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bucketsofmonsters · 1 month

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Deep Water - Part 3

cw: the ocean, almost drowning, kidnapping, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

On your first day of work, you were already regretting not pushing harder to get your siren to promise you he would stay away, glimpses of a snaking tail under the water every few hours stopping your heart for a beat every time.

You ignored your first sighting, reporting into the office, getting a list of duties and of expected intake for the day.

You asked when you’d be paid, part of you worried he’d say at the end of the month and you’d be stuck without a place to stay for weeks. You let out a sigh of relief when he said at the end of the week. Only two more days then. You could manage two more days. You were sent off on your way without much else said.

No one was assigned to help you, to figure out what you were supposed to do or how to start, so you did the only thing you could think of. You went and found Finn.

His face lit up the second he saw you, dropping the box he was holding to run over to your side.

“Hello little lady, how’s your first day going?”

You glanced back at the discarded cargo. “Do you not need to get that?”

“Is this going to take long? Okay, you probably want help, I’ll be right back.”

He rushed over to the dropped box that at the very least didn’t look like it had been damaged and hauled it over to a safer location, amidst some other unpacked boxes.

He was back at your side before the incredulous huff of laughter managed to escape you, giving you a sheepish look. “Sorry if I’m overeager, we don’t get many pretty girls out here, I’ve gotta try and help you before someone else snatches you up.”

You gave him a humoring laugh, more polite than anything.

You had a feeling your intentions with one another did not align, but he seemed pleasant and helpful and whatever his intentions happened to be, you could use that right about now.

And he held true to his word. For the rest of the day, he helped you figure out your various duties, largely abandoning his own, only occasionally popping out to make excuses or run and do something that others laughed and insisted really couldn’t wait.

The day passed quickly. The work wasn’t particularly hard, just repetitive. Finn did his best to help but once you realized he couldn’t read, it became a little more difficult.

He still hovered over your shoulder, something that you appreciated but had the unintended consequence of you having to struggle to pull his attention every time you caught another flash of scales out of the corner of your eye.

They seemed particularly likely to appear whenever Finn set off from his latest task he was ignoring to help you again.

You bristled at the thought, trying to tell yourself you were making up patterns, that it wasn’t anything at all.

At least you hoped you were. If it was a pattern, you were going to kill him.

Even once you got the hang of things, Finn refused to actually leave you, insisting that it was improper to abandon you on your first day. You just smiled and continued on, set on getting everything done. First impressions were important after all, and you needed to look just as valuable as your sister had been.

Before you knew it, the day was over and people had begun filing out. It wasn’t empty, the dock was never really empty, but it had quieted down and you finished the last of your work, marking everything down as neatly and perfectly as you could.

“I can take that back for you!” Finn exclaimed as you carefully looked over your work for any glaring mistakes. He seemed excited to find something he could actually help you with.

Part of you wanted to refuse, to take it back yourself, but he seemed too excited, refusing felt like kicking a puppy. Besides, you imagined he’d have a few kind words to say about you and that couldn't hurt.

He came darting back over in minutes, that persistent, goofy smile plastered across his face as he skidded to a halt. “Mission accomplished, ma’am,” he said with a little salute.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, trying to push as much gratitude as you could into your voice.

“Now that that’s done, I was wondering if you wanted to go out or something. I could get you some drinks or food or whatever, celebrate your first day being over.”

There it was, exactly what you’d worried this had all been leading to. “Finn…”

Water came splashing up through the gaps in the wood on the dock, drenching the pair of you.

You jumped, reflexively and far too late to save yourself from any of the water.

As you looked through the slats, you could have sworn you saw the glint of scales.

“Yes,” you blurted out, bringing Finn’s attention back to you. “That sounds great.”

You gave him what felt like a poor approximation of an excited smile.

“Really? That’s amazing. The ocean seems to have something to say about it. She’s nervous, poor girl. Promise I won’t leave you behind.” He spoke down to the waves, attempting to lighten the mood as he saw your face go white in your newly wetted skirts.

You smiled, your heart hammering in your ears, and after another quiet little bit of reassurance, he scurried off, telling you to stay put while he found a coat he’d discarded earlier in the hot sun and promptly forgotten about, and then you could be off.

Simon, you guessed that was what you were calling him now, decided that was an opportune time to breach the surface of the water and look up at you with those big, golden eyes.

An anger that had been simmering quietly inside of you at every flash of scales you’d seen throughout the day came to a head as he had the audacity to simply appear like this. “Go away,” you hissed, the words coming out louder than you meant them to.

This wasn’t like the day before. You knew Finn would be back any moment, you didn’t have time to argue on the shore.

He remained resolutely above the water, looking up at you with a determination that almost frightened you set across his impish features.

When he opened his mouth, you held your hands out, trying to tell him to stop, that it wasn’t safe.

And then he started speaking and your hands fell limp to your sides, warning him not seeming quite so important anymore.

The words sounded different. Maybe he was singing? It was hard to tell. You couldn’t even make out the words, couldn’t understand any of it. All you knew was that he was there. Why were you all the way up here? You should be down there with him. Maybe then you could understand.

Whatever noises he was making, ones you were too far away to really hear, wormed their way right through your ears into your head, snaking their way around inside you, taking up the space where your thoughts were moments ago.

There was nothing but him.

Everything else faded away until all you could see was amber eyes.

And then, walking carefully and intentionally, you tumbled into the water, seemingly of your own accord.

The second you hit the icy water, the warm calm you’d been pulled into dissipated. You weren’t sure if it was the shock of the water or your head going under, no longer able to hear the hypnotic noises from the siren you’d thought was harmless. At least to you.

And what a foolish notion that was. He was a siren. It didn't matter if he'd saved you or not, of course he was dangerous. You weren’t special to him. Why would you be?

As you tried to come up for air his arms met your shoulders and pushed you deeper and you realized, horrifically, just how wrong you’d been.

You didn’t understand why he did what he’d done, why he’d helped you before. Maybe he’d just been playing with his food, toying with you until he got bored.

Your mind newly cleared, you fought to swim up. As you did, his tail wound around your legs and you saw a pout break out across his face.

Panic rose in your chest and he watched, head tilted, examining you carelessly, with your legs still bound together under the water.

He looked at you, eyes big and bright and expectant, flicking across your face as he tried to fight back a smile.

You struggled and his hand grasped yours, keeping it in place, effortlessly keeping you under the waves. The bright look in his eyes shifted to confusion, seeming baffled as to why you’d rather breach the surface than steal a kiss from him and let the cold water invade your lungs.

As he stared expectantly and confused at you, you wiggled just enough to free one leg, something he seemed unconcerned with as he continued to hold you under. He knew he was stronger than you, that you had no real shot of escape. You both did.

That didn’t matter to you. You brought your knee up as swiftly and firmly as you could in the cold water that forced a horrible, sluggish feeling into your limbs, and kneed him right in his gills.

That seemed to activate some instinct in him and he wrapped entirely around you, effortlessly countering you at every point of struggle. They were the movements of a practiced hunter.

You kicked and fought and made every attempt to break away and breach the surface but he was too strong, too practiced at this. At holding people down.

You wondered how you matched up to them, how hard you fought compared to his other prey, if he’d remember this at all once you were gone?

At some point in the struggle you must have kissed, in the loosest sense of the word. You missed it in the flurry of movement, just another brush of skin against skin in the struggle. It must have happened though because as your lungs burned just a bit too much and your brain forced you to inhale, you didn’t choke on water but instead felt the burning soothe and your instincts calm, despite the salt water flooding inside you.

Regardless of your newfound ability to breathe, the fight and lack of oxygen had weakened you and your struggle slowed.

As it did, he rose to the surface

When you breached the waves, the dock was nowhere in sight. You had no idea when in your fight he’d dragged you out to sea or how far you’d gone.

“You can breathe,” he said, looking at you with that same quiet confusion as when you’d fought against him. “I made sure you could breathe. Why do you still worry?”

You inhaled in an attempt to answer him with a screamed admonishment and then, before a word could escape you, you were coughing up water

He sat patiently as you did, his arms wrapped carefully around you.

The last time you’d coughed up water like this, you’d been too relieved to be alive to really notice it. You did not have that luxury this time. The saltwater burned coming up, your lungs feeling heavy in your chest as the water poured out of you.

It felt like you were dying. You didn’t understand how you weren’t.

He didn’t seem concerned, just holding you as you fought to empty your lungs so you could finally inhale, every attempted inhalation just stirred the churning water in your lungs, agitating them further.

As you finally emptied your lungs, you sucked in air. Your chest filled and it hurt more than it brought you relief.

“You have to take me back,” you forced out, the burning in your lungs exhausting you past the point of screaming at him.

His lips pursed into a pout and his eyes darted away from yours. “You don’t even like it there,” he said, sounding openly disappointed, not even attempting to hide it. But then, why would he? You were at his mercy, he could do whatever he wanted to.

“I like it better than I like it here,” you said, gesturing around you at the open ocean.

He looked around at the ocean surrounding you and then returned his gaze intently to your face. “I can take you somewhere else.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, you’d better not…”

And then he was off, swimming quickly through the waves.

He kept your head above water carefully, although you still had to keep your mouth firmly shut to avoid inhaling anything, but even that didn’t slow him down.

And then, with no warning, you were going down, back through thick water. You didn’t have a chance to gather your bearing before it was too dark to see anything, Simon’s grip on your arm was the only thing cutting through the cold black abyss around you.

Your arm brushed against hard rock, scraping painfully before it was gone and you found yourself disoriented in the space around you once more. You could be surrounded by rock for all you knew, inches away from it. There was no way to tell, no way to really know anything about where you were being dragged.

Your fight renewed as your air began to run out and the darkness still imposed itself around you. You knew better, knew you couldn’t get away. Even if you did, you didn’t even know which direction was up anymore. Your instincts, however, were not so easily suppressed by silly things like facts.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to kill you. Even more than that, as your time under the water dragged on, why he was going to kill you? Maybe you’d upset him, made an unforgivable mistake when you kicked him or complained just a little too much. The way it looked now, you guessed you’d never know. You didn’t have the oxygen left to figure it out, your brain starting to get foggy.

And still, it continued. He dragged you down and down and then your head breached the surface and as you gasped in air, the word flipped right side up once more.

You dragged air into your pleading lungs, this time no wretched water biting your throat as you did.

Your lungs still hurt though. A quieter ache.

Your eyes adjusted slowly to the dark and you could barely make him out in what appeared to be a cave, the moon shining in through a few holes riddled in the rock above you.

“You could’ve killed me,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice.

His head tilted. “No. I know how long it takes a human to drown. You were fine.”

His words did nothing to settle your unease

“Is this better?” he asked, gesturing around to the cave you’d approached from beneath.

The water was just a small pool in a larger cave, leading off a few feet before revealing a glimpse of the outside world through the holes that let the light in.

You hauled yourself out of the water to look and saw that there was no other way out, only the horrible, dark path through the water he’d taken you through.

You couldn’t get out of here on your own.

Even if you could, you had nowhere to go. There was probably just more open water outside these walls. Even if there was land, you had no idea where you were.

You wondered if Finn was worried about you yet. Maybe he was. Or maybe he thought you’d abandoned him, left him alone on the dock in lieu of having to go out to dinner with him.

You weren’t sure which you were hoping for, which was better for him to believe. Which would be easier to explain when you returned? If you returned.

“You need to take me back,” you said, trying to force some authority into your tone.

“Can I ask you some questions about humans?” he asked, completely ignoring you.

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t. You can take me back.”

He drifted towards you and you pulled back further onto the patch of dry land.

That seemed to hurt him, like he couldn’t understand why you would possibly be wary of him.

He rested his head on the rocky shore, looking defeated, slowly drying blonde hair curling up around his eyes as it was freed of some of the weight of the water, and you fought to not think that if he hadn’t just done what he did to you, maybe he’d look sweet.

“Who was that?” he blurted out, his head lifting with his words as his jaw moved against the stone below him.

“What?”

“On the dock. He was talking to you, you were leaving with him. Who was that?”

“Who, Finn? Why do you-” A thought began to dawn on you. “His name is Finn. You hang around the dock, do you not know him?”

He shrugged in the water. “I’ve seen him.”

“And you care now? That’s kind of sudden.”

“I guess.”

“Alright. Did you kidn- Did you take me so I wouldn’t go with him.” You did your best to keep your voice measured in an attempt to get an honest response from him.

“You’re supposed to go to the beach. You weren’t going to the beach.”

“No, you rejected my deal, remember? I thought I wasn’t going to the beach because you were just hanging around.”

He rolled his eyes just barely, enough to make a quiet irritation stir in your stomach. “Can’t talk to you when I’m around,” he said, matter of factly. “You said you’d go to the beach.”

“I know, but something came up. I’d have come back. I can’t miss one day?” you said, trying to reason with him.

“One day? It was the first day!” he said with a huff.

“I hadn’t even left yet, how did you know I wasn’t going to go meet you.”

“Were you?” he asked, and you didn’t have a good answer for him.

“We’ll never know, will we? Because you decided to kidnap and almost drown me.”

“I didn’t almost drown you. I would never drown you.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, well at the very least you decided to hurt me.” Sharp words bounced off the stone walls of the cave.

His eyes widened. “I hurt you?”

“Yeah, of course you did. I couldn’t breathe. And that’s beside how bad coughing up sea water hurts.”

He shook his head. “You’re fine, why would it hurt?”

“Simon,” you said, “It hurts humans when we can’t breathe. And we aren’t meant to have to breathe water, it burns when I have to get it out.”

For someone who presumably had drowned dozens of humans, he seemed to have little idea how drowning actually felt. To be fair, he probably didn’t have many chances to learn about the human side of the experience, you didn’t imagine many survived long enough to tell him about it.

“Oh,” he said, deflating a little. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Right, just to kidnap me.”

He nodded with no air of shame regarding his actions. “Yeah.”

You settled back against the wall of rock behind you, trying to think of what else you could say to get yourself out of there.

He looked up at you and suddenly he seemed unbearably nervous. “You want to leave.”

“I thought we discussed this, I have to leave. I can’t just disappear, there are people waiting for me.”

“Finn,” he asked, saying the name like it tasted rotten in his mouth.

“Yes, Finn. I told you, I can’t just disappear.”

You had to lean closer to him to hear his next words at all, his voice unbearably quiet. “It’ll hurt you.”

You slid back into the water beside him, hope sparking through you. “I’ll be fine, I just want to get out of here.”

His hands snaked around your sides, pulling you close to him. “Do you want to hold your breath or breathe the water?” You could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. You didn’t understand how breathing worked for him, where his lungs ended and his gills began.

You shivered as you thought back to retching up the water, how it had burned coming up, how the attempted gasps felt inside already heavy lungs. “I’ll hold my breath.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will be fast.”

You sucked in a breath before he pulled you down, a luxury you had not been granted last time.

He was true to his words. You could feel the water rushing past you as you held your breath, clinging to him the whole way.

When you breached the surface, your lungs didn’t hurt quite as much as they had the first time around. His grip on you was tighter than when you’d arrived, a fear present in him that wasn’t before.

Your hands were wrapped around his neck, the desire to get yourself away from him gone now that you were fairly certain he’d bring you back, even if he wasn’t happy about it.

He brought you to the shore, a familiar spot.

Something occurred to you as you found yourself in shallow water. “How’d you even know where to take me? When you first found me, you took me right here.”

“I know where the ships are going. Always to the same spot.” He sounded almost annoyed at the ships’ predictability.

“Well, they have to go to a dock.”

He grumbled in response, his discontent evident. You weren’t sure how much of it was from this grudge against ships and how much was because he’d had to bring you back to shore.

You pulled yourself out of the water and wanted just sit there for a while, regain some of your energy.

The second you hit dry land, Simon was gone, disappearing before you could say so much as another word to him.

You didn’t really have time to talk or rest anyway, running back onto the dock as quickly as you could, hoping Finn hadn’t left yet.

You found him standing alone on the dock, looking dejected right until his eyes drifted towards you. His eyes widened as they met yours and his expression shifted from surprise to concern, rushing towards you.

“What happened?” he asked, pulling the jacket he’d run off to retrieve over your shoulders. “I thought you’d gotten bored and abandoned me but a swim at this time of day hardly seems like a good idea.”

“I fell in. Guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you said with a sheepish smile, hoping it was anything close to convincing.

His hand drifted up to push wet hair away from your face. “I’m sure you’re not feeling up to going out anymore…”

“No,” you said, not thinking of Finn at all but instead set on rebelling against the attempts to stop you from going. It wasn’t fair to Finn, but by the time that occurred to you, you’d already spoken. “I mean, you waited all this time for me, it would be rude not to go.”

He seemed too excited to notice how suspicious you were being. “Alright, but make sure you’re not overextending yourself.”

You nodded with an unenthusiastic smile and let him lead you off to a tavern somewhere.

It was a largely uneventful evening, all things considered. He bought you some soup, something nice and hot that you could feel in your bones, creating a comfortable warmth in your core.

Your reticence to talk was barely noticed. Finn seemed more than happy to fill the silence, letting you bundle up under the thick wool of his coat and focus on your food.

Before you knew it, it was gone and there was nothing left to distract yourself with.

You waited for Finn to finish whatever story he’d been telling that you hadn’t been listening to and said, “This has been lovely, but I should be getting back.”

He laughed. “What, back to work? I’m not that boring, am I?”

You started as he pulled you fully out of your head back into the tavern. “What? No, of course not.”

“So where are you staying then?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Nowhere. I’ll find an inn after I get paid but until then-”

“You could stay with me!” he blurted out before you even had the chance to finish your sentence.

You weren’t quite as enthused. “Look, Finn, I don’t…”

“This isn’t me trying to come onto you, honest. You shouldn’t have to stay out in the cold, it’s not right. I mean, no wonder you're tired. If you don’t get some proper sleep you’ll drown, and then who am I supposed to try and impress every day?”

It was most certainly untoward, but the offer was tempting nonetheless.

You reevaluated Finn, trying to determine how much you really trusted him. Enough for dinner, sure, but enough for this?

You thought about spending another night alone on the cold shore and decided that yes, you did trust him enough for this.

As soon as you nodded your assent, he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the stairs in the tavern.

You couldn’t help but think that taking you to the tavern he was staying at felt presumptuous but the allure of a warm room and blankets were too strong for you to say anything to that effect.

His room was decently sized, with a large bed pressed against the back wall. Reassuringly, he started to set up a space on the floor for you, moving some blankets from a chair in the corner to the floor.

To your chagrin, he began to settle into the nest of blankets on the ground and you immediately moved to set it right.

“Absolutely not, you will not sleep on the floor in your own room.”

He looked up at you with big, sad eyes. “But-”

“No buts, I will leave.”

He sighed. “Fine. But know that I’m not happy about it.”

You settled onto the floor and he slid another blanket off the bed onto you. You accepted it without argument, allowing him this at least. Besides, you were in no state to be turning down blankets.

It was late and the blankets helped against your still damp form. The calm itself was refreshing and you fought the urge to thank Finn, who seemed like he’d already drifted off to sleep since you’d begun to settle down.

You had no choice but to try and follow him.

You slept restlessly but at least you slept.

#terato #merman x reader #merman x human #monster x reader #monster x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #merman #Simon is crazy this chapter #Don’t invite a wolf into your home and then be surprised when it bites

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lincolndjarin · 7 months

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constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

“What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice.

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder.

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face.

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient.

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair.

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him.

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it.

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs.

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction.

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing.

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely.

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk.

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place.

You recognize the website he’s on.

You’d know that red bar anywhere.

There’s no fucking way.

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction.

You’re so fucked.

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan.

That somehow hurts worse.

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants.

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car.

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed.

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head.

It doesn’t.

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you.

Stupid fucking Peña.

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone.

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one.

[ I’m coming over. ]

Son of a bitch.

You quickly scroll through the previous messages.

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else.

He liked your story.

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole.

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat.

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face.

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous.

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead.

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence.

“Your file.” He says sheepishly.

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough.

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze.

“Why did you read it?”

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm.

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better.

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly.

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown.

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know.

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction.

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now.

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse.

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms.

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively.

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious.

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion.

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face.

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit.

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff.

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away.

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down.

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind.

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly.

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again.

You both know what that means.

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home.

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door.

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady.

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting.

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him.

This is exactly what happens in your story.

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are.

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth.

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her.

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap.

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded.

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss.

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions.

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically.

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further.

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious.

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense.

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end.

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise.

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked.

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud.

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red.

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering.

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed.

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm.

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!”

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back.

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly.

“Seriously?” You glare at him.

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine.

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing.

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you.

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous.

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else.

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh.

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things.

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before.

“What do I do first?”

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip.

“What do I do next?” You look up at him.

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth.

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady.

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips.

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down.

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you.

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs.

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats.

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed.

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide.

“Why?”

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here.

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition.

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in.

It doesn’t take much from there.

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours.

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point.

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom.

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock.

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs.

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.

God, you wish you’d done this sooner.

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours.

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth.

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile.

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him.

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you.

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes.

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you.

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you.

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out.

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

#lincolndjarin #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña / reader #javier pena smut

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vanfleeter · 2 months

Text

Coffee Cup Apologies

Characters: Jake x Fem!reader Warnings: 18+. Angst. Anger. Language. Heated argument. Yelling. Alcohol consumption. Jealousy. Embarrassment. Tears. Apologies. Smut. Allusions to sex. Fluff. Kissing. Happiness. Author's Note: I probably missed some grammar mistakes, my apologies. Also if I missed something on the warnings list, please let me know so I can add it!

Valentines Masterlist

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake for a few weeks since the horrible goodbye a few weeks ago before the band departed for Europe. What was supposed to be a happy goodbye full of hugs ended with a sour argument over failed confessions. He tried to confess to you his feelings but instead jealousy overpowered when he saw you with another guy. A guy who you kept claiming was just a friend but he refused to believe you. So instead of an intimate, private moment that he hoped to have with you, it turned into a very public conversation.

“Where’s Y/N at?” Jake asks as he pours himself a drink. “I was really hoping to see her before we left.”

“I told you she’s coming,” Josh says as he pops the cork on another bottle of champagne. “She’s running late though. Got out of work later than she planned, but I promise you she’s coming.”

“When she does, can you let me know? I really want to talk to her.”

“Are you finally going to tell her?”

Jake nods his head, his cheeks flushing red and his chest running warm. “I know now wouldn’t be a great time, considering we’re leaving tomorrow for a month-long tour in Europe but I know it can’t wait.”

Josh smiles and lays his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for finally doing it. You’ve been pining after her for nearly a year and if I’m being honest, it’s painful to watch.”

“Shut the fuck up..” Jake says as he playfully shoves Josh to the side. He chuckles and shakes his head. “There have been multiple instances where I’ve wanted to tell her but I couldn’t.. I chickened out every time.”

“Well tonight is not the night,” Josh says. “I believe you’ll be just fine. This isn’t like being on stage in front of thousands of people.. This is just Y/N.”

–

Thirty minutes drag by and Jake has downed four glasses of champagne. Normally this wouldn’t be affecting him but tonight he’s feeling it all. The nerves and the alcohol mixing in his bloodstream make him a little tipsy.

Josh appears again in the kitchen. “Y/N just got here.”

“Perfect..” Jake responds as he grabs another empty glass and fills it with champagne.

“But wait, Jake, you gotta know something before you go out-”

“Josh, please. I’ve been swimming in alcohol and my nervous system all night.” He says as he steps around Josh. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Yeah but Jake, she didn’t–” But Jake is already slipping out of the kitchen. “--come alone..” Josh sighs and finishes off his drink.

Maneuvering through the milling people in the hallway, he spots Y/N talking with Sam. But she isn’t alone. He stops midway through the hall, his shoulders dropping as he lowers the two drinks to his sides. She’s introducing a guy to Sam. He’s not close enough so he can’t hear but his eyesight works.

The mystery man she brought has his hand resting on her hip as he shakes Sam’s hand. Sam’s smile looks forced, almost as if he feels awkward.

Not as awkward as Jake though.

Already feeling stupid, Jake retreats back through the crowd and into the kitchen. He sets the glasses on the counter and leans against the granite top on the palms of his hands.

Did he wait too long?

Maybe he should’ve just done it sooner. Even if he did make a fool of himself.

He sure feels like one now.

Reaching across the counter, he swipes the bottle of whiskey and takes a long drink from it. His body tenses with the bottle still pressed to his lips when he hears her voice.

“Look I know I’m late, but don’t start the real party without me.”

He pulls the bottle away from his lips, unable to turn around to face her. She steps to the side to stand next to him and pulls the bottle from his hand.

“I’ve been looking for you.” She says as she takes a drink herself.

“Mmm, well you found me.” He takes the bottle back and takes another drink. “I see you brought someone with you.”

“Yeah! Mark!”

“Mark.. Yeah I know who he is..” He seethes. “Why’d you bring him?”

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Umm.. Josh said to bring friends along and Mark and I were working late on a project so I invited him to come with me.. Are you okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Jake.. He’s just a friend.”

“Mmhmm, right.. Because friends put their hands on your hips..”

“Jake, what’s gotten into you?”

“Lots and lots of alcohol baby..” He says before taking another drink of the whiskey. “Better get back to your man, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“He is not my man, Jacob. I told you that he’s just a friend.”

“And like I said, friends don’t hold your hips like that.”

“You do.” She retorts as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah well I’m different,” He says, jabbing his index finger into his chest.

“Oh so, he can’t touch me like that but you can? What gives you that right?”

“Because I’m in love with you!” He shouts, not knowing the music lulled in between songs.

He looks around, noticing that the whole fucking house just heard him confess his feelings for her. Josh steps out from the sea of people, his eyes glancing back and forth between him and Y/N.

“Oh no..” He mutters.

Jake sets the whiskey bottle on the counter top, his cheeks fully flushed. The heat of the embarrassment that he currently feels wells up in his eyes.

“Jake.. I..” She starts to say.

He steps away from the counter and straightens himself out. “I should go..” He starts to make his way through the crowd of people once more and throws on his shades.

“Jake, wait!” He hears calling behind him. She grabs hold of his arm. “Can we go somewhere in private to talk about this?”

“No..”

“Jake..”

“I said no..” He rips his arm out from her grip. “Just go back to Mark.. I’m sure his daddy’s money will be enough for you..”

“Jacob.. Stop it. You’re being rude.”

“Rude? Me?” He scoffs. “Says the woman who brought another man to my party!”

“For clarification, this party is for the band, not just you.”

“Well,” Jake scoffs again. “For clarification, the band is mine. Therefore this party is mine too! And he,” He jabs a finger in Mark’s direction. “can leave..”

“Jacob, knock it off.”

“No, I don’t fucking want him here! I want him out of my house!”

“Fine, but he leaves, so do I!”

“Fine with me,” Jake says as he swings his arms in the air. “Let him take you home so he can fuck you.”

Now it’s her turn to feel embarrassed. He sees the tears fill her eyes as she glances around at all the eyes still watching them as if this were a drama show.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” She says in a low voice. “But you, Jacob, have stooped so fucking low.” She pushes back him and out the open front door with Mark hot on her heels.

Jake’s eyes land on Josh who only stares at him in disbelief. Turning in his heels, he storms upstairs and locks himself in his office.

–

You tried calling him before their plane left Nashville, bound for their layover in New York before the twelve or so hours flights to Paris. Anything to try to fix this thing–whatever it was that transpired the night before, but instead of answering your call, he ignored it and put his phone on airplane mode before shoving it into his bag.

Over the course of the next three weeks, you tried texting him at the hours you assumed he’d be awake, yet received no answer. Even your texts went unanswered.

You knew he was actively on his phone, seeing him posting random videos on his stories of Parisian architecture. Part of you was angry that he’d post videos, something he rarely does, instead of texting you back at the very least.

You wanted to work this out with him, regardless of what part of the world he was currently in.

—

Jake

—

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a text from Y/N. The fifth one this week. Once she’s texted him, it’s almost like clockwork and he knows exactly when she’ll pop up again.

Opening the text thread, he sees all of the messages she’s sent that he’s never responded to, including today’s text.

“Is that her again?” Josh whispers beside him as they stand in front of a painting. Jake nods his head and puts his phone away. “Why don’t you at least talk to her?”

“No..”

“And why not? Afraid your ego might get bruised?”

Jake rolls his eyes and pulls his sunglasses from where they hang on his shirt and he places them over his eyes. “I’m going outside..”

Stepping out into the fresh air, he looks around the area. He wants to talk to her but at the same time, he doesn’t. He knows saying that he’s sorry won’t be enough.

Walking around the little block, not straying too far from the others, he glances up at the buildings around him. He knows she’d love it here. So he pulls out his phone and takes a video of the building in front of him. He has no clue what it is but he finds the styling of it incredible and he knows she will too.

Posting it to his story with a song attached to it, one he knows she’ll recognize, he closes his phone and goes back to rejoin the others.

It wasn’t until a couple days after the band arrived back home in Nashville that he finally got off his high horse.

—

You were tucked inside a booth at your favorite coffee shop one weekday morning, sipping on the remaining bit of your coffee. The bells chimed indicating a new person’s arrival but you paid no mind to it while you flipped a page in your book.

A presence loomed over you a few minutes later. A single coffee cup is placed in front of you. You look at it and find the words ‘I’m sorry’ written on the side of it. Your heart sinks. Your eyes are unmoving, not willing to look up at the person who’s standing there.

Another cup is placed down in front of you. ‘I was a jerk’.

At least he admits it.

You force yourself to look up. Jake stands there, a solemn look on his face. For once he isn’t wearing his sunglasses indoors, so you can see how his eyes really look. Sorrowful and gloomy.

Putting your book down, you motion for him to sit down. He slides into the booth across from you with a third cup of coffee. You point to it, expecting him to have something written on it. He shakes his head as he gives you a half smile. He pulls the cup closer to him, keeping his fingers intertwined tightly around it.

“I really am sorry..” He finally speaks. “I should’ve controlled myself better than I did.. I embarrassed you…and myself..” He swallows before continuing. “I also understand after that whole incident that you don’t want to continue being friends, especially after how I treated you the last few weeks. Honestly, I wouldn’t want to be friends with myself either if I were in your shoes, so–”

“Jake,” You finally speak up, and cut him off. “I never want to stop being friends with you.” You say as you straighten up.

Jake solemnly shakes his head, his eyes casting down to the cup still being clutched within his hands. “I’m sorry.. I know I should’ve.. I just guess all of the jealousy clouded my own judgment that all I cared about was how I felt.”

“Jake.. Can we… Can we start over?” You say, casting your eyes down to the table top.

He reaches a hand over and places it on yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Of course we can..”

You lift your eyes and he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile and he chuckles.

“So what’s on that cup?” You ask, changing the subject back to the cup that he still clutches in his other hand.

“Oh uh..” He clears his throat. “It’s n-nothing..” He stammers as he pulls the cup closer to his chest.

You arch an eyebrow. You wave your hand in his direction for him to hand over the cup and he vigorously shakes his head.

“Jake..”

“Y/N..”

“What’d you write?”

“I said nothing..”

“Jacob..”

“Y/N..”

“Come on, Jake..” You laugh. “Is it bad?”

He shakes his head. “No..”

“Then let me see it. Please?” He chews on the inside of his cheek. Still he shakes his head and draws the cup closer to his chest. “Don’t make me guess.”

“Hmm, maybe I want you too.”

“Jacob..”

“Tell you what? We play a little game.” He says as he reaches for a napkin and the pen you were using to annotate inside your book. He draws out the hangman set up on the napkin with a certain number of dashes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _?

You look up at him in confusion. “What?”

He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “Start guessing..”

“Is there an A?”

He puts on a thinking face before nodding his head and scribbling down the letters in the correct spots.

_a_ _ _a_ _ _ _ _ _ _ a _a_ _?

“Oh this is going to take a while..” You sigh.

He chuckles and leans on the table. “Just keep guessing.”

A few more minutes pass and so far you’ve gotten a few words.

Can I _a_ _ _ o _ on a _ a_ _?

“Can I blank blank on a blank…” You mutter. “Can I fuck you on a table?”

Jake’s eyes grow wide and he smacks his palm to his face. “That is clearly an A,” He laughs. “Not a U. Also, ‘table’ has five words, not four.”

You giggle. “So clearly you’re asking me if you can do something..”

“Gee, we’re getting somewhere.”

“Is that fourth word supposed to be you?”

Jake nods his head and fills it in. “Keep going.”

You look over the sentence again and try to fill in the rest of the blanks.

Can I _a_ _ you on a _a_ _?

Then it pieces together in your head and you look up at him. “Can I see that?” You ask, reaching out for the pen. He hands it over and you write in the remaining letters.

Can I take you on a date?

You raise an eyebrow at him and he nods his head. “Mmm..” You hum as you jot three small dashes of your own and slide it back to him with the pen.

_ _ _

He smiles and fills in the blanks.

Yes

He looks at you for approval and you nod your head. He chuckles and reaches for the cup. Turning it around, he faces his writing to you. Your jaw falls open as you see three words written on the sleeve.

‘I love you’

Such a coy little man.

“You are so slick.” You say giggling.

“Well, I didn’t want to make it easy on you.” He says.

You lean across the table, just inches from his face. “I love you too.”

“Really?” He questions as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips. “You do?”

You nod your head. “I do.”

You lean in a little further and brush your lips against his. “Someday though, you can fuck me on a table.” You whisper quietly so only he can hear you. You gently kiss him before sliding back down into the booth. His cheeks are flustered and he is fidgeting with the pen.

“Yeah.. Someday.”

______________________________________________________________

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berberriescorner · 2 years

Text

"Are You Listening?"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: After months of being neglected, your anger reaches its boiling point. Time is money, and you know that Rio is all about his bread. If you want to be the king, you gotta stay busy. What’s more important, love or money? Can you have both? Is it possible to be both a cold-hearted businessman and a loving partner? Showing emotion can be a sign of weakness in Rio’s world. How does that work in a marriage? At the same time, you chose to be with him. Shouldn’t you be used to it?

Warnings: Profanity (are you surprised😂). A smidge of daddy kink, with a tiny spot of degradation (again, no surprise there🤣). Angst (quite a bit). A little fluff…it’s there I promise. Sprinkled it with some smut, too (it’s giving a bit of praise kink and dom vibes😈).

Word Count: 3,800+.

A/N: Italicized sentences are the reader's thoughts (in case you were confused and/or curious). It’s kind of lengthy, but the reader had to pop her shit…and Rio popped right TF back👏🏾😆. Part two, yeah can’t tell you when it’s coming, but I’m working on it.

Inspired By:

From the moment Rio found you angrily wiping down the kitchen counters, there had been nothing but tension. For the first ten minutes, he was oblivious to the fact. He was too busy answering texts and was very clearly preoccupied with business. Taking a moment to notice your anger, he asked the one question that would set you off. “What’s wrong, mama?”

No, he wasn’t a mind reader, but how could he not know? You had only been asking him to try to make time for you for months. Three nights in a row, Rio had made empty promises. There were failed dinner reservations on night one. Surprisingly, he’d managed to make your movie date the second night. Only Rio had left you thirty minutes into the film to finish it alone. Supposedly some business needed handling, and it couldn't wait. He urged you to stay and enjoy it. Mick would get you home safely. Tonight consisted of a failed candle-lit dinner (also his idea). Rio had called minutes after you had taken the meal out of the oven. “Go ahead and eat without me. I’m not sure what time I’ll be there. Sorry, mama.” All these things led to the argument that was taking place in the middle of your spacious kitchen.

“There's always a business trip to take. Always an issue with something that only you can solve. You constantly have to run behind that thirsty ass bitch of a stalker you call a business associate. All because said associate is constantly fucking up the plan. You’re never here! I get more dick from my vibrator than I do my husband!”

“Is the problem I’m never home, or do you just need some dick? Are you touch starved mama? Feeling needy, a little neglected?”

Rio was starting to pluck at your nerves in the worst way. It was kind of backfiring, the conversation began to aggravate him. He hated when you complained about him working too much.

“It’s all of the above ni-you know what I’m tired of repeating myself. It’s clear you’re not listening and don't give a fuck, Christopher.”

“I’ve been listening.”

“Listening to respond. Not to understand me, Rio!”

“You’re tired of saying it. I’m tired of hearing it, darlin’.”

Typical Rio fashion. Feelings closed off. Always the calm and collected sarcastic asshole. I’m trying not to swing on this man. Jesus, give me strength.

“That’s all you have to say? Of course, 'cause you’re incapable of showing emotion. Jesus, Rio. I’m trying to fix the disconnect between us.”

“All we do is argue about the same shit. How many times I gotta explain it, mama? I’m running an empire, I can’t be out here just sitting around. What you want me to do? Leave it on Mick and the rest of my men? All it takes is for one thing to go wrong. If I ain’t there to fix it, you know what’s gonna happen? Everything goes to shit and I get knocked ten steps back. I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money.”

“I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money. Bullshit excuses. I know what I signed up for, Christopher,” you mocked him.

“Then act like it. There you go with that mouth. Watch your tone, ma.”

His voice had turned cold and there was fire burning in his eyes. Rio was giving you all the signs that you were skating on thin ice. Any other time it would be enough to get you to back down, but not this time. You were sick and tired of coming last to everything, especially that thirsty ass housewife.

It was one thing to take a backseat to the business. You loved his work ethic and understood that he was busy. However, it had been a month and a half long stretch. Rio, coming home at all hours of the night. Not even having time to eat a little breakfast and talk in the mornings. The fact that it had been so long caused doubt to creep into your mind. If he wasn't fucking me, then who in the hell was it? You had never known him to ever go without sex this long.

Popping up to visit him at work was out of the question. Months prior, one of his rivals had attempted to snatch you from the grocery store parking lot. The assailant had no clue that Mick had accompanied you. He was in the car waiting, as the idiot tried to approach you. Poor bastard never even saw Mick coming. Rio had lost his shit. Doing his best to keep you protected, he wanted you as far away from the business as possible. There was also the fact that he switched warehouses so frequently. You couldn’t even attempt to ignore his rule about keeping a distance. The desperate housewife could come up there anytime she felt it necessary though. He doesn’t give a shit about her. It’s your safety he’s worried about. Your thoughts were battling with one another. The negative side winning. The thought of her being there pissed you off.

“Are we going to keep going back and forth over nothing? Are you ready to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“For a successful businessman, you’re pretty damn stupid. I’ve just sat here and explained it for the hundredth time! Sometimes I honestly can’t fuckin’ stand you, Rio.”

By the time the last word fell from your lips, Rio had made his way across the room. Inches away from your face he rasped, “the fuck did you just say to me? Your brain short circuit, mama?” Giving you a chance to walk your previous statements back, he waited, hoping you had come to your senses. You were seething with anger at not getting through to him. There were also those thoughts of him and that woman spending time together. The time that he should have been spending with you. Let’s not forget the nonexistent sex life. You were feeling unheard, neglected, pissed off, horny, and…jealous? Were you jealous of Beth? That thought alone caused your anger to rise. You were in the mood to choose violence.

“Look, I know dotting little Elizabeth jumps every time you tell her to, but not me baby. Keep waiting for me to retract my previous statement all you want. I said what the fuck I said, Christopher.”

The fire was still burning in Rio’s eyes, but his smoldering glower had morphed into a smile. Now smirking he closed what little space was left between the two of you. Hand circling your throat he pushed you up against the wall.

“And there it is. Finally, the truth comes out. You jealous, mama? Is that it?”

“Jealous of what? That basic bitch, get the fuck out my face, Rio.”

He’s not dickin’ you down sis! He gotta be slanging it somewhere. Two, almost three MONTHS! He brought it up. Actually, no, you did.

“Since we're on the topic. Are you sleeping with her?”

“Stop playing with me, Y/N,” he snapped. “What do you think I do at work, ma?”

“We don’t have sex, Rio. Your ass can hardly be satiated. I can barely recall the last time you knocked me down. So, tell me, who’s been satisfying your needs?”

Gripping your throat a bit tighter, he chuckled. His lips grazing over the top of yours, he whispered, “do you honestly think I would risk losing you over a quick fuck, ma? I see lack of sex makes you delusional.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, keep digging yourself a deeper hole, ma. Keep running your mouth, and I’m gon’ fill it up.”

You so desperately wanted to moan at his words, but you were too stubborn to give in. If only he knew how badly you wanted to drop to your knees. Take him down your throat and let him have his way with you.

“I’m not interested in community dick.”

“The fuck did I just tell you?”

You rolled your eyes still not believing him.

“I’ve been snapping at people left and right. The smallest inconvenience has been getting everybody's head knocked off. That being said I think it’s safe to say that I’m just as irritable as you are. The difference is you wear your heart on your sleeve, ma.”

“No, the difference is you've been handing out my dick.”

“Now who’s being stupid and not listening? I like you being jealous though, it’s cute, baby.”

Placing his hands at the sides of your neck, his lips covered yours in a hungry kiss. Tongue swiping across your parted lips, he asked for entry. Being stubborn you did your best not to grant him access. Trying to push him away from you, he pulled back giving you a mischievous smile.

“I don’t know why you fighting it, ma. Know you ain’t do all this fussin’ just to end the night without me filling you up,” he teased. Pressing his lower half against you, a gasp fell from your lips. The feel of his growing erection made you pant and rut against him. His name fell from your lips.

“R-Rio, we’re not done talk-”

He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body. With your back pinned to the wall, he groaned as his dick rubbed against you once more. “No more talking, baby.” Pushing your nightshirt out of the way he slipped his hand past the lace of your panties and circled your clit. Whimpering, your head fell back against the wall. He removed his hand long enough to slip your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.

“Rio, seriously. Let me-.”

Grabbing you by the throat, he pulled you into another searing kiss. It was lewd and erotic as he ground his hips against yours. He was so hard that you knew his jeans were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. His erection bumping against your soaked core caused you to gasp.

“Chrisstopherr. I-.”

His hands gripped your neck tighter as he growled through clenched teeth, “Shut. Up.”

His hips rotated into you again as your eyes rolled back. “That turn you on, mama? Love it when I shut your ass up? Choking you got you so wet, darlin’. Look at the mess you’re making on daddy’s pants, fuck. Let’s get these off of you, yeah,” he groaned. Without putting you down his dominant hand ripped your panties off. Your lips fell open to complain, but before you could get a word out his fingers penetrated your mouth.

“Pretty sure I told you to shut up. Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

He had all but shoved his fingers down your throat. Loving every bit of it, you took his fingers' knuckles deep. Swirling and sucking like the good girl he wanted you to be. The more you sucked, the more aroused you both became.

“Good girl,” he praised as his free hand groped your breast.

The smug look on his face annoyed you and you started in again once he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“No, you're not doing this right now. Put me down so we can finish this discussion.”

He shook his head no, “why can’t your bratty ass just sit back and shut up,” he rasped as his wet fingers trailed back down your naked body. “Gonna make you regret not listening to daddy.”

His fingers were back in you before you could give him a smart-ass rebuttal. Slipping two fingers inside your channel. Rio reached for that sweet spot that could instantly bring you to tears. He plunged his digits deep enough, tapping it repetitively forcing you to cry out.

“Fu-stop, I’m not done talk-shit! Don’t stop! Oh my god. Yes!”

He felt your walls tighten around his digits. Just as you were about to fall apart all over them, he removed his hand.

“Rio!”

“Did I say you could cum? I don’t remember you asking for permission, mama.”

Not giving you time to respond, he plucked you from the wall. Rio carried you over to the dining room table. Still gripping your waist, he used his free arm to swipe the dinnerware and place settings onto the floor. Your back slammed against the table just as the dishes collided with the floor. You wanted to bitch about the broken items but decided against it.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Y/N. This is what you wanted right? I’ll buy you a new set, just shut up and take this dick.”

His palm glided across your chest, stopping to press you flat against the surface. Standing between your soaked thighs, he used his free hand to unbuckle his jeans, pushing his clothing low enough to let his thick member spring free. His girth glistened with precum as he dug inside you. You were overwhelmed with sexual bliss and went slack-jawed at how full you felt. Not able to form any words, a whimper fell from your lips.

“Ain’t been in you that long. I already got you speechless, darlin’.”

His hips circled in and out of you, the strokes becoming deeper. The feeling was overwhelming and he felt you trying to slide back for relief. Gripping your thighs, he shook his head as he pulled you in and thrust harder.

“Naw, where you going? Ain’t no running, mama. Thought you wanted this dick.”

“Rio, it’s too much. Please, baby.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, as he spread your thighs wider. His hands moved up to your waist and he started to fuck you harder and faster. You started to whine as his signature crooked grin formed on his face. He tossed his head back, biting his lip as he felt you grip him tighter.

“So fuckin’ tight, mama. This still mine, right? This my pussy?”

It was almost impossible to answer with him constantly tapping your g-spot. Your nails scraped against his T-shirt. You tapped his abdomen, taking a deep breath. The words tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yes! You know it is. Take this shit off,” you demanded clawing at his shirt. “Need to feel you.”

Rio sank the deepest he could.

“Feel that, mama.”

This bitch thinks he’s funny.

“Fuck, Rio,” you cried out. “You know what I mean,” you mewled.

His hips continue to pound into you, as he slid his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Rio bent down, letting his lips ghost yours, “that better, mama,” he whispered.

You pulled him closer shoving your tongue into his mouth, as he fucked you through the kiss. Rio’s hand slipped between the two of you, his index and middle finger drew slow circles into your clit. The tremors in your thighs signaled that you were close.

“Daddy,” you cried out, scratching his back.

“I know, baby. It’s been too long. Let go, mama. You gon’ be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?”

His hips were slamming into you with brute force. So much that you felt your body slide up the table. Rio took notice and laid a hand against your abdomen to keep you in place. The weight of his hand had you gasping. The crooked smile graced his face once more, as he pressed harder. Leaning in, he growled, “you feel that shit? You like getting them guts rearranged, sweetheart?”

“Oh, shit! Yes, I love it so fucking mu-ah! Shit, I’m cu-ahh!”

Your body started shaking uncontrollably. Your release was so strong, that you did in fact squirt. Rio pulled out, letting his ringed fingers rub you through it. Your hand found its way around his wrist, as you tried to pull him away from you.

“Too sensitive, daddy.”

He pushed your hand away, grabbing you by the throat. His lips crashed into yours as he continued to rub into you. Another orgasm hit you instantly. It was so strong that tears were rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from the kiss he groaned, “I don’t give a fuck about you being sensitive. I’ma make you come as many times as I want, baby.” Rio sat down in the dining chair and gave you an order, “come sit on this dick.”

Stroking himself he watched as you carefully made your way to him on wobbly legs. He snatched you by your waist pulling you down onto his long rod.

“Ohh, fuck,” you whimpered, as he slapped your ass.

Giving you just a moment to adjust, Rio gripped your behind.

“What you waiting on? Ride me, mama. You get one chance to do it right,” he instructed, smacking your bottom again.

You bounced on him vigorously at first, but the two previous orgasms had zapped all your energy. Taking him in fully you sat in his lap rocking back and forth. His hand grasped your chin as he spat, “I really be trying to give you a chance, ma.”

His hands grabbed hold of your soft globes as he lifted you. He held you at the tip for a moment.

“Gonna make you regret trying to take the easy route, darlin’.”

Sliding you back down, he started to jackhammer into you. Pressure started building in your core, as you threw your head back.

“No, please. Fuck, oh fu-Christopher. Can I come? Please, daddy.”

“I should make your little bratty ass hold it, but fuck I’m close. Go ahead, come for me, bitch,” he growled.

Rio knew a little degradation would be just the thing to push you over the edge.

“Christopher,” you shouted, as you fell apart for the third time that night.

You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, as he fucked his way to a release, “fuck,” he groaned, painting your walls. He massaged your back, helping you come back down. You pulled back and smiled at him lazily. He bit his lip as his hand reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. Rio kissed you until you both pulled apart breathless. He was about to offer to carry you upstairs for a relaxing shower, but a loud knock on the front door interrupted him.

“Who the fuck is beating on the door like a madman?”

Rio handed you his shirt as he pulled on the bottom half of his clothes. He swiped his gun from the countertop. Whoever it was, was now knocking and ringing the doorbell like a crazy person.

“Where’s your purse?”

“Kitchen counter.”

“Get your gun and go hide in the pantry. Do not come out. I will come to get you. I don’t know who the fuck this is, but better safe than sorry. Go!”

“No, I want to stay with you.”

“Not now, don’t do this now. Get your ass in the fucking pantry.”

“Okay, damn!”

You pecked his lips before doing what he said. Retrieving your gun from the luxury handbag, you slipped into the pantry. You were able to hear the conversation with the person who had interrupted aftercare. Making out the voice, you grew irritated. Exiting the pantry, you bounded over to the front door. Not giving a damn about the glare on Rio’s face, you snapped.

“Why the hell were you knocking on our door like the damn police? What the fuck, Mick?”

“Aye! Relax. Chill, mama. I wasn’t answering my phone and some business needs handling,” he replied as he backed you away from the door. You had been waving your gun around full of attitude. “Give me this fucking gun before you shoot somebody! I taught you how to handle this shit safely. Could’ve sworn I told your ass to stay put. I’ma deal with you later. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. Coming to the door half-naked. Why can’t you just listen? Anybody else would’ve gotten shot for disobeying an order. Yet here you are steadily trying my fucking patience.”

Aware that you had struck Rio’s last and final nerve. You decided to do as you were told. Rolling your eyes at a smirking Mick, you left to make your way upstairs.

Gathering items for you both to shower, Rio entered the room.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I got upset, we were having a sweet moment. Then your henchman showed up, killing the vibe.”

“I know, but we’ll have to discuss your listening skills later, mama. I got to slide,” he replied.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed in a change of clothes. Rio was too distracted with lacing up his shoes to notice the disappointment on your face.

“Later? You’re leaving?”

“Didn’t I just tell you there are some things I gotta handle?”

“Just gonna fuck me and leave, huh? Should I even bother waiting up?”

“You just nagged me about our sex life. Did I not just blow your back out? You know what, I’m not having this argument with you again. I don’t need this shit on my mind for what I’m about to go and do. Can we not have static for once, mama?”

The fact that he still doesn’t get that it’s not just about the sex. Either he just doesn’t care, or there’s no getting through to him. I’m drained at this point. I just love him so much it hurts. He’s not wrong though. I should let him leave with a clear head.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you walked over to him and gave him a tight hug and kiss. “Come back to me safe, papa.”

He wrapped his hand around your jaw, pulling you back to him, “Give me one more, mama.” Chuckling, you kissed him long and hard.

“If it’s not too late, call me on your way home. I’ll have your dinner warmed and ready when you get here. Love you, baby.”

Rio nodded his head, as he smacked your behind and pecked your forehead. He whispered in your ear, “I’m doing the best I can, mama.” With that, he made his departure.

You showered and did your nightly routine. The next couple of hours were spent lying in bed thinking about your relationship. For months you had been trying to communicate that there were problems in and outside the bedroom. You were running out of ways to express that.

How many times can you beg someone to hear you? Why is it so hard to get him to show emotion? It’s not just a lack of intimacy. He’s not present. Even when he’s here, his mind is somewhere else. Yes, I know what I signed up for, but something’s got to give.

Letting out a sad sigh, you pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind. Just as you were about to close your eyes, a text came through. It was from an unknown number and the contents of the message made your heart shatter.

Part two in the works! Hope you enjoyed it lovelies🥰. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated🥹💓.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Gif/Photo credit: @goldengunplay (gif in mood board).

Tag list:

@nightlywords7 , @amorestevens , @4everbrookemarie , @crimsonheart01 , @rio-reid-whoreee , @mrsmontanalol , @blessedboo , @fandomcitysstuff , @drinaj , @laricebabe , @sunshine-flower , @sunnyfleur23 , @lemmewritesomeish

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#berberriescorner #are you listening?#rio x black!reader #rio x woc!oc #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #manny montana #Spotify

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bwabys-scenarios · 7 months

Text

Fixer upper

Part 20

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 19

part 21

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warning: reader is kissed/touched without consent(very short, not done by Kurapika), mentions of animal death

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah

If you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

Kurapika plopped down onto the couch, still in his pajamas. He’d woken up to the sound of (Name) making breakfast just a few minutes ago, hurriedly pulling on a pair of pajama pants before rushing out to see her.

“Coffee!”

(Name) set a cup of coffee on the coffee table, smiling at the blonde. “Ahh, thank you.”

As the sun shone through the window, the residents of (Name)’s home began to wake up, slowly walking out of their rooms and into the living room.

“(Name).:: what’s for breakfast?” Killua asked, tugging on her shirt.

“Just omelettes, toast, and bacon.”

Killua yawned. “Sounds good… after breakfast I’ve gotta tell you something.”

“Oh?”

(Name) laughed as Killua shuffled away, falling onto his beanbag chair.

Kurapika lifted himself from the couch and moved to the kitchen, placing his empty coffee cup in the sink. “… how are you?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m alright I guess. I slept well enough.”

She finished the last omelette, sighing softly. Kurapika felt the urge to move forward and hug her from behind. It would be nice to hold her, feel her warmth and take in her nice scent.

“Kurapika? Do you need something?”

‘Kurapika?’ He tilted his head, watching as she fished some ketchup and chopped up fruit from the fridge. ‘I guess it will take a little longer for her to get used to calling me Pika again…’

“No… just…”

There were butterflies in his tummy when she looked up, placing a hand on his cheek. “Are you alright? You’re acting strange. You don’t have a fever, do you?”

She felt his, cheeks, forehead, then placed the back of her hand against his neck. He yelped at that, jumping back and placing his hand over the place she touched. “Kurapika? Does it hurt?”

“No… no you just… surprised me.”

(Name) kept an eye on him as he scurried away, hiding in the living room to catch his breath. “You’re freaking me out.”

Kurapika scowled at the white haired boy, it stayed quiet.

——————

“Alright, Killua, spill the beans. What did you wanna tell me?”

(Name) was picking up empty plates, handing Killua a napkin before walking towards the kitchen. “Well… you know how I like finding animals?”

“Oh god.”

“Wait, no, it’s a domesticated animal this time.”

“Killua, for the last time raccoons are NOT domesticated-“

“It’s a cat!”

(Name) paused, giving Killua her full attention. “… a cat?”

Kurapika looked up, tilting his head at the tone of (Name)’s voice. ‘She really does love animals.’

“Well why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!”

(Name) jumped up, pulling on her shoes and a jacket before running out the door. “(Name) wait!”

Kurapika followed behind her, slipping on shoes as Killua pushed past him. “I’m the one that knows where it is! Wait a second!”

(Name) paused in the driveway, allowing the two to catch up to her. “Oh, you’re coming too, Kurapika?”

Kurapika blinked, looking down at himself. He was still in his pajamas, but couldn’t help himself. He wanted to follow her, be near her. “Um… yes.”

Killua grabbed (Name)’s hand, leading her down the street and towards the large patch of woods that him and Gon liked to play in. “She’s been staying around that old abandoned shed. I’ve been giving her food, but she still doesn’t trust me yet.”

“Hmm…”

(Name) crouched down in front of the shed, bending down to peek under it. A pair of big, yellow eyes looked back at her as a low hissing could be heard. “Oh wow, that’s a big cat.”

“Yeah, I thought she was a small bear cub at first.”

Kurapika pulled (Name) back a little. “Careful, she did a number on Killua. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

(Name) wiggles out of his grasp. “Well I’m going to get her, so stand back!”

She laid on her tummy and crawled under the shed, only stopping when she couldn’t keep going. “Ahh, ass too fat.”

Kurapika looked down. ‘Yep.’

“Come here, baby, shh, it’s okay~”

Killua and Kurapika made eye contact. “(Name), maybe we should-“

“I GOT HER!”

The two sighed in relief, Kurapika looking back to her ass again. “Hey, I’m right here.” Killua said, slapping Kurapika on the back of the head.

“Oh… oh no SHIT PULL ME OUT! OH MY GOD I THINK SHE JUST TORE A CHUNK OUT OF ME!”

(Name) screeched, wiggling around. “Can’t get out!! Ass!! Too fat!!”

“Shit, (Name) you fucking idiot!” Killua said, grabbing on of her legs. “Kurapika, what are you standing around for, get the other leg!”

Kurapika blinked, staring at her plush thigh. “This is NOT the time to be shy. Grab her!”

The blonde grabbed her leg and pulled in tandem, (Name) coming out from under the shed with a yowling cat in her arms.

“(Name) if you don’t let that spawn of satan go before I-“

Kurapika began to summon his chains, Killua stepping in between them. “No, don’t! If you hurt that cat, you’re spitting on all the pain (Name) just went through to catch it!”

“And there was a lot of pain by the way! Imma have so many scratches!”

“You’re not helping, (Name).”

She pouted as the cat continued to thrash in her arms. “Her teeth are definitely sinking into my arm right now. On a scale of 1 to Killua, it’s a good seven.”

Kurapika blinked, walking forward and chopping the cat on the neck. It went limp in her arms, (Name) gasping. “Kurapika, you-“

“It’s just asleep. Now…”

He took the cat from her, eyes gone red. “Let’s… take it to a shelter or something.”

“A shelter?? That’s my baby!”

“(Name), you just learned about its existence 15 minutes ago.”

“And I already love her.”

“SHE LITERALLY CHEWED ON YOU!”

“And? I still love Killua and he’s bitten me several times!”

“I have.”

Killua sounded a bit too proud for Kurapika’s liking. “Fine. We’ll take the little bastard to a veterinarian. Or a priest. Whoever is closer.”

It turned out that the veterinarian was closer, Kurapika having to drive so (Name) could hold that cat. “Isn’t she just the cutest? I’ve never seen a cat this color!”

Kurapika had a tight grip on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at (Name)’s injuries. “(Name)… you’re hurt. We should stop and-“

“Cat first, me later.”

Killua licked his thumb and rubbed it against one of her scratches. “There, that should help.”

“Killua I love you but that was really gross.”

“But you’ve done that to me!”

“Yeah, but I’m a mom, you’re a germ ridden child.”

“Okay, rude. True, but hurtful.”

(Name) patted his cheek. “Sorry, baby, love you.”

Kurapika watched this interaction, feeling those butterflies in his tummy again. ‘She’s… so…’

He remembered the words Leorio said a few weeks ago.

“She’s so mommy material.”

‘I guess he wasn’t wrong. She would make a… great mother.’

“Ah, we’re here! Come on boys, let’s get this baby inside.”

———————

(Name) placed the cat on the table, Kurapika and Killua in the waiting room.

“She’s a feral cat, we… found her asleep near our home.”

The veterinarian hummed, checking the cats vital signs. “Hmm, good thing she’s asleep, it makes this process a lot easier.”

The woman felt her stomach, glancing at her apprentice. “Get the clippers.”

(Name) watched in horror as they shaved the cat, pouting. ‘But her fur was so pretty…’

Once her fur was gone, the sad truth was revealed. “Oh god…”

She was skin and bones, with scars, old and new littering her skin. The veterinarians patches her up, before sighing. “Her stomach seems swollen, perhaps it’s worms. Or…”

The cat was taken away, (Name) unable to follow them to the back.

The three waited, Kurapika patting (Name)’s back. “I’m sure it will be okay. Foul creatures such as itself don’t die easily.”

“Don’t call her foul, she’s a little lady! Even if she smells like old cheese and gym socks, that’s not her problem!”

(Name) leaned away from him, crossing her arms. Killua shook his head. “Ahh, now you’ve made her mad. Smooth.”

“Miss (Last Name)?”

(Name) stood up, walking up to the desk before she was brought back to the room the cat was in.

“Hello, sorry for the wait. We went ahead and did an ultrasound, and…”

They held up a picture, causing (Name) to gasp. “She’s about a month and a half pregnant.”

“Aww, mama…” (Name) said, gently petting the cats head. “That’s why she’s so mean, she’s protecting these babies!”

“Well she’s also like that because she’s a feral cat and-“

“You’re just a sweet mama aren’t you? My pretty girl…”

The veterinarian sighed. “Anyways, she’ll need to take some medication and have her wounds cleaned every day. Because she’s a feral cat, it’s best if she’s put to sleep, both t-“

“No.”

(Name) continued petting the cat, eyebrows furrowed. “I want her.”

“You want her?”

“Yes. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll take care of her. I won’t let anyone put her down.”

———————

“I can’t believe you brought that thing into the house.”

“She’s not a thing! She’s a cat and she’s pregnant!”

Kurapika sighed, setting up the kennel (Name) bought. “Yeah yeah, I know…”

Killua was on the phone with Gon, explaining the situation. “Yeah, she caught it with her bare hands! Oh yeah, scratche her up good. No, no it wasn’t a bear cub. Yeah.”

Killua looked up. “Hey (Name), Gon wants to come over!”

(Name), who was holding the drugged out cat nodded. “That’s fine. I was actually going to ask you two to come with us on our mission anyways.”

Kurapika finished putting the kennel together. “Yeah, it would be nice to have a look out. That’s Killua’s specialty, yeah?”

Killua paused, clearing his throat and standing up a little taller. “Yeah, yeah that’s right. I am pretty good at that.”

(Name) ruffled his hair. “Killua’s real talented, he’s good at just about anything he puts his mind to.”

Killua hid his face. “(Name)…”

“What? You are! I’m sure you could do anything if you really tried!”

He buried his face in her shoulder, Gon laughing over the phone. “Aww, (Name) you flustered him!”

“Haha, we’ll call you back later Gon. Gotta get this baby in the kennel.”

“… Killua?”

“No, the cat.”

Kurapika snickered, placing the final blanket in the kennel before (Name) walked over and placed the cat inside.

“There we go. It’s comfy, right?”

The cat did not answer, because it couldn’t talk.

“(Name), it’s still asleep.”

“She is getting her beauty sleep.”

“That thing needs to hibernate.”

“Kurapika!”

Killua snickered. “Okay, that was pretty funny. Don’t talk about Meatloaf like that though.”

“Meatloaf?” (Name) tilted her head, peeking up at him.

“Well, that’s what I’ve been calling her in my head. It’s fine if-“

“It’s a good name! I was just going to call her pookie or princess.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow at that. “That’s not what I would choose to name such a… cat, but, to each their own.”

“Kurapika you are on thin ice.”

He winced when (Name) gave him a look. “… sorry.”

Over the course of several days, (Name) stood watch over the cat, using her nen to help her heal slowly. The cat still hissed when (Name) opened her kennel to change her litter box or feed her, but wasn’t scratching her anymore.

“She’s really starting to warm up to you, (Name).” Kurapika said, handing her a can of cat food. (Name) opened it and dumped its contents onto a dish before placing it in the cats cage. Meatloaf growled when (Name) attempted to pet her, making the woman pull her hand back.

“Yeah, before she would have bitten me instead of just growl!” (Name) stood up, brushing off her long skirt. “She’s supposed to be giving birth within the next four weeks. I’m hoping… it won’t be while we’re gone.”

Kurapika placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll be fine regardless. Leorio will be keeping a close eye on her.”

Killua came running inside, laughing. “Just got off the phone with Gon, he’ll be getting her a day before we leave for our mission.”

(Name) opened up the oven, peeking at the chicken she was baking. “Ahh, that’s good. Make sure your room is cleaned up before he gets here, sweetheart.”

Kurapika leaned against the counter as she cooked, watching her. He wanted to be near her as much as possible, even if she kept glancing at him nervously. “Are you okay, Kurapika? You keep looking at me.”

“I’m fine.”

He continued to watch her, making (Name) sigh. “Kurapika, it’s hard to work when you’re watching me. You make me- I mean it makes me nervous.”

He tilted his head. “Really? I’m just… curious.”

He wasn’t lying, Kurapika wanted to understand his feelings, why he wanted to be near her and why he liked her so much.

“Well…”

She sighed. “At least… sit down at the table. You hovering around me makes me nervous.”

A few days passed, with Kurapika continuing to follow (Name) around, constantly observing her, much to her chagrin.

Killua sat on the couch, filling something out. “Kurapika, stop being a weirdo. I’m trying to win something and you’re killing my good vibes.”

The blonde frowned. “I’m not being a weirdo.”

“Yes you are, you’ve been up (Name)’s butt the whole week and-“

“Alright, Killua, we’re leaving to go pick up Gon. Let’s get going!”

“Coming, (Name)!”

He quickly finished filling out the paper, folding it and stuffing it into an envelope before following her voice. ‘What’s he up to?’ Kurapika thought as he got up to follow him as well.

———————

“(Name)! Killua! Kurapika!”

The three yelped when they were tackled by Gon, who sprinted through the airport. “Gon, you idiot!”

Killua smacked him as Kurapika helped (Name) stand up. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay…”

He kept a hand on her back, a light pink on his cheek. ‘I’m touching her.’

“Sorry, (Name), I just got too excited.”

“It’s okay, come here ya goof.”

(Name) pulled the boy into her arms, ruffling his hair. The four rode to Leorio’s house, picking him up before they made their way home.

“Okay boys, we’ve got plans to make. Kurapika, you take over. I’ve gotta feed meatloaf.”

“WAIT! I want to see meatloaf first!”

“Okay, me and Gon are going to feed meatloaf.”

The two walked off, Kurapika clearing his throat. “Alright, here’s the plan. Gon and Killua will be on look out while (Name) and I go undercover as two club goers.”

“Club goers…” Leorio repeated, laughing.

“Yes, that is what I said. Anyways…”

He pulled up the picture of Dracule on his laptop. “This is our target. Once he goes in, you need to radio us. Then, (Name) will begin s-“

He stopped, looking from Killua to Leorio. “She’ll start… her part in this plan.”

“And what is that?”

Kurapika’s lip formed into a thin line, the blonde staying quiet. “It isn’t relevant.”

“Oh, I think it is. Do you have (Name) doing your dirty work?”

“… define dirty work.”

Leorio placed a hand over Kurapika’s mouth. “Okay, that’s enough. What’s next?”

“… once (Name) does her part, I’ll swoop in and place a condition on his heart. He won’t be able to do anything, and I’ll get the information on the scarlet eyes.”

(Name) and Gon walked back in, the latter plopping down on the couch beside Killua. “What did I miss?”

“I’ll fill you in later. Go on.”

Killua waved his hand, gesturing for Kurapika to continue. “Once that’s done, we’ll turn him into the police for the murder of Victor Hummins and his wife, thus clearing our names.”

“Though, they haven’t even identified you two yet.”

Kurapika sighed, rubbing his temple. “(Name) wants it cleared up regardless.”

(Name) sat next to Kurapika, giving him a smile. “It would put my mind at ease.”

The blonde glanced down at her thigh touching his, eyes soft when she leaned her head against his shoulder. “So, is that it?”

“Basically. Once we’ve scouted out the club, we can talk about potential exits and contingency plans.”

She nodded, before standing up. “We’ve got another day before we have to leave, so everyone get to packing. Leorio, thank you so much for watching Meatloaf while we’re gone.”

Leorio bowed his head. “Anything for you, sunshine.”

“Kurapika, can you come help me pack? I need your opinion on what I should wear.”

He nodded, following behind her like a lost puppy. Leorio rolled his eyes. “I’ll be going now. I have to do some packing myself, since I’ll be staying here to take care of the cat.”

(Name) waved, smiling. “Love you, Leorio! See you in a bit!”

“Love you too, doll.”

Kurapika held onto (Name)’s hand, half leading, half dragging her to her room. “Kurapika, careful, I’ll trip.”

He let her go when they reached her door, eyes following her every movement. “Sorry… I just, feel…”

She looked back. “Do you feel unwell? Should I get you some medicine?”

“No, no, just… tired.”

(Name) was quick to frown, tugging on his sleeve. “If you’re tired, you should go rest, we have a big day tomorrow.”

He shook his head, pulling away before sitting on her bed. “No, I’m fine. Please, show me what you need to.”

(Name) sighed, before walking towards her closet and opening it. “I’ll try on a few things, you give me a yes or no, okay?”

He nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Go on.”

He waited impatiently, tapping his foot as she changed in the bathroom. “Kurapika?”

Kurapika looked up from his pouting to see (Name) standing in front of him. “Oh.”

She wore a form fitting, sleeveless dress, a dark red in color. It only went a little past her butt, the woman tugging at the fabric around her tummy and hips. “Ahh, I ordered this dress online, it’s not as flattering as I hoped it would be…”

Kurapika couldn’t even speak, eyes wide and mouth agape. A light pink dusted his cheeks, and he had to quickly cross his legs to hide his boner.

“How do I look?” she asked, turning so he could see the dress from the back as well.

It truly did only barely cover her ass, her slight movements exposing a hint of her panties. “You…”

She turned back, tilting her head.

“You shouldn’t wear that.”

(Name) nodded slowly, immediately covering herself more. “Oh, okay…”

‘I can’t let anyone else see her in that but me…’ he thought, eyes following her form as she walked away to change.

‘He thinks it looks bad.’ (Name) thought, pulling the dress off and throwing it onto the floor.

She showed him a few more dresses, before they decided on a red cocktail dress. “That should be good, it’s similar to the dresses some of the women wore when meeting up with Dracule.”

(Name) packed the dress in her suitcase, sighing as the blonde continued to watch her. “You can go now. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”

She seemed… irritated? Upset? He wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t smiling like she usually did. “Oh.. okay.”

‘Did I do something wrong?’

——————

(Name) sighed, sipping on her martini as she watched the door. ‘This is my third one, I’m gonna end up getting drunk.’

She shrugged, finishing it. The bartender smiled, making her another. “Here you are, miss.”

Kurapika took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. ‘He should be here any minute, if my intel is correct.’

The blonde was leaning against the wall near the entrance to the club, smoking to fit in with the other club goers. It wasn’t like he hadn’t smoked before, he just wasn’t the biggest fan of it. ‘Oh well, helps my nerves at least…’

Kurapika couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways this mission could go wrong. (Name) was the one that would be doing all the hard work, and that’s what worried him the most. ‘What if he hurts her?’

“Excuse me.”

Kurapika watched as a man walked by, the blonde smirking before dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. ‘There he is, Dracule Midnight.’

He followed behind the man, staying a good few yards away from him as he entered the club. He spotted (Name) soon after, feeling his heart begin to race.

She looked gorgeous, perched on her stool at the bar, sipping a martini as she scanned the club. When Kurapika took in his surroundings, he felt that familiar nasty feeling wash over him.

Dracule has spotted (Name), and was making his way towards her. He tried not to get too upset when (Name) batted eyelashes at the man, squeezing her arms together to make her cleavage more visible. “Hello, little one. You’re…”

He leaned a little closer, giving her that sharp toothed smile. “Devine.”

Kurapika ordered a drink, not doing a great job at hiding his glare. “Oh, you’re too kind!”

She giggled at him, holding a hand to her soft cheek. ‘She never giggles at me like that…’ Kurapika thought, frowning deeply.

“Say, are you by chance single?” Dracule asked, resting a hand on her thigh after sitting next to her. (Name) glanced down at his hand before answering.

“Yes, I am. Are you?”

She batted her eyelashes at him, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. Dracule laughed, cupping het cheek. “In fact I am. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

Kurapika slammed down a shot before ordering another, his nails tapping away at the bar. ‘He’s touching her. God, what a creep.’

The two chatted, (Name) occasionally laughing at jokes the older man made. “Oh, Dracule, you’re so funny! Can you tell me more about your collection? I’ve never heard about such a thing!”

Kurapika had to admit, even with the knowledge that she was seducing Dracule, it was hard to tell. (Name) was a pretty good actress, and Kurapika found himself getting increasingly irritated.

They were flirting so blatantly that it pissed him off. She was doing exactly what he asked her to do, but he couldn’t help the wave of jealousy washing over him.

Dracule began moving his hand from her thigh, and ho her dress. This caused (Name) to panic for a moment, grabbing his hand.

CRACK!

The glass in Kurapika’s hand shattered, eyes an angry shade of red behind his grey contacts. (Name) only glanced at him for a split second.

“W-why don’t we go somewhere more private? There’s a room nearby…”

She stood up, rubbing her neck before walking off.

‘That’s the signal!’

Kurapika quickly paid for his drink before following behind the two, hiding behind people dancing around the club as he tailed them.

It was dark, Kurapika having to blink his eyes a few times to adjust to the low lighting. He scanned the crowd, now only able to see Dracule due to (Name) being shorter than the club goers surrounding them.

If he wasn’t so pissed and rushing to get her back in his arms, he would have thought it was cute.

“I can’t wait any longer, little one.”

(Name) was being pushed against a wall, the woman gasping when Dracule smashed his face into hers. Her eyes went wide, making eye contact with Kurapika’s.

She felt her blood run cold at the look in his eyes. She’d never seen him look so angry.

He was pushing people out of the way to get to them, (Name) having only a few seconds to stop him before he blew both of their covers.

She closed her eyes, tangling her hands in Dracule’s long black locks. (Name) deepened the kiss, wrapping her leg around his.

Kurapika stopped, watching the scene with wide eyes. His heart pounded against his chest, an awful ache settling behind his ribs.

It hurt, watching her reciprocate Dracule’s kiss and touches. He knew why she was doing it, but that didn’t stop it from being painful to watch.

She pulled away, panting slightly. “I want… I want you…”

Kurapika’s blood pressure was beginning to rise, summoning his chains. “Naughty girl… let’s go to that room you mentioned earlier, hmm?”

She nodded, glancing to Kurapika before leading Dracule towards the room. Kurapika took a deep breath before following them, biting his lip so harshly he could taste blood.

She pulled him into the room, leaving it cracked behind her. Dracule was already reaching around to pull her zipper down, (Name) blushing furiously as she tried to slow him down long enough for Kurapika to get there.

He pulled her dress down, exposing the lacy black bra she’d worn for the occasion. “It’s almost like you wore this just for me…” he cooed, hands about to cup her breasts.

“N-no, please slow down!” (Name) said, beginning to struggle against him. Panic was beginning to settle into her chest, causing the (h/c) haired girl to tear up.

He didn’t release his hold on her, holding onto her waist so tight she winced.

“Shh, just stay quiet and-“

“Judgement Chain!”

The sound of chains shooting out and into Dracule’s chest made (Name) relax, the girl stepping out the man’s arms and rushing over to Kurapika. The blonde softened when he saw her face.

She was holding onto her dress, trying to cover herself as much as possible as tears beaded in the corner of her eyes. (Name) didn’t speak, only standing near his side.

Kurapika turned his eyes on Dracule, who was sneering. “You little bitch, you set me up!”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed. “I would watch what you say, Mr. Dracule Midnight. It could be your final words.” His voice was low and cold as he stepped forward, flexing his finger.

Dracule clutched his chest, crying out in pain as the chain tightened around his heart.

“I’ll be placing a condition on you. My nen blade is in your heart, and if you asnwer any of the questions I ask you with a lie, you will die.”

Dracule sank to the floor, groaning. “What the hell do you want? Money? I’ll give you anything just-“

“Silence.”

The man screamed, his voice unheard by the people outside due to the loud music.

“My first question is, where are the scarlet eyes you keep in your possession?”

“I-In my home!”

Kurapika tutted, placing his foot on the man’s head. “I need specifics.”

(Name) pulled a small notepad and pen from her purse, and write down the address Dracule Midnight gave them. “My second question is, who killed Victor Hummins and his wife?”

“I… hired some assassins to take them out. My… my boss heard they were planning something and… ordered me to stop them.”

“Your boss?”

Kurapika hummed. “Alright, last question.”

He crouched down, taking off his contacts to stare into the man’s eyes with his scarlet ones.

“What were you planning on doing to her after she said no?”

Dracule blubbered, glancing back at (Name). “N-nothing I swea-“

Before he could even finish, he coughed up blood as the nen blade pierced his heart. Kurapika waited a moment before yanking his chain out harshly, blood spraying out and covering his face.

He stared down at the man’s corpse, eyes burning red. Usually, he didn’t enjoy killing, but this time…

“Disgusting.”

Kurapika stood, turning to see (Name) struggling to keep herself covered, tears still in her eyes. “… turn around.”

She looked up, eyes widening slightly at the bloody sight in front of her before doing as told. He pulled her dress up, zipping her up before sighing. “There, you’re decent now.”

(Name) turned back, watching as Kurapika leaned against the wall, eyes boring holes into the man’s corpse. “… we should go before someone noticed he’s gone.”

Kurapika nodded, slowly raising his gaze to meet hers. He’d calmed down slightly, her presence alone able to help him catch his breath. “… (Name)?”

She hummed in response as she texted Gon and Killua that they were about to leave.

“… did… did you enjoy kissing him?”

The air grew tense, Kurapika immediately knowing he fucked up.

“… why are you asking me that?”

He stuttered out a response, stepping forward. “I’m sorry, I just… was curious. You looked…”

(Name) scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was acting, kind of like what you did to me in that alleyway. Neither of us… actually felt anything.”

Ouch.

Kurapika remembered feeling a lot, and hearing her say she felt nothing made his chest hurt.

‘He was just acting, (Name). You can’t… you can’t let yourself get your hopes up.’ she thought, looking away from him.

“I see… of course.”

Kurapika shrugged off his jacket, placing it around his shoulders. “I apologize, (Name). You’re just quite the actress.”

He tried to give her a comforting smile, but it came out looking strained. (Name) glanced at him, pulling the jacket around her herself. “… thank you.”

She cuddled into the fabric, only to blink and crinkle her nose. “Yuck, this smells like cigarettes…”

She blinked again, looking up at her blonde friend. (Name) leaned toward and sniffed him, causing Kurapika to yelp. “(N-Name)!”

She gasped. “Kurapika, you didn’t smoke, did you? Do you know how bad that is for you?”

He groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “It was only one. I only smoke socially.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

She handed him his jacket back, pinching her nose. “You can have this back. I can’t stand the smell of cigarettes…”

He stared at her as she stormed off, having to go around the back so no one saw how bloody he was.

——————

“How did it go?”

Killua and Gon jumped down from the building they’d been on, the former raising an eyebrow at Kurapika’s bloody state.

“… he’s dead, but we got the information we needed.”

(Name) wasn’t even looking at Kurapika, calling them a cab. “Damn, what did you do to piss off (Name)?” Killua asked, ready to extend his claws if Kurapika did anything to hurt her.

“Apparently she doesn’t like the fact that I smoke sometimes.” Kurapika said, rubbing his temple.

“Yeah, probably because she has asthma!” Gon said, smiling up at the blonde. Kurapika blinked.

“She what?”

Killua groaned. “You cannot be serious right now. How many times did she use her inhaler during the exam??”

“.. none?”

The two blinked at him. “Kurapika…” Gon said, putting a hand on his friends shoulder. “We saw her use it several times.”

“Shit, maybe she was hiding it from you. She doesn’t like others knowing about her weakness.”

‘Especially not him.’ Killua finished in his thoughts. ‘She’d never tell him after the shit he said in York New.’

(Name) walked back over. “Our cab will be here soon.”

“Thank you, (Name).” Kurapika said, attempting to stand closer to her. She frowned, stepping back.

“Pika I’m not trying to be mean, but until you get the smell of cigarettes off of you, stay back.”

Kurapika visibly deflated at her words, leaning against the building and pouting. Killua looked at Kurapika and smirked.

“(Name), I missed you!”

He ran forward, burying his face in her shoulder. (Name) laughed, pulling him close. “Aww, Killua, I was only gone for a little!”

She kissed the top of his head, Killua glancing back to stick his tongue out at the blonde.

‘That brat!’

Gon joined the hug, not understanding Killua was only doing it to tease Kurapika. “Killua was real worried about you, mom!”

“Mom?” Kurapika said, laughing. “Not you too.”

Killua sighed. “Gon, you called her mom.”

Gon tilted his head, looking down at (Name). “But (Name) doesn’t mind. Right?”

She laughed, ruffling his hair. “Of course not, you two are my babies after all~” she cooed, kissing both of their foreheads.

Killua felt his cheeks go pink, swatting her affection away. “Not a baby…”

But he couldn’t help feeling happy that she loved him so much, smiling to himself.

Kurapika watched this with a scowl on his face, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Could really use another cigarette right now.’

———————

Kurapika pulled on his tabard, throwing his clubbing clothes to the ground. “I’m going to go scout out the location Dracule gave us. I’ll be back by morning.”

(Name) stood in front of him, blocking the door. “Oh no you don’t! It’s the middle of the night, and you’re tired! It doesn’t make sense to go now, especially alone!”

Kurapika raised his hand to push her out of the way, only for the sound of someone clearing their throat to stop him.

Killua stood a few feet away from the two, leaned against the wall. “Kurapika, I would be careful if I were you. Calm down.”

The blonde lowered his hand, eyes narrowing. “… out of my way, (Name).”

“No, you’re staying. End of story.”

She crossed her arms, looking up at him. For a moment, he considered just going ahead and pushing her out of the way, but Killua wouldn’t let that slide. “… fine. We’ll be leaving at dark tomorrow.”

After a shower, Kurapika was the first to go to bed, ignoring the others. (Name) waited until he was asleep to pull the cover over him, sighing as she sat on his bed.

Killua was still feeling upset from earlier, folding his arms over his chest. ‘If I hadn’t stepped in, would he have pushed her? It’s not as bad as when he broke her wrist, but…’

He sighed, plopping down on his and Gon’s shared bed. ‘… I want… I want to believe he’s better, but it seems I’ll have to keep an eye on him.’

(Name) yawned, climbing into her own bed. The room had three beds in total, meaning her and Kurapika got their own place to sleep.

She found herself feeling a bit lonely, turning to face Kurapika. He was only a few feet away from her, she could stand up, walk over, and climb into bed with him.

But she didn’t.

Sleeping in the same bed with him out of necessity was one thing, climbing into bed with him when she had her own was something completely different.

Instead of that, she turned away from him, pulling the blanket up to her chin and cuddling into her pillow.

‘He’s so close, yet so far away. I… I miss him…’

———————

The four sat in their hotel room, bored out of their minds. They couldn’t go forward with their mission until that night, meaning they’d be stuck in the hotel all day long.

“We could play a board game.” Gon suggested, his head in (Name)’s lap. Killua shook his head.

“No, we always fight over games. What’s something else we could do?”

(Name) glanced over at Kurapika, who was still staring at his laptop. He’d been pretty much ignoring the three all day, typing away.

“Hmm…”

She stood up and walked to the small kitchenette, which had a microwave, small fridge, and a few cabinets.

“I have an idea! Let’s make roasted marshmallows!”

The two gave her a confused look. “But (Name)… we can’t start a campfire in the hotel.”

“Yeah, the last time we did that you got mad at us!”

‘Last time??’ Kurapika thought.

“We don’t need a fire to roast marshmallows!” (Name) popped open the bag, pulling one out. “Just need something warm.”

“… you aren’t going to put them in the microwave are you? They’ll explode.” Killua said, raising an eyebrow.

She frowned at him, placing the marshmallows on a paper plate. “I’ve done this a hundred times before! I’ve never had s’mores over a fire.”

“What? Why not?”

(Name) got quiet, turning the microwave on. “I… didn’t have friends growing up, and my parents…”

She cleared her throat, watching the marshmallow head up for a minute before pulling it out. “Let’s just say they weren’t exactly… present. I was fed, clothed, and having a home. That’s it.”

Kurapika wanted to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, but Killua spoke up. “Wow they sound like they sucked.”

This made her laugh. “Yeah, they did. But now I’ve got a family that loves me.”

She pulled Killua and Gon into her arms. “You two and Leorio are all I need.”

Kurapika sat there awkwardly, holding onto his shirt. When (Name) noticed, she was quick to rephrase. “You too, of course. Sorry, I’m just… not used to you being around.”

‘Ah, I guess that’s my fault, really.’

Kurapika watched as she made marshmallows, the two boys laughing as they munched on them. She seemed happy, explaining the right time to take the marshmallows out.

“Now, you two should not have too many, I don’t want you bouncing off the walls when I’m trying to sleep later.”

The two complained, and she sighed. “Okay, one more. But then it’s time to get ready for mission.”

They cheered, Kurapika getting up from his bed to join them. “… can I have one?”

She turned, giving him a smile. “Sure! Let’s get you one ready.”

Kurapika waited a moment, smiling when she brought him a marshmallow. “Oh, there’s two.”

“Yeah, one’s for me! I’ve been making so many for Gon and Killua, but I haven’t gotten to eat one yet.”

Kurapika picked one up, glancing up at her before taking a bite. “Mmm!”

Memories of nights spent under the stars with Pairo filled his mind, making him smile. ‘This… this is nice. I forgot how nice it is just to… sit and enjoy things.’

It was just a marshmallow, but he felt his entire body relax. If he hadn’t stopped when (Name) asked, he would have missed out on this moment.

‘Maybe… it’s okay to slow down sometimes.’

As he thought this, he glanced over to (Name), about to apologize for his actions last night.

‘Oh fuck.’

(Name) was struggling to eat a marshmallow, the white, gooey mess dribbling down her chin. She scooped the excess up with her fingers, lapping it up before glancing up at him.

“Mmm… isn’t it good, Kurapika? I just love the texture!”

He stared at her, open mouthed for a moment. She was giving him an innocent look, tilting her head. “Kurapika? Your marshmallow is slipping from you- oh it’s on the floor now.”

He didn’t hear a word she was saying. ‘Fuck I’m glad I stayed.’

“I’ll… be right back. I need a shower.”

“But didn’t you shower last n-“

He was already closing the bathroom door behind him, causing Killua and Gon to look up and reveal they’d stolen the bag of marshmallows.

“… it’s empty. Jesus Christ how many did you eat?”

They didn’t respond, they cheeks puffing out.

“…”

She crouched down and grabbed Killua’s cheeks with both hands. “…”

She squeezed his cheeks, causing marshmallows to fall out of his mouth. Next to her, Gon spat out a few marshmallows. “We’re pretending to be chipmunks!”

He gathered up the spit covered marshmallows and shoved them back in his mouth.

“Gon I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that, for both of our sakes.”

Killua slowly swallowed the rest, sighing when he could speak again. “It was Gon’s idea.”

“Uh huh. You two are in big trouble, but not from me. Eating that much sugar will be punishment enough.”

“What do you mean?”

She stood up, walking away.

“MOM WHAT DO YOU MEAN??”

——————

Kurapika sighed, having just come down from his third orgasm. The sight of her covered in marshmallow fluff had really riled him up, making him walk out of the shower with flushed cheek and a satisfied smile.

He dressed quickly, throwing a towel around his shoulders and walking out. Kurapika walked out, now in a pair of sweatpants and tank top. He thought about snatching (Name)’s hoodie that was hung up nearby, but stopped himself. ‘No, I can’t. Killua would never let me hear the end of it.’

“Kurapika, you’re just in time! We’re almost ready to go!”

The other three were wearing black clothing, (Name) giving him a smile before blinking. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“… yes.”

“But-“

“It’s comfortable.”

No one argued, not wanting to piss him off before the mission. While it was true the outfit was comfortable, that wasn’t the real reason. He was still feeling a bit… aroused by the earlier events, and wouldn’t be able to hide when he popped a boner in the skin tight black pants he brought with him.

“Let’s get your hair dried, then we’ll go.”

Kurapika sat in front of her, sighing in contentment as she dried his hair. Killua and Gon left to wait for their cab outside, leaving the two alone.

“(Name), about last night…”

She paused, looking down at him. “… what about it?”

He took a deep breath, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for… being… irritable. You weren’t wrong to stop me.”

She was quiet, her movements pausing. “… apology accepted.”

Her heart thumped at her chest, a small spark of hope lighting up in her heart. ‘Maybe he’s back to being the Pika I knew.’

The moment was interrupted by Killua and Gon walking in. “Cabs here!”

———————

The took the cab out to the town the mansion of Dracule was located, walking the rest of the way by foot. Killua and Gon were racing each other down the road, leaving the two alone once again.

“So, Kurapika… what are your plans after this mission? Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

Kurapika stopped in his tracks, looking away from her. That was a question he’d asked himself several times through the past week as they prepared for this mission.

On one hand, he wanted to leave. This was the second time he’d put her in harms way for his own gain. The whole reason he’d left was for her protection, and he was going against that now. If he was just going to come back into her life anyways, he’d hurt her like that for no reason.

On the other hand…

His heart began to thump against his chest when he looked at her. The moon shone down on her, lighting up her pretty features. It was hard to think of anything else other than how much he wanted her in this moment.

‘I’m so fucking selfish.’

Kurapika cleared his throat, continuing to walk. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see…”

She continued walking, glancing at him as he stayed by her side. “I would… like if you stayed with me.”

His eyes widened, a light pink lighting up his cheeks. “… you would?”

“Yeah. I… really missed you when you were gone.”

Her admission had his heart pounding, and he had to look away from her so she couldn’t see how red his face had gotten. ‘She… missed me? Even after everything I did? Maybe… maybe…’

Kurapika glanced back at her, eyes softening. ‘Maybe… it’s not too late. Would it be so bad if I stayed?’

Killua and Gon came sprinting back. “The mansion is only a few yards up ahead. Gon and I surveyed the perimeter, and there seems to be no guards in sight. We even found a way in.”

(Name) laughed. “Great job, you two! Let’s get going!”

——————

Kurapika helped (Name) in through a window, his hand lingering around her waist for a moment before he pulled away.

“If his directions are right, the safe should be down this hall and to the right. Gon, you two keep watch. Killua, you go and get his computer from his room. (Name), you’re coming with me.”

He grabbed her hand and began to walk down the hall. The walls were decorated with portraits of Dracule and his family, (Name) frowning. ‘He has such a beautiful family, and gave it all up to hook up with random women.’

She rubbed her arm, shivering slightly at the memory of his touch. Dracule had been rough, tasting like whiskey and cigarettes.

At that moment, she remembered her kiss shared with Kurapika in the alley. He’d been gentle, careful to not hurt her when he pinned her against the wall. Although he was a bit awkward, he was nowhere near a bad kisser, making her melt under his touch.

‘I wanna… kiss him again…’

“(Name)? (Name) do you have the combination?”

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Kurapika’s words. He was whispering into her ear, breath tickling her neck. She shivered again, but for a different reason this time.

“Yes, it should be right here…”

She reached for her purse, only to come up empty. “My purse… I left it, shit!”

Kurapika covered her mouth. “Fuck. What are we going to do? Damn it.”

He let her go, not wanting her to see how angry he was. As he cursed, (Name) stood and approached the safe, holding her hand over it. “Kurapika, I’ll have to release Zetsu for this. If there are any skilled nen users nearby, they may be able to sense me.”

“What are you-“

The safe began to rust, Kurapika’s eyes widening as it began to deteriorate in front of them. “Shit, it’s hard to focus on just the safe…”

Sweat dripped down her brow, the girl collapsing when it disintegrated into dust. Kurapika rushed forward, kneeling down to check on her before glancing up.

The scarlet eyes stood before him, several pairs looking at him. “(Name)… you…”

He was astonished. In just seconds, she’d completely disintegrated an entire safe. “Sped up… it’s time…”

She stood on wobbly legs, giving him a tired smile. “That was-“

“So this is what I was sensing.”

The two looked back to see a woman staring them down from behind them. She was a good 10 feet away, her long blonde hair framing her pretty face.

‘That’s the woman from the portraits!’ (Name) thought, eyes wide.

“Mrs. Midnight.”

Kurapika stood up, summoning his chains. “So that’s why there are no guards, you’re a nen user yourself.”

The woman sighed, crossing her arms. “Why are you what and what do you want? My husband isn’t here, if that’s what you’re looking for. He’s barely ever here anymore.”

Upon closer inspection, (Name) could see dark circles under her eyes, her hair a mess, and she seems… exhausted. And if she wasn’t imagining things, the hints of bruises shaped like fingers peeled out of her turtleneck.

Kurapika seemed ready to attack, standing in front of (Name) protectively. “Kurapika, remember she has children!” she said in a hushed voice. The blonde frowned.

“So did Victor.”

The woman summoned a staff, twirling it expertly.

(Name) struggled to think of a solution that would allow them all to leave the situation unharmed.

“Your husband is dead!” (Name) blurted our, causing her friend to pause.

Kurapika blinked, looking back to his friend in shock. “(Name)!”

The woman stared at (Name), her expression unreadable. “He wasn’t a good man, and was cheating on you! And from I can see… he wasn’t a good man to you either. You deserve better!”

Kurapika stared wide eyed at (Name). ‘Oh my god, she’s an idiot we’re going t-‘

“Thank god.”

‘WHAT?’

The woman relaxed, tugging at her turtleneck as her staff disappeared. “I suspected as much, but couldn’t do anything. He threatened to hurt the children, I…”

She held herself, (Name) moving past Kurapika too walk towards her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell us anything more. He’s gone now, you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

(Name) gave her a smile, before getting serious. “We came here to take these eyes back. A… friend of ours is the only surviving member of the clan they were stolen from.”

The woman nodded, sighing. “Please, feel free to take them. My husbands- well, ex husbands hobby never sat well with me, but I was powerless to stop him.”

Kurapika held onto the front of his tank top looking down. Once again, he had been about to act rashly without thinking of the consequences. He’d just assumed that the woman was in on it, and had been seconds away from killing her.

“Momma!”

Two children ran out of the darkness, clinging to the woman’s legs. She gasped, kneeling down to shield them. “I told you to stay in your rooms!”

“But we didn’t want you to fight them alone momma!”

The older of the two, a girl with twin braids held a toe sword in her hand, whacking (Name) over the head with it. “Don’t you hurt my momma!”

“Ouch, hey! I’m not gonna-“

Kurapika caught the sword, crushing it in his hand. “That’s enough.”

The kid squeaked, running to hide behind her mothers legs. The woman stared at Kurapika, shielding her children.

“… we got what we wanted. Let’s go, (Name).”

She nodded, beginning to walk away. Before getting completely out of view, she turned around.

“I hope you start loving your life for yourself!! You’re gorgeous!!”

With that, the two left, Kurapika raising an eyebrow at her. “What was that for? We were already leaving, there was no need fo-“

“Girls support girls.”

‘Ah, that again.’

He thought back, frowning. ‘If I killed her… her children would have seen it all.’

Before he could spiral into self hate for this, (Name) grabbed his hand. “We got so many pairs today, Kurapika! I bet these kiddos are happy you found them!”

She held onto the two glass cases gently, beginning to hum a lullaby. “(Name)…”

“It’s time for them to rest. I hope… if I hum them a lullaby, it will help them find their way home.”

His heart thumped against his chest wildly as she continued, biting his bottom lip.

‘I.. think I love her.’

Gon jumped when the two arrived at the window, Killua poking his head into the mansion to complain about them being late.

“Ugh, you two took forever, it’s been a whole hour.”

(Name) laughed, handing Killua one of the cases. “We got a little tied up.”

The walk home was quiet, the weight of the eyes in their arms heavy.

———————

Leorio tapped his foot, waiting at the train station. The four had finished their mission two days ago, leaving the next morning.

“Leorio!”

His scowl turned into a smile at the sound of (Name)’s voice, opening his arms so she could jump into his arms. “Hey there, sunshine. Miss me?”

“So much!”

She kissed his cheek, cooing as she nuzzled her cheek against his. “Thank you so much for watching Meatloaf, my sweet guy.”

His face was turning red, laughing lowly. “Anything for you, sunshine.”

She giggled, holding a hand to her cheek. “So, how is she? Did she have her babies?”

Leorio’s smile faded, (Name) feeling her heart drop. “About that…” he trailed off when he saw the boys walking over, Kurapika giving him a jealous look.

“She’s at the vet right now.”

They dropped Killua and Gon off at the house before he drove the other adults to the vet. “She went into labor last night, and was having trouble so I brought her to the vet as soon as I could. I haven’t been able to get any updates because I left early to pick you all up.”

(Name) bit her lip, looking out the window. Kurapika noticed this, holding onto her hand. “I’m sure it-she’s okay, (Name).

She squeezed his hand back, nodding slowly. “Yeah… yeah I hope so.”

The three arrived at the vet, (Name) being brought to a room to see meatloaf.

“She’s okay, just tired. The kittens, however…”

(Name) peeked into the kennel, tears beading at her eyes. There was only one kitten in the kennel, a weak looking orange tabby.

“Only one survived, and we’re not sure this one will make it. It seems due to her being malnourished, the kittens didn’t develop enough to live outside her body. He’s the only one that had fully functional organs.”

(Name) nodded slowly, reaching into the kennel and placing her hand over the kitten. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay…”

She activated her nen, speeding up the recovery time of both Meatloaf and the kitten.

“What’s next? How long will they need to stay here?”

The vet sighed, looking at the clipboard in her hands. “I’d say at least a week. Meatloaf is still malnourished, but has shown a lot of improvement over the past week since she’s been here. Regardless, we’d like to keep her and the kitten here for observation.”

(Name) nodded, pulling her hand away. “I understand.”

Kurapika looked up when (Name) walked out, quick to rush over. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah… yeah she’s fine. Only…”

She began tearing up, her lip quivering. “Only one of the kittens survived.”

“Oh, (Name).”

Kurapika pulled her into a hug, eyes softening as she sobbed into his shirt. He hated seeing her cry, especially when it was over something like this.

Leorio joined their hug before guiding (Name) to the car. “Let’s get home, sunshine.”

——————

(Name) broke the news to the other two, still struggling to speak without crying. Killua hugged her. “It’s not your fault, mom. She was already not in the best shape. If… if I had caught her sooner…”

(Name) pulled away, shaking her head. “No, no don’t talk like that baby. You did your very best, and if you hadn’t told me where she was, she might have given birth alone and that baby would have died too.”

Killua nodded, burying his face in his shoulder. “… I… I don’t want them to die.”

She held him close. “I know, I know… that’s life, baby. It happens sometimes.”

Gon seemed to be taking it better, used to seeing animals die. (Name) was right, and Gon knew that better than anyone. Everyone died eventually, and he was just happy that Meatloaf and the kitten were okay.

They spent the day together, Killua sticking by (Name)’s side as they settled back in.

———————

A day later, Kurapika climbed up the stairs, stopping a few times to question if what he was doing was the right thing to do.

‘This… this is what I need to do for now. I can always change my mind later.’

He knocked on (Name)’s door, waiting a moment before the door creaked open, the girl peeking out. “Oh, hey Pika. Need something?”

The nickname had his heart racing already, the blonde having to calm himself down. “Yes, I do actually. Can I…”

She blinked. “Oh, yes, come in!”

She opened the door wider, allowing him to walk in. Kurapika sat down on her bed, gesturing for her to sit with him.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something. It’s important, so listen carefully, okay?”

“…okay.”

He took a deep breath, glancing at her before beginning. “I… wanted to ask if… you would consider coming on missions with me more often. Your ability is very useful, and…”

‘You help me keep a level head.’

He didn’t say this though, leaving the sentence unfinished. (Name)’s face began to light up, her eyes widening. “Does that mean… you’ll be staying here?”

He nodded slowly, a blush forming on his cheeks when she laughed, grabbing his hands. “Really? You’re here to stay?”

“Yes, I am.”

She hugged him then, face burying itself in her chest as she laughed, her aura surrounding him.

He could feel how happy she was, but could only scowl.

‘I hope… I hope I don’t have to hurt her again. I just want to…’

He hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

‘I want to be with her. So much.’

But the truth of the situation lingered in the back of his mind.

In reality, he was using her to avenge his clan, putting the woman he loved in danger for his own gain.

Was it so bad, though, when she was so happy to help him? He inhaled her scent, letting himself melt into her embrace.

‘This… is nice…’

Even if she was only helping Kurapika to keep him from leaving her behind, he couldn’t feel very loved in that moment.

———————

Killua laughed, rushing into the living room. “Guys!”

(Name) looked up, Kurapika mumbling in his sleep. She’d been leaning against his shoulder. Over the past two days, she’d grown a bit more comfortable being by his side. It wasn’t much, but it was progress.

Gon and Leorio were playing Mario cart next to them, pausing their game.

The blonde rubbed his eyes as Killua stepped into view, holding up a piece of paper.

“I won!”

They all looked at him confused. “Won what?” (Name) asked, tilting her head. Killua sighed.

“Ah, I forgot to tell you. I entered into a raffle right before we left for some tickets to a hot spring and won.”

(Name) gasped, jumping up. “Really?? How many tickets?”

“Five!”

She giggled, pulling him into s hug. “Oh, how exciting! I’ve never been to a hot spring before!”

Kurapika perked up, finally awake. “That sounds nice. I heard they have healing properties and-“

“Who said you were going?”

Kurapika narrowed his eyes at the white haired boy. “But you have five tickets.”

“Yeah, but-“

(Name) flicked his forehead. “Killua, be nice. Of course you’re coming Kurapika. It’ll be a nice change of pace!”

Leorio took the tickets as Killua grumbled. “Hey… the hot spring is at least a day away. We only get to stay on night. Oh!”

Leorio snapped his fingers, grinning. “Why don’t we have a little road trip? It would be a waste to drive there and drive back the next day. Instead, we should take a few days and travel around the area. I know there’s a big amusement park only a few hours past this hot spring.”

(Name) nodded. “That sounds like a plan! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here Gon! That means you can come with us.”

He grinned, leaning his head against Killua’s shoulder. “Yeah, this will be fun!”

The white haired boy blushed, pushing Gon away. “Yeah, yeah.”

‘A road trip… more time to spend with (Name).’

Kurapika watched with soft eyes as (Name) scurried around the house to get ready for their trip.

‘What could go wrong?’

123 notes · View notes

141goblin · 9 days

Text

Soft: Chapter Four.

—> Chapter three

CW: Slightly suggestive. Hangover.

A/N: I posted the wrong chapter by accident🤦🏼‍♀️my bad. This chapter is a little short but I promise, it’ll get juicy soon :3

I wake up the next morning to find Amelia already gone and a little note laying on my bedside table, scrawled in her writing.

“Early shift at work, gotta go. Love you x”

The second I make any attempt to sit up out of bed, my head begins pounding, a cruel reminder of the sheer amount of alcohol I consumed last night. Yet another stupid decision that’ll make me waste another day lazing around and not doing anything productive. I somehow manage to stumble out of bed and into my bathroom. Because i’m an idiot, I slept in my makeup, breaking one of the most important rules I ever set for myself; never ever sleep in makeup. Crumbs of mascara descend down my dehydrated cheeks, lipstick clinging to the dry parts of my lips.

I wash away the remnants, praying that a bit of cold water and soap will help me to feel a bit more like a human being, rather than a zombie. It does, but not by much. The next thing on my list is to eat something, a proper meal, rather than just bits and pieces of random things laying around my cupboards. I usually opt for what known as ‘girl dinner’, a random assortment of little snacks. My go-to has been pickles with some tortilla chips, and apple slices with peanut butter. Instead of my usual ‘girl dinner’, I make myself a small bowl of pasta with some leftover sauce I have. Carbs will soak up the alcohol, I think.

Once I have something substantial in my stomach, the hangover is slowly starting to fade. It’s still there, but it’s gone from unbearable to just unpleasant. My head still hurts, but the spinning has subsided, luckily. I open my curtains and the windows, letting in some air to rid the smell of wine and takeaway food from my flat. It doesn’t take me long to clear up, putting the empty bottles and packages into the bin and the dirty clothes into the laundry. Now, my flat actually looks somewhat homely, rather than a biohazard. Look at me go, I think.

It’s well into the day, almost 3pm when I decide to reward myself with some well-earned phone time of scrolling on the same three apps for longer than i’d like to. I get into position on the couch, legs sprawled out and open tik-tok, scrolling endlessly on silly videos of cats that warm my heart and stupid memes. I make a mental note to look into getting a cat after I’ve learned to take care of myself. Id love a cat right now, but the poor thing wouldn’t last long. I can’t even look after myself most of the time, let alone another living thing.

The ‘ding’ of the washing machine interrupts my phone time and forces me to get my arse up and finish my chores. I drag the wet clothes out and carry them over to the dryer, turning it on and letting it run. After that, I scoop up the warm, dry clothes off the floor and carry them into my bedroom to fold and put away, like the responsible, functioning adult i’m pretending to be. I’m stopped in my tracks when I plop down on my bed and see a suit jacket hanging up on the drawer of my dresser.

Price’s jacket. Shit, his text.

The laundry gets completely forgotten and I pull up his message from last night.

Unknown: Lovely seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

My brain begins spinning again as I try to formulate some sort of answer that will make me seem like a normal human being. It takes me a good few minutes of typing and then deleting, but I get there in the end.

Me: I apologise for my rant, I was a bit of a mess. Let me know when you’re free and we can arrange getting your jacket back to you. P.s. the party wasn’t that bad.

I hit send on the message and eagerly await his response, like a teenager with a crush. Fucking stupid, I think. The first time a man has shown me attention in a few weeks and here I am, waiting with baited breath for him to-

Unknown: I told you, dove, no apologies. There’s fire in you, I like that. And as for the jacket, there’s no rush. Hope your head isn’t too sore today. -JP

I giggle like a schoolgirl as soon as I read his text. My brain is screaming because the handsome man with the broad shoulders is texting me, but I take a deep breath to calm the giddiness. He hasn’t exactly left it open-ended so I decide not to reply and wait for him to text next, not wanting to get too ahead of myself, only to be let down because I jumped to conclusions.

I finish the rest of my chores, his texts pinging in my brain. I start to imagine what it’d sound like in his voice as i’m doing the dishes from tonight’s dinner. I imagine his deep, rumbly voice, the voice that makes my fucking bones tingle and brain shake in my skull. I imagine pressing my face against his neck as he talks, feeling the vibrations against my lips. I imagine his voice calling me that stupid nickname, ‘Dove’. I’ve never been called that before, by anyone else, but it’s fast becoming my favourite nickname. It’s better than ‘hot tits’, anyway, the name my ex-boyfriend used to call me when he’d try to be smooth. When I think about it, my ex is nothing compared to Price. Sure, he’s tall and conventionally attractive, but he doesn’t have the same attitude he does. He doesn’t exude masculinity and confidence the way he does.

For fuck sake, I’ve only met the man once and here I am fantasising about him while I pretend to watch yet another rerun of gilmore girls, my attention on him rather than the screen.

I know i’m getting ahead of myself, getting too excited, but I can’t bring myself to care. For the first time in a long time, I let myself indulge in the thoughts and fantasies about the handsome man i’ve only met once. The thoughts continue well into the night, from when I curl up on the couch, to when I settle into bed, hand between my thighs and mind full of his voice. My sticky skin shines with sweat and my moans echo off the walls of my bedroom. I’d normally worry about being heard by the neighbours, but my mind is too full of Price to give a shit.

tags: @izziyuwh @a66-1 @jenniferpendragon @girl-of-multi-fandoms

#call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #plus sized reader #fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #captain john price #captain price

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 2 years

Text

the ritual of leaving - k. bakugou

—/—

Katsuki walks through the door, and you can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t have to say the words, but he does anyway. He approaches soft, feather-light on feet that usually stomp, hands coming around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I’ve gotta - they’re sendin’ me out.”

“For how long?”

He can’t meet your eyes. Your stomach drops through the floor.

“Couple’a weeks. Two, three, maybe?”

You know him like the back of your hand. Like an ascetic knows a life of devotion. So you close your eyes then. Start praying the moment you crush him to your chest.

Because his mouth says a couple of weeks, but his eyes say much longer. That he’s doubtful of the commission’s estimation and can’t bear lying to you.

“It’ll be okay.” You breathe into his neck, voice catching as his hands smooth over your back. “Couple of weeks is nothing - I won’t even have time to miss you.”

“Don’t go replacin’ me, alright? I’ll fuckin’ slaughter ya.”

You nod, gently touch your forehead to his when you pull away. You want to hold him close, but know you need to let him go. There is still dinner left to be plated, and you don’t want to cry yet.

You set out for the plates, and he grabs the cups, and when you back up, you run right into his chest. The kitchen is small. It’s small because you both prefer it that way, regardless of his salary. You think there’s something comforting about running into him every other second, about being so intertwined in a space by nothing but your own combined will. You wonder why that will only ever seems to be enough in this room, why it becomes frail and diminutive the moment he steps out your front door.

“Careful.” He says, stabilizing you with a hand on your lower back. “See what happens to ya if you drop my plates.”

You just laugh. Look down at the plates in your hand, the ones you brought from your old apartment. He’s right, you suppose, they are his now - just like every other little piece of yourself. There is no place where he ends and you begin, it’s all the same.

Dinner is a quiet affair, it always is when he’s leaving. Katsuki tries his best, tries telling you about all the new gear he has. About how there’s not a person alive that he’d consent to loosing to. They’re just words, though, just hypotheticals and they don’t make you feel better as much as just the sound of his voice does.

You think he knows that too. Because when he leaves, he surrenders to small talk in a way he’d usually rather be caught dead doing. You wonder how he knows. You’d never told him.

He gathers the plates in a pile after you’ve finished, hands them to where you’re waiting by the sink. You start the water, begin scrubbing, and he’s circled around to the other side of you with a towel in hand.

It’s mindless, really. The routine of it all. You try not to think about the last time Katsuki left, about when you really had dropped one of his plates. It’s not your fault, you reason, he’s the one who insists on doing the dishes together - so, he’s the one responsible for when you hand off a plate to empty air.

He flicks water at you. Stares at the floor with a flat expression when you look at him.

“You’re the only other person in this house,” You can’t help but smile. A smile the widens when you catch him trying to tamp down his own. “I know it was you. You always do this!”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

You jostle your shoulder into his. Hard enough that the towel Katsuki had been using to dry slips between his fingers. But, you’re used to this routine to, and you catch it before it can touch the ground.

“You make my life a living hell.” You smile, draping the damp towel over his face in revenge.

He lets you. You know he lets you because you’ve seen his reflexes. Katsuki is quick, quicker than you, and if he really wanted to stop you, he would. But he just lifts the edge of the towel, eyes closed, smiling like he’s won something.

“You’re irritating.” You laugh, can’t help yourself. You yank the towel off his head, press it into his hand. “Finish your dishes.”

“You started it.” He shrugs, head tilted down while he gets to work. You know what’s coming next. “Bitch.”

You smack him, square on the chest, and the laughter that peels out of him is almost enough. It almost makes everything worth it when he presses wet fingers into your sides, and suddenly there is no place where his laughter ends and yours begins, and it’s all the same.

“If you don’t get your hands off of me,” You squeal, pressing at his chest. “I will bite them off.”

“Ya sound like me,” He says, equally breathless. “Think you’re tough now or somethin’?”

“I have to be. I live with - you!”

Katsuki throws you over his shoulder, evidently through with the dishes and with your kitchen. You know this part of your routine too, know down to the second just went he puts his hand on the back of your head. He rounds the cabinets with you in his arms, and though you’ve never once hit your head on them, he’s still got a hand there. Just in case.

You think it’d break his heart is he knew just how many times you’d accidentally clipped those cabinets while he was gone.

Katsuki dumps you on the bathroom counter. Tells you to sit and stay while he grabs towels. You consider getting up, but then he’s already back, and the thought disappears like it was never there.

“So, hypothetically, if-“

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was gonna-“

“Don’t need to.” He cuts you off again, turning the shower on. His side on cool, and yours on hot. “The answer is no.”

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

“No, I know, you can’t handle yourself.” He turns toward you, begins shucking off his clothes at the same time you do. “I can barely fuckin’ handle you, and I’m me.”

“Which is why those villains would never see me coming.”

Katsuki just looks at you, fondness tilting his smile sideways. He knows this isn’t a real suggestion, just like you know you’d never follow him even if you could. His world is so far removed from anything you know, you’d only ever get hurt. But you ask, every single time he leaves, and he entertains it.

“If I let you out there, we’d have to let every villain go.” He grabs your hand, pulls you into the shower after him. “A single minute with you is like a fuckin’ life-sentence.”

“Hey!”

“Kiddin’ - chill out.” He turns around, but not before you can see the smile on his face.

You soap your hands up, tilting his head back until you can reach his hair. Eventually, the stretch is too much, and you’re shoving him down onto the bench you both had gotten installed just for this very occasion. His arms wind around your stomach, pressing his face to your skin.

He’s quiet while you wash his hair. Quiet while you run conditioner through it. Quiet while you run a sudsed-up rag over his body. Eyes fluttering, like he can barely keep them open.

“Don’t fall asleep.” You admonish, indulgent and soft. “I’m not strong enough to lift you out of here.”

“Figures. I get fuck all nothin’, huh?”

He says that, but he looks up at you and Katsuki’s eyes give him away. There’s nothing but contentment there.

“Yep, absolutely nothing. It’s what you deserve for being a mean, mean man. Now let me go, I’ve gotta wash up.”

“Nah, ‘m fuckin’ settled here. Here’s good.”

He’s got both arms wrapped around you, warm cheek pressed against your lower rib.

“When I rinse my shampoo out you’re going to get it in your eyes.”

“So? Small fuckin’ price to pay, don’t be an idiot.”

You look down at him, and Katsuki looks just as he always does when he’s being intentionally difficult. Unbelievably happy.

“Fine. See what your boss thinks when you go out on your mission blind.”

“I’m my fuckin’ boss.”

“Sure you are, honey.”

Katsuki just grumbles a little at that, wipes his nose on your sternum. Because he’s a child and he knows it’ll make you squeal just the way he likes.

True to his words, he really does stay exactly where he is. Even as you wash your body, even as your washing your face. He only gets up to turn the water off, to grab your towels.

Katsuki wraps you up, scoffing when you can’t help the hearts that flood your eyes.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that. You’re gross.”

It’s like the words fly right over your head. Like you don’t hear them at all as you follow him back to your room.

Katsuki lays out sweats for himself, and a large t-shirt for you. You brush his hair out for him as he sits on the bed, and when you’re done you both pull back the comforter together.

He settles, pulls you close until your foreheads are touching.

“I know we try not to talk about it,” You start, and you can feel the way his eyebrows scrunch. “But I have to know. This isn’t - it’s not going to be that dangerous, right?”

You know how much he hates lying to you. It’s your very favorite thing about him in any other circumstance, but in this one, you wish he didn’t loathe it quite so much. Because the look on his face, the tone of his voice, breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” He starts, grabs your hand from under the blanket. “I’ll be fuckin’ careful. I promise. I’ll make it out.”

The words are quiet, whispered like a secret. Sometimes you miss the confidence of his younger days, when he was cockier, more self-assured. He’s not now - now he’s an adult and he’s watched people die, and being a hero is not what he always thought it’d be.

“You better.”

He just blinks at you, nods, and you pretend you don’t see his wobbling waterline. There is no sorrow there, and there is no crease in his eyebrow, and there is no giant, dangerous, looming thing threatening to steal him away from you.

For now, until the sun rises and calls him out, he is yours. So you tuck him into your shoulder, run your fingers through his hair. Tell him you love him. He’ll tell you to wait, to not say it because he should have to come home to deserve it, but you don’t agree. He’s home now, and for however long you have him, and even after, you will love him.

He falls asleep, perpetually unable to keep his eyes open past midnight. It’s something you love about him. Another one of those little things you’ll think about when he’s gone.

When he’s tucked away somewhere you can’t follow, you’ll close your eyes and imagine he’s closing his at the same moment - wonder if doing the same thing, together, even though you’re apart, will somehow create a tether that yanks him back home.

But, for now, he is home. So you look, and you look, and you look. He’s already got a face-full of little nicks, little scars and scrapes and wrinkles, and you try to map them out. Try to memorize the way he looks now, because you know that when he comes back, he will look different. He always does. Always comes back with countless new scars to join countless new wrinkles.

He shifts next to you in his sleep. Tucks his cheek to his shoulder until his hair is brushing your chin. He smells like your shampoo.

For now, he is yours. The rising sun will have to rip him from your fingers, and only when Katsuki tells you to let go, will you relent. He’ll put on his uniform and you’ll kiss his forehead and another cycle of leaving will start, but you will choose to love him anyways.

On the way out, he’ll tell you that he loves you. That he’ll always come back. You’ll believe it.

—/—

listen, in my defense, im in mourning and @glitterinmyc00chie badgered me into it. and also, if im in mourning?? im gonna put y’all in mourning too!!! so soz for the pain this caused,, rest assured it caused me twice as much to write it

that being said everyone put ur hands together and pray my sweet sweet little honeypie comes back,,, and if he doesnt, prepare for my mf funeral

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha fic #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #mha fic

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painsandconfusion · 1 year

Text

Piano Man

With You - Part Thirteen

(tw: yandere, intimate whumper, manhandling, threats, kidnapping, death mention) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Ida woke to soft morning light and…piano?

They frowned, pulling their head off the pillow as a flat E rang through the house, dulled and dampened by the soft hardwood between them.

They glanced to the side, but Oren’s pillow was empty, barely the imprint left by his body marking that he was there at all. The divot was cool to the touch, teasing Ida with the shame of knowledge that he had woken and they’d not even noticed.

But..Oren never let them wake up alone. He waited until Ida was up - and usually they woke before him, so…

Another E - five cents sharp this time.

Ida’s frown deepened. Maybe it was just an F that was fl-

E - tuned.

They sat up, eyes on the door now.

Oren didn’t know how to tune a piano. Unless he learned in their time apart? He’d always had to hire a-

Awakeness flooded their mind, shocking them into the cool reality of now.

There was someone else in the house.

Ida’s heart beat faster, as they pulled the covers off them and hurredly, though quietly - scurried to the dresser to grab a fresh change of clothes. They tugged on a sweater over their tshirt and swapped pajama bottoms for a simple pair of jeans. Socks. Tugged a comb through their hair, and opened the door, glancing out into the hall and down over the balcony.

An F now.

Their eyes found the sunroom even through the walls between them. The shades were pulled open, and the shoes set in a line by the door.

There was someone there.

And Oren had wanted them to sleep through it.

With shaking hands, they followed the bannister down the stairs and peeked into the sunroom.

They were right. There was a man there, bent over the piano. It’s guts were splayed open for the world to see - that front shield of wood discarded on the couch and out of the way so the man could thread soft red felt between the ribs and veins of the instrument, silencing them to pry each feature to perfection.

Oren was nowhere to be seen.

They hugged their arms to their chest as they took a silent step inside. “..hi”

The man startled momentarily, but stood upright, setting down his wrench. “Well hi there! Mr. Torray said he had a guest.” He stepped up to them and held out his hand. “Call me Dan - I’m sorry if I woke you - was trying to be quiet, honest.”

Ida gave him a week smile and hook his hand, fingers trembling as they shook it limply. “I…um..I’m Ida,, Hi-” They glanced behind them. “...where…did Oren go-?”

The man nodded toward the front door. “Stepped outside for a cigarette - don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.” He stepped back away from them with a warm smile, and started poking at the piano again.

Ida’s feet followed desperately after him. “...did….you drive here-?”

The man nodded. “Sure did, wh’dya ask?”

Ida’s heart beat faster as their eyes flicked to the window. “..um…I could…use a ride into town-” Mentally kicking themself for not just coming out and saying it. But how does one politely shift the conversation to Please help me - I’ve been kidnapped?

His head tilted. “Yeah? You gotta go now or can I finish this up first.”

Ida swallowed thickly, taking a step closer.

Now or never. They had to try. “..a..ctually, I…h-” Ida’s voice cracked to a stop as hands wrapped around their waist, tugging them softly away from the piano man.

Oren’s nose tickled against their neck in a soft nuzzle. “Don’t worry, dove - I can take you when Dan’s done here.”

Dan’s eyes flicked between the two of them - but any suspicion must have been subverted by the affection, because he quickly gave them privacy - looking back to the piano and continuing his work. “I’m always happy to help if you need a ride,” he offered regardless.

Oren shood his head, pulling Ida further away by the elbows. “I can take them - it’s really no trouble.” He pecked Ida on the cheek and nudged them toward the door of the room. “Love, I think there’s some lemonade in the fridge - would you grab a glass for Dan?”

Ida’s eyes burned, and they nodded. “..’f course.” They slipped through the entryway, into the silence and safety of the rest of the house. Through to the kitchen. Into the soft morning light and stained glass crystals that hung in the window, catching the light and shattering it into a hundred dapples of color on the flood and table.

Shaky hands opened a cabinet, pulling a glass down.

Ice dripped through their boiling blood as footsteps followed them into the kitchen.

“..o-ren I-”

He grabbed the glass form their hand and spun them back against the counter, gripping their jaw tight as their tried to tuck their face away. “What the fuck was that, Ida!?” he clipped in a sharp whisper.

Ida trembled, eyes screwing shut as they bet backwards over the counter to try to put some distance between them. “I-I’m sorry- I j- I wasn-”

“You want to go home with him?” Fingers bruised deeper into their jaw.

A whimper squeaked out their throat. “N-no no- I j-”

“So you just want to leave me, is that it?” his breath was hot against their temple, smoke clinging to it and rotting through the air.

“N-no-”

“Well that’s sure the fuck what it looked like.”

Ida whined, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “J-ust- th-ought you were g-one an-and ww-wanted to ffind you-” Ida held their breath, praying the lie wasn’t too far gone.

Oren hesitated, fingers softening a bit. “..I just stepped outside.”

Ida swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around his arm - almost embracing. “W-wwoke up an-d c-ouldnt ffind you-”

Oren exhaled softly, fingers releasing completely as he pressed a soft kiss to their brow. He pulled back a little, one hand cupping their cheek - thumb brushing down it. “I’m sorry, dove. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Ida gave a shaky nod, pulling closer to him and melting into his chest.

His arms wrapped around them, hand rubbing up and down. “You’re okay - I wouldn’t leave you. Not ever.”

Ida swallowed thickly, taking several attempts to get the bile back down. I l-ove you-” came the shaky response.

Oren softened further, hand running through their hair - kisses pressed to the wake of his fingers. “I love you too.” He pulled back, sniffing softly. “..I’m going to see Dan out - why don’t you have a shower and get ready while he’s finishing up, and once he’s gone we can go on a walk or have a picnic or something?”

Soft dread pushed down what little hope seeing Dan had brought them, and they nod against him. “Ssounds good..”

Oren kiss their hair one more time and pulled back, taking their hand to pull them from the kitchen.

Ida followed limply, eyes on the ground.

They should scream, right? Yell and beg and get Dan to call for help?

But no.

No, Oren would talk his way out of it or just kill the man.

Maybe it was enough that he knew they were there at all.

Maybe if the missing posters were taken down, Robin would know where they went.

She would find them.

Their eyes screwed shut.

They really should just yell.

But they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t bear to see more bloodstains on this floor. Oren wouldn’t hesitate - Ida knew that. This wouldn’t be their only chance - but it was Dan’s. Dan would leave this house. He’d go back to his normal life with his normal wife and his normal job and never be plagued with this.

He would be okay.

And so they gave Oren a soft kiss and dragged themself up the stairs.

There would be another day.

And, at least, they’d be able to play now to pass the time.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @heathenwhump @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wibbly-wobbly-whump @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @yells-in-lowercase @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @pinkieglitterheart @whumpasaurus101 @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish @hold-back-on-the-comfort)

As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#with you #ida and oren #yandere #intimate whumper #manhandling #threats #kidnapping #death mention #whump #whump series #yandere whumper

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oddree13 · 10 months

Text

Restless Year - Chapter 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Prior Chapter) (Next Chapter)

(Read on AO3)

Chapter 7 - Be My Baby

November 1989

“I know you hate the city but a deal’s a deal, Wayne. We come for Turkey day and you come up here for the first two nights of Hanukkah.”

“But won’t you be at the shop?” Wayne huffs, and Eddie can tell he’s on the porch outside his double-wide smoking.

“During the day for a bit, but I want to show it to you! I know Steve sent you photos of the inside but it doesn’t do it justice,” Eddie pleads, despite knowing his uncle is just giving him a hard time for fun. “I even got a nice Johnny Cash and Woody Guthrie record to play while you're in the store. None of my music, promise.”

“Fine, but only because if I say no I’ve got to deal with Steve’s puppy eyes all throughout the football game. Why’d you have to go and mate the kind of man who can wrap you around his finger?”

“Because he did exactly that Wayne and I was happy to let him. Now Steve is going to get the bird from a deli here and we’ll drive in Wednesday night. And did you look into that thing I asked you about?” Eddie whispers, turning into the phone so Steve can’t hear him from the living room.

“I did that and I did the other thing too. They won’t be in town so don’t gotta worry about them seein’ ya,” Wayne assures and some of the anxiety seeps out of Eddie. The Harrington house has been empty for months now but Eddie didn’t want to take that chance.

“Thank you again and we’ll see you soon. Love ya.” Eddie hangs up the phone and goes to join Steve on their sofa where he’s reading something for class. He can see his eyes squinting and honestly thinks the younger man should think about getting glasses.

“Seems like you won the argument. How many rounds of convincing is this?” Steve queries, not looking up from the page.

“Three. You’d think with months' notice, a bus ticket, and me assuring him that ‘no it would not be an issue’ over and over again that I could make it through one call without him waffling, but no. I had to convince him again.”

“What won him over this time?”

Eddie wants to lie because if he tells Steve the truth his mate will be insufferably smug. But lucky for Eddie he enjoys that look on Steve. “He said he wanted to watch the Lions game in peace and didn’t want to deal with your, and I quote, puppy eyes, throughout the match. Seems the Harrington charm works on all the Munsons.”

“Good to know. And he’s right, I would have guilted him but only between downs.”

“I still don’t know what that means Steve.”

“And that’s why I can win your uncle over. I make his nephew happy AND I can talk about sports. And speaking of making you happy, I called the court today and they have spots in a week to sign the papers. But I sort of had another idea.”

“Another idea? If this is your way of wanting to back out of this arrangement, it’s a little too late princess. The ink on the paper might not be set, but the ink on my neck is.”

Steve rolls his eyes and goes forward without acknowledging Eddie’s comment. “No, I was thinking that we should wait a week and just register our bonding at the courthouse in Hawkins. I called and they’ve got openings. Thought it might be nice to do it back where we met.”

Eddie turns to look at his mate. Steve is still focused on the paper in front of him but isn’t reading, which tells Eddie he’s nervous about his suggestion. Depending on the day Hawkins is still a sore spot for both of them so he understands Steve’s hesitation.

“I mean that could be nice, but doesn’t that mean the whole town would find out? I mean last I checked the Hawkins Post still lists out all the marriage announcements in the Sunday Edition.” It clicks for Eddie as he finishes that thought. Steve wants that. He wants the whole town to know.

“Would that be so bad?” Steve wonders, his voice cautious and small.

“Not at all, baby. My only regret is that I won’t be able to see the look on your dad’s face when he opens his Sunday edition and finds out we bonded as he tries to complete the crossword.” The image earns a laugh from Steve who tells Eddie his parents only get the Chicago Tribune at the house.

“It’s not going to stop people from gossiping. I bet my mom will get a grey hair each time someone tries to congratulate her on her new son-in-law.”

"Well, that right there is the cherry on top. Why don't you book us a spot for the Friday after Thanksgiving so we can wrangle Robin into being our witness? And I know I've asked you before but are you sure you don't want to do anything? I know you keep saying you don't want a wedding but-"

"I don't want a wedding Eds. If you really want to make it special get a nice collared shirt to go under your leather jacket so I'm not the only one dressing up for our courthouse date."

"Whatever you want Stevie."

“Steve, I’m supposed to ask you if you have the numbers for December yet,” Carmen asks as Steve walks into Smash Records. Following the success of his Halloween analysis, Eddie and Moxie pleaded with him to run numbers for the holiday rush which makes Steve wonder how they’d been running the shop in the black for the last ten years.

“And why are you asking me and not my lovely mate?” Steve inquires, looking around the shop for said mate.

“Because Eddie thinks you’ll be nice to me and give me an actual answer instead of sarcasm,” they admit, and honestly they're not wrong. It’s not that Steve isn’t running the numbers,he is. It’s just that finals are coming up and he feels like everything is starting to run him down, making normal work take longer. He’s found mornings harder to deal with, and a few times his warm showers have left him nauseous to the point of almost vomiting.

“Well, my answer depends on whether or not you have the pecan pie recipe I asked for. I’ve got an uncle to win over in a few days and I’m not trying to find good bourbon for it in suburban Indiana.”

Carmen reaches behind the counter and passes Steve a recipe card. “One chocolate bourbon pecan pie recipe as requested. Numbers please?” Their smile reminds Steve of the kids when trying to get something, and with a fond roll of his eyes, Steve reaches into his satchel for the folder.

“All here, including some ideas of how many CDs to stock since they're growing in popularity, much to your fearless leader’s dismay. He really doesn’t want to start collecting a whole new medium.”

“We’ve all heard the rants, believe me. But really, thanks for this. Eddie tells us you’re going back to your hometown for Thanksgiving. Seeing your kids for the holiday?”

Steve has to laugh and honestly prefer it to the question he’s been getting all week at school - ‘seeing your family for Thanksgiving?’. He inherently knows it's an innocent question, so he just nods along, not eager to explain his situation to casual acquaintances. But it seems Carmen has been clued into Steve’s extended pack.

“Yeah, we’re staying with Eddie’s uncle. It’ll be a day of me cooking while Eddie does his best to derail me. Giving both Wayne and me a headache as he fails to grasp football for another year. Usually, the Friday after we’ll get together with our pack for what has been dubbed ‘The Byers Leftovers Feast’ where everyone just brings their leftovers and chows down. Most of the kids are in town for the break so it’ll be good to see them. And no doubt remind me the entire time that they are indeed, not children.”

“That sounds like a fun time. And if you happen to have leftover pie or are tempted to bake a test run, feel free to send it with Eddie,” Carmen hints as Steve walks to the back office to find his mate.

Eddie is on the phone when Steve walks in, fidgeting with a rogue d20 on his desk.

“No, no, you are not covering this. I don’t care if you say it’s a gift, it’s not a gift if I’m springing this on you. I’m an adult now Jim, with money gotten through legal means,” he argues, clearly frustrated with the person on the other line. Steve knocks on the door to announce his presence, causing Eddie to lose balance on his seat and flail a bit to stay upright.

“I’ve got to go but this discussion is not over,” Eddie mutters before hanging up the phone. “Hey there Stevie, did you talk to Carmen?”

“They have the numbers and I have pie. But stop sicing your employees on me, Eddie.”

“But you don’t say no to most of them so they’re a great asset to my arsenal. Thank you again by the way. My store mathematics only extends to inventory and cashing out the register.” Eddie gets up and walks over to Steve, shutting the door behind him before pulling him in for a kiss. “Hey, there gorgeous.”

“Hey there yourself. Who was that on the phone by the way?”

Eddie glances back to the phone and just shrugs. “No one important. Just calling in a favor that someone is taking too seriously. But you have good timing, I was about to take my mid-day power nap, and what better person to use as a pillow than my perfect mate.”

“You love using that word don’t you?”

“I do Stevie, I do. But less talk more sleep. C’mon.”

The ride to Hawkins is uneventful. They leave after rush-hour dies down, opting to drive at dusk rather than deal with the bumper-to-bumper hell that was I-90 getting out of the city. The turkey is chilling in the trunk in a cooler already, and Eddie is still bitching that he had to carry the bird down three flights of stairs. Their much finessed ‘Car Compromise Mix 4’ plays on the radio, filing in the gaps in Eddie’s monologue.

Somewhere just past the border of Illinois, they switch spots, Eddie taking the wheel while Steve takes his turn to stare out the passenger window. It’s been six months since they left Hawkins. It both sounds like a long time and not enough time. Distance from the town that brought them together while giving them nightmares has been good for them both, and not just for the freedom it’s given them. Steve noticed the night terrors began to lessen within weeks of being in Chicago. Eddie smoked less as a result, and Steve’s dependency on caffeine had lessened. Sure his bat is still in the closet, but it’s no longer under the bed within reach.

Steve’s not naive enough to have imagined they’d never return. As long as one of the pack remained in Hawkins there would always be a pull beyond the lingering fear of the upside-down. And for as much as he agreed to come back and continue their Thanksgiving tradition with Wayne…a part of him wonders when they’ll opt to stay in Chicago, making their own traditions and rituals.

Holidays weren’t an easy thing for Steve. Growing up he remembers looking forward to events like Easter and Christmas until he realized that it was another part of the Harrington facade. It was only there to showcase how they were a nice Christian family and there was no need to look any closer. Once Steve was out of his childhood years the traditions stopped as there was no longer currency in family photo cards or Christmas parties at the Harrington home. They were traded for formal winter galas and an envelope of cash for Steve to buy what he wanted. Throughout high school Steve spent the Eve of the holiday with a friend or date, lying through his teeth about his family plans for the next day.

After their second encounter with the upside-down Dustin spilled the beans to his mother that Steve would be alone for Christmas, which led to a few years of intruding on Henderson holidays. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate it, on the contrary, he had his own stocking over the fireplace, but he knew it wouldn’t always be his tradition. This is why in the winter of ‘86 Steve was all too happy to accept Eddie’s invitation to watch Little Shop of Horrors and get takeout. They’ve been doing it ever since. It wasn’t a hardship to leave the rituals of his childhood behind, especially when they’ve been to actual hell and back. So for now he doesn’t mind going to Hawkins, but hopes that soon Wayne will trek into the city for Thanksgiving and more.

“Okay, I know something is up. Whitney Houston is playing and you aren’t singing along. What gives?”

“Didn’t know you missed my singing voice. I’ll happily oblige.”

“I don’t think you can call your tuneless caterwauling a singing voice but go on. Entertain me, princess.

The courthouse is unsurprisingly empty. It’s the Friday after Thanksgiving and every employee inside looks hungover and ready to go home.

Steve and Robin are sitting outside of the family division waiting for Eddie who insisted on Steve getting ready at Robin’s - “it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding”. Steve knows he just wants to make an entrance. His knee is bouncing again with anticipation, and Robin can’t help but tease him.

“Steve, do I need to remind you that you and Eddie are already mated, so I’m really not sure why you’re nervous. And stop playing with your tie, you’re going to crease it,” she chides, smacking his hand.

Steve is grateful that he only needs one witness for this as he doesn’t think he could have handled more than Robin. He knows Dustin will be disappointed when he finds out, but he didn’t want to be fussed over. Instead, he had Robin tease him as he ironed his khaki slacks and navy blazer, reminding Steve that he was getting married to Eddie Munson, not going on a yacht.

“I’m not nervous, I’m excited. This is the last step, Robin. We got engaged, mated, and now we’re signing the last bit of paper that makes it very difficult for Eddie to change his mind about us.”

The comment rips a snort from Robin. “Right because after one year of pining and two years of dating, today is the day Eddie is going to change his mind. Don’t think I didn’t see his newest tattoo, Steve. That man is head over heels for you.”

“That I am Buckley, but no heels today. I wore my nice boots!”

Eddie is walking towards them in what he considers his nice boots, holding a bouquet of pansies. His hair is pulled back, and under his black leather jacket, Eddie has the promised button-down shirt complete with a tie he probably borrowed from Wayne. He looks gorgeous, Steve thinks, and gets up to kiss him, only to be blocked by Eddie’s hand.

“Nuh uh-uh, that comes after the papers, Stevie. I’m going through all this effort to keep you honest and you’re about to ruin it before the finish line.” A tug on Steve’s tie pulls him close, as Eddie leans in to whisper in his ear. “You look good by the way.”

“So do you. Ready?”

“Been ready,” he grins and walks forward to open the door to the clerk’s office.

Steve walks in first and goes to the desk to sign in only to see a familiar face behind the counter - Nicole Anderson. Steve hasn’t seen her since that whole debacle with Jonathan and Nancy and didn’t imagine anyone his age would be working at the courthouse.

“You know I saw your name on the schedule and convinced myself that it must be another Steve Harrington, because there was no way King Steve was settling down.”

Steve does his best to not bristle at the nickname and just gives a tight-lipped nod. “Yeah, been with my mate for about three years now? We figured it was time.”

Nicole leans over to look behind Steve and her eyes land on Robin. “Is that Robin Buckley? I mean there were always rumors,” Nicole starts, only to have her words interrupted by the sight of Eddie Munson looping an arm around Steve’s waist.

“I wouldn’t go suggesting that. Robbie’s alpha is the protective sort. Nah, Stevie here mated me,” Eddie supplies. “And we would very much like to register that today if you don’t mind.”

The look of utter bewilderment on Nicole's face is worth the awkward interaction. She passes the clipboard with the form and tells them to fill it out before she bolts to the back, saying something about needing more certificate paper.

“Well if you all wanted to be the town gossip you’ll certainly get that with or without the paper," Robin giggles, watching the now empty chair swivel.

“Fine by me.” Steve takes a seat and begins filling out the form, checking box after box. By the time they're done Steve is sliding the clipboard back through the window to another clerk who assures them the certificate will be right out. Steve doesn't miss the group of people staring at them through the swinging door.

“I do not miss that,” Eddie whistles. The trio makes small talk until the clerk comes back with a fancy-looking document.

“Gentleman if you'll just come and sign there you'll be all set.”

Steve walks up next to Eddie and signs his name. A part of him feels like he should say something, but before he can think of something Eddie is pulling him aside for a kiss as Robin puts her name on the witness line.

“You're mine forever now Steve Harrington.”

The clerk is blushing between them and informs Eddie that the certified copy will be sent by mail along with the name change forms. He thanks them and walks out of the room holding Steve's hand.

“I know it's a tradition but we can totally leave the Byers Leftovers Feast early and go celebrate. Maybe head down to the lake?”

Steve's suggestion earns a gag from Robin, who reminds them that they're married adults who can fuck in a bed. Steve flicks her off in return.

“As if any of the kids will let us escape. Besides, everyone is in town for once and I know you miss everyone.”

It's odd seeing so many cars in front of the Byers-Hopper house but Steve figures the kids are just finally making use of their licenses. Robin walks in ahead with the excuse of going to find Nancy, but Steve figures she's just dying to change.

Steve moves towards the house but finds Eddie holding him back.

“Hey, just a second before we go in there." Steve figures that Eddie wants a moment to themselves before the chaos of seeing their friends.

“I know you said you didn't want a wedding.”

“Because I don't Eddie.”

“I know, I know Steve. But this still deserves to be celebrated. We deserve to be celebrated. Which is why through those doors isn't the Byers Leftovers Feast. It's our wedding reception, Stevie. And I really hope you're not mad at me for planning it.”

It takes Steve a moment to process just what Eddie is saying. He looks at the door and then back at Eddie. For a second he lets himself hope that somehow his parents are here but knows that's a stupid pipe dream he doesn't actually want. What he really wants is his chosen pack and from the way the lawn is packed he's getting exactly that.

Steve reaches up to cup Eddie's face, pulling the alpha close. “I'm not mad Eddie. At all. Thank you. You didn't have to. You never have to. But you always do.” Steve kisses Eddie like he'd wanted to in the courthouse. His lips press against Eddie, pouring into him every ounce of affection and love he has for this man. How he appreciates every effort Eddie has been making to show off their bond. The rings, the Halloween party, the mark, and now this.

“Let's go celebrate Eddie.”

Champagne bottles pop as soon as they walk through the door. Everyone is dressed up and the inside of the Byers' living room is decorated. Jonathan is there snapping photos as they walk in and hug everyone, and Steve wonders what vinyls Eddie had to trade to get that favor.

Joyce wraps Steve in a hug as soon as the kids get off him, while Hopper is showing Eddie the spread. "I'm not going to hear a word about any of this alright? It's a gift," he insists and suddenly the discussion Steve overheard in Eddie's office last week makes sense.

Among the guests are Wayne, Karen, Claudia, and even Charlie. A few of Eddie's Hellfire friends are there along with Jeff and Gareth. Everywhere Steve and Eddie turn someone is ready to congratulate them, ask them about Chicago, and give their two cents on married life. Food and drink are handed to them without asking and they spend a lot of time trying to find a way back to each other's side.

When the music starts playing Steve looks and finds Max with a pile of mix tapes at the ready. Robin pulls Steve to dance and despite Eddie insisting he would not be dancing, El wins him over with a small 'please'. The middle of the Byers’ living room turns into a dance floor, alternating between pop hits and heavier songs that Eddie appreciates.

Steve is just about to sit down to take a break when Eddie catches his hand and pulls him close. Steve recognizes the familiar drum beat coming through the speakers and relaxes into Eddie’s arm.

“Who picked this, you or Max?”

“I put in this particular request.”

“I didn’t know the Ronettes were on your radar.”

Eddie nods, leaning in to kiss Steve’s cheek. “This was another song on rotation when my mom was still around. And it might have wound up on a mixtape of mine when I was still pathetically pining after you.”

“Is that why you call me baby?”

Eddie doesn’t answer Steve, opting instead to whisper the song into Steve’s ear until it fades out.

#myfics #steddie #steve x eddie #omega steve harrington #steddie fics #omegaverse #eddie munson #alpha eddie munson #stranger things #six kids and a winnebago

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mango-jpeg · 1 year

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((olympic year wip wednesday))

Of course his first evening back at the Angel’s Share, Venti strolls in not twenty minutes after his shift starts.

“Diluc!” He says, cheerfully, hopping up onto the bar stool directly opposite him. Diluc continues wiping the bartop down and replies, evenly,

“Venti. What can I get you?”

Venti props his chin in one hand. “I guess my free tab’s probably closed now, huh?”

Diluc experiences a sharp, brutal stab of something very close to anger. Venti’s expression shifts in response to the twitch of Diluc’s eyebrow into a poorly fabricated look of innocence. “Would you believe me if I said I was only trying to encourage you to tell the truth?”

“Absolutely not.” Diluc says, dropping the rag to fold his arms.

“Come on, even you gotta admit my skaters rank above wine in my list of priorities,” he wheedles. Diluc grinds his teeth. “Okay, okay! Can I please have a glass of the house white?”

Diluc pours the wine and sets it in front of him. Before he can make an excuse to walk away, Venti starts up again. “Y’know, I had you all wrong. When I first looked into Kaeya’s anonymous sponsor I figured you were doing it out of… I don’t know, a sense of obligation, I guess,”

“And now?” He asks, despite his better instincts. Venti sips his wine and levels him with a look he has no desire to decipher.

“I think someone has a cru-sh~ Wait— wait!” Venti very nearly lunges across the bar when Diluc turns to walk away, sloshing his wine over his own sleeve. “Touchy today, aren’t you? Okay, I’ll be serious! Just listen!”

Diluc folds his arms and glares at him. Venti snatches up a fistful of napkins and begins mournfully dabbing at his wet sleeve. “Whatever happened, it obviously wasn’t good. Kaeya isn’t… he isn’t great with people,”

“What do you mean?” Diluc asks, despite his own better sense.

“He doesn’t really do relationships, y’know? Man, you should’ve seen him and Lisa after they— nevermind, that isn’t important,” Venti cuts himself off quickly. “He was really nasty, wasn’t he?”

“No.” Diluc says, shortly. Venti stares up into his face, eyes wide and guileless, and Diluc has to look away.

“I thought so,” Venti says, “Sometimes I think he really…” he sighs, then takes a fortifying gulp of wine and starts over. “Look, I didn’t actually come here to talk about Kaeya. I wanted to see how you’re holding up,”

“Me? I’m fine.”

“Oh, come on,” he knocks back the last of his wine and holds out the empty glass for a refill. Diluc raises a brow, exasperated, but fills his glass. “Just cause Kaeya’s my skater doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,”

Diluc stares at him flatly. “That certainly isn’t the obstacle,”

“Zing!” Venti grins, toasting him and taking yet another deep gulp of wine.

“Are you finished? I’ve work to do,” Diluc doesn’t even understand why Venti is here, if not to lord Diluc’s fuckups over him.

“Not even close,” Venti chirps.

Diluc sighs, resists the temptation to rub at his temple. “Then get it over with,”

“Alright, alright, listen up,” Venti makes a show of straightening his spine and linking his fingers on the bartop. “Because Barbatos is an absent god, some people interpret his teachings as anti-attachment,” he says, in the most inexplicable tangent Diluc never saw coming, “If his gift of freedom means he leaves us to our own devices, doesn’t that paint attachment as oppressive? But Barbatos is always there for us when we need him, it’s just about giving us the space to choose,”

“You’re religious?” Diluc exclaims, bewildered.

Venti ignores this question entirely. “It’s about choice,” he enunciates, like Diluc is being purposefully obtuse, staring up at him unblinkingly. “It's important to ask yourself; have you been saying yes only because you can’t say no?”

There is no intelligent, appropriate response Diluc can make to this, except, “I’m cutting you off.”

“What? Nooo!” Venti plasters himself to the bar in a posture of despair, incidentally spilling his entire glass. “Nooooo!”

#wip wednesday #there are so many pep talks in this chp.. kaeya pov his friends are holding a straight up intervention

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yaysof11037 · 2 years

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Hey guys! So it’s been a while since I posted a fic lol! I know you all have been waiting patiently! This time, this fic isn’t going to be for Danganronpa nor Cookie Run. In light of me finishing Cowboy Bebop, imma write a lil fic that’s kinda in conclusion to… well… the conclusion of the actual anime. With that being said; this will contain very hefty spoilers for the ending of Cowboy Bebop, so if you haven’t watched it, I recommend you do before reading this fic! Well, that’s all I’ve got! Hope you all enjoy!

The Way Life Works

Things were awfully quiet on the Bebop. Too, too quiet.

Not that Jet minded how quiet it was. He could use a bit of silence every now and then.

This time, however, he just wanted to hear something. Anything. Even if it would be something breaking within the ship. Even if it would be the show Big Shot, despite its abrupt end. Even if it would be Faye bragging about whatever worthless junk she managed to buy instead of paying her rent.

Even if it would be Ein’s barking and yipping. Even if it would be little Edward happily typing on her computer as she would giggle and make silly noises.

…

Even if it would be Spike and Faye having another one of their silly arguments. Even if it would be Spike complaining to him about how much he claimed to hate pets, women, and annoying kids. Even if it would be Spike complaining about how tired he was of having Shiitake mushrooms for dinner every night.

…

Even if it was just Spike. Just Spike talking to him as he would be huffing his cigarette. Just Spike teasing him about his cooking or getting ready for a new bounty. Just Spike laughing with him…

Just Spike… right now, he just wanted to hear Spike.

But… he knew all too well he wouldn’t be able to hear Spike. At all.

Because after a few days, he knew… he just knew…

His bounty hunting partner. His friend.

Spike Spiegel… was dead.

And even if he didn’t believe his initial gut instinct, the Elder he spoke to confirmed his suspicions.

And god only knows he didn’t want to be right.

Jet let out a somber sigh as he was in the middle of making dinner. He almost prepared a much bigger portion, enough to feed five, only to realize…

It was just him and Faye now… for Edward and Ein had left to pursue their own adventures.

And he already knows what happened to Spike…

He shook away the mere thought of his old pal as dinner was almost ready. He watched as the bell peppers and “beef” (which were actually shiitake mushrooms) simmered in the pan while looking over at the empty table nearby. He did his best not to look anymore into the past as he moved the pan of vegetables into two bowls.

Bell peppers and beef… Spike’s favorite… despite the fact there was no beef…

“Pull yourself together, Jet…”

He carefully set the two bowls down as he looked into the living room.

“Faye?”

Of course she wasn’t in there. Where else would she be?

He let out a sigh as he made his way down the hall towards her bedroom. Once he was now at her door, he lightly knocked to get her attention.

“Faye? Dinner’s ready.”

No answer. Of course.

With a heavy heart, he gently opened the door and peeked inside. He could see her, laying on her mattress in complete silence. Yet.. he could tell she was awake.

“Did you hear what I sa—

“I’m not hungry.”

Jet rolled his eyes. Always the same response.

“You’ve been saying that for the past few days now. You can’t possibly say you’re not hungry.”

“Just leave it by the door. I’ll get it later.”

“Mhmm. You say that, but then you don’t take it. So I gotta come by and stock it in the fridge. If you keep leaving your food out by the door, the fridge is gonna be overstocked. So you better get your ass out here and eat, or I’ll double your rent.”

Jet didn’t feel right using Faye’s rent against her, especially when she was already in such a vulnerable state ever since Spike’s death. But… how else was he supposed to get her out of bed?

“Ugh… fine…”

Begrudgingly, Faye rose up from her mattress and stretched. It had been quite some time since she left her room, for once she finally turned to face Jet, the bright lights from the hallway nearly blinded her.

“Dammit Jet… turn down the lights, will ya?”

“Well, that’s what you get for locking yourself in your room for so long.”

Faye gave him an annoyed, yet tired look as she followed him into the living room towards the dining table. The table where she would always sit across from Spike…

For a good while, it was just silence at the table. The only sounds that were made was silverware gently tapping against bowls and the silent chewing of food. It was just the two of them, silently acknowledging each other’s company. That is, until Faye spoke up.

“How did he die?”

Jet nearly choked on a pepper as she asked that question. He quickly swallowed it and washed it down with a beer before he continued.

“What was that?”

“Spike. How did he die?”

Great. Faye was finally out of her room for once, and she asks about how Spike died. Just perfect.

“Mm… to be honest, I don’t really know. And I don’t wanna know how it happened.”

Instead of starting up an argument like he was expecting her to, Faye simply nodded her head and went back to her food, which she barely touched.

“Do you think it was the Syndicate?”

Jet paused before answering that question. Would Spike really let himself get killed by the very thing that was hunting him down? He did leave to face his past, after all. But still… it didn’t sound like something Spike would die from…

“I don’t think so. I know Spike better than anyone. He wouldn’t have just given up like that.”

More silence. Dammit. Now was the time where he wanted her to start having a petty argument with him about who knew Spike better. She just kept silent. She didn’t say a damn thing. Until…

“Do you miss him?”

Another pause. Of all the questions he was expecting, he certainly wasn’t expecting THAT question.

“I… I know you told me you didn’t care what happened to him… that it was his own life… but—

“… of course I do. Spike and I… despite a few bumps along the way… we were pretty good pals, after all. What kind of a friend would that make me if I didn’t miss him?”

He took another swig of his beer before he continued on.

“But… that’s just the way life works. You make a few friends, and you lose em.”

“…”

“Well it’s not fair…”

“… life isn’t fair, Faye. If it was, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“…”

“He… he wasn’t even scared… that there was a chance he was gonna die. I… I just don’t understand… why didn’t he care? Why didn’t he care that he was throwing his life away, huh?!”

Jet didn’t know whether he should answer that or not. Even he didn’t fully know Spike’s true intentions. All he knew was that it was all linked to a woman named Julia. But even then, why would he have stopped caring, especially if he had found this Julia again.

Unless… Julia had died too…

Which honestly would make a bit more sense… considering the story Spike had told him before he left.

“Only Spike would know. It’s not in my place to answer that for him.”

He could tell from the huff Faye let out that she wasn’t satisfied with his answer. So, he decided to give her half of an answer.

“… when Spike and I first met, he told me he died once before.”

“…”

“I… I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but I suppose dying, then coming back to life afterwards would make a person a bit more prepared to face death. Maybe Spike was just ready for it. Even if he would’ve survived, he was ready to die…”

“… do… do you think he could come back again?”

“…”

“After dying a second time, I don’t think so. Hell, I don’t even know if he actually died the first time like he claimed. Maybe it was just some metaphor. But I don’t really know…”

He really didn’t know, yet Spike seemed so sincere with that claim. Sincere, yet nonchalant. Like death was simply a small mishap to him.

Silence again. God, the silence was killing Jet. He had gotten so used to hearing Ein bark for seconds, Edward loudly munching away at her food and stating how thankful she was, and Faye and Spike bickering about petty things while they ate.

While he initially found all the noise annoying back then, now he just wanted to hear it again. Just one last time.

God, he didn’t truly realize how nice it was to have a full team… a full family… until it was taken away from him.

He began to feel the melancholy hitting him once more, only to be slightly caught off guard once he heard Faye softly chuckling to herself as she stared down at her dinner. Just when he was about to ask her what was so funny all of a sudden, she looked up at him with a sad smile on her face.

“Remember that day when Edward brought a bag full of these mushrooms back to the ship?”

Jet hesitated for a moment, before he felt a smile creeping onto his own face as he remembered that day.

“Ooh yeah. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

While he remembered the moment when Edward brought back all the mushrooms, he couldn’t exactly remember what happened before then. All he knew was that he took a rather peculiar mushroom and got high. He assumed Spike and Faye did as well.

“Hehe. And when the cops came asking about the mushrooms, Spike walked out high as a kite with the bag, looking like a sloth waking up from a nap. Do you remember that?”

“Hahaha. Yeah. Damn near thought he was gonna land us in jail that day!”

“Ha! Oh gosh—and that time we all got sick because—

“Because Spike left something he was gonna eat in the fridge for a whole damn year!”

“Yeah! I mean, honestly! Who forgets about their leftovers for a year?!”

“Apparently Spike would.”

“God, he’s such a lunkhead! What was he thinking?”

“Haha! That’s our Spike for ya! Can win a fight, yet can’t take care of his own responsibilities to save his life!”

The two spent the next hour at the table, joking and laughing about how much of a lunkhead Spike was, from the time he poured beer over his cereal for the hell of it, to the time he thought kicking a VCR player from the 20th century would somehow fix it. For a moment, they brightened up the somber atmosphere with entertaining stories about their lunkheaded friend as their food was getting cold.

For a moment, things seemed okay again. It felt like Edward and Ein never left. It felt like Spike never died. For a moment, things were good. Lighthearted, even.

******************

Jet stood on the balcony of the Bebop alone, with a cigarette in his hand. Faye would’ve joined him, but even the thought of smoking reminded her too much of Spike, for they always smoked together when he was alive. So, she decided to head to bed early for the night.

He looked up at the stars as they danced across the galaxy, possibly either searching for other planets, or any traces of Spike up in the endless sea of stars.

“Heh. You really are a lunkhead, ya know that Spike?”

He nearly waited for a witty response from him, only to quickly pull himself back into reality. The reality without Spike…

“So… this is what you wanted, huh? You wanted to face your past, and you wanted to be free…”

He huffed his cigarette and breathed out a few circles of smoke before his thoughts continued.

“Well, you did it. Now you’re free. And ya don’t gotta worry about the Syndicate on your ass anymore.”

He could feel a few beads of tears forming in his eyes as he blinked them away.

“You don’t have to carry that weight anymore…”

Spike didn’t have to carry his weight anymore… but now Jet and Faye had to carry this new weight. The weight of loss. The weight of grief…

Well, whatever. They were gonna carry that weight and move on. That’s what people always do after grieving for a loss.

“Guess I’ll see you later…”

…

“… Space Cowboy…”

#cowboy bebop #jet #faye valentine #spike spiegel

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trapangeles · 1 year

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Tap'n with Hip Hop Artist - Adisa

Adisa is a rising Hip Hop/Rap artist from Los Angeles who has been making waves in the music industry with his unique sound and style. His journey as an artist has been fueled by his persistence and determination to be stylistically unique. Adisa's music is a reflection of his experiences growing up in California, with a jazzy and west coast sound that is both dark and colorful. He has been compared to artists like Greedo, Blxst, Warren G, Cole, and Q Tip. Adisa's ultimate goal is to be the best and create original music that breaks the mold. He is currently working on a new tape that is set to be released soon. If you're looking for some new and exciting music, be sure to check out Adisa's work and follow him on social media to stay up to date on his latest projects.

Tell us about your story and how you got to where you are? I’m an artist from LA, I think what brought me here is persistence, just not giving up. If you keep going you’ll learn! What has been your biggest obstacle in your journey as an artist? One of the biggest obstacles for me early on was to be stylistically unique. When I started I probably sounded like everybody! It’s natural to emulate others but that’s just not what I want to do. Also to just chip away at this a little bit everyday. We all got responsibilities and distractions so just do what you can sustain. Not crash out doing too much at once that’s the challenge right there. What lessons have you learned? Anything meaningful is going to be difficult. Trust your instincts, if you like it someone will like it. If its quality people will appreciate that. Similar energy all bunches up into one thing as time passes. You can be your own plant or a branch off of some else’s, but you have to decide early! Tell us about your music; how would you describe your sound? It sounds like what we go though being young from California. It’s so much money and opportunities out here but there’s an influx of people trying to capitalize off this. It’s dark sometimes. Colorful, jazzy and west coast. Original. A lot of thought goes into these records. They have their own vibe and I love that. I always wanted my music to be unique, this the only place you can get this from! What other artists would you compare yourself to? Greedo ? Blxst? Someone who produces too. Warren G, Cole, Q Tip… If you could work with any artists, who would you choose? Dom Kennedy, Hit-Boy, Greedo or Kendrick. What sets you apart from other artists? My style! What should we know about your work? Know this is for Los Angeles. When you see us you should feel like you can do it too! When you hear me you should know it’s alright to not fit in, you can do this how you want on your terms. You can break the mold, know that! What are your plans for the future? My immediate plan is to finish up this tape so I can get back to performing and do more give aways. That and buy all the empty lots on Western. What motivates you, or keeps you going? Wanting to be the best is what motivates me. Having people to take care of. New sounds. We spend so much time out here in traffic. Gotta have a soundtrack for that, right? Tell us something that might surprise people about you. Before this I was trying to be a singer! How do you define success? I’m a creator. The closer the final product is to wherever we had in our minds before it came to fruition is how we measure success. Money, Grammy’s, billboards, all that is fire but I just want to be creative and original before anything. How well executed this vision is will determine wether or not it was a success or a learning experience. Tell us about any projects or music you have coming out. I’ve already did almost 20 for this tape but it’s probably only gonna be 8-10 songs. A good introduction right now I’m just waiting for features, mixes, and other finishing touches. If we stay on schedule it’ll be done in a month or so. What do you want people to know about you? Anything else you want mentioned? I appreciate everyone for listening! Shout out TRAPXLA for helping us get this roll out going, go stream “DIFFERENT” right now! How can people find you and contact you? @adisaoutwest DM me!

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

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Crazy In Love

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries, Eddie can’t do math or cook for shit, friends to lovers :)))

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: takes place after Stuck (2x04) when abuela breaks her hip. Also, this was supposed to be for 911 readers week but I didn’t finish it in time sooooo just take it now instead :)

-----

The phone rang, your arm stretched over the pile of dishes on the counter. “Hello ?” you answered, putting it on speaker and setting it back down.

Eddie’s voice rang through the speaker, echoing through the empty apartment. “Hey, can you do me a huge favour ?”

“If you're gonna ask me to bake a cake, I have literally no time, honey. I’m really sorry but I need to finish this order-” Eddie sounds like he cut himself off before saying something as you explain that you’re busy.

“Eds? Are you there ?”

“Yeah- yeah, I'm here.”

“What’s up?”

“You’re busy, I don’t want to bother you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes because no matter how busy you are, you always made time for Eddie. He sighs heavily, so much so that you can hear him thinking.

“Eddie, what is it ?”

“Can you pick Chris up from school ? I know you’re busy but if you can’t, that’s ok-” “of course I can pick him up!”

The sound of a breath being released before a feminine voice called out for him. “I gotta go, Abuela needs me but he’s off at 3. Thank you, y/n - really.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Eddie.”

He mumbles something before hanging up. You glance at the phone screen - 2:24. You had enough time to change and shove the dishes in the dishwasher before having to head out so you did just that.

You had picked up Christopher from school a million times. His teachers knew you well enough that Eddie no longer had to call and let them know he wouldn't be picking up Chris but that you would be.

Standing outside of the school, the PTA parents were gossiping within their little bubbles, talking about the other members behind their backs but smiling in their faces. You bit back a smile before walking towards the gate. The students were lined up by the door, waiting for the bell to ring.

The moment it does, the students come running out with their teacher a few feet behind them in an attempt to keep up with them. One by one, their teacher lets them out, Christopher finally spotting you and this teacher waves hello as they open the gate for him.

“Y/n! What are you doing here!?” his little face lights up with a smile.

“Your dad asked me to come get you, he's with abuela.”

The two of you start making your way back to the car when Christopher asks you what his plans for the afternoon were. Soon you realized that Eddie didn’t give you any explanation as to where to go or what to do after you picked up Chris.

“How does ice cream and then abuela’s sound ?”

“Can we take some for her and dad too?” Chris asks as you help him into the car.

“Of course we can.”

----

Christopher was lugging his backpack over his shoulder when you knocked on the door, two containers of ice cream in hand. Eddie opens the door, grinning at his son whose face matches his father’s.

“Hey kiddo” Eddie kneels, wrapping the boy in his arms. Christopher’s arms extend around his father, “hi dad, we bought ice cream” he points out the obvious.

Eddie glances up at you, the ice cream tucked under your arm - he flashes you a smile.

“Oh yeah?” he lets go of Chris. “Did you have any?”

“No,” he shakes his head, his hair flopping around as he snickers. Eddie pushes the hair from Christopher’s forehead. “So what’s this on your face?” swiping his finger on Chris’s chin, a little smudge of brown on his finger from the leftover ice cream.

“Paint.” Chris smiles at his father sweetly.

“Uh huh, paint.” he chuckles, stepping aside for Chris to come further into the house.

“Thanks for picking him up,” he leans on the door frame, stretching and his arms lift above his head as he does. You can’t help but glance down at the area of exposed skin - eyes glued to the man in front of you.

“Y/n?” Eddie’s waving his hands in front of you, eyes raising from their previous spot to his face - the blush was creeping up on your face whilst that stupid smug smile of his was on his.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Stepping in, you take in the house. You had been by Isabel’s once or twice before but you had never come inside the house. The walls were painted a warm yellow colour, the furniture was spotless as was the rest of the house. Isabel sat on the couch with Chris beside her as he told her about his day at school.

“Chris, did you wash your hands?” Eddie calls, the door shutting. Chris doesn't answer which is an answer in itself. “Go now, please.” Eddie’s voice sounds closer, glancing behind you to see him beside you.

Chris grumbles but gets up, Isabel turns her attention to you and Eddie. “How are you feeling ?”

“As well as someone can with a broken hip” she gives you a smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay, you gave Eddie a scare” giving him a playful shove. “We got ice cream, vanilla and toffee. Chris said toffee was your favourite” handing her the small container. “It is, thank you. That’s so sweet of you.” she smiles, pulling the top off.

“No need to thank me, it was Christopher’s idea.”

“Ah, well I'll thank him when he comes back out.” she says smiling, “Eddie, a spoon please ?” she glances at the man beside you. He hums, stepping away for a moment to get her a spoon.

Chris comes running back in after washing his hands. “Dad! Can we stay over? Abuela said it was okay” he’s beside his father now, looking up at him with his big brown eyes that were practically begging him to let him.

You, Eddie and Isabel all knew that Christopher had his father wrapped around his finger and would ultimately get his way but Eddie had to give him a fatherly response and say no, they should go home. Isabel doesn't usually butt in but this time she did.

“Mijo, stay. I could use the company.” She says, patting the spot beside her and Chris makes his way over to sit beside her.

Eddie sighs, if he had a soft spot, it was for the two people on the couch. “Fine, just tonight then.”

Isabel smiles, satisfied with his answer. “y/n, stay for dinner darling. Eddie’s cooking” “Yea- who said I was cooking?” Eddie butts in, shocked at the assumption. “I did, mijo. Don’t worry, I'll tell you what to do.”

“Buddy, why don’t you finish up your homework so you can relax for the rest of the night ?” Eddie calls out to Chris, who again groans. He loved school but despised homework - as did most kids.

“I have math, I need help so I can’t do it because you’re busy.” Chris says plainly, thinking his statement will get him out of his math work because Eddie can’t do math for shit.

“I can help.”

“Y/n, you don't have to-” “no, it’s fine. C’mon kiddo” Chris grumbles, making his way to the dining room table, the two of you taking a seat when Eddie helps Isabel up and to the kitchen.

You can hear them talking and her telling Eddie to cut things a certain way or not to put too much of something into the pot. It only took 20 minutes for Christopher to finish his math homework, he brought it into the kitchen to show his dad.

“Look! I’m done! Math’s easy when you understand it.” that last bit was a little dig at Eddie and his math skills. You ruffled Chris’s hair as he walked back into the living room.

“Did he just-” Eddie watches his son make his way to the couch.

You hold back a laugh,“Mhm hm” Eddie shakes his head, chuckling. “Here, taste this.” he picks up some sauce from the pot, holding the spoon over his hand before handing it to Isabel.

Her face twists when she tastes it, “Eddie, I love you honey, but that’s terrible.” you press your lips together, holding back a chuckle.

“What?” he pouts, sighing. “I swear it tasted fine ten minutes ago.” sitting beside Isabel in defeat.

You pick up another spoon and taste some for yourself, your expression matching Isabel’s from moments ago. Eddie had remembered to put everything in, except the paprika and the salt, you add a bit of both and stir the pot. Taking the spoon from Eddie, you pick up a bit of the sauce and hand it back to Isabel.

“Ah, that’s better.” she hums, making you smile as she hands you back the spoon. Eddie sighs, letting you know that he was still there.

"Why don’t you go see if Christopher wants to watch something or if he wants a snack ?” his grandmother nudged him, a signal for him to leave the kitchen. “y/n can take over for you”

“Abuela, you can’t invite them in and have them work for their dinner.” he says, making her laugh.

“It’s okay Eds,” waving him off. “I don’t mind, really.”

Eddie left the kitchen and made his way over to the couch, listening as Chris told him about his day. He glanced back to see if everything was alright but he noticed that the two of you were laughing as you told Isabel something. Eddie would be lying if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

He stopped seeking his parents’ approval of who he dated- for a matter of fact, it went out the window when he brought Shannon home the first time but seeing you with an abuela made him so warm and happy, he couldn't help but smile.

---

Eddie’s hand slipped onto your hip, his chest against your back. “Can I help you, Eddie?” you mumble, your eyes on the dishes in front of you.

He hums, hands coming around and arms now wrapped around your waist. Eddie felt your wet hands pull his hands off of you, “Isabel and Chris are in the other room, stop it”

His head tilted, that innocent look on his face, “stop what?”

“Eddie,” turning to face him, “shh I don’t want to hear it” he cuts you off, hands back on your waist.

“I don’t think I've ever loved someone the way I love you.” His words come off so sweet and loving but hit you like a ton of bricks.

You loved Eddie, more than anything but you had never actually told him nor did you ever feel the need too. It was always implied that as friends, you loved and cared about each other.

Eddie always knew he loved you, there was never any question about that but something about you, seeing you with an abuela and how great you were with Christopher (as you always were) just pushed him over the edge.

He had to tell you.

“Y/n, you know I love you- and before you say anything, I know I’ve never actually said it to you but I didn’t feel like I had too, you knew I did.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.”

You were still gathering your thoughts, trying to come up with the words to tell him you loved him too but Eddie’s expression changed. His brows furrowed, eyes studying your face - the worry had set in.

What if you didn’t feel the same way ? God, he’d feel so stupid if he embarrassed himself like that.

The years of friendship were enough for you to realize how he was feeling. You were lacking words and you know what they say, actions speak louder than words.

Your hands reach for his face, now cupping his cheeks. Your lips meet his, he pulls you closer to him- if that's even possible. It was a few moments before you pulled away.

Eddie smiles lovingly at you and you’re sure you have the same expression plastered on your face. “Um- I think that says it.” you hum, smiling at him.

“Doesn't mean you can't say it,” he pokes fun at you, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Eddie?”

“Y/n,”

“I love you.”

----

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chocosvt · 3 years

Text

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you.

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes, as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[ 9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,” you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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