how he wanted to handle this. ”You know what. It doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what and we do not have to talk about it, at least not until you’re ready.” Tony said and threw his arm over your shoulders. Hearing what your dad had to say relieved you, it felt nice to know that your dad would love you no matter what. It was clear since he was your dad and all but it’s good that he said it out loud. You rested your head on his shoulder and tried to enjoy this moment with him. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. You were upset that the world had once again ruined something of yours but it wasn’t like you to just give up at a little setback, with that attitude you would never have gotten anywhere in your life. ”It’s true, you know.” You finally said out loud. You felt as Tony tensed a little and you turned to look at him, he was smiling. ”Yeah, kinda figured.” He said and laughed, causing you to playfully slap him. ”On a more serious note, I don’t really get why you wouldn’t tell me but I respect your decision.” He admitted, kind of ruining the moment you were having. ”I didn’t tell you because I felt like it was somehow expected of me, not by you but by others. I think that people find it obvious that I’m gay and I don’t want to be known as that gay guy.” You confessed, hoping your dad wouldn’t feel bad. ”That sounds like internalised homophobia my dearest son.” Tony said. He was right, it’s difficult to say if that was normal or not but nevertheless, he was right. You nodded as a sign of understanding. "Did you see the news article?" You asked, kind of already knowing the answer. "Yeah, it's being taken care of," Tony replied, easing your anxieties about the whole ordeal a little bit.
”I hate that this needed to be a conversation. I just wished that when you started dating someone it would just be like at thanksgiving you walk in and introduce the guy and ask us to clear space for one more chair. I would’ve of course interrogated the guy but I feel like I have the right to-” Tony rambled. You laughed at your dad, he was good at heart and loved you very dearly. ”I don’t think you need to clear space at the table for a chair or interrogate Peter.” You said once Tony stopped rambling. ”I’m still going to interrogate him.” Tony said, knowing that his son was once again right. ”But Peter Parker as your first boyfriend is a good start. He sets the bar a little too high though, doesn’t he?” Tony said, earning a giggle out of you. ”First and only. It doesn’t get much better than Peter Parker does it?” You joked, well you weren’t really joking but you said it that way to not freak your poor old dad out. ”Yeah, he’s a keeper.” Steve’s voice boomed from the door. You and your dad both turned to look at Steve. ”Hi dad.” You said.
You had known Steve for almost your entire life, even if he and your dad hadn't been married for that long. Steve just always kind of was your dad. At the times when Tony would lock himself in his lab for days on end out of old habits, Steve would be there. Steve would keep you company and take care of you for a few days until he too became fed up with Tony being in the lab. Then he would put you on a "secret mission" of rescuing daddy from his lab where he was being held captive by his mind. Later on, you realised that the game had a lot more truths to it than one would imagine. You were even the person to ask your dad to marry Steve.
"Okay sweetie, give this little box to your dad and tell him it's from me," Steve had whispered to you. The both of you had stood in the elevator, on your way down to Tony's lab where he had been for two days already. "I think he knows it's from you." You had whispered back, not really understanding why you were whispering. Steve had given you a lot of instructions on what to do since he had been incredibly nervous. When the doors had opened and you had seen your dad sat in his usual spot you turned to Steve and whispered. "I'm going in blind now. Your plans suck."
Steve had watched from the elevator as you had skipped over to your dad, beaming with happiness. "Hi, daddy!" you had greeted Tony, who had put his screwdriver down and bent down to pick you up. "Hi, sweetie." Tony had greeted you back and placed you on his table, waiting eagerly on your next move. Steve had watched as you swung your legs back and forth and talked your mouth off to your dad whatever it was that had invaded your mind at the age of nine. It was most likely something about your birthday gifts that you got a couple of days earlier. Steve found the sight absolutely adorable, Tony had been hanging at the edge of his seat while listening to you and you were swinging back and forth while talking about something. Tony had even commented on things in between like: "oh now she didn't!" and "Oh I bet!" only to be told off by you: "Daddy you're talking over me. If you're goim to treat your child this badly this young you better fear the old people home you're goim to be put into."
"Did you really come all this way on the elevator to tell me about all of this?" Tony had asked you once he was sure that you had finished talking. "Oh no I didn't. Dad wants to rim you and wanted me to ask you!" You had beamed with proudness, finally, you were getting ahead with your mission. Steve had facepalmed in the elevator, he was sure that Tony would break, but he didn't. "You know squid I think I'm going to need a little more information on this." Tony had said, holding in a lot of laughter. You had reached into your dungarees, finally pulling out the small box and handing it to Tony. "That's for the rim." You had said and pointed at the box. Steve would have killed to see Tony's face at that moment when he had opened the box. Steve had seen how a wide smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetie we talked about that -ng sound." Tony had finally said. You had huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn't your fault that sometimes others didn't understand you! When you got excited things sometimes got a little jumbled up.
Tony had turned to you after placing the box back on the table. "Will you tell daddy that I would love to wear the ring?" Tony had said and reached to put you back down from the table. "You can tell daddy yourself." You had said and pointed at Steve who was just walking out of the elevator. Tony turned to look at Steve. "So you want to rim me?" Tony had asked Steve who coughed to hide his laughter. "We practised but it didn't really work out," Steve said and placed his hand on Tony's shoulder. "Well daddy's plans suck so I had to go in blind!" you had tried to defend yourself. Tony had agreed with you. "So that's off the table?" Tony asked, looking up to Steve. "No definitely not, it just depends on if you say yes," Steve said, trying to make himself seem confident when in reality he was shitting himself. Tony grabbed the box and placed the ring inside on his finger. "Consider me a rimmed man!" he said and stood up from his chair to kiss Steve.
You shuddered at the sudden flashback, both of your dad's looked at you, concerned. "Just thought about when dad proposed. Just got the joke," You said and scrunched up your nose in disgust. Steve and Tony both laughed.
#marvel#The Avengers#Iron Man#irondad#tony stark#captain america#steve rogers#peter parker#spiderman#x male reader#oneshot#hurt#comfort#peter parker x male reader#peter parker x reader#tony stark x steve rogers
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Persevere
Word count: 1431
Pairing(s): Honestly? This all over the place so take your bets
Warning(s): ** the nasty is happening below
This is easily the greatest and stupidest idea you’ve ever had and yet— it’s working. You’ve never been one to do such things but here you are, giving head to Wu Chang all so your team can survive this match.
You’ve done many things. You’ve kited the hunter for 4 ciphers before getting downed, you’ve kited the hunter enough times for everyone to escape and take dungeon for yourself at the end. You’ve done so much in matches before, but this certainly takes the cake.
How did worrying about the team lead to this? Sure, matches had been slow—well there hadn’t been any matches for some days now. Everything had been quiet and peaceful with no matches and you worried your fellow survivors would let their skills and talents rust from the lack of matches. You were worried for them but hell if you thought it’d make you stupid enough to do this! Well- this is with Wu Chang so you couldn’t complain too much, now could you?
The sounds of ciphers being done could be heard throughout the map and you could only be thankful that your efforts weren’t going to waste especially when you’re teamed up with the slowest decoders you could’ve asked for. Naib, Andrew and Victor were only trying their best but why them of all times? God damn you game matchers! No matter. You’re going to make sure everyone survives this match or so help you god you’ll personally hunt down the guys if they don’t make it out.
At least you’re able to work your stamina into this rather than kiting. It’s not quite the same but it’s not too bad either. Being able to draw out Fan’s moans, seeing the way he reacts when receiving such attention from you and the way he tangles his hand into your hair; pushing you down for more of your attention, It’s not too bad. Xie got his turn earlier and you can’t help but feel proud of yourself for having made him reach his climax quickly however, from all the previous teasing you did to him it’s no wonder why he did so quickly. That’s saying you weren’t trying to do so much either! So cute.
Fan on the other hand…He’s rougher around the edges and you must put in more work. Your jaw is starting to cramp up but he’s relentless. The way his hips jolt forward when you take his entire length was starting to make the back of your throat sore as he kept hitting there. You weren’t sure how much more you could take of this but it’s almost as if he knew and pulled his hand away from your hair.
Taking the open chance, you pulled away and took a deep breath. Still wanting to buy some more time for your team, you quickly caught your breath and held his dick with your hand as you licked up to reach his tip and placed your lips against it teasingly. “up for another round fan~?” The vibrations from your words sent shivers down his body and his smirk only grew more widely.
The dark look in his eyes was enough for you to know he wanted you to continue and as you opened your mouth to take his cock once again—everything moved in a flash, what the fuck just happened? Why are you looking at the sky? Why are you against a wall? No. you’re against someone. Someone is holding you close to their chest. Wait- you remember this feeling- This is like when you get lassoed by Kevin. He usually carries you over his shoulder but there has been the occasional time he’s held you bridal style as well. so, with a wide smile and your arms wrapping around the person you stupidly think is holding you, you happily speak “Kevin~?!”
“oh you fucking wish!”
Ah. You know that harsh voice. “Naib?!”
“No I’m Kevin- yes it’s ME! Kevin isn’t even in the team this match you horny idiot!” of course he was going to say something about your choices. Of fucking course but no. you should be the mature one and— “HEY! This horny idiot saved all of you and look! the gates are open! What are you even complaining about—ah, I know what this is about. You’re just upset I haven’t thanked you for saving me from wu chang huh? Let me guess you were expecting something like…you’re my hero~! You saved me~!”
“Oh save it for when we actually get out!” he replied with a sneer and a slight blush to his face. The usual you got from him.
“Wait…the gates aren’t open?! Why did you get me instead of opening them?! How did you even get me?!” since it was so sudden and you were a little dazed from having spent 5 ciphers worth of time sucking fan’s cock, you hadn’t really thought about it.
“Simpler than you think. I saw…what you were doing and thought my normal method wouldn’t be the best way to get you. so, I opened a chest and got lucky with a lasso.” He paused a bit when mentioning having watched you go about your brilliant way of buying time for the team but a topic for later as you were reaching the gates. Before you could say anything back to him, you remained quiet as an all too familiar feeling returned to you.
A loud thumping was building up in your chest, along with a purple glow appearing which you knew all too well. Fuck.
It’s getting louder by the second as you approach the gates which were being opened by victor. Andrew was there too, although he was quite nervously waiting for the gates to open. That look of horror was something you learned to expect from Andrew, but it was different from normal. Taking it as a sign, you looked over naib’s shoulder and you saw Fan quickly chasing after you and naib. Those glowing red eyes can only mean one thing…shit!
“Naib he’s got detention! HE’S GOT DETENTION!!” working as the eyes behind his head, you quickly updated naib on the situation which in turn ended with him loudly yelling at victor.
“OPEN THE FUCKING GATES!!”
victor quickened his pace with opening the gate once he heard naib’s yell. Lucky it was the last coding he needed to input and as the gates squeaked open, they rushed in. Victor and Andrew made it inside to safely wait but anxiously waiting for you and naib surely made them lose years to their lifespans, They’re sure of it.
Every second felt too long for their comfort, but they wanted to make sure all of them made it out. They made the right choice to stay behind in the safety of the gate as they quickly heard the bells alerting them naib had been hit. But before they could even take a step outside the gate, they saw naib with you in hand turn the corner inside the gate. Despite sprinting forward with all his might, he still had the energy to yell at his teammates.
“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING AROUND FOR?! LET’S FUCKING GO!!” That was all they needed to see and hear to quickly turn on their heels and dash further into the exit.
You think you could’ve gotten there faster and without naib taking a hit from fan at the end had he put you down. But…you suppose it’s his way of repaying you for having stalled for as long as you did. You still had your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself close to his face. You teasingly spoke to him “so now that we’re out of danger and going back to the manor I suppose now you want me to say you saved me~! My hero~! Let me give you a kiss for your bravery~!” You jokingly pucker your lips for a kiss.
“don’t fucking DARE give me a kiss with that dick sucking MOUTH” He replied, biting down so harshly his teeth clanked.
“OH, SHUT UP I SAVED ALL OF YOU BY DOING THAT” you quickly yelled back. Only taking seconds to remember the other two who were with you and who did not in fact know what you did.
victor and Andrew were as red as tomatoes and quickly turn their heads to look at the two of you bickering and together, they said “you did what?!”
ah. Well shit. You have a lot of explaining to do once you got back to the manor.
It was fun though.
#idv imagines#idv x reader#Identity v Imagines#Identity v x reader#wu chang x reader#naib subedar#andrew kreiss#victor grantz#smut#idv#identity v
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Canary, Part 7
First
Previous
Marinette sighed as docks came into view.
She didn’t like that it was at the docks. Everyone with half a brain knew what happened at the docks.
She’d come prepared, of course. She had hidden a bulletproof vest under her hoodie, there was a pack of fake blood in her pocket… but her head was uncovered. There was no way to protect herself from that kind of attack without being suspicious and she hated it.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat, pulled her hood up, and speedwalked the rest of the way to her ‘job interview’.
There were a bunch of crates around. Not a surprise, it was still the docks, but the labels of ‘acid flowers’, ‘fake weapons’, and ‘red lipstick’ just kind of drove in the fact that this was an interview to be a Joker goon and she was so fucked.
She sidled up to the weird line that had formed.
There were eight other people there already. A group interview, she thought sarcastically.
The first three in line were obviously Joker fanatics, with deathly pale skin and bright smiles. The other five of them seemed to be regular goons that had run out of options.
She glanced at the time. Eleven pm exactly, just when they were supposed to meet. She was probably the last one.
“Well, this is a shitty way to spend Juneteenth,” said the kid next to her.
She snickered a little before she realized. A kid? Shit.
“Hey, how old are you?” She asked quietly.
They shrunk back a little more. “Fourteen.”
“Great. Good that you know the legal age to start working, that’s good. What’s your actual age, though? I’m not going to tell.”
“... twelve.”
“Okay. Alright. You need to leave.”
“You just want the spot,” they said, glaring at her.
“Shut up. I don’t even want to be here. You need to go because things are about to get really messed up --.”
She saw something out of the corner of her eyes. Too late.
Joker emerged from a pile of boxes and slowly walked down the line. She straightened a little under his gaze. It took everything in her to not glare at him.
“Now, as you all know, there is only one spot open --.”
“Yes sir,” said one of the Joker fanatics eagerly.
Joker’s gaze snapped to him and in one swift motion his gun was out. Marinette closed her eyes so none of the blood would get in them.
He blew a bit of smoke from the barrel, that smile still in place, and then turned back to everyone else. “Sorry. I do hate suckups.”
Marinette thought that Harley would disagree. She didn’t say it aloud -- Joker didn’t like smartasses, either.
“Okay, with only one spot left… I want to make sure that I get the best person for the job.”
He set the gun down on the ground and rested his foot on it.
“Any questions?”
Marinette hesitantly raised her hand.
His eyes narrowed at her. “Yes?”
“That gun only holds six bullets -- well, five now that you’ve shot him -- and there’s eight of us left… can we improvise with our own weapons?”
Joker looked at her for a long time before his smile split wider. “No. You can still kill someone with an unloaded gun.”
Marinette thought she was going to be sick.
Joker slowly backed away from the gun and then pushed himself up onto the nearest crate.
There was a beat where the seven of them looked at each other.
And then there was a mad grab for the gun.
Marinette grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt and dragged them over to hide behind a crate.
She ignored the first gunshot as she peeled off her hoodie and then started tearing at the straps of her vest.
“Take this, duck your head, and run. Zigzag. If you get shot, go limp and pop the fake blood in your pocket. How are you with --” Another shot. “riddles?”
“Uh…?”
“Nevermind. Go to Scarecrow for a job. Tell him that…” Another shot made her temporarily forget the old pseud she had used for him. “... Carrie! Tell him that Carrie sent you.”
The kid’s brown eyes were bright with terror. Scarecrow would love them.
One more shot was fired in the time it took the kid to put on the bulletproof vest and hoodie.
She pushed them towards the exit and waited to see them start running before jumping onto the crate.
Not that bad but tw: murder
There were two people left -- a normal woman and a fanatic. They rolled around in the blood, trying to get the upperhand enough to shoot without risking wasting a bullet. Joker smiled brightly as he watched the two of them, clapping and laughing like this was a comedy or something.
Marinette looked down at the two of them, considering, and then jumped down. The blood on the ground splashed onto them. The normal one yelped and looked away on instinct. The lady got a new piercing, which is terrible news for her but great news for them.
The fanatic pushed the body off of himself and slowly advanced on her. She stood stock still, eyes locked on the gun.
It slowly raised to her face.
She tore her gaze from it and she looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Make it quick, will you?”
The man grinned and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. Empty.
She smirked.
His eyes widened in realization and her hand came up to steal the gun from his hands. She twirled it around her knuckles and then socked him in the jaw as hard as she could.
The man’s head jerked back and he was out like a light, falling back in the blood with a splash.
She glanced over at Joker. “Do I really have to kill him? That’ll take forever by hand… or by… gun-hand.”
Joker chuckled and nodded.
Marinette’s nose scrunched as she looked down at the man. He was stirring slowly, because getting knocked unconscious hardly ever lasted even a minute.
She jumped on top of the fanatic and started whaling on him, using the gun as makeshift brass knuckles. It kind of hurt, guns were definitely not made for that, but she doubted it hurt her as much as it hurt him if the blood and gore splattering over them like the mist of a demented fountain were anything to go by. The man tried to push back against her but she just moved up to pin his arms under his knees and continued working at pounding his face in.
He went slack. She didn’t believe him. It hadn’t been long enough. She did use it as an opportunity to switch the hand the gun was on, though. A few more punches in he brought himself back to try and plead with her.
Couldn’t have that. She started aiming at his mouth, trying to get him to just shut up and die already. Disgust built in her throat like the blood he was trying desperately to cough up, trying to get a breath of fresh air in. She smashed his nose and the gasps became more panicked, the breaths gurgled. She gave him one more hit to the temple.
His head lolled. She drew back a little, silent except for her ragged pants. Her chest heaved. His didn’t move.
Tw over
Joker’s clapping picked up.
She slowly lifted her head to look at him. He looked delighted.
She wiped at the blood around her mouth to try and speak. All it did was smear.
“Done, Joker, sir,” she said softly.
“Yes. Well done,” he said. “Now, clean up the bodies for me and I’ll take you back to the warehouse for your first assignment.”
She sighed a little and started dragging the bodies to the water.
~
Marinette was cold and wet from a quick dip in the harbor (no one in Gotham is all that phased by people walking around with blood on them, but she’d felt all sticky, so...). The fact that she was about to be a Joker goon, and meet up with other Joker goons did not help.
She stepped into the warehouse. Twelve pairs of eyes turned on her.
“Nathalie? Nathalie!”
A person ran over, skidding to a stop only a foot away with a bright smile.
“Emma,” she breathed.
Emma, somehow, brightened up even more at being recognized. As if Marinette would, somehow, not recognize her.
She watched the woman bounce on the balls of her feet for a moment before realizing what she wanted.
“You… there’s a lot to catch up on… you can hug me,” Marinette said softly.
Emma gathered her into a hug so tight she thought she could pop and Marinette could only stand there in shock.
Emma squeezed a little more and then pulled back, smiling brightly. “I can’t believe… I thought you were dead!”
And then Emma’s face darkened. She pulled back and slapped Marinette, which she totally deserved but ow.
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE! I SAT BY YOUR GRAVE! I FUCKING MOURNED YOU!”
Marinette gave a weak smile. “... tada?”
She got slapped again. Also very deserved. Also very ow.
And then arms opened and she leaned in to nonverbally accept another hug from Emma.
“You’d better have a good reason for fake dying,” she said.
Marinette glanced over at Joker, who was watching the two of them with a thoughtful expression. It was nice to pretend he was finally realizing the beauty of meaningfully connecting with other people. He was probably just making a mental note of their bond so he could exploit it later.
“I do. For now… what are we doing?”
“Blowing up orphanages in the shape of a smiley face,” said Joker brightly. “No more orphans means no more Robins.”
Christ --.
~
Everyone relaxed when Joker left, even the four-ish fanatics seemed relieved. Never meet your idols, she supposed.
She sat herself down on a crate marked ‘explosives’ -- a bad idea but whatever -- and everyone sat down like a bunch of kids listening to their teacher tell a story. The mental image made her smile.
She noticed that a good half of the people there were younger than her. Her smile lessened a little.
They all gave her their names. She told them that, despite what Emma said, she now went by Marinette and would prefer if they called her that instead.
This sated everyone enough to leave Emma and her alone. Or, at least, they left the room. They were probably listening in on the other side. Henchmen are the biggest gossips.
“So… what’re the chances, huh?”
Emma sighed. “Well, at least I know it’s still you. You still stall like a dumbass.”
Marinette giggled a little. It was more nervous than happy, though.
She didn’t want to lie, Emma didn’t deserve that. She’d just… leave some critical information out. Definitely not lying. Don’t look up what lying by omission is, just trust her on this.
“I got out,” she said. “Remember how I died?”
“Of course. Riddler killed you.”
“He tried. He saw me stealing the stupid weapons that he wanted and he told me a stupid riddle and I found a way around it. He tried again, and I found a way out of dying again. After that… he offered me a way out of being a henchman.”
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Marinette looked at the ceiling to prevent them from falling.
“It was a way out. He was offering a job, food, water, a house -- a house, Emma! I couldn’t just say no.”
Emma’s face softened instantly. She’d been a henchman far longer than Marinette had been, after all. Any goon would give anything to get out. Even their friends, if they had to.
“Why’d you die?”
“It felt like the right time. Symbolic, I guess, to ‘kill’ the old me when moving onto a ‘new life’.” Then, Marinette gave a weak smile. “Also, I figured it was about time to let Nathalie Sancoeur rest. She’d been dead for at least two years at that point.”
Emma gave a wet laugh. “Nathalie was a real person? That explains why your ID said forty-something when you were, like, sixteen max.”
“I managed to get alcohol with it a few times, too,” Marinette half-joked.
Emma frowned. “You should have told me. I thought we were…”
Friends. Family, even. But...
“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” she said. It was probably the most honest she’d been in years.
“I couldn’t be disappointed in you. Not for that,” Emma said. Then, she smiled a little. “What was it like?”
“Better.”
The words ‘not good’ hung in the air without her needing to say them.
Emma smiled sadly.
“How’d you end up back here?”
Marinette’s lips twisted into a grimace. “I don’t think there’s a way to get out of the hole. Not really. Best you can do is hold onto a branch and enjoy the view for as long as you can while you wait for it to break.”
Emma nodded her understanding. She’d been a henchman for longer than Marinette had, after all.
“... so, how did you end up here? Even that old job we had with Penguin was better than this,” said Marinette.
“Fail to get out of the hole enough and eventually you stop trying.”
~~~
TheBetterCanary: beat the shit out of a joker stan today so i think my life is going pretty good
SpoilerAlert: 👨🦯👨🦯
Daylightwing: As You Should.
Oracle: Oh dear, seems like I’ve gone blind now, too.
Batman7: As long as no one died...
DeadHood: Not as good as beating the shit out of the real thing but still pretty good.
BlackBat: :D
TheOneTrueRobin: Good for her.
~~~~~
Next
Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses
Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje @mystery-5-5 @flyhighdreamer
#canary#maribat#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#tim drake#red robin#timari#timmari#timinette#shutterbug
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Teachers Pet- chapter 32: holiday break
All chapters
chapter 31
"So y/n did you decide where you are gonna go for holiday break?" Hermione asked as I sat across from her and Ron, sitting awkwardly next to Harry, I didn't think about how I'd feel seeing him. It was weird but not uncomfortable. "Yeah I decided to just stay here." I said eating a piece of bacon.
I had already informed Hermione of all the things that happened last night, except the whole Draco in a bathroom stall with Harry thing of course. I felt bad for not being able to tell, but it wasn't my place to say anything. Which reminded me, I looked down the table to see Ginny sitting with some friends. I wonder if Harry told her or broke up with her. I nudged his arm and asked him whispering the question to him, "Oh I um I didn't tell her anything, I think i'm gonna wait till after break, I don't want to ruin her trip home. Plus I'm going to be staying with the Weasleys. I don't want it to be awkward." he hushed back to me. I looked down at the girl, laughing with her friends, she looked at me and smiled and waved, I returned the gesture then looked at Harry. "Well I guess that's nice of you, you know even after you guys break up, she's still our friend and Ron's sister, so you're still gonna have to see her." I reminded him, "I just don't want to hurt her." he said looking down, picking at his food. I rested a hand on his, "I'm afraid that's gonna be a result no matter what, but a way to help ease her pain would be telling her everything, I'm sure she'll understand. She's sweet like that." He looked down the table at her and nodded in agreement. "I will." he said, sighing. "Will what?" Ron asked, "Make sure to keep you out of trouble." I said giving a sarcastic grin, "More like i've got to write to them everyday to make sure they haven't gotten into any sticky situations." Hermione said giggling. We all laughed along and finished our breakfast.
"I will catch you guys before you leave. I need to take care of something real quick." I said excusing myself and exiting the dining hall. I walked out and turned down the hallway, I had planned to go see Dumbledore since he never came to breakfast, but stopped by the entrance hall, I walked over to witness Professor Snape handing over a certain bloody, black eyed, blonde haired creep to some ministry officers and guards. What happened? I looked curiously and confused at the scene, why was his face all fucked up? I also saw Dumbledore standing there giving information to the men. "What happened to his face?" one guard questioned looking at Severus. "He fell." Severus drawled as they took Lockhart. "I'm telling you I didn't do a thing!" Gilderoy screeched, he was relentless, and an idiot for thinking they would listen. "Save it for the judge." an officer said scoffing. They dragged him off out of sight, Dumbledore following to see them out. I walked up to Snape who was watching them yank the still squirming fool. A slight grin to his face. "So he fell huh?" I said quietly, stopping a few feet behind him, also enjoying the scene. I wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to me anymore after what had happened, but despite his yelling, insults, and deceptions last night, I still wanted to be near him. "Yes because he is an imbecile." he responded, not turning to look at me. I practically burned holes into his back with my gaze, shifting down to his tightly clenched fist. I noticed it looked a little red on his knuckles and that's when I put two and two together. "Did he happen to fall on your fist?" I said laughing a bit, trying not to smile too much at the thought of Snape beating the crap out of Lockhart. "What?" he said furrowing his brows and looking at me, "Your fist Sir, it's a little roughed up." I said motioning to the hand. He quickly crossed his arms hiding it from sight as soon as he realized. "It's fine I don't think they noticed and I'm sure as heck not gonna say anything, plus it's not like Dumbledore couldn't tell. You were practically giddy watching him being dragged off." I said smiling, "I was not giddy." I just nodded smiling, "Thank you." I said looking into his coal black eyes. "For?" he questioned furrowing his brows, "Punching him for me." I said walking closer to him, his eyes followed me and he tensed up a bit. "Not everything is about you Ms. L/n. I hit him because he's an idiot and deserves it." he retorted his normal cold face along with his deep stern voice. I guess we are completely back to this, last name and everything. "Right," I said nodding " well I will catch you later, thank you for beating him up for being an idiot." I added turning and walking back down the hall, he could continue to be normal to me, but that doesn't mean I wasn't gonna at least try to be nice so I could maybe have a conversation with him about everything. I still had lots of questions.
Breakfast had ended and all the kids had begun to exit the hall, all of them in their friend groups, I went and found the group, including Ginny and Draco, and all the kids that were leaving got ready. "Are you sure you don't want to at least come with us to the station?" Draco asked for the second time now. "Yes I'm sure I don't feel like the trip." I reassured him. "Alright, well we are gonna be leaving soon, so Goodbye, I hope you find some fun stuff to do, you can always write to me as well." he said as I hugged him, "And us too!" Ginny said, turning from her conversation with Harry, giving me a hug as well. "I will keep all of this in mind." I said hugging Harry, Ron and Hermione too. I hated saying my goodbyes to my friends because that meant I was gonna be all alone. I was probably gonna be bored out of my mind, Draco told me to just try and sleep most of the day or visit Hogsmeade to pass the time. Which was convenient the first couple days, but it was the day before new years eve and I had already slept enough to last me a decade, and had already been to hogsmeade three times, all within the span of these five days. I had tried convincing Dumbledore to throw a little New years eve party for the remaining students and staff, but all he could agree on was a small firework show. Which alone took me an half hour of persuasive talk and a little bit of guilt tripping to get. I walked to the dining hall for dinner, nose in the book I had been reading, Lolita, I had paused reading for a moment when the yule ball got closer and I got distracted. As I walked down the hall I bumped into a figure, my book falling to the floor. Hoping it wasn't my professor, since I knew he was one of the only ones that stayed here at Hogwarts. "Oops my bad sorry, I wasn't paying attention." I said as the man kindly picked up my book, "That's quite alright." he said handing it to me, I smiled thanking him and he just gave a curious look when he read the title, when I realized his face I put my hands behind my back with it. I didn't recognize the man, he had light brown hair, pretty blue eyes, a small beard and mustache, and a few scars on his face. He had dark brown dress pants with a matching vest over a beige button up and tie. He was a fairly handsome man in all honesty. I smiled awkwardly when I realized I had been staring, I didn't want him to think I was trying to be rude. "I'm Y/n L/n a sixth year Slytherin." I said, smiling up at the man and extending one of my hands to shake, "I'm Remus Lupin, I'm going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. '' he said, accepting my hand and shaking it softly. "Well I hope you aren't like the last one." I said in a more serious tone, but still with a small smile. "I can assure you I am nothing like that goon." he said grinning. I could tell I was going to like this teacher, he seemed nice and put together and normal. "Have you found your way around alright?" He put his hands in his pockets and nodded, "I actually used to attend Hogwarts as a boy, so I'm very familiar with the grounds." he said smiling. "Oh well that's good because this is my first year here so I don't know where every hall leads." I laughed lightly. "Well thank Merlin one of us knows." he chuckled joking, "What house are you in?" I asked after a moment. "I am in Gryffindor actually." I nodded in response, "Well it was nice to meet you, I look forward to your class and talking some more, also I have convinced Albus to have a firework show tomorrow night for new years, so I hope to see you there." I said smiling and patting his arm as I walked past him, "Great, I'll be there, it was nice meeting you as well." He smiled sweetly as I nodded and walked to the great hall.
This was my first time actually going to dinner, the past couple days I either spent it in Hogsmeade or ate in my room. I walked in getting the first glimpse of the students that stayed behind, most looked to be at least fifth years. I looked over to the staff table to see who stayed behind. I saw Trelawney, Hagrid, Filch, Madame Pomfrey, and my beloved Professor Snape. I looked around at the Slytherin table, not recognizing any of the students there and sighed, I looked over at the other tables and skimmed over the scattered students. I got to the Ravenclaw table and smiled when I saw Luna sitting and smiling reading a book. I walked over to her and sat down across from her, "Hey what are you reading?" I asked looking down at the cover, she smiled looking up at me, "Hello Y/n, and i'm reading The Interpretation of Dreams by Freud." she responded, closing her book and putting it down on the table. "What about you?" she said motioning to the book tucked in my arm. "Oh I don't know just some book called Lolita." I said awkwardly, hoping she hadn't read it before, I didn't want her to think I was odd. "What's it about?" she questioned with big eyes, "Um well, it's about a man and a girl he likes." I said trying to be as vague as possible. "Cool." I nodded, smiling awkwardly. We both looked over as Dumbledore walked in, he walked up to his podium and smiled. "Hello everyone, I hope you all are having a good break so far, I wanted to inform you of the small firework show my goddaughter has convinced me to have for new years. It will start at midnight obviously, and will take place in front of the lake. Now let's eat." he said as the food appeared. It wasn't as much as usual since there were only a handful of kids, but each table had its own as usual. "So lovely you convinced him to do that." Luna said, cutting her food. "Right? I thought, we are here for the new year and it's only a few of us so it would be fun, I'm glad he agreed." I smiled, taking a bite from a roll. "I love fireworks." she said quietly as she took a sip of her drink, I nodded in agreement with a full mouth. "Yeah they are real fun, " I said swallowing, " it was my sister's favorite part of the new year." I added smiling. "Yeah my mom loved them too." I was so happy to find out Luna was here, we may not be best friends, but she was still a friend of mine, and I knew she was happy to talk with and see me as well.
Once dinner ended, Luna and I went for a walk outside around the school, talking about all kinds of things. We hadn't even realized how much time had passed until it had gotten too dark to see clearly. "Wow it's already almost ten o'clock, we should probably start making our way back into the school." I said looking down at my watch. "Time really does fly when you're having fun." she said smiling, we walked up back into the school and I walked with her to her common room. "Do you want to come in and talk some more?" She offered, opening the door. I contemplated for a moment then nodded, "Yeah sure." I said as I followed her in. I gawked at the interior, it was beautiful in here. I followed her to the couch and we both sat down. "So did you hear about the new DADA teacher?" I asked, still looking around at the room. "No, what happened to Lockhart?" she said softly furrowing her brows. "Oh he um, he got arrested." I said playing with my fingers. "Really? Wow how interesting, who is replacing him?" she said, smiling at my amazement of the room. "This man named Remus Lupin. I ran into him and we talked, he seemed nice." I said smiling, "Oh the one that used to attend Hogwarts?" I nodded, "Yeah he's in Gryffindor. How'd you know about him?" I said furrowing my brows. "He was brought up by a painting I was talking with one day." she answered smiling softly. "Oh that's cool, what did they say about him?" she thought for a moment, "Just that his friends and him would cause trouble sometimes, and were a pretty tight-knit group and that there are rumours about him." I furrowed my brows, "what rumours?" I asked very intrigued, "Oh I don't know, just suspicions he's like a... werewolf or something. But I don't know those are just rumours and kids like to make up stuff all the time here." she said laughing, me laughing with her. "I wonder what the school was like back then." I said looking around the room. "I don't know, but i've heard stories." We continued for a few more hours, her telling me all the stories she had heard, and more about herself. I had a great time talking to her she was so nice and smart. She even told me her patronus was a hare, which tells you everything. She was very pleased to hear what mine was, she thought that was a sign that I was special, but I just laughed it off. Eventually we both started getting tired and I headed back to my room.
Taglist; @lovelyhoneylemon @juliijah
#snape imagine#severusnape#professor snape#snape#severus snape#severus x reader#severus snape x reader#severus i love you#Snape slowburn#slytherin#hogwarts
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can i have (timeskip?) kuroo with a fem! s/o who is a sophisticated introvert that intimidates people because she doesn't smile or talk much but when she's with friends she's actually really nice, funny and outgoing, and she has really good fashion sense? (i'm sorry if this is too specific lmao you can ignore this i'm just yearning for kuroo HAHAHAHA)
this is so funny because this dynamic is literally THE cutest
so you know how kuroo works in pr right so this is The Office Romance Of The Century
the meeting <3
so kuroo works on the ninth floor and you work on the twentieth floor
though you guys work in different departments, you guys are both around the same age so you guys kind of have the same workloads because yall are still starting
different departments eventually do have different schedules, but as newbies you guys kind of follow one (1) basic timetable that is really just 9 to 5
one thing you never expected about the office: good ass food.... like you thought the bread at your school canteen was good? wait till you find the sandwiches on the fourth floor
and since you quite literally have no friends in this big ass building and there aren’t many co-workers who are your age you kind of hold onto the nice yakiniku sandwiches on the fourth floor
it gets rough in a new workplace for the first time ://
so the sandwiches become your routine - around 5-6pm, you’re coming down a whole sixteen floors otw home but also to get that nice thick yakiniku sandwich
guess who else comes?
YA GUESSED IT!! UR FRESH OUT OF COLLEGE KUROO TETSUROU!!!
despite telling himself that he’s really easing into the work life well because his senpais tell him he’s smart, he really doesn’t know anyone
he also finds it weird asking his co-workers to drink as he feels like they should be the ones inviting him so he ends up just chillin it out with some surprisingly good sandwiches downstairs
he likes the chicken ones bc they’re just so nice n crispy yay
he kinda feels shit about it sometimes but thats just how it is huh... corporate work... no friends... and all the rest of his friends r like in other places... yeah
ay but at least he finds this cute girl ordering the same thing over and over again at the same time he’s there
he ignores it at first but you know the saying that the more you see someone the more likely they become more attractive in your eyes?
yeah... that’s kuroo @ u...
and usually he’s doesn’t really pay no mind to people who just do their own business
but your fits r just too cool for this workplace... like mans has been coming to work with suits and youre out here with some combo streetwear power suit... sometimes u wear the highest heels and sometimes you wear the chunkiest sneakers but still manage to look so sleek n sophisticated like 24/7
could it be... he finds you... attractive??? even though you don’t smile much?
kuroo doesn’t stall, so he just goes “i like your style”
my my... you love hearing that dont’cha
but u were like “thanks” 😐
he’s like sheesh
and as he’s about to leave you ask, “what department do you work in?”
kuroo does a double take and is like “um... PR...?” he literally looks over his shoulder to see if you’re talking to anyone else because yo... is this you showing interest???
spoiler alert this is the introduction to his chapter in your love life <3
look it’s not hard for kuroo to get along with quieter people because he used to be siiiiilent, and he’s also grown up with kenma, who was much more introverted throughout middle school and high school
god, you felt so comfortable
and he was SO hot.... WTF
but yeah you’re always like 😐 but make it chic because your fits r fire and your eyeliner SLAYS
this may or may not have turned into a little date at the bar nearby
yes the sandwiches are good but you know what’s even better? drinking some good food in tokyo as Official Employees of the Japanese Volleyball Association
this night was pretty flirty, what can u expect... compliment here, hand brush there, cute laughs n chuckles everywhere
hahaha when kuroo saw you laugh and get super talkative... is that a turn on or what... youre also like funny too??? oh cmon...
safe to say you said yes when he asked you out again, and he swears he would do anything to see you laugh again 🥰
and yes, he does see that laugh again. a lot of times, actually.
the relationship <3
first off: he likes seeing u all professional... good food
second: him in a suit??? yessir. him making connections??? YESSIR
you guys end up hanging around a lot with each other at the office even when you’re busy. and yknow, since it’s the honeymoon phase, might as well sneak a kiss. or a lot of kisses.
people get so surprised when this happens at first, since theyre like... why r they both disappearing 24/7... they cant be going together bc hes... kuroo... and you’re... you... aren’t you guys are supposed to be DIFFERENT??
he always goes heart eyes for u even though it seems like you’re always shooting daggers at him from everyone else’s pov
eventually, as you two get more comfy with each other and spend more time, you find yourself at his place like 4 days out of 7... his place is closer to the office anyways so it’s just convenient especially when you’re busy with your department when kuroo isn’t, and it demands later nights and earlier mornings
when BOTH of you are busy... expect stress makeouts in the kitchen
the way yall would shower together not because of sexy vibes but because yall both overslept and literally have no time 😭
but that doesn’t mean yall dont enjoy it!! u think he’s hot, he thinks you’re hot, works well (you two still end up arriving late)
eventually people see how you guys walk to work together in the mornings a lot... and go home together a lot... and drink at bars together...
and they’re like holy fuck how did kuroo snatch her... like other than the fact that he’s hot... she literally doesn’t smile and is so scary
the sandwiches on floor four have become breakfast burritos because none of yall go home at 5 all that often anymore
but on a lucky day where destiny aligns itself with the stars and time and the volleyball league you’re lucky to get a yakiniku. or maybe chicken.
you guys influence each other, and it’s so funny seeing kuroo come in with some more colourful suits after you told him to experiment with colour
the other people at work r like: kuroo ur gf controls u
kuroo’s like yeah she’s like powerful huh 😏
you kind of laugh it all off, since now you have your own friends at work too, and so does kuroo
they surprisingly ask a lot about your relationship... and though you would like to brag about your very good boyfriend, you keep it pretty vague
you do like to talk about important days though, like anniversaries
but being with kuroo has genuinely made you more comfy in the workplace even though yall are in different departments
you love hearing kuroo’s stories about his co-workers, and you wondered if you could kind of have those kinds of relationships with your co-workers too
your closest co-workers have always been kind to you, albeit intimidated at first
but they’re great shopping buddies, great listeners, and great gossips <3
you normally wouldn’t care about gossip but it’s fun to laugh about sometimes when you’re getting ready for bed and he’s like “by the way... have you heard of [person A] doing ... ” on call
and you’re like oh yeah, actually i have
even he’s surprised at first because you seem like that cool introverted employee but you do have your fits of laughter and bouts of humour
you guys become more comfy with your jobs, and before you know it, a year has passed
you’ve moved in lol
kuroo’s just 100% heart eyes for u pls
the vibes you guys are as a couple?? immaculate. everyone looks at yall like holy fuck. opposites attract and it’s HOT
and it’s so good because you guys know each other so well, from personalities to bodies to work
when you’re on a low, he holds you close and tells you such sweet things, but makes sure to give you space
when he’s on a low, you make sure to talk to him to take him off of his thoughts, to reassure him
kuroo kind of realises he’s actually... like REALLY in love with you and it just hits him a week before christmas when he looks into his cupboard and hates how it’s so messy but ends up swooning 😭
so the next day LIKE FIRST THING IN THE MORNING he’s like “hi. im renting a car. and i am in love with you. do you wanna go on a christmas trip together?”
you don’t even react when he says that... it’s just two seconds of silence and then “okay. i’m in love with you too.”
he’s like “cool. cool.”
proceeds to smother ur lipstick when he kisses u right after work...
but u love him anyway 🥰
and in that trip... just you two in a strange place together... with nobody else...
he sees you with him for a long, long time
and honestly, with the feeling of his hand in yours, you don’t think you’ll be going anywhere either.
#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu fluff#kuroo headcanons#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsurou
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The Missing Piece - Ch 10
Worries 🌸
gang! au / ceo! au
characters: dabi x f. oc, lov
status: ongoing
read on ao3 here.
I spend hours turning in bed, replaying Dabi's words to me earlier.
He cares about me.
Right?
That's the only way I could interpret what happened. He got angry on my behalf, even though he didn't look it.
My cheeks redden as I recall how warm he was to hold, despite most certainly being the most awkward hugger I've ever met. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to remember what it was like.
It wasn't a short hug...but I wish it was longer.
Snap out of it, I tell myself with a groan.
I'm so touch starved I can't believe a hug from Dabi would make me feel this way.
I jolt in bed when I hear the front door open.
"Aliyah?"
Within moments, my suite mate bursts into my room, jumping onto my bed.
"Who is he?!" She screams with glee. "That's your boss?!"
My heart paced with excitement. "Yeah. Nice, right?"
"Nice?!" She jumps up again. "He's so hot - but something about him -"
She suddenly stops.
"What?" I ask her cautiously.
But after a few moments of consideration, she shrugs. "I don't know, forget it. I feel like I've seen him before."
I shrug. "Might have run into him at a corporate event or something? The company may not be all that but Dabi looks like he's been around."
She nods. "You're right, that's probably it. And oh my god," Her voice picks up, that excitement creeping in again. "Mr. Lane's face! He's so pissed you don't even know, oh my god, he's probably still fuming! He didn't even last for the whole dinner, he called his new secretary and told her to run a background check on Mr. Dabi and the company."
"He's a psycho," I laughed. But then a troubling thought occurred to me. "But he wouldn't do anything to the company, would he?"
Aliyah shrugs. "Beats me. You can never tell with Mr. Lane."
I shake the thought out of my head. Choosing to focus on the good (and the fact that Aliyah is here early for once!), I eagerly share what life has been like for me at the Blaze. I leave out certain details of course, especially those conferencing Dabi and company intel, but I'm overjoyed by Al's interest.
And when we finally say goodnight, hours after we were supposed to, I lay in bed again - already thinking of tomorrow.
- --
"Dabi won't be in today," Tenko tells me in the morning.
I pout.
"Why not?"
He shrugs. "He told me and Jin to put a pause on new intake for the next few days so I don't think there's much to do, either. Honestly, if you want to go home from now, you probably can."
He didn't ask for any updates or give me instructions this morning either. I thought maybe he was waiting for me to come in to let me know what we'd be doing today.
He said he'd see me tomorrow, I remember. I try not to feel disheartened. He's a CEO, after all.
It's just...I was looking forward to seeing him today.
"You gonna go?" Tenko snaps me out of my thoughts.
"Oh," I say apologetically. "Nah, I'm used to being here all day. I'll try to make myself useful somehow."
I leave him and head for Dabi's office and go through his correspondence, rescheduling any meetings he would have had today or tomorrow for later in the week. If he isn't in the office today, he'll likely want to be briefed whenever he comes in. He won't be in the mood for a meeting.
Hours and hours pass as I spend my time overlooking the company employees and making a record of potential clients.
After I finish a few late night phone calls for Dabi and make notes of the most urgent things he should know when he comes in tomirrow, I decide to go find the others.
But when I walk into the lounge, the only ones I find are Atushiro and Toga. They're huddled together on the couch, talking in hushed tones.
It is pretty late at night. Perhaps they went home already.
"Hey guys," I say with a smile, carrying a few sodas with me. Immediately, they sit back and put some distance between them.
"Hey," Toga says. They accept the sodas with a smile.
"What've you been up to?" I ask them. I pop open my can. "It feels like there isn't much to do today."
"Why do you sound upset about that?" Atsuhiro comments with a laugh.
I get flustered at that. "I know, I know. I'm a workaholic. I don't know what to do with my life outside of work."
"Go home!" Toga says with a groan. "You've done more than enough today! Dabi specifically didn't give us work and you're over here doing extra."
I groan. "I don't want to go home though, what would I do?"
They both laugh. "Normal people things! Watch a show, paint your nails, order Chinese - you know, hashtag self care or whatever."
I roll my eyes, stalling for time. I don't know why, I just don't feel like going home just yet.
I put my phone down and lay back on the couch.
"Maybe I'll just stay here."
"Go home!" They shout.
I laugh and put my legs down.
"How come you guys aren't going home?"
The two of them share a look.
"We have things to take care of later tonight." Atsuhiro says.
That makes me sit up. "Ooh what kind of things? For Dabi?"
He nods.
I feel a pang in my chest. Why did he give them something to do and not me?
But they've been here longer, I try to reason with myself. They're friends and partners. He's known them for years. If anything urgent comes up, of course they'd be the ones he reaches out to.
I think quickly. "Is he coming in later or something?"
Toga hits me. "No, he isn't. Are you trying to find an excuse to do more work?"
I shake my head with a laugh, but I secretly feel...disappointed. It's not that I want more work, I just...was hoping to see him. Work just happens to be the only way I can do so.
Of course he isn't coming in later, though. It's already 10pm. Most of the company clocked out hours ago. And he undoubtedly has things to do if he hasn't come in.
He didn't even have time to respond to my text.
"Okay," I sigh in defeat. The two high five each other, and I pout as they lead me downstairs.
"I'll be back tomorrow," I tell them quickly as I leave. "If you guys need anything at all, just shoot me a text!"
"We'll be good, don't worry about us!" They wave.
I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way to the bus stop.
They'd text me, right?
But something dawns on me just before I get to the bus.
I freeze, my fingers digging around.
But there's nothing.
I pat all around me and check my purse for good measure.
"Shit, I forgot my phone!
I quickly run back to the Blaze.
---
I enter the marble doors again, only for some reason there's something different in the air.
As I make my way upstairs, I hear a murmur of activity. There's a frown on my face as I try to figure out what is going on.
I head up to the lounge, but this time it is empty and the lights are all off.
The only sounds come from Dabi's office at the end of the hall.
Is something wrong? I wonder with a frown.
I make my way to his office, my heart pounding in place.
With a single knock, I turn the knob. And my heart falls as I lock eyes with Dabi sitting behind his desk.
Dabi immediately sighs, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "Shit."
"What's going on here?" I ask.
Standing around him are Tenko, Jin, Toga and Atsuhiro, the last two staring back at me with wide eyes.
No one answers me.
I look from one face to another.
Eventually Dabi looks up at Jin, an unforgiving glare in his eyes. "What the fuck happened to she left?"
Jin shrinks under his gaze. "That's what Toga told me!"
I feel my heart fall. Was he avoiding me?
"Do...you not want me around?" I swallow.
I don't look at him as I ask, afraid of what I might find in his face. So he was. I glance around, hooking my purse on my shoulder and turn around. "Sorry, I just came back because I forgot my phone. I'll- I'll go-"
Dabi pushes his chair back. "Rina, wait-"
But when I look back at him, I gasp.
My hand unconsciously covers my gaping mouth.
"Dabi, you're- you're..."
He's bleeding.
Not a drop or two this time.
But a circle of red adorns his lower left side. He holds a now equally red rag to the area to stop the flow. I look at him in horror but he turns his face away from me.
"Fuck," I hear him mutter through gritted teeth.
"Dabi, what's-" I feel my eyes water.
I immediately run up behind his desk, my hand clutching the one he holds to his wound.
"What's wrong? You're gonna be okay, right? What do I do- we need to take you to a hospital - Toga, help me! You're gonna be okay Dabi, I'm here."
Toga shuffles forward but Dabi glares at her. "I'm not going to a fucking hospital, I'll be fine." I feel bad for the way he yells at her. After all, it was my suggestion. "I just need to stop the bleeding."
I turn back to look at the others, but the lack of shock on their faces stuns me.
"Did you guys know about this?"
Atsuhiro runs his neck and avoids my gaze too. Suddenly the frequent questions about when I'd go home made sense.
"I see." My voice cracking. "Is that why you guys were waiting for me to leave?"
"Well, that NNTV douchebag-"
"Toga!" Dabi growls.
I turn to Dabi, my blood turning to ice. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Lane?"
He ignores me. "Take everyone and leave." He tells Toga. When they don't move immediately, Dabi snaps. "Now."
The team scrambles out the room. If it weren't the circumstance, I'd laugh when Jin stumbled. But as soon as we're alone, I turn back to him and clutch the lapels of his jacket.
"Don't lie to me," I say. "Please Dabi."
The man groans and sits back on his chair, as if there wasn't blood dripping out of his side. I pull up a seat and sit next to him, my hand closing in on his, holding the rag in place.
"We're gonna have issues with Lane," Dabi mutters. "I uh, went to see him today. But...it's like he was expecting me."
"Why would he be expecting you?" My mouth drops. "You mean to tell me Mr. Lane did this to you?"
Dabi sighs.
When he takes to long to reply, I press the rag harder.
"Hey!" He grimaces. "Okay, okay. You know how I told you I have business to take care of on the side?"
"Yes."
"Well. I think he found out a couple things."
I lean in closer. "My friend told me about that! She said he ordered a background check on you, he wanted to know everything."
Dabi shrugs. "Yeah well, if he knows who I am, then he doesn't just have everyday knowledge. He probably deals with shady shit too."
Too?
My heart pounds in fear.
"And who the hell told you to go pay him a visit!" I hit his arm. Dabi immediately groans and I recoil. I cautiously touch his arm. "Sorry."
He shakes his head.
I motion for him to go on as I find a little bowl of water under his desk.
As he talks, I absentmindedly take the rag and rinse it into the bowl. He probably intended to do that himself had I not come in. I squeeze the blood out and just as I am about to press it against his skin, I wince at the sight. The blood was dripping out slowly, meaning the wound wasn't too deep. But that's clearly a stab wound. Dabi got close enough to someone that they were able to pull a knife on him.
What if it had been worse? What if I had lost him today?
"Dabi," I interrupt him. He looks down at me, the blue in his eyes could be green in this light. I softly brush my thumb against the wound. His eyes darken in response, and I feel my heart ache at the way he grabs my hand. "Stop."
"Who told you to go to him, you idiot," I punch his arm again. "What the hell were you thinking."
He grips both my hands now. "I had to send a message."
"What kind of stupid message was worth this?"
"Now he knows not to mess with my people." Dabi replies. My eyes go wide.
I'm part of his people.
The thought brings a blush to my cheeks and I get angry at myself. Look where that got him.
If he is like this after hearing one conversation between me and Mr. Lane...
"Besides..."
I wipe my eyes into my elbow.
"He probably won't be taking any more cars for a while now," Dabi smirks. "If that guy of his didn't pop up out of nowhere.."
He leaves that open ended.
Did Dabi really plan on hurting Mr. Lane?
The thought sends a shudder down my spine.
Just who was Dabi.
What did Mr. Lane find?
"Were you going to..." I whisper. "..you know."
Dabi looks completely nonchalant, as if he had gone to leave Mr. Lane flowers or something.
"I was just gonna scare him." He says, and despite everything, it sounds honest. "Sure, he didn't think I'd go that far. But I miscalculated too. Now I gotta fuck him up before he tries to fuck me up."
I swallow. Is this what Dabi meant by information comes with a cost over here?
"I'm sorry Dabi," I tell him, my tears falling over my now bloody hands. "I didn't want you speaking to Mr. Lane and if I-"
"Relax," Dabi cuts me off. "I'm going to make use of that guy. I'm just trying to find the right moment."
I let go of the rag.
"You can't be possibly planning on seeing him again."
Dabi doesn't respond.
The tears start to fall again. "You promised me I wouldn't need to worry about you," I say, my voice getting shakier and shakier. "You said goodbye and see you tomorrow, knowing you were fucking going to Mr. Lane today!"
Dabi looks at the door in alarm, and his eyes narrow. He grabs the hand I'm waving in his face and I could tell his patience was running thin. "Rina, I'm trying here. If you saw what Mr. Lane looks like now you wouldn't be so worried about me. But I'm gonna need you to lower your voice."
I turn my face away from him and wipe the tears from under my eyes. Dabi suddenly gives me a weird look and I glance at my hands.
Fuck.
I grab a napkin and rub the blood off my face until I can wash it off later.
He watches me cautiously. I don't meet his eyes as I take the rag off to rinse it again.
"Stop moving," I mutter, lightly dabbing his skin with the wet cloth.
Dabi hisses.
"Sorry. Does it hurt?"
Dabi groans. "I can take care of myself, you know."
"Just...shut up. Stop moving so much."
Dabi grows silent.
For the next half hour, I continue my ministrations, avoiding his gaze. I know having me so close to him makes him slightly uncomfortable. But I don't care.
"Take off your shirt," I tell him once the bleeding seems to stop. "I'll try to wrap it up."
"No."
I look at him, my eyes ever more hurt.
"No," He repeats, his voice more stern. "I'll do it myself later."
Without thinking, I lean against him and close my arms around his torso.
"I know you keep saying not to worry but what am I supposed to do when you walk in looking like this?" I whisper against his chest.
He looks up at the ceiling, trying to hold his breath.
"You've gotta stop doing that, princess."
My heart beats faster.
"Or what?" I challenge him, hugging him tighter.
He glances at my lips ever so briefly and looks away.
"You'll fuck me up."
I ignore him and hug him anyway, not caring about the stains that undoubtedly cover my shirt now.
I don't know long we stay that way.
Dabi doesn't hug me back this time...but he doesn't move away either.
I wish I could know what he was thinking. What he means by Mr. Lane knowing who he is, and what uses he may have for him. What he did to him today and how he was able to slip free.
But every day, I discover that more and more secrets exist between us.
#dabi#todoroki touya#dabi fanfic#dabi fic#dabi angst#dabi x oc#dabi fluff#dabi x female reader#touya fluff#bnha fic#touya todoroki#mha#mha fic#league of villains#anime#anime fanfiction
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being good isn’t always easy
Happy birthday @prouvaireafterdark ! I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you enjoy this little fic!
ao3
Michael couldn’t be blamed and he refused to justify himself.
He watched Alex Manes reach up to shelve a book that was almost out of reach, fingertips tapping the spine to tuck it into place. Michael offered a little telekinetic push to slide it into place easier. Alex didn’t seem to notice, simply going to the next book in his cart. Michael bit into his cheek as he made the choice to cause a book on the edge of the top shelf to fall over. Alex huffed and went to grab it, reaching up to put it back.
He did this a lot. Probably too much. But, hey, if messing with the cute library assistant was the thing keeping him out of trouble, who could blame him? No one, that’s who.
Occasionally, Alex would look around and Michael would pretend to be invested in his book so he wouldn’t get self conscious or wouldn’t find him suspicious, but that was as subtle as he got. It was just too much fun.
Alex would eventually disappear out of sight, though, and he would have to actually focus on his homework. Stupid homework.
“What are you doing?”
Michael looked up at the voice to see Isobel standing there with that expression that said she knew exactly what he was doing. He put on his most innocent smile.
“Nothing.”
“Mm, and I’m the queen of England,” she said, sitting beside him, “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”
“Stop doing my homework? Well, I mean, if you say so.”
“Michael.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped his chin in his hand as he looked down at his homework. It was all stupidly easy and so boring that he hated wasting his time to focus on it. Every time he’d tried to explain to his teachers that it was too easy and boring, they would simply say that he should actually do it for once. He stopped complaining.
“Help me with this, I don’t understand this shit,” Isobel said, scooting closer so he could see what she was stuck on. It was balancing chemical equations which is what he’d helped her with yesterday and helped Max with over the weekend. But he leaned closer anyway and went over it for a third time.
Halfway through the second question, though, he felt a pair of eyes on him. When he glanced up, he caught sight of Alex Manes looking through one of the stacks of books right at him. He flashed a smile and huffed a laugh when he very quickly looked away.
“Stop laughing at me,” Isobel scolded. He shook his head and wrapped his arm around the back of her chair.
“I’m not, I promise. Alright, next question.”
-
Michael was actually, for once, reading a whole book this time when another book slammed down in front of him.
He jumped and looked up to see Alex Manes standing there. An easy, cocky smile found his lips and he tilted his head. They never actually spoke. He just fucked with him from afar. Now, though, it felt like all those clandestine encounters were worth it.
“You fuck with my books today and I will throw you out,” Alex said. Michael’s stomach dropped and his eyes widened, his heart stalling mid-beat. “I know it’s you. It only happens when you can see me. I’m not stupid.”
“I…”
“I don’t care. But it’s annoying, so stop,” he said, sliding the book a little closer, “Peace offering.”
The book was on the pseudo-science of telekinesis and how to induce a psychic awakening. From the cover alone, Michael couldn’t tell if it was a joke book or not. It didn’t really matter. He knew. Michael had thought he was being subtle and Alex knew.
“What the fuck?” Michael breathed before he could catch himself and even pretend to play it off. Alex smirked to himself and patted the top of the book before walking away.
Michael watched him leave with even more intrigue than he’d ever had before. Which was saying something because he was usually pretty damn intrigued.
He quickly reached for the book and opened it, scanning the pages to see if it held any weight. It didn’t take long to see that it was indeed just bullshit and something that someone created to fulfil their own personal wish to be telekinetic. It wasn’t real. But… Alex still knew. Or maybe it was a joke to talk to him? Did his reaction give it away? Should he talk to him about it or would that make it worse?
Michael couldn’t find it in him to be playful as he sat there in his own head for a solid hour or so, trying to think of how to properly handle this situation. He couldn’t ask Isobel or Max because they would be so angry at him for outting himself like that. He was supposed to be just playing.
He eventually decided that he couldn’t handle this situation, not today, so he grabbed his bag and started to speed walk out of the library. His brain was too full and he didn’t know what this meant. Alex said he didn’t care, but did he understand what he was actually saying? Did he understand that this wasn’t a joke?
Michael almost made it to his truck before a hand grabbed his arm. He whirled around, eyes wide and far too on edge for all of this. Alex stood there with his hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Alex said, “I’m sorry if I did or if I scared you.”
“Please don’t say anything. I’m sorry for messing with you, I won’t do it anymore, but please don’t say anything,” Michael said. Alex’s face didn’t change at all which made Michael feel even more like he was being closed in on. “I’m sorry, okay? I-I just thought you were cute. I won’t do it anymore.”
Alex waited far too many seconds before he said, “I’m not going to say anything. Why would I?”
“Because this isn’t, like, a small thing,” Michael said, “I don’t even understand how you figured it out. Like, why was that your first assumption? Are you that observative? Are you like a secret genius or something?”
“I’m not going to say anything,” Alex said again instead of answering any of his questions, “We’re all entitled to our secrets even if we’re bad at keeping them to ourselves.”
“I was subtle!”
“You made me think I was haunted for, like, a week,” Alex said, laughing softly. Michael took a slow breath. “Listen, sorry for stressing you out. How about I make it up to you by taking you for coffee?”
It took a solid thirty seconds of rebooting his mind for Michael to realize he was being asked on a date. Alex clearly wasn’t great at timing. Michael huffed a laugh and tried to relax his shoulders.
“Are you seriously asking me out after casually telling me you know my deepest secret?”
“Well, if you say yes, maybe I’ll let you dissect what my deepest secret is.”
“Is it not that you’re gay?”
“Since when is that a secret?”
“Fair enough,” Michael said, actually laughing a little despite the previous panic that still had him a little shaken up. He sniffled and looked around. “Um, can I say ask me again later?”
“Yeah,” Alex said without question, “Probably bad timing to ask you after saying I know your big secret.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there awkwardly for a minute and Michael highly considered just slamming his face into the side of the truck to make this shit a little more bearable. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and balled up his fists, trying to ease the tension in his stomach. It didn’t really help.
“I promise I won’t say anything,” he said, “You have my word.”
Michael nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you around.”
Michael watched as Alex walked back into the library. Then he very quietly got into the driver’s seat of his truck, peacefully started the engine, casually pulled onto the main road.
And then let himself scream until his throat was sore.
-
As it turns out, Alex actually kept his word.
Two weeks after he not-so-subtly admitted to knowing Michael’s secret, no one had said anything. No one looked at him weird, no one tried to get him to do a cool trick, and even Isobel and Max had managed not to notice that something was up. It was enough time for Michael to realize that maybe he was actually trustworthy.
It still took Michael another week to go back to the library.
He sat at his normal table and Alex was re-shelving books from his little cart. His back was turned to Michael’s table as if he wasn’t expecting him to be there. Which was fair enough. Michael tapped anxiously on the table and then focused on the book on the edge of the top shelf.
When it fell over, Alex didn’t even pick it up. He just turned to face him. Michael gave a small wave and he smiled right back, waving before he went to pick up the book. He reshelved it and Michael gave it a little push.
They did that a couple times, Michael assisting him. Eventually, though, he got fed up with waiting for Alex to come talk to him, so he stood up and walked over to him.
“Hey,” he said. Alex looked over his shoulder at him and smiled softly.
“Hey.”
“You didn’t tell anyone.”
“Wasn’t really my secret to tell,” Alex said, “And, besides, who would I tell? And, if I did tell, why would they believe me? And why would I want to? I’m not stupid enough to think there aren’t things in this world we don’t know about or that isn’t talked about. You’re just one of those things and I’m not going to ruin the fun of anonymity.”
“Oh, yeah?” Michael asked. Alex nodded, nimble fingers sliding a book into place.
“Can’t tell me vampires and mermaids aren’t real if I can convince myself that there are people like me who know and simply keep it to themselves.”
“So you think I’m a vampire or a mermaid?” Michael wondered, a playful tone in his voice. Alex look at him.
“I don’t know what you are and I don’t know you well enough to deserve an answer,” he said simply, “But I know you’re cute.”
Michael stared at him and wondered how he could even be real. Was he joking? Was this just him playing his cards right? Alex was too good to be true.
And yet… It seemed to be real.
“How about that coffee?” Michael asked.
“Mm, can I also get help with biology?” he wondered. Michael huffed a laugh and nodded.
“Absolutely.”
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Performance Art
Title: Performance Art
Summary: Fem!Reader x Ransom Drysdale. The reader is married to Ransom; a picture of their life and flashback to when they met. If she had been here by her own choice and her own choice alone, things may be better for her. Ransom is devious though and is able to tangle her into his web.
Words: 4,482
Author’s Note: I would tag it dark!Ransom, but tbh, he is the perfect character to be writing for this type of thing.
Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dub-con, dub-con smut, body shaming, coercion, emotional abuse, loveless relationship
Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost
You caught a reflection of yourself in the window. A tight deep blue dress – Ransom’s favorite color of course – practically painted on your curves. It was the first time you had worn heels this high in almost a year -- the pregnancy causing too much swelling in your feet. The silver straps of them wove around your foot, a band around your ankle. You had thought humorlessly to yourself earlier it was like you were willingly putting on shackles –
“Y/N?”
You blinked, your attention zoning back into the dining table.
Ransom’s aunt Joni was looking at you across the table, a wide smile on her face. She smiled even wider if that was possible, “There you are. Looks like you were on, like, Mars or something.” A few light laughs shared at your expense echoed around hers. “I said, you look amazing. How did you do it?”
You snuck a quick look down at yourself. Right. Your weight. Post pregnancy. Of course that was an appropriate topic of conversation at the Drysdale dinner table. Everything was about appearance.
“Well—”
“Luckily, Y/N has got great genes,” Ransom cut in from beside you. You closed your mouth, gaze turned towards him. You had taken too long to respond for his liking, once again. “Plus, she is really motivated in the gym. Not to mention, a tuck does a lot of wonders.”
You almost visibly blanched. Almost. You were good at hiding your emotions now.
Joni let out a sharp, shrill laugh. Waving her hand at you, she said, “I knew you weren’t perfect! There was no way. Aw, Y/N, nothing to be ashamed of. I had it done too. Couldn’t stand to look at myself after Meg. She wreaked ab-so-lute havoc. Still does. Luckily not on my body though now, so it’s easier to deal with.”
“Thanks, mom,” Meg muttered, throwing her a disdainful look.
“I didn’t wait long either. They told me to wait six months,” Joni said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “I just couldn’t.”
“Same,” Donna chimed in from down the table. Joni gave her a nod of solidarity.
“Doctor said if she was having the surgery, it should wait until after breastfeeding,” Ransom said for you. “Well, that’s why the baby is on formula.”
He tossed you a quick smirk, cutting into his steak. You watched the red seep from the flesh of it onto the plate, trying to disassociate from him divulging things that should be secret.
“And that’s perfectly fine,” Joni said firmly. “You know, I don’t care what some people say, formula is just as good for the baby as breastmilk. People should trust science more.”
You heard a small snort from down the table and did not even have to look to know who it emanated from.
“Of course you would disagree with something regarding science,” Meg quipped at Jacob.
“When it’s filled with mass media lies –”
“Alright,” Donna said cutting into the conversation uncomfortably. Luckily, Walt had left the room to go to the bathroom; he no doubt would have encouraged Jacob’s tirade. Tenseness quickly melted away to charm, “Anyway, Y/N. You do look lovely. And the baby is just beautiful.”
The baby. Yes. The baby being cradled by Fran in another room currently instead of you. Away from the table in case he cried and disrupted dinner. He was beautiful for the aesthetic but when it came to dinner – or any other event Ransom deemed took precedence to your child’s presence -- his preciousness only extended into the collective patience so far.
“Yes, he is sure is a little bundle of joy,” Richard announced, looking proud. Proud of his new grandson and continuing his family line.
A perfectly crafted, artificial smile. “Yes. He is.”
<> <> <>
…TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER
“What the absolute SHIT!”
A shout rang over the water of your shower. You stalled, straining to hear if there was anything else, trying to figure out what was going on.
“What the hell! Who the hell set my alarm to basically blow my goddamn fucking eardrums?”
Shit.
You rinsed your hair quickly, cursing the fact your refreshing shower was being cut short. You had over indulged on the vodka last night and the cool water was like heaven. And now you were going to have to deal with this.
Wrapping your towel around yourself, you continued to hear a loud conversation continuing about who had decided to try to blow someone’s eardrum and not to mention, wake them at an ungodly hour.
It was nine in the morning.
You left the bathroom quickly, walking over to the railing to look down the staircase to the ground-floor landing. You leaned against the oak, peering down at the looming figure over your roommate, Malcolm.
“Look, Ransom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. We were all drinking. Just go back to bed, man.”
The other guy, Ransom, scoffed loudly. “Go back to bed? Malcolm, my ear is still ringing like a motherfucker!”
Malcolm threw his hands out, “Then do you want breakfast? Alyssa has it cooking.”
Ransom exhaled loudly, annoyance still evident. “Whatever,” he muttered, rubbing his ear, and turned away from Malcolm.
Malcolm all but rolled his eyes before saying, “Well, when you are hungry, it’s in the kitchen. I bet it would really help with the hangover.”
He turned and walked off.
Ransom looked after him before shaking his head and making to go back down the hall to the guest room where he had been sleeping.
Something was bubbling in your chest to apologize.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted.
Ransom’s eyes were on you in a moment a floor above him, leaning over the railing in only your towel. Now that he was looking at you and you had drawn attention to yourself, you were quickly losing whatever resolve had forced its way out of you.
“I… I think it was me?” you said uncertainly. “I mean, with your alarm. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had turned it up that loudly.”
He was burning a hole through you with the way he was staring at you. The seconds stretched into miles, just waiting for him to say something.
“You should keep your hands off my shit.”
The words stung. You were not sure what you had expected but maybe with an apology, you thought you would quell his frustration even a little bit. Apparently, that was not the case.
Ransom tore his gaze away from you and stormed off down the hallway leaving you gripping the bannister nervously.
<> <> <>
You would have gotten over the exchange if only you had not run into him a few days later. You were attending a business convention, trying to get a leg up in the industry; you were close to graduating. There were a lot of big names there and you had been drawn to Linda Drysdale, who had taken an immediate liking, you believed, to you. She was all charm and compliments, but they were constructive compliments, not merely for flattery. She claimed to be self-made -- you noted to yourself to investigate that later – and that was encouraging for you.
“Ah, did not expect to see you here,” She said over your shoulder.
You turned your head and your heart dropped into your stomach recognizing him. Ransom. He was dressed nicer now; hair slicked back, donning a dark grey cashmere sweater and cream trousers.
Turning away quickly, heart beginning to pound, you hoped he had not recognized you.
“Seems I can’t get away from you.”
No such luck.
Linda looked at you and then back at Ransom. “You two know each other?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘know’. I don’t even know her name. She just lives with my friend.”
“Oh. Hmm. That is an odd coincidence then,” Linda said. “Well, her name is Y/N and she is about to graduate – with honors as her esteemed mentor happened to mention to me and she had neglected to herself,” she gave you a slight wink. She had already teased you about being too modest about your accomplishments earlier in your conversation. It was only because Dr. Ewiler – and old friend of hers – had walked by and joined the conversation briefly and spoke you up that she knew about your grades. “With majors in Entrepreneurship and Accounting.”
Ransom peered down his nose at you, still not sitting down in one of the chairs. “Fascinating,” he said flatly.
Red came to your cheeks at his impertinent demeanor and Linda noticed.
Linda scoffed, looking embarrassed for a moment before recovering. She scolded, “Hugh Ransom, Jesus. Be polite.” To you, she said, “Please excuse, my son. I thought I raised him better.”
Son? You almost groaned. You did not miss him rolling his eyes at his mother’s comment.
“Sorry,” he told you in a tone of voice that relayed no remorse at all. “Y/N. Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise,” you said in an even tone, feigning some level of sincerity despite wanting him to just leave. But if he was her son… “I hope your hearing is back to normal despite my clumsy behavior. I am still apologetic about that.”
You were trying to mend that bridge with him; you did not want it to possibly ruin whatever relationship you were currently starting with his mother. You wanted – no, you needed – to have her as a connection.
Yet, you could not quite pinpoint the emotion – miffed? Amused? – that was behind his small, closed lipped smile at your apology. His smile did not reach his eyes, that was clear enough.
“It’s fine,” he responded.
“Your hearing…?” Linda asked.
Turning back to look at her, you gave a little nervous laugh, thinking of a cutesy way you could tell the story. You began to explain but Ransom cut you off.
“I had a little too much to drink and passed out. Y/N tried to help me out by making sure I got up at a decent hour but somehow turned the volume of my alarm up to full blast. Right next to my head.”
Linda snorted, “Oh. Well. That does sound like you.” There was something underneath her tone. As if there was a jab at Ransom. He was stone faced though. “Well, Y/N. At least you tried. That’s all we can say sometimes.”
You nodded, exhaling. Your heart was still beating rapidly.
“So, what brought you to a business convention at a college, Ransom? Surely it wasn’t to see me?” Linda asked, looking at him expectantly.
Ransom told her, “Actually. It was. I was hoping we could catch lunch. I wanted to talk to you about something. When’s this thing over?”
Linda checked her watch and said, “I can really leave any time now.”
You fought to hide your disappointment.
Her attention was on you now. “How about I give you my number, Y/N? I would like to continue this conversation about your business model proposal; it is promising.”
You sat up straighter, heart beginning to race again. She liked your idea? Truly?
“I could use some fresh minds at my disposal. That is if you are interested in my company.”
“Oh. Yes,” you said quickly.
Linda smirked at you amused at your quick response. She pulled out a small card from her purse and flipped it over, scribbling a number on the back. Holding it out to you, she said, “Personal cell phone. Now, don’t abuse it.”
“Of course not,” you reassured her, taking it from her. “That would be disrespectful.”
“Yes, it would,” Linda agreed. She stood up from her chair, straightening out her dress. She held out her purse to Ransom, “Here.”
He took it reluctantly as she gathered herself. You stood to meet her, realizing in your excited state you had neglected to do when she rose. You wanted to kick yourself.
When she looked at you again, you stuck your hand out. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. It was enlightening and beneficial for me to have a respected self-made businesswoman’s opinion.”
Linda shook your hand strongly. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I hope to hear from you soon.”
She walked past you and you pivoted, following her movement.
Ransom was staring you down and you averted your eyes from him to the ground momentarily before looking up at him again. He smirked when you met his gaze again. There was something malicious about it and you did not like it one bit.
<> <> <>
A knock on your bedroom door drew you from your bed. You put your bookmark in place and tossed the book onto the comforter next to you before getting up.
Swinging the door open, you startled seeing Ransom standing there, his large hand planted on the doorframe, leaning in towards you. His cologne was strong, wafting in around you.
“Can I come in?” he asked you without waiting for an answer, pushing past you.
“I…” you started to say, stumbling your words. “Yes?”
Ransom was taking your room in and you shifted uncomfortably. He walked over to your desk, flipping through the pages of your latest pieces of your latest thesis; the one you had been speaking to his mother about.
Eyes ran over the pictures hung of you and your friends, over your bookcase, your movie collection, fingers tracing your jewelry hung on display…
He was invading your space.
“Um, can I help you with something? Is Malcolm supposed to be here?”
“He is here,” Ransom answered, dismissively, coming to rest in front of your collection of rocks you had collected from different parts of the world you had traveled to. You could tell him where each one was from with ease, memory tied deeply to them. He was touching them, examining them, and tossing them carelessly back into the bowl.
Moving quickly over to him, you asked, “Can I help you with something then?”
He dropped the rock he was looking at and turned to you, “Yes, actually. I came up here to ask you out on a date.”
Taken aback, you leaned away, brows furrowed in confusion. “Ah. What?”
“Are you the one with a hearing problem, then?” Ransom quipped.
“I heard you just fine,” you responded, still trying to catch up with what was happening.
“Then it’s settled. I have a reservation at Ocean Prime at 7pm tonight. I’ll come back by to pick you up at 6:30pm.” He moved past you back towards your door.
Your mouth was open like a fish, blinking. You snapped back to reality and turned quickly. “Wait—”
“Wear something nice!” Ransom ordered over his shoulder, not bothering to close the door behind him.
Deflating, you stared at the empty doorway behind him. He had not even given you time to respond – to decline if you so chose to. But could you really decline? He was Linda Drysdale’s son. And you wanted so desperately a break into that business world that she moved in; Ransom – despite his boorish behavior – could be a key to that if you played your cards right.
Turning towards your closet, you bit your lip. What could you wear?
<> <> <>
Holding your clutch close in front of you, you walked next to Ransom after the valet took your car. He had a long stride and guided you to keep up with him. Throughout dinner he surprisingly asked you questions about yourself, allowing you to answer. You kept it short and courteous, mindful about not overindulging. He genuinely seemed interested and you were caught off guard; you had expected him to go off about himself. It is what his persona had indicated he would be like in all your encounters with him. Maybe he had simply been in a bad mood?
At least that was the case with you. He was less than courteous with the wait staff and you found yourself forcing yourself to thank them more profusely and smile wider to try to make up for him.
He picked up the entire bill although you had offered to go Dutch. He had seemed momentarily vexed by the offer but recovered quickly, holding out his card to the waitress between his fingers, not even acknowledging her presence past that.
On the ride home, it was quiet, the windows down in his beamer as the two of you raced through the city. He was a fast driver and it made you nervous, but you tried to focus on the city lights, taking in the night life.
Ransom insisted on walking you back inside and having another drink. He helped himself to a smidge of Malcolm’s scotch and handed you your own glass. You sipped and made a face even though you tried not to.
“Right. It’s not a woman’s drink,” he said, taking the glass back from you and emptying it into his own. “Let’s get you something fruity. Ah, perfect. Let me guess: this orange vodka is yours?”
“Yes,” you affirmed, playing with the top ruffle of your dress.
Ransom made you a drink of the vodka, orange juice, a splash of sprite, and ice.
“You know your way around a drink,” you commented lightly, taking a sip.
“I had the pleasure of being able to experiment with my mother and father’s extensive alcohol cabinet since I was a teen,” Ransom responded, taking a drink of the scotch. He walked around you to the living room. “I’ve always loved Malcolm’s style of decorating. He is good at keeping the Victorian look of the house while touching it up with modern.”
You followed him, listening.
He tossed you a look and said, “You haven’t put your touch on anything out here.”
“It’s not really my house. I just rent my room.”
“I know,” Ransom chuckled. “That’s why I wanted to see your room.” Another drink. “Want to show me it again?”
The way he so flippantly mentioned it…
“You don’t want to stay down here?”
Ransom turned back to you, chuckling. He pushed your glass, guiding it up to your lips. “Drink up.” You did as he asked and almost choked when he made you finish the entire thing. “Now, let me ask you again… want to show me again?”
No. He had not simply been in a bad mood the last couple of times. He was still the same inconsiderate, entitled jerk.
You did not answer him, at loss for words.
“Fine. Thought you would feel more at ease in your bedroom, but I guess here is just as well.” You made to protest but he interrupted, “Malcolm isn’t coming home tonight. I asked because I invited them to do dinner too, but he declined since they are going up north to see Alyssa’s parents. Fortuitous for me.”
Finishing his drink in a quick gulp, he grabbed both your glasses and placed them on the mantel above the fireplace. Before you could react, he tugged you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. You tried to recoil but he held tight, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. He turned you, forcing you up against the wall to further prevent you from escaping.
His hands slipped up underneath your dress, gripping at your thighs.
“Hey!” you finally were able to exclaim when he came up for air. You tried to push him away. “Ransom!”
“Yes?” he asked condescendingly, forcing you back against the wall erasing the small amount of space you had carved out for yourself with the shove. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes! Stop!” you told him, trying to escape underneath his arm but he blocked your attempt, pressing his body weight against you. “Please!”
“What? You don’t like me?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t even know you!”
“Oh, but you want to know me. And you want to know my family. That is clear as day,” Ransom stated, leaning in close, his nose almost brushing yours. “A girl from a modest family trying to get a leg up in the world…” He smirked. “Truth be told, I would love to get your leg up. But first…”
He forced you to your knees, your face close to his crotch. You tried to push yourself up and away, but he grasped your hair and you stilled, gasping at the tug he administered when you had tried to move again.
Ransom’s free hand came down to your cheek, caressing gently. His thumb brushed over your lips as you shakily made eye contact with him. His pupils were beginning to dilate, desire glaring as his tongue ran across his lip. He hand cupped your jaw and he murmured, “You keep saying you’re sorry. I want you to show me how sorry you are.”
You gaped and he grinned, “That’s the spirit, keep it open.”
Gasping when he shoved your cheek up against him again, you felt his hardening dick through his pants. “Come on, Y/N. Be a good girl. I know you know how to do this. A girl like you? From a modest family not in the area? You didn’t get through school just on brains alone. Had to make connections somehow.”
Anger coursed through you at his words and you tried to push away from him once more, but he just wound his hand tighter in your hair causing you to wince. Tears pricked at your eyes as your anger melted to humiliation as he grinded his length up and down your cheek.
Yanking you away, he stared down at you, tickled at the expression on your face.
“You want to use my mother to get into the business world with a bang. It’s understandable, she’s great at what she does. And she has those connections in her hand to give you. All you gotta do is charm her and give her results.”
“But I want you to have to work a little harder for it. You know I can say one thing to my mother, and she won’t have anything to do with you ever again.” He ran his fingers across your lips forcibly. “So, you’re going to open that pretty little mouth of yours and you’re going to show me one, how sorry you are and two, how badly you want to break out of your situation.”
When you did not answer he gave your head a little shake, “Right, Y/N?”
You licked your lips, a tear escaping. Horsley, you answered, “Right.”
He unzipped his trousers, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxer briefs. You stared at the length in front of you, trying to compose yourself. You could do this. You had to do this. You were backed into a corner, literally and figuratively.
Ransom tasted salty as you took him into your mouth. He groaned the further you took him in, increasing your speed the wetter you made him. His fingers at the back of your head were digging in, forcibly pushing you further to take him even deeper. Tongue swirling, you drew low moans of pleasure from him.
Suddenly, both his hands grasped the sides of your head, holding you in place. He thrusted, using you and you struggled to stay steady on your knees with his violent jolts. Loud grunts left his lips, animalistic and savage. You gagged, a few tears running down your cheeks. He was hitting the back of your throat so roughly you thought you were going to get sick.
Fortunately, he pushed you away. Gasping for air, you rubbed at your throat, trying to ease the discomfort.
He grasped your arms and yanked you from the floor. In a fluid motion, he spun the two of you around to face the back of the couch. His hand pressed to the small of your back and your face came to contact with the couch cushions.
Ransom forced himself between your legs, kicking one out to the side to give himself more room.
“A-a condom?” you choked out.
“You’re on birth control, aren’t you?” he asked, hiking your dress up.
“Y-y-yes.”
He chortled and said to himself more than anything, “Well, we will have to fix that for next time.”
You bucked forward when you felt his fingers slipping inside you, rubbing at your clit. You whimpered feeling yourself get wetter with each stroke. You were getting close; he was skilled at pushing you towards falling over the edge.
But he wanted to be inside you for that; his fingers left and his head replaced them.
When he pushed himself inside, you cried out adjusting to his girth. He moaned loudly, bottoming out. He let out a little laugh before pulling out and slamming back in. Your hands gripped the cushions trying to give yourself some sense of balance as he rammed into you repeatedly.
Ransom was holding tight at your hips, his own snapping off your ass hard enough that it was going to bruise. Each stroke of his cock against your clit sent a flow of pleasure through you until it was like a wave breaking. Broken whimpers echoed as you convulsed around him. When he came with a loud shout, you felt him fill you, his cock twitching inside.
His grip went lax at your hips and he reached underneath, and you squeaked when he pinched at your oversensitive clit.
“That was cute,” he husked, his hands slowly running up your sides. One of his hands snaked around your neck and he pulled you back up to his chest, still fully seated inside you.
“Mhm, yeah,” Ransom breathed against your ear, his fingers flexing in and out on your neck. “I think if you keep this up, you will be the epitome of the type of girl I want to bring home to my parents.”
<> <> <>
…PRESENT
Ransom never let you out from underneath his thumb, not that he needed to try too hard. You knew that if you divorced him, you had nothing. You had signed a prenup and even if you thought you could make it without money, there would be bad blood with the Drysdales and with how much influence they had on the area, you would have a huge obstacle to overcome.
Yes, you got to work with Linda, and you had influence with her. But it was still her business, not yours.
You had gotten what you wanted mostly though.
A family. Money. A place in the business world.
It just came with a price.
Ransom’s hand gripped your leg underneath the table, sliding past the hem to the inside of your thigh.
“Now I have two precious things in this world to me,” he said in response to his father.
Another perfectly crafted smile from you.
And he still had that malicious glint in his eye, even as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek.
“Good girl,” he breathed so only you could hear.
#ransom drysdale fic#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom x reader#ransom drysdale smut#knives out fic#my shit
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One Spade for five Hearts: Chapter 1
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___
Warning: Talk about transition, periods and dysphoria.
___
A usual Tuesday.
■ Waking up 07:30.
□ Leaving the house on 08:30.
□ Math from 08:30 to 10:00.
□ Break from 10:00 to 10:30.
□ Spades History from 10:30 to 12:00.
□ Lunch break from 12:00 to 13:15.
□ Chemistry from 13:15 to 14:45.
□ Break from 14:45 to 15:00.
□ Fencing from 15:00 to 16:30.
□ Arrival at home 17:00.
□ Doing homework until dinner at 18:30.
□ Finishing homework until 21:00.
□ Getting ready for bed 22:00.
□ Going to sleep 22:30.
Logan Ward was as organized as ever. He had to be. He was a Ward after all. Which was why he looked over his list again before crossed off the second checkpoint.
■ Leaving the house on 08:30.
He called his mother goodbye over his shoulder and left the house. Quickly, he walked down the driveway, waving to Virgil who was already waiting with his bike for him. As usual he looked tired, was slightly bobbing along the music of his headphones, music Logan couldn’t hear, and only after a few seconds returned the wave of his oldest friend.
As usual Logan joined Virgil and they silently walked to school. As usual Logan thought that Virgil was ridiculous for taking his bike with him even though he wouldn’t drive it. As usual Logan didn’t mention these thoughts because, despite it being illogical, he was happy to walk alongside Virgil.
■ Math from 08:30 to 10:00.
His first class in the day. Virgil was in a different course than him, so they parted before the class started and Logan found himself in the company of Remus Butkus. A terribly smart Club, who had no sense of decency and tact. And while he liked algorithms and geometry well enough, he had to admit that with kæm they were expansionally more interesting with the freckled redhead by his side.
■ Break from 10:00 to 10:30.
Meeting up with Virgil again and telling Remus goodbye until lunch.
■ Spades History from 10:30 to 12:00.
Usual class. They were to do a group project about the history of Spades before the equality treat had been signed 600 years ago. Virgil was his partner, as usual, and they would meet up in Thursday after class to talk about the details, as they usually did when they had a group project.
■ Lunch break from 12:00 to 13:15.
At lunch Logan and Virgil re-joined with Remus. Kæ had brought kæs boyfriend Patton along. They smiled at the two Spades before they kissed Remus and started talking about their day. As usual they asked Virgil how his day went and Logan greeted N (apparently going by Janus today judging by the bowler hat on their head) and Roman, Remus’s twin.
As usual Janus made a snarky remark about Patton’s all too positive attitude and Remus laughed at kæs boyfriend’s pout but helped them defend themself against Janus’s bickering. As usual Roman –
No, Roman did not get involved into the quarrel for once. He was uncharacteristically quiet and Logan shot him a look. The otherwise always boisterous boy looked figuratively down and almost seemed to have waited for Logan to acknowledge him. Confused Logan was about to ask what was going on, when Roman pointed to Logan’s phone. Logan looked down to it and unlocked the screen. On the lock screen a message from Roman was showing and Logan silently read:
Roman Butkus:
you have pads? frogt mine at home
Logan looked back up to Roman. Gave him a short nod and stood up from the table. Virgil shot him a funny look and Logan simply said, as he took out his little necessity bag from his satchel: “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“I’m coming too!” Roman announced immediately and was already on his feet following Logan leaving the cafeteria.
Logan walked quick and did not look back, knowing perfectly well that Roman could keep up with him. And not a moment later, the shorter boy walked next to him, arms folded over his chest. He looked uncomfortable and Logan suspected that he might have been wearing his binder too long or that he felt more sensitive during his period or in the worst-case scenario both.
Finally, they made it to the bathroom and entered. Logan quickly walked along the stalls and checked if they were alone, which was the case, and then took out a pad of his little necessity bag and handed it to Roman. Grateful Roman took it and disappeared in one of the stalls, as Logan leaned back against the wall waiting for Roman to finish.
They didn’t need to be secretive about having periods. Everybody knew and they were generally accepted. But Logan understood quickly after getting to know Roman that he tended to struggle with some parts of his body when he didn’t feel like he was a woman. For himself that was not the case but he understood that gender was different for everybody and he would do anything to support Roman in the way he could and needed to.
“Fuck.”
Logan’s train of thought was broken. Roman’s tone sounded watery and Logan got alarmed.
“What is it?” Logan asked not quite certain if he was approaching this the right way.
“I – I uh, fuck.”
Roman was definitely crying and Logan walked up to the closed stall door. He just stood there and waited, not knowing if there was anything he could even say.
“Blood got onto my jeans. I – I -”
Roman broke off and Logan heard some small sobs. He sighed and opened the little necessity bag again. Silently, he crouched down and slid a little package through the slit close the stall door.
“It is okay, Roman,” Logan said trying to sound soothing. “It happens. It happens to me too sometimes. If you open the package, you’ll find a cleaning cloth. It’s enhanced to get blood out of the fabric, so no one will notice.”
Logan listened to the movement inside the stall, heard the package being opened and how Roman apparently cleaned his jeans. There were still some sniffles but Logan felt himself relax.
A minute went by and you could hear Roman flush. Logan awaited him coming out but Roman let him wait.
“Thank you so much… I’m sorry for making you wait here with me,” Roman finally said.
Logan frowned and looked at the door as if he could send a look through the wall. But knowing that he could not do that he instead said: “It is quite alright, Roman. Periods are not the most comfortable topic among our peers, even if they are cis girls. It is okay to struggle with it. Just try to remember that is normal and that you do not have to be ashamed of having the parts you have.”
A sniffle.
“I’m trying. But dysphoria is mean… You don’t have to answer but do you have it sometimes? Do you sometimes think your body is wrong a little? Not really you?”
Logan looked up to the ceiling and mused for a moment.
“I don’t think so. I am fine with how I look. But that might also be because I never had to wear things I did not want to. That my parents didn’t had me have long hair or anything. It does have its perks to have an older sibling who came out as nonbinary when they were twelve, I guess.”
“You wear a binder, though?”
“I do sometimes, yes. I do so today and I probably should change out if it now, but I do not do so because of dysphoria. I just like how I look with a flat chest. Which is not that hard to accomplish with my cup size, I presume.”
A little snort.
“You’re quite lucky, Ward. Quite lucky indeed.”
The stall door was opened and Roman washed his hands. Looking at Logan through the mirror he continued: “Not that I’m jealous of you. It’s not like we could influence it. And quite honestly, some days I have the feeling that I am way more into being trans than you are. Like, it’s so fun to tell teachers that they are actually wrong and I use she/her or he/him today. Still, I’m stoked for when I finally evoke my powers and get to transition. It will be awesome!”
Logan grinned a little and shrugged his shoulders before Roman fully turned around, leaning against the sink and asked: “Do you wanna transition once your powers show? Like top surgery and stuff?”
“I don’t think that I want top surgery, but I am thinking about hormone magic, so my voice gets deeper. I think, that would be the one thing that sometimes puts me off a little. Also, I might grow a beard and that sounds pretty appealing to me.”
Roman laughed and the tiny gap between his front teeth was showing just in the way Logan liked it. It suited Roman far more than the sad expression from before. And then he suddenly stepped closer to Logan, his heart skipping a beat, and he tapped on Logan’s shirt with a grin.
“And don’t you think, I didn’t notice you trying to manipulate me to take off my binder, smart cookie!” Roman teased with a grin. “I will change out of it after the next period and you don’t have to change out of yours just to make me do it. I feel fine. Promise.”
Logan cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. A little flustered he looked to the side and mumbled: “That is reassuring. Thank you.”
And then Roman gave him a hug, took him by the hand and led them back into the cafeteria, talking about some nice outfits he had seen the last time he had been in the mall. It all went down a little too quickly for Logan but in the end he didn’t care. Roman was in good spirits again and that was all what mattered to Logan. When they joined back at the table Janus asked Roman if he was alright, which Roman confirmed and gave Logan a little wink.
“Flirting with the shovel knight? That will work out perfectly fine, won’t it?” Janus teased and Roman laughed but hit them on his upper arm.
“Since when are you playing video games, Mx. Technology-Has-Its-Limits-And-No-Flair?” Virgil inquired deadpanned and a series of mocking insults got exchanged between Janus and Virgil until their lunch break neared its end.
■ Chemistry from 13:15 to 14:45.
Virgil, Remus and Logan left the lunch table together and got into one of the few classes they all shared together. Nothing unusual came to be, expect for Remus somehow enhancing one of the mixtures they made so it sparkled and smelled terrible. At least it did not explode this time.
■ Break from 14:45 to 15:00.
Virgil broke off the group to get to track training, while Logan and Remus went to change for fencing practice.
■ Fencing from 15:00 to 16:30.
The usual training. Remus got closer beating him today. But not yet.
■ Arrival at home 17:00.
Virgil had met up with Logan after training and the two said goodbye to Remus and leisurely walked towards their respective homes. They arrived at 16:52 in front of Logan’s house, as usual and talked for a few minutes before Logan needed to get inside and wished Virgil a pleasant evening despite knowing fully well, they would text later tonight.
■ Doing homework until dinner at 18:30.
Taking a shower after fencing practice. Then homework. Finishing up an essay for Common tomorrow.
■ Finishing homework until 21:00.
Dinner was fine. They had noodles and green salad. Father wasn’t coming home today and Grey was staying out later due to a trainings exam he had. Logan didn’t mind. He managed to finish his homework around 20:34 and began to prepare for the night.
■ Getting ready for bed 22:00.
Logan had sent the last text to Virgil for the night and laid out his clothes for tomorrow. Comfortably, he packed his backpack and then went to brush his teeth, and clean whatever had been stuck in his braces before heading to bed.
■ Going to sleep 22:30.
Finally, Logan took of his glasses and turned the light off. It wasn’t entirely dark in his room though. There were stars glowing at his ceilings, playful little gadgets, his father had hung up there for his seventh birthday. Logan didn’t feel like taking them off yet and closed his eyes.
A usual day, he thought. Well, maybe not, he corrected himself. Since the twins, Patton and N had bullied their ways into his routine, had become part of his routine, he was never as sure as he used to be that his days would follow a certain pattern. A clearly laid-out path that he had thoughtfully created for himself over the years.
But maybe unusual, was not so bad after all, Logan Ward thought as he fell asleep.
___
@varthandi
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@alexisrealgay
@softie-sushi
@wolfs-feder
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@winter-jay-official
@a-ghostlight-for-roman
#sanders sides#logan ward#remus butkus#patton gygax#Suits AU#eir writes#please reblog#virgil caron#janus lucas#sanders sides fic#ts logan#ts virgil#ts remus#ts patton#ts janus#ts roman
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