Note
I love these prompts! I feel like lee know would fit super well with #15 (like tbh he’s probably had that exact conversation before lol). thank you!!!
savior
pairing: non-idol!lee know x gn!reader
word count: 0.8k~
warnings: asshole customer being an asshole n yelling at reader. minho being kinda tsun over this tbh. intentional lowercase + no proofreading.
daisy’s notes: i want... cat pics from this man. please show me soonie doongie and/or dori... i love them :( also something something ur my savior, treasure, but cruel (bc i have to get in my references...)
customers fucking sucked no matter where you worked, and having a coworker that despised your existence only made things worse.
see, you liked minho well enough. you remembered his cats names from the time you had caught him in the back room, calling his roommate because one of them had been sick (but getting better at the time--he just had to make sure they took their medicine when he was home) and it was his roommate’s job to make sure that dori took his damn medicine. you remembered he was studying to be a vet when he wasn’t trapped in sandwich-making hell because he liked caring for animals. hell, you had even texted him one day to let him know he had left one of his textbooks in the back from when he was cramming during his short break--and he’d merely given you a stiff “thank you” before leaving just as quickly as he came.
you weren’t sure why minho hated you. you were just pretty positive he did, despite what the rest of your coworkers said. hyunjin said at least you could work with him without getting threatened with napkins (to which you had said that he was the one who invited that kind of threat with his antics). chan said that he liked you well enough whenever you tried to switch shifts with him (or anyone else, privately, never in the group chat that changbin had made because it was “easier” to swap with people if all of you were together). jisung had, too--but you were pretty positive jisung said minho liked everyone despite being kind of favored by him.
you were being yelled at by a customer for messing up his order--adding something he had asked for you to take off. he had gone off on a rant about tomatoes and how it could have killed someone if you were always this careless with orders, that people had allergies that you needed to be aware of (even though you always were--the storefront was busy that day and you slipped up once) and that you deserved to get fired for your careless behavior.
“do you have an allergy to tomatoes?” minho had come up beside you, and you noticed that he stepped slightly in front of you--almost shielding you from the angry customer.
“no, but--”
“then you shouldn’t fight battles that you don’t face,” minho said outright. “you shouldn’t berate an employee for a single mistake and demand they be fired.” he stepped a little more in front of you, already talking about how he’d remake the sandwich properly for free--the policy as it was. he was calm and cool, shutting down the customer and saying that your manager would be back shortly if he wanted to take the matter up with her.
he turned back, nodding for you to go take a minute in the back. it must have been obvious you were about to cry. you shut yourself into the backroom with a quiet thanks to him for stepping in, and hugged yourself tight. you’d never made a mistake like this--and the words about how it could have killed someone if you were careless rang in the back of your mind.
the door opened a few minutes later, and minho walked in with a bottle of water. “are you okay?”
you shook your head, accepting the water bottle.
“you won’t get fired,” he said, taking a step back to give you space. “you haven’t done anything wrong. that guy was an asshole. if he had an allergy or was ordering for someone with one, he could argue about it. he was just looking for reasons to berate you.” he clicked his tongue, leaning against the other wall, “you’ve always been careful with customers with allergies before. that’s why we have a sign.”
there was a sign on the glass barrier where people placed orders saying to tell sandwich artists about allergies, so that you could change gloves entirely and completely ensure no cross-contamination could happen. there were things in place so that you could do your job in a way that doesn’t kill a customer--hell, you knew that you (and your coworkers) had definitely thrown out sandwiches half-way through because someone failed to mention an allergy beforehand. hell, you often asked--and you knew for a fact you asked that guy because he had rolled his eyes and said he didn’t, like it was an inconvenience.
“you don’t have to defend me,” you said after a moment. “i know you hate me.”
minho scoffed. “i adore you, actually. don’t act like you know how i feel about anyone.” he crossed his arms. “you’re my favorite coworker because you care about everyone.”
you grew flustered. “huh?”
he was blushing, you swore he was. “you owe me for helping you,” he said quietly. “so...”
“so?”
“you should go out with me later, if you want.” he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to--”
you smiled a little. you were interested in seeing how minho acted outside of work--everyone said he was a lot softer when he wasn’t prepared to deal with assholes. “i’d like that,” you toyed with the cap of your water bottle. “we could get ice cream...?”
“then it’s a date.”
#wooahaes.fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids imagine#skz fics#stray kids fics#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee minho x y/n#lee know x y/n#i have... never written minho before i hope this is ok???#man seems like he would tell a customer to fuck off if they made his coworker cry tbh. just a feeling.
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Bothered
- A blurb in which somebody flirts with Y/n for the first time, and Harry lets jealousy get the best of him
This is a little Drive Me Wild extra for all your valentine’s day needs!!! I hope you enjoy :)
Masterlist
-
“Tequila, please. The best one you’ve got!”
Open bars at work parties are an absolute lifesaver.
Harry and Y/n have been nonstop on their feet since three, wearing their sunday best, talking to all the higher ups and other officials at the firm with as much professionalism as possible. And though it was certainly a nice break from the work setting, it was still a lot for the both of them to keep up with.
It’s nearly eleven now, the party near its end and the exhaustion finally settling in. But Y/n wouldn’t ever dream of passing up unlimited free drinks whenever offered (neither would Harry, but getting her home safe is his biggest priority). Besides, she needed to take the edge off, somehow.
The bartender smiles at her, his eyes looking at her up and down very briefly before making her drink.
She’s humming softly to herself, her fingers tapping against the bar, the palm of her other hand resting on the back of her neck and she looks around the venue, admiring the architecture and the chandeliers that hang from above her.
“How long have you been working for them?” The bartender asks as he slides the shotglass to her, to which Y/n smiles.
“Almost three years! It’s been really good to me so far. I must say, though, it gets a bit stressful and there are a handful of times we end up having to take our work home. But I’ve met some of the best people through the company, so I can’t complain much! Especially when this is the only job I’ve ever considered staying at for so long.”
When the bartender doesn’t answer, yet rather just stares at her with amusement and endearment in his eye, Y/n starts to get nervous.
She considers diverting her attention back to Harry and moving on with her night as if she hadn’t spoken a word at all, but she’s never been the kind of person to walk away from an uncomfortable silence. And most certainly, she has never found it in her will to escape somebody’s pressing and persistent stares.
All of it just makes her so anxious.
So, as an attempt to calm her nerves, Y/n throws her head back as she takes her shot of tequila, her nose scrunching and eyes squinting as it burns down her throat and settles in her chest.
“What about you? How long have you been working as a bartender? I’ve heard it’s a lot of work, remembering all the recipes and stuff. Whenever I went to university, I would go to bars and get drunk by myself and watch how fast all the bartenders made drinks. I found it mesmerising, really. Like an art, almost. A sport, too, I suppose, given how much you all have to think and act quickly yet unmistakably.”
Harry smiles softly to himself, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest as he listens to her get caught up in her rambles.
She doesn’t do that much with him anymore, not in the way she used to. And it isn’t because she’s lost any trust in him, or because she loves him any less — rather, it’s because she trusts and loves him so much more that she doesn’t feel the need to fill any gaps or spaces between them anymore.
He doesn’t make her nervous.
She doesn’t need reassurance with him because she already knows how madly in love they are with one another and how they are undeniably bound to spend the rest of their lives together. The silences they share are comfortable for her, his simple presence enough to make her feel at ease and loved and respected without him having to constantly remind her.
And surely, Y/n still chews his ear off here and there, but he only ever wants more of her.
It’s a disease, his greed and longing for her. She is so enough yet so not enough at the same time, it kills him to think about it, but only in the best way possible.
But the smile and the admiration die down nearly instantly when Harry’s eyes catch the way the bartender looks at Y/n, and the way he straightens himself before her, and the way his bottom lip tucks between his teeth ever so slightly.
Harry crosses his arms at this, watching the way another man is drooling and fonding over his Y/n and not at all trying to hide it. And the sad part is that he can’t even blame him for it — how could he? He had done the very same thing for nearly two years straight.
So he suffers with it in silence.
“My goodness, I do love me a woman who can carry a conversation.”
Harry’s eyes squint over at him, his arms still crossed over his chest, his fingers twisting as he watches him blink flirtatiously at Y/n and the upward twitch of his lip whenever she flips her hair over her shoulder.
She only ever does that when she’s sweating, he knows this because she’s his girlfriend and he knows her more than he’s ever known himself. He also knows that Y/n thinks too lowly of herself to ever consider one’s kindness as flirting.
And though Harry wouldn’t dare to dream of changing anything about her, he does wish, just this once, that she’d see it.
Y/n blushes at his comment, but only because she doesn’t know what to say.
“Can I have another shot, please?” She asks as a form of distraction, but in such a sweet manner the bartender barely seems to notice. “I never get to go out to drink much nowadays, with work and all. So, I’m sorry if I order too much. Large groups of people aren’t really my thing. Not that I hate people, or anything. I guess they just make me nervous.”
And as the bartender pours her shot glass full of tequila, his eyes don’t make the slightest move to leave her. He’s gawking, looking smug as if he could ever stand a chance.
Y/n pretends not to notice.
“Look, I close down the bar in an hour. And since large groups of people aren’t really your thing, why don’t I take you somewhere nice —”
“Oh...”
“— just you and me, so I can have the chance to get to know you more? Maybe in more ways than one, if I’m lucky?”
Oh, fuck no.
Flirting is one thing, but listening as some stranger talks about wanting to have sex with his girlfriend is something entirely different. Especially when she hasn’t done anything other than be nice and considerate towards him.
He’s taking advantage of her kindness.
Harry can’t hold himself back anymore.
“Excuse me?”
And curse his fucking natural lack of emotion because it was supposed to sound threatening and protective, but rather, it must have come off the way any other customer were to grab a bartender’s attention because he looks over at him with a tight and strained smile, clearly laced with annoyance, with not a hint of suspicion.
“Yes, sir, what can I help you with?”
Harry clenches his jaw and nods his head, his gaze falling to the top of the bar as he tries — really, really tries — to keep himself together instead of knocking this poor bloke’s teeth in.
The urge is there, but he could never scare Y/n like that, or sacrifice his job for satisfaction’s sake — he was lucky he didn’t jeopardize it when he landed a solid right hook on his coworker a few months back. But to make such a rude, blunt, disrespectful comment to his girlfriend is too much for him to process.
But it’s not all anger. There’s something else there — something else brewing and swelling inside of him that’s never been there before. He can’t identify it no matter how hard he tries.
“It would help me tremendously, actually, if you were to stop asking to sleep with my girlfriend right in front of me.”
It’s silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as the bartender looks both between Harry and Y/n, Y/n and Harry. He looks weary of it, as if it were so impossible for her to ever be seen with somebody like him.
“You’re with him?” He asks Y/n, as if Harry’s word wasn’t enough and it nearly throws him off the deep end.
Y/n’s eyes blink with confusion and shock as she tries to adjust herself to her surroundings. Everything happened so quickly to her, she feels like she can’t keep up.
Harry senses this — he senses her uncertainty and uneasiness and takes notice in the way her fingers begin to grip at her shot glass a bit tighter. Confrontation and arguments are not Y/n’s strong suit and in the hands of either one, she is defenseless.
“Is my word not enough for you?”
The bartender lifts his hands up in defense, his eyebrows raised as if somehow proving a point he’s clearly been missing. “Can’t blame me for assuming she’s single, you’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.”
Harry’s hands turn to fists, his jaw clenching and eyebrows twitching as he hears him speak all the words he’d rather die than hear spoken again.
How a complete stranger can cut a wound so deep within him is unfathomable, but here he is, bleeding out with all his insecurities and flaws and weaknesses along with it. And it pains him. It hurts and if one more wrong word is spoken, he’ll fall victim to all the darkest parts of himself.
He can’t risk that, not around Y/n.
“I would highly suggest you stop talking now —”
“You aren’t even interested in her! I gave her more attention in the last ten minutes than you’ve given her all night!”
“Hey.” Y/n cuts in with pouted lips, her face fallen as her voice quivers at the argument brewing in front of her. “That’s not true. He — he’s been beside me all night. I thought it was — I thought it was obvious.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going home.”
Harry’s tone is unlike anything she’s ever heard. It’s stern, harsh, laced with impatience as he stands from his barstool and scrambles to gather her belongings.
And Y/n’s at a loss, just standing against the bar helplessly, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and shaking lips. He has never been this angry at her before and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Talking was what got them into this mess, she’s sure talking won’t get themselves out of it.
But it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Wait, H. I’m sorry, I —”
“That’s enough, now. We’re making our last rounds and then we’re going straight home.”
That was the first time he’s ever interrupted her.
-
It isn’t until Harry starts the car that Y/n breaks the silence.
“H, I didn’t know he was going to ask me out on a date.” She speaks with a voice small and shoulders slumped as she tries desperately to fix all the trust she has broken. “I was just trying to be nice and —”
“Not now, Y/n, please.”
She realizes the severity of the situation when he doesn’t call her a pet name.
Her eyes fill with tears, fully aware that even when he was most upset with her, he never interrupted her while talking or avoided her gaze like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. He’s doing both right now and to say that it hurt her is an understatement.
He’s sick of hearing me speak. He’s angry at me for talking too much to everybody and not noticing the consequences. He’s tired of listening to me make excuses for myself when I’m never going to change. He doesn’t want this anymore.
Her mind can’t help but to think such things, and though deep down in her heart she knows he’d never feel that way towards her, words of her past can’t help but torment her in the heat of this moment. Because this is so different than how it usually is with him, and it all started with her.
Harry can feel how much of a toll his words took on her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He is feeling so many things, and processing so much, he feels like he’s lost himself. All sense of everything else had left him the second the bartender spoke the words he always feared to hear.
You’re sitting next to the prettiest girl on earth and you look like you couldn’t even be bothered.
He knows it isn’t true, and he also knows she knows it isn’t true, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
To know other people see it that way devastates him. He doesn’t date Y/n to look uninterested in her, or bored of her, or tired to be with her — he dates Y/n because he wants to show her off, desires to make her and everybody else see how in love with her he is, to make it known she never has to walk this world alone.
To know he has failed to do that simply by being himself is a lot for him to take in.
He sighs, ripping off his glasses so his other hand can rub at his burning eyes before settling the both of them back on the steering wheel, his gaze still set on the windshield.
“I’m sorry for not letting you finish talking, twice now. It wasn’t right and I know what that does to you. And I’m not angry or upset with you, either. I’m just — I’m just not in the mood right now, alright? I need some time to think.”
Y/n nods, fearing that whatever words she chooses to speak will only make it worse.
Neither of them talk the rest of the way home, but that doesn’t mean Harry doesn’t reach his hand over to her thigh to squeeze at it three times, as if to tell her he loves her.
-
It isn’t until they make it into their bedroom that Harry starts to let it all out.
He’s pacing, his hands fidgeting with his clothes and running through his hair, his eyes wild but still refusing to look at her, muttering curses under his breath but nothing directly towards her just yet.
Y/n’s standing by the dresser, taking off her remaining jewelry and allowing him his time to dwell on his feelings. He needs this. She knows she’s the only person that he’ll ever show this kind of emotion to — he couldn't even show it to himself — so she listens, smiles sympathetically at him here and there, refusing to leave his side until this is all figured out.
He huffs before letting out a sickened laugh.
“Who the hell does he think he is? Telling me I’m not interested in you. I can’t be walking around kissing and hovering and touching all over you at a work party, I respect you too much. But he wouldn’t know a damn thing about that, would he?”
He throws his suit jacket down on the bed, only allowing himself one beat of a moment to shake his head before his hands start to fidget again, pacing around the foot of the bed to try and understand his primary emotion.
He feels a million and ten different emotions scrambling within him at once, he can’t make sense of them. Whether he’s angry, or sad, or hurt, or insecure, or humiliated… he doesn’t know. It all feels the same yet all feels so different. He is utterly lost in all of them.
“Then proceeds to have the nerve to say he’s given you more attention than I have. What the fuck does that even mean? All he does is serve you two drinks and speak one sentence. I give you all my time, all my company, all my attention, and somehow he thinks he’s better for you than me?”
And it hits her.
No wonder he’s been acting so different towards her and so quiet despite him not blaming her for what happened — he’s jealous, which is the exact reason he doesn’t have an understanding with it.
She’s his first girlfriend, and until now, there had never been any reason for him to feel this way.
But as sick and twisted as it sounds, Y/n’s heart warms at the thought of it. Because never once has someone ever had a problem with letting her go. Her loss never affected anybody around her, and so nobody had ever feared it.
To know that out of all people, it’s him who does, means everything to her.
She hums at him, an all too knowing smile on her face as she makes her way to her frantic lover, who stills when he notices her closeness.
Her hands rest at his chest, rubbing at it over his dress shirt, just the way he likes. It reminds him of the night of their first date — when she gave into her cravings and put her hands nearly everywhere they could touch — and so she always goes back to that very first moment.
It never fails him.
“It’s okay, lovebug.” Y/n smiles softly at him, her voice even more soft and tender than usual as she tries to get him to relax.
Her hands slither down the hem of his trousers, her fingers resting just above the swell of his bum and pulling him in closer to her. And he wraps his arms around her shoulders, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before bringing his chest toward her cheek for it to nest in.
“Don’t let somebody get the best of you. Especially when they don’t know anything about you or me or our relationship. We know what we are and what we have, it doesn’t matter what he thinks is better for me. I have what’s best. Forever.”
He sighs, the weight of the night lifting from him slightly, but not enough.
He rests his chin on the top of her head, his eyes on the verge of being soaked with tears. Because though he knows her words to be true, he just can’t seem to shake what’s rattling in his bones and picking at his skin.
He wants it all to be okay, and it almost is, just not fully. And it’s killing him from the inside out.
“It’s a new feeling for me.” Harry confesses sadly, trying to think of the right words to say to explain what’s burning in his chest. “It hurts me to feel it. I’m so comfortable and confident in you and yet somehow I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you and that fucking bartender and him touching you and making you laugh and —”
“You’re jealous.”
She pulls away from him slightly, her eyes looking up at him softly and sympathetically. He gives into her gaze for only a beat longer before looking away from her again, unable to take it.
It all makes sense — the unfamiliar feelings, the scrambling of emotions, the sensitivity to the words that had been spoken about him. His relationship had been threatened for the first time since it started, how could he not be?
“Of course I’m jealous. Which is absolutely horrible because you look so pretty yet it hurts too much to look at you.”
She chuckles, a playful smirk on her face as she reaches her hands up to his cheeks. And she turns his head to the side, forcing his eyes to look into hers as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbones.
Even like this, he is the most perfect man she’s ever seen. She has loved this person longer than she has loved anything else, how he could ever feel jealous of anybody is absolutely beyond her. He is all she will ever need, and everything she will ever want.
He is the only person that has ever deserved her.
“Baby, you have nothing to be jealous of. I don’t think, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on you, I’ve ever bothered to look for anybody else.” His breath faults, then, his heart dropping as if it were falling in love all over again.
And just like that, the hurt is gone.
“I’m yours, H. I have always been yours.”
He wants her to keep going, so instead of answering, he taps the back of her thigh twice. He’s never done so outside of sex, but he needs her all over him, holding him, hanging onto him. He needs it now more than ever.
She giggles, understanding exactly what he wants before jumping up until her legs are wrapped around his waist and her arms are looped around his neck. He catches her instantly, snuggling his face into the crook of her neck and kissing at the exposed skin.
She loves how much her words have an affect on him.
“I love you so much. I always will. No matter how many sleazy men ask me to sleep with them.”
He whines, lifting his head from her shoulder before looking at her with sad eyes and pouted lips at the subtle reminder that somebody else thought of her that way. Only he has, only he can, it doesn’t matter the circumstance.
She’s his.
She smiles down at him with a small blush on her cheeks, her arms unwrapping from his neck so her hands can grip his face again.
“I sleep with you. Every night. In more ways than one.” She kisses at his lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”
And for the first time tonight, he smiles. And as if that wasn’t enough for her, he laughs too — quietly, breathlessly — his hands rubbing all along her lower back and her thighs.
“Hmm... I am lucky, aren’t I?” Harry hums in bliss, his eyes looking at her fondly as she hangs on his neck in their home and it doesn’t get better than this. She had a man practically drooling on her lap and yet she’s here, with him, loving him, choosing him, just like she always has. “I do have the prettiest girl in the world. And the sweetest. And the strongest.”
“Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.” She teases, a smirk on her lips before her tongue pokes out to run quickly against his closed lips.
He lets out an almost sinister laugh, rumbling so deep in his chest she somehow manages to feel it in her legs.
“Why don’t I show you how bothered I am?”
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#harry styles preference
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Don’t Go Baking My Heart || Seokjin
Pairing: Seokjin x reader
Summary: You fall in love with Kim Seokjin’s bakery after wandering into it to take advantage of the post-Valentine’s Day discount on the chocolates. Maybe it’s the owner’s bad jokes, maybe it’s the other regulars, maybe it’s the delicious pastries. Or maybe there’s something more that keeps you coming back to that shop.
Also available on Ao3.
Word count: 14.7k
Genre: Strangers (to Friends) to Lovers, Bakery AU, tooth-rotting Fluff, some smut
Warnings & Tags: mentions of insecurities and of former relationships, smut (vaginal sex, oral [male receiving], fingering), Jin makes Bad Jokes, Valentine’s Day themed
A/N: Soooo this was supposed to come out for Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t ready then, so you guys get it now instead! I’m bad with puns so I definitely had to look online for those used in this oops. Finally, I’d like to give a big thank you to the amazing @elidebrey who actually worked in a bakery shop and told me all about (I’m sorry you guys ran out of milk all the time). She’s an amazing writer and you should check her out if you like the Batfam! Hope you’ll enjoy this one-shot!
February 15th
You first walk into Kim Seokjin’s bakery the day after Valentine’s Day. Your eye was caught by the chocolates and cakes you noticed on sale from the outside, and also the name of the place, The Rolling Scones, which is either genius or terrible, you can’t pick. The door bell chimes happily, first when you push the door open and then when it closes behind you.
The place is empty. There’s no one behind the counter, and you find yourself hesitating there for a second, both arms behind your back like a shy schoolgirl — which you once were, but that was a while ago now. Natural light, the cold sun of February, is falling through the bay windows, and the place is cute, clearly decorated with love and care. It makes you feel just a little warmer inside.
Since no one seems to be showing up, you take your time to look at the display. You’ve spent the past week crying over the end of your two year relationship, and you’re desperately craving something sweet and sugary to fill the hole in your heart and in your life. Post Valentine’s Day discount is definitely the best way to do that.
If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you knew this relationship was never going to be your forever. It was just a nice and comfortable situation to be in, and you expected you and him to part ways at some point.
You just didn’t particularly expect it to be now.
“Jungkook!” a strong voice shouts from the back of the shop, startling you. It’s quickly followed by a curse, and then a man walks in, glancing back with a worried expression, tying an apron around his waist and adjusting a small black hat on his head. You notice the ‘Jungkook’ tag on his apron, and it makes you soften in sympathy. The second his eyes fall on you, he recomposes himself, and shoots you a smile that’s professional, though the nervousness doesn’t quite disappear. “What can I do for you?”
“I was just looking,” you say, and he leans forward, probably straining to hear. Your voice has always had that weird tendency to become inaudible when you’re talking to strangers. “You don’t have anything with strawberries, do you?”
“I’m afraid everything we had went yesterday,” he says with a sympathetic frown.
“Oh, right,” you mumble. You’re disappointed to a stupid degree, and you know it’s because your emotions have been running wild recently, to the point where any small contrariety threatens to make you cry. Fortunately, you don’t, right now. That would be horribly embarrassing. “Um, I guess I’ll take that box and, uh, the éclair, please, then.”
“Of course!”
His movements are quick and precise as he takes it out, and you could be mistaken, but you think he’s deliberately not looking at you. You’re not particularly blaming him for it, though, because you’re doing the exact same thing.
“Anything else?” he asks once he’s done, and you shake your head, avoiding eye contact. “For here or to go? We’re also a café,” he elaborates when you give him a surprised — and slightly panicked — glance.
“Oh. To go, please,” you say, not so much because you actually want to, and much more because you’re bad at changing your plans when you had already made your decision.
Except… You eye the bakery. It’s not like you have anyone to come back to, and you don’t particularly want to be back at your apartment to wallow alone. You might even get some things done while you’re here.
“Um, actually, would you mind if I…?” The question dies on your lips. You’re already feeling too embarrassed to continue, but he looks up, eyes wide, and nods.
“No, no, please take a seat! Do you want something to drink as well?”
“That— That would be nice, actually.”
“Alright, just give me a second and I’ll bring you our, er, menu.”
It’s not a menu, it’s a list of drinks the owner printed and coated with plastic, and insists on calling a menu, but he isn’t going to tell you that.
You pick a table that faces the door, and after choosing and ordering your tea, pull out your computer. It’s not that the things you have to do can’t wait, but you don’t like sitting alone doing nothing. The shop is desperately empty, and part of you is terrified by the idea that Jungkook could come over to talk to you. That would probably end up not being completely unpleasant, but you’re not sure you can handle that much interaction with other human beings right now.
While scrolling through the text you are currently working on editing, you pick a chocolate out of the box to eat it and hold back a satisfied moan at the taste. The fact that it’s so good makes you feel a little more upset that you’ve never been in a relationship for Valentine’s Day and therefore have never been given anything like that.
It’s always been bad luck really, because you’ve been in a few relationships, but even with your last boyfriend, the two of you were on a break in February. The others never made it longer than a few months, and never fell at the right time. It’s not even like you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, you do think it’s mostly a commercial holiday, and you definitely don’t want any expensive gift, but you’d be happy to have someone by your side to make fun of other couples with. Someone to love you, and someone to love.
God, you want to be in love so bad. For a few months, you thought you had it with your ex, and maybe you did, for a moment, but it had slipped from your fingers without you managing to do anything about it, leaving you sad and empty. You want to feel everything the movies and books promised, the butterflies in the stomach, the rush in the beat of your heart. You want to feel like someone holds your world in their hands. You want them to love you back — really love you, so much that you’ll catch them looking at you and see it in their eyes immediately, so much that they’ll remember how you like your tea in the morning.
You don’t think your ex ever loved you, and you don’t really blame him for that. He liked you, certainly, and for a long time that was enough for you. But now, with it being over and him telling you he’d ‘met someone’, you want more out of your next relationship.
Then again, you’d thought that last time as well.
You’re grateful when Jungkook brings you your tea, tearing you away from thoughts you really don’t want to be having right now. He gives you a smile, then is quick to retreat back behind the counter, and something tells you that he has the same difficulties talking to people as you do.
That can’t make his job fun.
You’re soon able to immerse yourself in your work, much to your surprise. Usually, you’re hyper aware of your surroundings, and it’s hard to get work done unless you’re in a place that’s both quiet and familiar, but the atmosphere in here is so warm and pleasant that you’re able to relax and focus, all while drinking your tea and eating your sweets. It’s quite close to perfect, actually.
Which is why you jump violently when someone’s voice booms into the shop.
“Jeon Jungkook!”
You look up, panicked, and Jungkook turns around with the exact same look on his face. You don’t remember the doorbell ringing, so it has to be someone from the shop, and indeed, a tall man with short black hair walks in from the same place Jungkook entered. And your brain short-circuits.
It doesn’t happen all that often, for you to simply find yourself frozen because of how good-looking someone is, but in that case, you just can’t help it. The man who just walked in is tall, with very nice, broad shoulders, and the apron he is wearing underlines the muscles of his chest in ways you didn’t think were possible, but more than that, he’s also, quite possibly, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. When you glance at his plump, full lips, you find yourself having a hard time to tear yourself away. You’re relieved that you didn't have to order from him, because you’re sure it would have made you blush and stutter.
“Jungkook, there’s a mess in the back! What are you waiting fo—” Jungkook gives panicked glances in your direction, and the man catches your presence from the corner of his eyes, turning his sentence around as smoothly as is humanly possible, all while his lips curve up into a professional smile. “Ooh, hello, dear customer! I don’t think we’ve seen you here before, have we?”
A smile spills on your mouth, much to your surprise.
“No, it’s my first time here,” you answer. Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d like for it to be, but at least you didn’t choke. You suppose still being heartbroken serves as a shield against the man’s handsomeness. “I figured there’d be some discount after Valentine’s Day, and I was hungry, so…”
“You figured you’d kill two birds with one scone?” the man asks while Jungkook, behind him, silently smacks his forehead. You figure he’s heard it a million time before, but you haven’t, and you can’t help but laugh. That makes the man’s smile widen genuinely and his eyes crease.
“I guess you came up with the bakery name,” you chuckle.
“Absolutely. Isn’t it a great name?”
Jungkook shakes his head in disgust.
“It’s genius,” you say, and the man slams his hand on the table.
“See? I told you! Jungkook keeps saying that I have a terrible sense of humor—”
“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Jungkook grumbles.
“Hey, what do we say to customers?”
“Ah— It was nice to meet you!” he says, turning around to look at you and he seems somewhat sincere. “I hope we’ll be seeing you again.”
Then he bows his head politely and disappears in the back of the shop. The other man — who you suppose is the owner of the place — watches, laughing fondly, but goes quiet after that, so you go back to your work.
You don’t stay around too long, not wanting to overstay your welcome, but you’re still the only one in the shop by the time you decide to walk out.
“Was the tea any good?” the man asks as you walk by him.
You nod and smile.
“And the chocolates were delicious,” you add. “I’ll make sure to come back.”
“That’s music to my ears,” he says, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. That’s when you notice the ‘Seokjin’ tag on his apron. You don’t know what to do with that information, though. You don’t call strangers by their first name and you also don’t stalk people on line.
Especially not when you don’t have their last name.
You say a quick ‘goodbye’, then walk out. Jin’s eyes follow you for a few seconds, before he sighs and turns around, already taking off his apron.
“Jungkook!”
The boy is quick to appear again, scanning the shop for your presence.
“She’s gone?” he asks, and Jin gives a slap at the back of his employee's head with a groan. There’s no strength in it, though, and Jungkook barely reacts to it.
“How could you run away like that, you little—”
Jungkook easily avoids him when Jin tries to him it again, laughing at his outrage.
“We’re not going to be getting a lot more clients today, are we?” he asks, looking outside at the passers-by that don’t even spare a glance at the little shop.
“No,” Jin groans, letting himself fall on a chair.
The depressing calm that follows what is possibly the busiest day of the year for him is just one of the reasons why he absolutely despises Valentine’s Day.
February 22nd
When you show up at the bakery again, about a week later, you’re feeling surprisingly good about it. Last time went well, you decided, and the people were nice, so you’re not afraid to throw a quiet but polite “Hello!” when you walk in. It’s kind of funny — or is it sad — how it always surprises you when people are nice to you, much more used to passive disinterest at best.
There’s another man in the shop this time, with a laptop and a coffee in front of him, but he doesn’t look up at you. A head lifts up from behind the counter though. You feel vaguely embarrassed that you remember this one is Seokjin, and you only feel more awkward when he gives you a dazzling smile.
A glance at the display tells you that they have restocked on their strawberry-based pastries, and you happily pick a slice of cake for yourself.
“For here or to go?”
“I’ll have it here,” you say with a smile. You feel strangely proud of yourself for being able to say it spontaneously. He has no way of knowing it, but it’s quite the victory for you. Usually, you try to run from the presence of others as fast as you can, and it’s even worse those days. “And I’ll also have Darjeeling tea with it, please.”
“Coming right up, just take a seat and I’ll bring it to you,” he says, and then he winks. He doesn’t stick around to see the surprised look on your face, so you just do as he told you, wondering if he was flirting with you or if he’s just Like That. You think that second explanation might be the answer.
“It’s nice to see you again,” he says when he arrives with the cake and the tea. You’re pretty sure he can’t place you exactly, just thinks your face is familiar, but it still makes you happy.
He tells you he hopes you’ll come back when you leave, and you decide you want to believe it.
June 1st
You’re not sure when you become an official ‘regular’ at the bakery. Maybe it’s when you ask Jin if they even do scones, and he leans over the counter to tell you conspiratorially that he actually wanted to call the shop ‘bake it ’til you make it’, but was told it was too long. That elicits a brief burst of laughter from you, and Jungkook tells you to stop encouraging him, but Seokjin looks so happy with himself when you laugh that you decide not to listen to him. Jin has that way of breaking past your shyness that fascinates you. It might be what keeps you coming back, more than the delicious sweets and how beautiful the two workers look.
Or maybe it’s when Jin tells you that it’s not fair you know their names but they don’t know yours, and that he’d ask you for your ID before selling you stuff if you don't tell him. When you tell him, he repeats it a couple of times, like he’s tasting it, before nodding with satisfaction. After that, him and Jungkook start greeting you with it, and insist you do the same with them. You’re reluctant at first, feeling somewhat confused about the whole thing, but it turns out to feel… nice, to have people to greet, and who also know your name.
Maybe it’s when Jin tells you that you’re late when you come in, or complains when you don’t show up on one of your usual days because you had a meeting with your boss. He doesn’t say anything on the day where you take your pastries to go because you’re visiting a friend at the hospital, though, and you wonder if he can just tell. Regardless, you appreciate it.
You find out about other people who come here frequently, too, and especially the ones who are friends with Jin and Jungkook. Namjoon, who sits with his laptop at the opposite end of the café from you. Yoongi, who usually sits in the same spot as you, and eyes you threateningly when he comes in and you’re there the first time, until Seokjin tells him to knock it off. Taehyung and Jimin, who always come in together, and who Jungkook usually joins to bicker and laugh with them. Hoseok, who likes to waltz in at random times, and whose smile actually rivals Jin’s.
You yourself come in twice a week, getting to your usual place to work — except on the couple of occasions where Yoongi gets there before you and gives you a triumphant smile when he sees you. You enjoy the way you’re always greeted by Jungkook or Seokjin, like they’re genuinely happy to see you. You discover that the old ladies who come here to gossip love to flirt with Jin and that, even though he flirts back outrageously, much to their delight, his ears tend to turn a bright red when he does.
You even bring your friends on a couple of occasion, and Seokjin jokes that you’re responsible for half of his turnover at this point. Your friends enjoy the food, and the drinks, but they enjoy the handsome employees and customers a lot more.
“So this is where all the hot men were,” Hana marvels when you walk out, and you burst out laughing. You like that you’ve shared this place with her, because it’s something that makes you really happy these days, motivates you to come out of your bed, and even to talk to people, something you’ve never been good at.
When you walk into the shop and make small talk with the people you’ve come to know, something you used to consider yourself terrible at, it might be silly, but it kind of feels like home.
June 21st
You are pretty sure you know when you go from regular to friend, though. It’s a day like any other and you hum on your way to the shop. Instead of the joyful “Welcome back, (Y/N)!” that you’ve gotten used to hearing these past few weeks, however, you’re greeted with Seokjin shouting “(Y/N), my savior!”.
You freeze on the spot and give him a worried look. From his table, Namjoon looks up, just as puzzled.
“Is everything okay, Jin?” he asks.
“Jungkook isn’t there today,” Jin tells you. His voice doesn’t sound different from usual, but there is a glint of panic in his eyes. “I need your help.”
Namjoon stands up.
“Why didn’t you ask me? I could—”
“Stay where you are and don’t even think of approaching my kitchen,” Jin says threateningly. “(Y/N)? Please?”
Well. You suppose your work can get done later. You’re more productive when you come here, so you have some advance on your usual deadlines these days. But you don’t know what Jin wants from you and you’ve never worked in a bakery.
“What do you want me to do?” you ask cautiously.
He grabs your shoulders and your eyes widen at the contact. Not that it’s unpleasant, just unexpected.
“I knew when you first walked in here that you were a godsend,” he tells you seriously, looking right into your eyes, and you tell yourself that if he’s that good of an actor, you should probably watch out. “We’re out of milk.”
You blink.
“Okay. Is there a specific type of milk you want?”
“Just, milk. Get me milk and I’ll worship the ground you walk on until the end of days.”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics, and take your bag off your shoulder, handing it to him.
“Look after that, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll protect it with my life,” he says solemnly. “Also paper napkins please!” he shouts as you’re already walking out.
“Will do!”
“Bake a leg!”
You want to protest the joke that even you find to be quite bad, but the door has already closed behind you, so you just shake your head at him, only to see him laughing with satisfaction through the glass, and head to the nearest supermarket.
You come back with two big packs of milk and a lot of paper napkins, just as two men are exiting. You’ve seen them before, but they never stay to chat. Inside, Jin is juggling three women, and he looks more relieved than you’ve ever seen him when you walk in.
“I’ll help you with that,” Namjoon says immediately, bumping in the table as he gets up.
“If you break anything, I’ll kill you,” Jin warns him. He’s smiling like he’s joking, and his tone is light, like he doesn’t want to scare off his customers, but his eyes say he’s sincere.
You’re quick in the back, and Namjoon does drop the packs once, but nothing bad happens. He presses a finger against his lips to tell you to keep it a secret, and you grin without a word. Part of you is kind of wondering what you’re doing there, why Jin feels comfortable letting you in the back and why he asked you to do that, but you don’t have an issue with it, not by a long shot. This is… kind of fun, actually.
“Anything else you want me to do?” you ask Jin when you come out, and he looks at you in a pleading way.
“You don’t mind?”
Something tells you you shouldn’t accept too quickly, that you could end up in way over your head faster than you know. But his brown eyes are wide and desperate and you just can’t say no. So you smile and shake your head.
“Of course not. You look like you really need a hand here.”
“I do.”
That’s how you find yourself in an apron, with the cute, black hat Jin and Jungkook always wear on your head. Jin mostly sends you in the back to pick up things he needs, or makes you bring the beverages to the customers, which you’re thankful for, because that way you don’t have to greet anyone. Time flies quickly, and you can barely find a second to breathe for the first few hours.
“Sorry, it’s lunch time,” Jin grimaces as he passes you by, and you think to yourself that at least, it will get better, but it takes a while even after that, and when it’s done, Jin sends you to buy some more stuff from the supermarket, because as it turns out, things go fast.
Before you know it, it’s closing time, and you look outside in disbelief. The sky is starting to turn a nice pink, and other shops are putting up their shutters.
“You can go, if you want,” Jin tells you. He sounds terribly sorry, and that makes you feel bad. It’s such an unusual tone for him to have.
His offer is tempting, of course. Your feet hurt, your head aches a little from all the noise that never bothered you before but turns out to be a lot when you’re there all day, you’ve burned your hand against an oven, and you’ve found out that carrying things ends up really hurting your back. But you know that he’s experiencing the same thing you do, and you just don’t have the heart to abandon him here. Also, you’ve already lost your day, so you might as well help him out now.
“It’s fine,” you sigh. “Do you want me to help with anything?”
Cleaning up goes quietly in the main shop, and that soothes you a little. You don’t mind the silence, even enjoy it, and find yourself relaxing for the first time today. Surprisingly, you’re feeling… satisfied. It’s not something you would particularly look forward to doing again, but you’re happy you did it, happy you helped Jin, and you feel like you’ve accomplished something today, which is always a good thing.
“You have flour everywhere,” he tells you bluntly when you walk in the back of the shop, and you laugh.
“Well, it got everywhere,” you reply, trying to rub some off your face, and it’s Jin’s turn to laugh when you fail miserably.
You know you shouldn’t do it, but you gather a small handful of flour from the table, and throw it at him. A good chunk hangs in the air and makes you cough, but the rest does land on his apron. His mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape and you know you’ve messed up.
“Listen, I am so sorry—”
“No you’re not,” he says, taking a step towards you. His hand is on the table, which is covered with flour, and you swallow.
“Sure I am, Jin, please—”
But your pleas fall in deaf ears, and flour is soon flying your way. It’s your turn to stare at Jin in disbelief, and then you’re laughing, loud and clear.
Maybe that’s the exact moment when the two of you become friends — really friends.
Or maybe it’s seconds later, when the room you’re in turns into the scene for an all-out flour battle. Regardless, you’re laughing the whole way through, when you’re not choking on the flour hanging in the air. Jin’s laughter is quieter than yours, miles away from the booming and somewhat fake laugh you’re used to hearing from him.
The fight only escalates when Jin picks up an egg. You shake your head, mouth ‘no’, but he doesn’t listen, and after that, things get a lot messier. By the time the two of you, exhausted and bent in half because of how much you’ve been laughing, finally stop, you can feel yoke trickling down your back, and you know the sight can’t be pretty. Jin reaches out to you in a useless attempt to wipe some flour from your face, only to laugh more when it, of course, fails once more.
You try not to think about the jolt of electricity that ran through you when his fingers came in contact with your cheek.
“I’ll clean up in here,” he tells you, “but you should go take a shower upstairs.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, surprised. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of the fact that you don’t know him that well. In recent months, you’ve talked to him more than you do with your close friends, and you did just throw several eggs at him, but you don’t know him. You’re aware of the fact that he lives above the shop, but you’ve never been there. The two of you have never even exchanged numbers.
He makes dramatic hand gestures to signal you to get away, like you’re bothering him, and you leave with a last laugh. You don’t notice the way he looks up when you do, or the way it makes him smile. He can’t help it, he just loves that he makes you laugh.
You’re relieved to step into the shower, both because you’re happy to clean up and because there was something really awkward about being in Seokjin’s apartment for the first time, alone. The place was not quite as decorated as the bakery was, with paler colors. Walking through it, you had noticed big speakers, some books in a shelf, and a couple of cute plushes that you had had to resist not to fawn over. The place worked for him, you had decided. It was more understated than you would have expected when you had just started to know him, but it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Jin tends to be quiet when he doesn’t have to be ‘on’, and it’s something he doesn’t seem to feel he has to do around you anymore.
You sigh in pleasure when the hot water hits you, close your eyes. You’ve been craving it for hours now — long before the food battle with Jin. It helps relax your aching muscles, washes away all the sweat from the day, and you have to resist not to just let yourself fall down onto the floor. Your back hurts, but the worst part has to be your feet. You feel yourself gaining a lot more appreciation for Jin and Jungkook, who are always kind, smiling and polite despite all of this. The only thing that kept you from biting someone’s head off tonight was your crippling anxiety when it comes to interacting with strangers.
It’s almost funny now to think you used to feel that way around Jin.
You look around for some soap you could use, and in your search, you’re surprised to find shampoo that was definitely intended for a woman. You don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s no wonder that Jin would have a girlfriend, really, it’s the opposite that should shock you, but you still didn’t expect it. You force away the pinch in your chest. Jin is a new friend, you can’t have your heart fluttering like that.
You consider using it for half a second, before deciding that it would be very awkward if you came out smelling like his girlfriend. Instead, you do your best to get rid of any egg, and tell yourself you’ll wash your hair at home. You barely hear the sound of the door opening and closing over the water, and you’re startled by Jin’s voice outside the bathroom.
“You can take a towel from the chest of drawers,” he tells you, “and I’ll leave a shirt outside, if you want it.”
“Thank you!” you shout back.
Seokjin stands there a few seconds, before quickly shaking his head and walking away. He knows his ears are turning red, and he hates himself for it, but is it his fault, really? Is he supposed not to think about you, right now, in his shower, water running down your body? He never even thought to pretend he was that innocent.
He occupies himself by preparing a drink for the two of you, and then by cleaning around. He’s not particularly messy, though, and there isn’t much to do, so he ends up sitting on his couch, feeling awkward in his own house, and scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He freezes again when he hears the bathroom door open and close, guessing you’re picking up his shirt. Which means you’re— God what is wrong with him tonight? When did he regress to the state of a hormonal teenager?
He hopes he looks natural when you come out, because he’s doing his best for that. The nervous way he’s running his hands over his thighs would probably give him out, though, if you weren’t feeling just as stressed as him.
“I’m done,” you mumble, your shyness coming back, which you decide is to be expected in that situation.
It vanishes the second Jin looks you over and snorts.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, glancing down, and immediately you know that you’re probably ridiculous in his black shirt. It looks like it’s swallowing you whole. “It’s not my fault if your shoulders are that broad,” you pout.
“You look so small,” Jin chuckles. He sounds endeared, and if you noticed that sort of things, you would absolutely realize that his eyes linger on you in his clothes fondly — and a little longer than necessary.
“Want something to drink?” he asks, gesturing at the stuff he got out of the fridge when he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Sure,” you smile, letting yourself fall down on the couch next to him and pouring yourself a glass. The brief awkwardness that washed over you when you came in vanishes already, because of how comfortable you feel around Jin. He’s always been good at making you feel that way, and now he doesn’t even have to try.
“So, how did you find your day?” he asks you, and you look at him, surprised by his tone. He sounds quiet, cautious almost, like he’s worried about what your reaction might be, or that he could be bothering you.
“Fine,” you say with a shrug. “I can’t say I’d want to do it again— When is Jungkook coming back?”
Jin chuckles, and again, it takes you by surprise. It’s so… quiet. So discreet, compared to his usual attitude.
“He should be there tomorrow, don’t worry about it.” Then, he grimaces. “But seriously, thank you for helping out today. I owe you.”
“Yes you do,” you say with a grin, bumping your shoulder against his, trying to lift the mood a little, because he sounds genuinely worried. “Just offer me the tea next time, and I’ll consider us even.”
Finally, a smile forms on his lips, and he shakes his head dramatically, putting his hand over his heart.
“No, I don't think I could ever repay you,” he says, and you laugh at his antics, like you always do. He looks a little appeased by that, and that’s a relief. “Your back must hurt,” he says. “Turn around.”
You raise an eyebrow, but do as he says, startling when his hands fall on your shoulders. They’re large, engulfing you easily, but they also move gently as he slowly massages you.
“Oh,” you gasp, leaning back into him. This is— good. This is very very good. For a few minutes — or maybe much longer, you couldn’t tell — you just stay there, eyes closed, lips parted, focused on the delicious feelings of his hands gently rubbing all the pain and soreness of the day away. When he stops, it takes you a few seconds to come back down to reality, and maybe, just maybe you miss the feeling of his hands. “Oh,” you repeat, rolling your shoulders slowly. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Jin says. “It’s kind of my fault.”
You turn around, shaking your head.
“Seokjin,” you say. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind helping.”
“You’re too kind,” he frowns. “You shouldn’t let people take advantage of that.”
“I’m not!”
Then Jin smiles, in a way that only lifts one corner of his lips, and suddenly you feel— you’re not too sure. Something seems to melt inside you, something moves in your stomach like you’re free falling. You probably should recognize the feeling. It’s not like it’s anything new to you, and yet you miss it. You do something you almost never do in that situation, and you take a step back. You glance up from his lips, shoot him a smile, and get up from the couch.
“It’s getting late,” you comment. “I really need to go home.”
Jin is on his feet immediately.
“I’ll walk you back,” he says, concern flashing in his eyes.
“I’m good. It’s not that far and I need to clear my head after, you know, everything today.” You’re not sure you know, but Jin nods, though a little reluctantly.
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
He sighs. He doesn’t seem too pleased about it, but you guess he doesn’t want to insist too much, either.
“Give me your phone,” he says, and when you hand it to him, he types his number in, pouting as he explains himself to you. “Text me when you get home, alright? Otherwise I’ll just worry all night, because everyone is so unreasonable, and just wants me to lose sleep, and—”
You take your phone back from him with a laugh.
“I’ll text you,” you promise, briefly putting your hand over his. That feels— normal, you decide. It’s not like your hands have never brushed in the months since you’ve started frequenting the bakery. It just feels fine, and whatever there was before could just be a false alert. But then Jin looks into your eyes, and the feeling comes back.
“You better.”
You practically flee the bakery. You’re trying to make sense of the whole thing in your head, and it doesn’t go over great. You let Jin know you got home safe, and then do your best to push the whole thing out of your mind when you go to bed. You refuse to think about it too much. Not because you don’t understand what’s going on, but because somewhere, deep down, you do. This isn’t— this isn’t something you do. You fall hard and fast, that’s— that’s your thing.
Sometimes it’s nice, others it’s disappointing, but most importantly, it means that when the relationship is over, your life just goes back to what it was before. It you ever had feelings for a friend, someone you’re so used to having around… You’re sure it would truly break your heart.
July 15th
Summer is horribly hot this year. Fortunately for you, your favorite bakery has started serving ice cream. There is air conditioning in the store, but with the door constantly opening and closing, gusts of hot air regularly reach even you. No one seems too happy with the situation, with Jungkook seeming to slowly come apart under the temperature. Even Namjoon has abandoned ship, leaving much earlier than usual today. He waved at you when he got out, and you waved back.
Who knew, maybe the two of you would actually talk next time.
Jin uses a lull in the otherwise busy afternoon to drop at your table, and you smile to him. You haven’t really gone through anything like that night ever since, and you decided it was just a one time thing. You were tired from the work, and you were touch-starved, and, surely, there was nothing there, other than you gaining a new friend.
Yup. Nothing to see at all. Even when he’s sitting next to you, trying to fan himself with one of the bakery’s menus, head thrown back in a way that makes his Adam’s apple even more prominent.
You never thought yourself as someone who particularly enjoyed necks, but it seems you were wrong.
Not that that has anything to do with feelings, of course. Jin’s just hot. You already knew that.
“Hey, (Y/N), what’s your favorite cake?” he asks you.
It takes you just a second too long to answer.
“Uh. Anything that has strawberries in it, I guess,” you say, and he nods, but he’s also frowning. “Are my tastes not up to par?” you grin, raising an eyebrow.
“Clearly, your tastes are great, since you keep coming back,” Jin answers immediately, with the confidence that you now know to be mostly facade, but that you’ve still come to love. “No, strawberries are good. I can work with strawberries.”
“I actually wanted strawberries the first time I came here,” you reminisce. “But there weren’t any left because that was after Valentine’s Day.”
Jin clicks his tongue in disgust.
“Worst day of the year,” he says, “though February is a bad month for strawberries in general.”
“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?” you ask, and if you were a dog, your ears would be perking up with interest. You’ve always loved to hear people’s opinion on the holiday, because it’s so divisive. “You guys must make quite a lot of money…”
“I’m wounded that you’d think money is all I care about,” Jin sighs dramatically, though the glint in his eyes lets you know that he’s only joking. “It’s just very busy,” he admits. “It’s a lot of work to prepare, people place a lot of orders, and we basically don’t get a minute to ourselves. Not to mention— do you know what it does to a person to know that the food he lovingly prepared is probably going to be eaten off someone’s body?”
You can’t help it. You burst out laughing. When you do, you’re completely unaware of the fond way Jin looks at you. He’s always liked that he made you laugh, from the very first day you came into the store.
“No,” you admit, “no, I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well I have to.”
“I’m so sorry for you.”
“I’m sorry for me too.”
Then Jimin practically waltzes in and energetically greets everyone in the room, including you, and Jin gets up to serve him and Taehyung because Jungkook looks like he’s about to collapse, and you don’t give much more thought to the conversation.
But Jin remembers that strawberry cake is your favorite.
September 18th
Somehow, you get roped into helping Jin with his grocery shopping. He sat at your table and complained about how Jungkook wouldn’t be able to help him that week, and you voiced your sympathy, and next thing you knew, you were in the supermarket with him.
Well, maybe you’d offered your help. Maybe you just didn’t want to admit it because of that time he’d told you you were too kind.
“You know, I thought I’d be helping you for the bakery,” you comment, “but this mostly looks like it’s for you.”
“I am the bakery,” Jin replies, and you grin.
You watch him as he carefully crosses item after item of his detailed list. You expected him to be messy, to grab whatever he wanted, but he is as meticulous with this as he is with the baking he does for his customers. Which is— strangely endearing to you.
“Most of what we get comes in bigger orders,” he explains to you once he’s done with that aisle. “Sometimes, we find ourselves missing some things…”
“Like milk.”
“It’s always the milk,” he sighs, shaking his head it brings back bad memories. “But that’s not an issue for a lot of thing, unless something very specific comes up. Like a customer wanting a pineapple pie.”
You tilt your head as he cautiously picks pineapples. You’re not even sure how you can tell if a pineapple is ripe, but he looks like he knows what he’s doing.
“That sounds… interesting?”
“It’s going to sound very interesting when I’ll make you carry half the bags,” Jin says, and you roll your eyes. Does he think you’re going to bail on him? You would never do that.
Well. Until your eyes fall on Minho, standing there, like he hasn’t simply vanished from your life six months ago. There’s a woman with him, and she’s laughing at something he said. You suppose she was the one he met — or maybe another one, there’s no way of knowing, really. But they look like they’re getting along well, and it— it makes you happy. You think.
“Huh,” you mumble. “That’s my ex over there.”
Jin looks up so fast you worry he might hurt his neck.
“What? Where? Do you need me to insult him?”
You’re about to say no when Minho turns around, and his eyes meet yours. He gives you a hesitant nod, and you think that’s going to be it, but then, after a few seconds of obvious inner debate, he makes his way towards you.
Great.
“(Y/N),” he says, a bit awkwardly. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too,” you reply softly and, much to your surprise, you mean it. You did your best not to let yourself miss him, but you suppose you did. It’s been a long time since you last saw him.
“This is, erm, this is Lisa,” he says, gesturing at the woman, who gives you a polite smile. It looks like she knows exactly who you are, and you suppose it must be uncomfortable for her as well. “My girlfriend.”
Yeah. You’d pieced that together. But then, Minho’s eyes move to Jin, and he raises an eyebrow, and you realize what he’s thinking about.
“Oh, this is—”
“Seokjin,” Jin says, extending his hand. “I’m her boyfriend.”
You’re sure that anyone looking at you can tell from your expression, from the way your mouth falls open and from the incredulous way you shake your head that that’s not true, but both Minho and Lisa are looking at him, and miss it completely. When Jin looks at you, he gives an imperceptible nod and puts an arm around your shoulders.
The warmth is— kind of nice. Maybe it even sends a shiver down your back, but you’re sure it’s because you’re still quite touch-starved those days.
Nothing else here.
“That’s great,” Minho says, and he looks relieved. “It’s great that you’re with someone.”
“Isn’t it?” Jin says before you can think of anything to answer to that. “She walked into my bakery and I just knew she would become my favorite client. Basically love at first sight.”
“Love at first sale, maybe,” you can’t help but answer, even if you know, reasonably, that you shouldn’t entertain him. You’re pretty sure he’s trying to show off in front of the two, which is really unnecessary, but you appreciate the gesture. “Jin makes the best cakes you can find in the whole town,” you tell them. Not to show off, but because it’s true. There are a lot of good things you could tell them about Jin, come to think of it. A lot.
“Maybe we should try it then,” Lisa says, smiling. She looks more relaxed than earlier, though you suppose she could also just be trying to get out of this conversation.
“Oh, it’s a must,” you reply sincerely, and Jin laughs, pulling you against his chest a little.
“She’s too nice,” he says, and you immediately protest that no, definitely not, he does, and you’re sure you look like a very annoying couple, because it doesn’t take long for Minho to clear his throat.
“Well, we have to go but it was— it was nice catching up with you.”
“Same,” you nod, and when he leaves, you can’t help but watch him. You don’t really feel anything right now. You were sincerely happy to see him, but it felt like running into a childhood friend you haven’t seen in a long, long time, and now have nothing in common with outside of those memories. Except it hasn’t been a life time since you last met him. Just a little over six months. Soon, he’ll just be someone you used to know.
You wish you were more upset by this. You wish there was anything that told you that what you had with him actually mattered. Instead, this vague indifference lets you know that your paths had probably diverged before the two of you even broke up. And that makes you kind of sad.
“Are you okay?” Jin asks. He has that quiet voice you’ve heard a few times now.
“I’m fine,” you nod, “but you really didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t— Minho and I aren’t— there really was no need.”
“I was happy to do it,” Jin says, and you notice how petty he sounds. “It’s always a joy to let an ex see how much better than them you’re doing.”
You laugh. You probably agree with him on that, but you’re not going to help feed his ego even more. Jungkook would probably never forgive you for it.
“I don’t think your girlfriend would like you doing that,” you observe, and Jin answers that remark with a blank stare.
“When have I ever said anything about a girlfriend?”
“Well, there was a bottle of shampoo at your place that—”
“So a guy can’t like having his hair smell like fruit, huh?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Wow, way to reinforce stereotypes, (Y/N). I expected more of you.”
He ignores your attempts at protesting and strides away from you. It takes you a few moments to catch up, because of his stupid long legs of his.
“If I had a girlfriend, I would never stop talking about her,” he lets you know while you’re catching your breath. “So don’t worry. You’ll know about it.”
“Duly noted,” you say. You maybe feel a little too happy about that new information so, to distract yourself from it, you change the subject. “So I’m your favorite customer?”
He scoffs and glances away from you, refusing to meet your eyes. He thought you hadn’t picked up on that.
“You’re a strong contestant, I guess,” he says reluctantly, and you laugh, not pushing it further.
“Anyway— Minho broke up with me a week Valentine’s Day,” you say. You’re not sure why. Maybe to let Jin that you’ve been over it for a long time.
“That’s rude,” Jin comments with a disapproving click of his tongue.
“He probably wanted to spend it with her,” you shrug. “When we got together, he told me he didn’t cheat. He left. So— I guess that was it.” Then there’s a laugh, and you can’t tell if it sounds bitter. You hope not. “I’ve actually never had a boyfriend for Valentine’s Day,” you confess.
The silence that follows is unusual for Jin. When you glance up at him, he’s just looking at you, and for a second, you think it’s pity you find in his eyes. But, from the way he frowns, you realize it could just be genuine sympathy.
“Would it make you feel better if I tell you it’s a terrible holiday that’s just there to sell things?”
“I already know that,” you chuckle, even if it does make you feel a little better. “I just want someone to buy me roses once, you know?”
Jin doesn’t answer, just looks at you, and something about the intensity of his stare makes you feel— feel things you told yourself you weren’t feeling for him. But then, you just ran into Minho, didn’t you? It makes sense that you would be all over the place emotionally.
“Anything more on your list?” you ask, and Jin blinks.
“Yeah, that way,” he says, sounding a bit off, but then he adds “More things for you to carry,” and you decide to brush it off.
But he stores the information in his mind. Strawberry cake and roses. Duly noted.
October 31st
“So do you actually like Halloween, or is this just another shameless cash grab for you?” you ask Jin when he brings you your tea.
You have to admit, him and Jungkook truly went all out for this. They’ve decorated the shop with pumpkins, and there are fake bats hanging from the ceiling. There are also themed cakes and chocolates shaped like spiders. It’s spooky, and it delights the kids that come in and ask the parents about it. You definitely appreciate the atmosphere it creates — and you also appreciate the way Hoseok jumped when he walked in front of the witch that lets out an evil laugh when someone passes the movement detector.
“Halloween is not terrible, I guess,” Jin says, like him and Jungkook don’t take a full day out of their schedules and bring in some friends just to decorate the shop. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” you answer sincerely, and Jin’s expression softens.
“Hey, we’re having a small get-together after closing tonight,” he tells you spontaneously. “Wanna join us?”
You take a second to answer. It’s not like you don’t want to — far from that — but there’s that voice inside of you that tells you that you’ve been weird around Jin, and you don’t want to be weird around him. You want to keep things as they are, because he’s such a wonderful friend to have around. You’d hate yourself if you changed that.
But if the point is to have him around, then surely, telling him no right now would be counter-productive, right?
“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and Jin beams, and you feel all warmed-up inside.
You already know that you’ll have fun, and you’ll laugh, and he’ll insist on walking you him and you’ll tell him no. And it sounds exactly like how you want to spend your evening.
January 10th
You first meet Sungho on New Year’s Eve, at Hana’s party. The two of you click immediately, and you enjoy the familiar rush of feelings, the waiting for a text after you’ve given him your number, the anticipation of knowing where this is all leading, if everything goes right. After a week, you run into him at the bakery, or, well, you’re sitting in your usual corner when he comes in. He doesn’t see you immediately, but when he looks in your direction after a little while, you happily wave him over.
“You don’t usually come here, do you?” you ask him. “I would have seen you by now if you were a regular.”
He chuckles, flashes you a bright smile, and you smile in return. Sungho has a nice smile. He doesn’t laugh easily, though, from what you saw when you met him, which is a shame, but definitely not a dealbreaker, even if you love to hear people laugh.
“No, I saw you were talking about this place a lot online, and I figured I would come and check it out. Of course, seeing you here is the best part,” he adds with a wink, and he leans towards you a little. The obvious flirtation sends a wave of heat through your chest, and you don’t hesitate to lean forward as well, resting your elbow on the table and putting your chin on your hand. You enjoy the closeness, the proximity, the chase.
You pull away when Jin arrives with Sungho’s order.
“This looks great,” Sungho comments. “I’m glad (Y/N) advertised you so much.”
“Well, there’s a reason she’s our favorite customer,” Jin replies, smiling, and when you meet his eyes, they’re fond and— and something else that makes it hard to breathe for a second.
But the smile fades when Sungho takes a portion of his cake with the spoon and offers it to you.
“Wanna try it?” he asks, and you do, because you know everything Jin makes will be amazing. You’re not sure you love the gesture itself — it’s kind of cute, but you’ve also just met him and it feels a bit strange — but you still giggle and take the bite.
And all Jin can do is stand there, looking at the two of you. He feels something he has felt before, and it’s that he let something he wanted pass him by. He waited too long to make a move, once again, and once again, it’s cost him something he doesn’t know how he’ll live without, and now he’ll have no choice but to figure it out.
You glance up, and he catches himself, plastering a smile on his lips.
“Enjoy yourselves!” he says, a little too loudly, and he knows, from the way you blink and the puzzled look you give him, that you’ve noticed and it’s— it’s horrible. It’s horrible that you know him that well and that you’ve seen so many facets of him and you’ve chosen someone else. You don’t ask anything, though, and he’s quick to leave.
He’s also quick to ask Jungkook to replace him in the shop, and he, very deliberately, doesn’t ask anything about how things went. Doesn’t want to know if you kissed, or worse, if you left together.
He’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s anything he hasn’t been through before.
February 5th
You feel impossibly excited when Sungho asks you out for Valentine’s Day. You gush about it to your friends, a lot, and Hana is delighted for you — and very pleased that her circles of friends are meeting like that. Jungkook sounds happy, too, though slightly more reserved, but you get the type of enthusiasm you wanted from Jimin and Taehyung.
Jin gets quiet when you let him know, though. It’s not something you haven’t seen before, but it does take you off guard, because you’ve never seen it happen while in the shop, where he’s usually on top of his game.
“Are you okay?” you ask, worried, leaning over the counter to put a hand on his arm. “You look a little under the weather these days.”
He smiles, but it lacks his usual flamboyance.
“Valentine’s Day is coming,” he tells you. “The worst day of the year.”
You laugh at that, relax, and take your hand off. You miss the way his eyes fall on the place you were just touching.
“Well, not this year, hopefully. Not this year.”
Yeah. He’s not so sure about that.
February 14th
It’s your first time, ever, having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you’re determined to do everything right. Sungho is taking you to a fancy restaurant, so you decide there is no issue in going all out. You take the day to prepare yourself, enlist Hana to do your make-up and hair, and you use the opportunity to wear a lovely bright red dress that you had been saving for a special occasion.
Hana whistles when you come out of your room after you’ve also put on half-transparent black tights.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she says with an appreciative nod.
You glance down at your body self-consciously and try to smooth the fabric of the dress. You do think it looks pretty good, but you could be wrong. Does it show too much of your legs? Does it hug your curves too tightly?
“You think he’s going to like it?” you ask, somewhat shyly.
“He should if he knows what’s good for him,” she replies, expression turning murderous, before softening. “Just… Are you sure you want to be doing that?”
You give her a confused look.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, going out with Sungho,” she says with a vague hand gesture. “I just— I don’t know. Do you like him that much?”
It’s funny. You haven’t really asked yourself that question. You’ve just been going through all the usual motions — the flirting, the dates, and, inevitably, the start of the relationship, which is probably for tonight.
“We— we get along fine,” you answer. “I like him.”
You leave the words ‘well enough’ out of that sentence. You like Sungho well enough. But then, that’s always been good enough for you, so why should it change now?
Hana seems to think about it for a little while, then shrugs.
“Okay then. Do you need my help to walk to the cab? I would not trust these things.”
She’s pointing at your heels, and it makes you laugh. These aren’t even that high, and they’re pretty stable. You don’t think you’ll have any trouble walking in them. Hana wouldn’t abandon her flat shoes to save her life, though, so you suppose the question was to be expected.
“You can just tell me if you want to hold my arm,” you tease, and it seems to take her by surprise, before she chuckles.
“You’ve gotten a little too good at that. I don’t know if I like it.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid Jin has infected me.”
That gives her pause, and she shoots you a weird look, but you miss it. She opens her mouth to say something, then gives up. She could be wrong, after all.
She kind of hopes she’s wrong, or that if she’s right, you’ll realize it soon enough.
The dinner is perfect. You’re dressed perfectly for the occasion, fitting right in the restaurant’s decor, Sungho complimented you when you walked in and you told him he looked great, which is true, the food is delicious, the conversation flows easily, and there are roses on the table. They’re not for you, part of the decoration, and it doesn’t look like Sungho’s gotten you any, which gives you just a little pinch of disappointment in your chest, but it’s also not a big deal. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
And you’re not happy with it.
You can’t place it, and it slowly drives you insane, as you and Sungho make your way through the meal. You try your best not to let it show, but you think he notices your increasing restlessness. You feel bad about it, because really, he hasn’t done anything wrong. You just— something’s not right.
Dammit. It’s your first time having a date on Valentine’s Day, and you can’t make it work.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Sungho says while the two of you are waiting for your desert, and you do your best to snap out of whatever is going on in your head to focus on him.
“Tell me,” you smile, though the smile is polite, rather than genuine.
He takes a deep breath and reaches over the table to take your hand. It’s far from the first time the two of you make physical contact, you’ve even kissed a few times, and it was nice, but something makes you want to recoil, in that moment. You don’t, though. Why would you? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about you makes sense right now.
“I like you,” he says, and you find the breath knocked out of you. It’s not unpleasant, though, it’s very nice in fact, and it almost completely dissipates your previous discomfort. “And I think— you know. We haven’t said anything about being exclusive yet, so I figured I’d— ask.”
He looks pretty confident, which you thought would put you off, but it doesn’t. The answer seems obvious to you. It’s been just a little over a year since you broke up with Minho, which is a reasonable time, so your lips part to let him know that you’d be happy to—
It’s then that you remember. You remember what you told yourself after that break-up, and what you thought after the break-up before that, and the time before as well. You remember you told yourself you wouldn’t settle for less than what you really wanted. You told yourself you wanted to love and be loved. You told yourself you wanted someone who’d remember how you liked your tea.
And, just like in a movie, Jin’s face appears in your mind. You almost dismiss it, tell yourself it’s just because of the tea, until you realize it’s not. It just isn’t. You should have noticed earlier, you know that, but you’ve never been friends with someone before developing feelings for them. You’ve always told yourself you were an ‘all or nothing’ kind of person, that you were the type to know immediately if things could happen. Maybe you didn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but you’d always thought that love didn’t wait.
Apparently you were wrong.
Jin’s the one who inadvertently makes you pulse rush, when his hand brushes against you. Jin’s the one who lifts your spirits, no matter what. Jin makes you happy, makes you want to get up in the morning, has done that for months now. Jin actually knows you. Jin looks at you like you’re precious to him. Maybe that doesn’t mean love, maybe to him, it’s all just friendship, but to you, it’s much more than that. And the feeling you get is so strong, so powerful, that you understand that you need to tell him. Need to tell him now.
“I’m sorry,” you say to Sungho, who’s been waiting for an answer all this time. “I’m really sorry, I don’t think that can work out.”
His face falls, but he looks far from heartbroken.
“Oh,” he says. “Um. That’s—”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, already getting up from your chair. You’re buzzing with excitement, with feelings. “I have to go. I’ll pay for the meal, okay?”
“No, don’t—”
“Sorry!”
You stop at the counter briefly before rushing out into the night. You feel that you know exactly where you need to be.
You get to the bakery minutes before closing time, which is exceptionally at 9 p.m. for the day. A couple is just coming out, and that leaves only Jungkook inside. There’s nothing left on display, and you know it’s been impossibly busy, which means Jin is probably in a bad mood, but you can’t wait until tomorrow. When you walk in, Jungkook looks up from behind the counter, clearly surprised by the sound of someone coming in that late, and a puzzled look settles on his face when he notices that you’re out of breath, your previously perfect make-up now looking a little worse for wear.
“Is everything alright?” he asks. He sounds worried, and any other day you would take the time to reassure him, but in that moment you’re pushed by an energy that can’t be stopped, so you just nod quickly as an answer.
“Is Jin here?”
“In the back,” he says, tilting his head in that direction, and you’re pretty sure a glint of understanding lights up in his eyes.
“Can I….?”
He nods, a grin on his lips, and now you’re sure he knows why you’re here. You don’t wait for him to tease you about it, quick to make your way past him.
You freeze the second you walk into the backroom, though. It’s not just because of Jin’s back, though that definitely has more of an effect on you than you’d like to admit — the broad shoulders, the muscular back, and inexplicably, the nape of his neck. It’s also because of the large bouquet of red roses, standing in a vase on the table next to him. Your breath catches in your throat as you look at them. They look beautiful, vibrant, their fragrance floating through the room, all the way to you.
“Who are the roses for?” you ask, making Jin jump.
Any other time, you would have been pleased to take him by surprise for once, but right now you’re hanging on his words, waiting for an answer. The air feels heavy between you, and it doesn’t help that he doesn’t answer immediately, swallowing silently as his eyes travel over your body. You had almost forgotten about the dress you were wearing, and, instead of making you feel comfortable and confident, like it had earlier, you feel naked and vulnerable under his gaze.
Finally, his eyes meet yours, mouth slightly open, and by that point your heart is hammering in your chest. You wonder if he has any idea of how you’re feeling right now. Had he noticed your feelings when even you weren’t aware of them?
“What?” he croaks, voice dry, like he’s forgotten what you said.
“The roses,” you repeat. “Who are they for?”
You need an answer. Desperately.
Jin’s eyes move to the roses, and his face falls. He turns his back to you again as he goes back to whatever he’s cleaning.
“Didn’t you have a date tonight?”
You shrug, though he can’t see it.
“I broke things off with him,” you say lightly, and you don’t miss the way his movements pause, or the way his shoulders tighten, for half a second, before he keeps moving. “Are you— are you meeting someone?”
“No,” he protests immediately. “You know I don’t believe in Valentine’s day.”
You do. You remember that. So you wait for an explanation. It takes a while, and you just wait silently behind him, suspecting that he’s waiting for you to go away. After a few minutes, though, he slams his hand on the table, still not looking at you.
“They’re for you, okay? You said you’d always wanted roses for Valentine’s Day, and I figured, maybe your stupid boyfriend didn’t know that yet, and that I could maybe just drop them off at your place, and—”
“You didn’t ask me why I broke up with him,” you interrupt him, cutting his rambling short, and he falls silent. You catch his eyes from over his shoulder. Finally, you’re feeling yourself calm down, and at the same time you’re practically shaking with anticipation. “I realized I had feelings for someone else,” you say when he still doesn’t ask, just watching you, lips tight.
“…You do?” he simply says in reply. He’s tense, guarded, and you take a careful step towards him.
“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes aren’t leaving his, not even for a second. “He’s smart, and kind, and handsome.” You take a step for each description you give, and you can’t help but smile on the last word. But your smile doesn’t reach Jin’s lips, and he’s just looking at you like he’s expecting you to tell him someone else’s name, or to make fun of him. “And he makes me laugh,” you add quietly, as you get to him, leaning against the table. “A lot. Some have even said it was a little too much.”
“So who is he?” he asks, and you smile. It’s wild to you that you haven’t understood earlier how absolutely head over heels in love with him you are, especially right now, when you’re standing so close to him. It’s also wild that he can’t see it, because you feel as though you’re radiating with that emotion, feel that anyone should be able to tell.
“It’s you,” you breathe out. “It’s obviously you.”
Then you’re pushing yourself up against his mouth, soft and slow. One of his hands closes around your waist as he leans forward, towering over you. His eyes are shut, and you close your own, reveling in the feeling of his warm body pressed against your own. You feel his tongue darting out to brush against your lips, and they part to grant him access, eager to taste all of him and—
“Couldn’t you tell me that earlier?” Jin protests loudly, tearing himself away from you, and your eyes snap open. “I would have planned the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever—”
You groan and cut him off with another kiss, faster and harder this time, grabbing his wrists to guide his hands to your hips. You moan in contentment into his mouth when he kisses you back and he swallows it eagerly, pressing you into the table, bodies meeting like they’ve been waiting for it for forever and you—
“I wanted to make you an amazing strawberry cake! Now I don’t have any strawberries left!”
“Jin, please,” you sigh, unable to tolerate any other interruption, “would you just shut up and kiss me?”
And, finally, he does. Holds you like he never wants to let you go, kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, and when the two of you part, he rests his forehead against yours like he can’t bear the thought of being away from you even for a second. The silent stretches, comfortable, only filled with your respirations, until someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump away from each other.
“Sorry,”Jungkook says with a shit-eating grin that tells you he’s not sorry at all, “but I was about to leave. Will the two of you be okay?”
“I’m sure we can work things out without you,” Jin says. “Goodbye!”
But Jungkook doesn’t leave right away, turning his smile to you. You would hide into Jin’s shoulder, but you feel so good you can’t be bothered right now.
“Goodbye (Y/N)!”
“Bye, Jungkook!”
“That kid, I swear,” Jin says, shaking his head, as Jungkook leaves, his laugh hanging in the air behind him for a few seconds.
“I quite like him,” you comment, fingers dancing down Jin’s neck to come trace the border of his shirt.
“Oh, you do?” There is a dangerous edge to his tone and you glance up, surprised.
“Are you jealous?” you ask. “I didn’t know you were the jealous type.”
“I’m not.”
“Because it’s not Jungkook I abandoned my date for.”
“Good that you did. I never liked him.”
“So you are jealous.”
Seokjin mumbles something incomprehensible and you laugh and hug him tighter. And when he asks you if you want to come upstairs, even if he doesn’t have the perfect Valentine’s Day dinner planned, even if really, all he has to offer is himself, you tell him yes, of course.
Because he’s all you want right now.
It turns out, you wouldn’t have eaten the dinner anyway. The second the door closes behind you, you’re pulling him down against you for a kiss, and he doesn’t oppose any resistance, doesn’t protest like he did before, just lets out a moan into your mouth. He’s just as eager as you are to get rid of that tight dress.
“Careful with the tights,” you warn when his hands start roaming your thighs.
“Take them off then,” he groans.
You press a few kisses against his mouth, feeling delighted with the way he restrains himself, hands turning into fists against your hips as he stops himself from tearing off your closes. Finally, you pull away with a giggle. His eyes are wide and dark with desire, and they only get wider when you playfully slide off your dress’ strap.
“Don’t tease,” he says, practically growls, but you decide that you will. You guide him to his couch, push him down onto it, and evade him when he tries to pull you down with him, slipping out of his grasp. You stand just out of his reach, but more than close enough to be tantalizing, and you see in his eyes that it’s working just fine.
You take the time of making a show out of sliding down your dress down your body, letting it pool down at your feet before stepping out of it. The heels are the next thing to go, and then, finally, the offending tights. The second you’re out of those, Seokjin pounces, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto the couch.
“If you want us to move this to the bedroom, now would be a good time to say it,” he says as he kisses your neck, hands traveling up and down your body, large and calloused, but kind and gentle.
“I’m good here,” you say, arching your back to grant him better access — and to roll your hips against him. “Are you good here?”
You feel his breath catching in his throat when you move, as well as something hard pressing against you in his pants, and his voice is slightly choked when he answers.
“Yeah. This would happen at some point anyway.”
You laugh. You can’t wait to try this in all the places the two of you can think of in his apartment.
“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”
Jin doesn’t seem to have anything to answer to that, especially not when you hook your leg around his, using your heel to push him down on top of you. He’s still dressed, but you plan on rectifying that. You stop kissing him to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he lets you, breathing heavily. Your fingers explore the skin you reveal in the process, and you’re delighted when he shivers as you find out where his sensitive spots are — right under his collarbone, his nipples, his ribs.
Finally, the shirt joins your dress on the floor. You take a second to marvel at his body. His shoulders are even nicer to look at like that, you decide. You capture Jin’s mouth again, this time with your hands fisting his hair. You’re feeling yourself growing more impatient, wetter, and while your panties are the only thing still covering your body, he’s still wearing pants — which is far too much clothing.
“I want you so bad,” you whisper to him, and his breath catches in his throat.
“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
That makes you grin, and you arch your back into him again, pressing yourself against his now rock hard crotch.
“Oh, I think I do,” you reply devilishly, and all Jin does is to bury his head into your neck. His fast breathing tickles your skin, and you love it. You love discovering that you have that effect on him, love how you can make him come undone. Another night, you might really, really enjoy teasing him about it, but you have something else on your mind tonight.
Your hand travels down his body to palm him through his pants, and he groans, bucking his hips against it involuntarily.
“Let me take care of that?” you offer, and he pulls away to raise an eyebrow at you.
Wordlessly, you guide him so he’s sitting on the couch, and then, without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees. You watch as his eyes go wide and he swallows loudly. You don’t give him time to regain his composure, gently nudging his legs apart so you can place yourself there comfortably.
“Fuck,” he repeats as your hands travel over his thighs before unbuckling his belt.
He lifts himself off the couch so you can slide down his pants and underwear, and that leaves him in his naked glory. And boy, is he glorious, dick standing erect and proud, precum already dripping from the tip. You suppose it’s been a while since the last time he had any sort of intercourse, and so you decide that you will do everything that’s in your power to make it worth his while.
You do your best to maintain eye contact with him while you lean forward to gently take in the head of his cock, wrapping your red lips around it as your hand grips the base.
“Ah,” he gasps, and you wonder if he gets loud during sex.
You hope he does.
You mostly tease him at first, running your tongue over the tip, and you feel his hand grabbing the back of your head gently. He doesn’t try to control your pace or to push you down. He seems to just be anchoring himself as he lets you do whatever you want. Glancing up, you see that he’s thrown his head back and his mouth is hanging open, letting out quiet moans that sometimes get high-pitched.
For some reason, the sight of his exposed throat turns you on impossibly. You slide a hand down your body to try to get some relief as well, and you moan loudly when your fingers finally find your clit. The vibrations have Jin push his hips up as his hands tighten on you. A second later, his eyes snap open.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s fine,” you reassure him, “I don’t mind but— Do you have a condom somewhere?”
He hesitates, then reaches for the coffee table. He opens the drawer, rummages through it quickly, and finds what he’s looking for.
“Taehyung said it was good to have them all over the house, just in case,” he feels obligated to explain to you, even while he struggles to open it and to put it on.
Well, you owe Taehyung one, you decide, but now really is not the time to discuss that, so you pull him down for quick kiss before he can lose himself in his ramble.
“Want you now,” you tell him, and it sounds like an order.
“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, pulling you back up onto the couch.
Your panties are soon gone, and he spreads your legs open with utmost care. Even if you’re pretty sure he could just slide right in, with how wet you are, he pushes a long finger inside you, then another.
“You’re so wet for me,” he marvels. “So wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself too much yet,” you moan. “There’s still work to be done here.”
His eyes are full of love when he looks at you, taking in your body, now completely naked and offered. Just for him.
“Oh, I’ll do it. Don’t you worry about that.”
You’re about to call him out for his cockiness when he lines his cock with your entrance, tip rubbing against your folds, and you close your mouth instead, wisely choosing not to provoke him when he could so easily make you pay for it by making you wait. Except it seems he’s just as impatient as you, because he pushes himself inside you without pause.
You moan and shift to accommodate the stretch, and Seokjin goes still on top of you.
“Are you okay?” he asks. You’re satisfied with the strain in his voice, like knowing you’re not the only one to be so affected here.
“Hmm,” you hum. “Can you— move? A little?”
He pulls out a little, experimentally, and you moan louder than before. It takes you a few minutes to figure out the pace, as your hips keep moving, desperately searching for more friction, but they’re not unpleasant, filled with kisses, sweet nothings and the feeling of his warm skin against yours. In those moments, you feel like you’re discovering him all over again, and you find yourself enjoying that more than you can say.
Finally, you find yourselves, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with your loud, high-pitches moans, and Seokjin’s — softer, quieter, but definitely there. You meet each of his thrusts, with one hand between the two of you to rub against your clit. When you first clench around him, he finally lets out a moan that’s as loud as yours.
“Fuck, fuck, fffuck,” he says, head falling against you, cheek pressed against your collarbone. “If you— If you do that again I’ll— Wait, please, wait, wanna— wanna cum with you—”
You arch your back, your nipples grazing against his chest, and force up the pace of your hips. Jin is moving incoherently, begging into your neck, and you want to give him exactly what he’s asking for. When you clench around him again, it’s with your orgasm. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge as well, but you barely feel his hips stutter into you, completely taken over by your own pleasure.
It takes you a little while to come back down from your high, and when you do, you meet his eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and, more than anything that’s happened until then, they make you melt.
“Hey,” he whispers, “you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, more than okay, in fact. You?”
“More than okay, too,” he says as a lazy smile spreads across his features.
“Good. That’s good.”
Pillow talk is not your forte.
“Hey,” Jin says, coming to rest his forehead against your shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“I think I’m in love with you.”
You chuckle.
“I think I’m in love with you too.”
“That’s good,” Jin says, but his voice sounds choked up, raspy, and you know he’s probably blushing. So you don’t add anything, just run your fingers over his scalp, the nape of his neck, down his back. Let him know you’re here, that you’ve got him, that you’re not going anywhere.
“Are you— are you staying the night?” he asks.
“Sure, unless you’re kicking me out.”
His arms tighten around you possessively.
“I would never.”
It takes a little longer before Jin manages to get the two of you off the couch to go get cleaned up, and then into bed, but of that night, there is not a second that you would call unnecessary or superfluous. Not one.
Every single one of them, every moment you spend with Jin on that first night, are essential, and you could not pick one of them to take back.
March 14th
The bell chimes happily when you walk into the shop, and even though Jin is busy with another customer, his eyes immediately find you. It’s something simple, yet it’s something you love about him. The way he always seems to find you, and the pleasant warmth that fills you without fail when you see him. You’ve been told that it was just the high of the first months of a relationship, not to get too used to it but you hope that, even if it dims, it won’t go away completely.
“Hey, Jin, your ears are turning really red. Why are your ears turning red?”
You laugh while your boyfriend turns to shoot a furious look at Yoongi. He’s sitting in your spot, in the back of the shop, and he’s looking smug. That comment of his has become a pretty common thing to hear whenever you walk in, or just when Jin and you are speaking. To be completely honest, you’re not too mad about it. Jin is good at acting like you have no effect on him, but the blush betrays him, and it’s been both cute and useful to see what actually gets to him, or bothers him sometimes.
“I’ll kick you out of my shop if you keep that up!” Jin shouts at him. “Don’t think I won’t!”
But Yoongi just chuckles into his mug, clearly not taking him seriously — and he’s probably right for that.
“So, do you know what today is?” Jin asks nonchalantly after he’s turned back to face you, gesturing for Jungkook take over with the other customer.
Your eyes widen in horror.
“Please don’t tell me you want us to celebrate our one month anniversary. I haven���t planned anything for that.”
Jin rolls his eyes.
“I would argue that our one-month anniversary is tomorrow, if we’re being precise, because that’s when we, um, really talked about it.”
He’s not wrong. It had been a pleasant thing, to wake up in his arms the morning after, to the sensation of his lips gently kissing your neck, and an even nicer thing to take your breakfast with him. You couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. It had just been what had absolutely and irrevocably sealed the deal for you. You knew it hadn’t been a mistake. You wanted to be with him.
“Hmm, but there is still some sort of anniversary to be celebrated tonight then,” you say, leaning over the counter. “I’m sure I could prepare something for that.”
His ears and neck flush, and Yoongi has the delicacy of not pointing it out this time.
“That’s not— That’s not what I’m talking about! Today is the white day.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“That’s when boys are supposed to give chocolates back to the girls they like,” Jin elaborates.
“But I didn’t give you chocolates,” you say.
“No, but you’re still the one who— Yoongi, I swear to God— You know. You’re the one who took the first step.”
Despite his recent outburst, it’s obvious that he feels embarrassed and vulnerable in that moment. You’d kind of gathered that he really regretted not asking you out before Sungho had, but you had never thought that it was actually an issue.
“I’m really happy I did,” you tell him quietly. He’s not fond of PDA, but you still allow your fingers to brush against his. That feels discreet enough.
“I know,” he says, and there’s so much love in his eyes when he looks at you that it’s a real miracle that you don’t melt into a puddle right then and there. “But I still—” He sighs. “You’re really ruining my plans. This was meant to go over smoothly.”
“Sorry,” you apologize with a wide grin while he picks something up from behind the counter.
“There,” he mumbles, handing you the box.
You open it, genuinely curious. You feel the eyes of everyone else in the shop — Yoongi, Namjoon, Jungkook and, of course, Jin — on you, and you want to tell most of them off, but you suppose that since this is where most of your relationship development happened, they’re kind of part of the story too.
The box is filled with chocolates shaped like roses.
“I know it’s not much,” Jin is quick to say, “but I just wanted to—”
“Jin?” you interrupt him.
“Y-yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
His eyes go wide, and then he sighs, but he can’t force away the smile that’s forcefully making its way on his lips.
“Well, if you absolutely have to—”
But he doesn’t protest when you pull him over the counter to kiss him, hands gently closing over your shoulders. He even brings you back for a second, even briefer kiss, and there’s something fierce in his eyes then. He superbly ignores the cheers that come from your friends in the room.
“I have to warn you, you’re never getting rid of me now,” he says, and it’s light-hearted, but you know there’s a lot of truth behind those words.
“Good,” you simply reply. “I wouldn’t want that for the world.”
He looks like he wants to add something to that, but he chokes on the words, and he falls quiet instead. It’s just as good, really.
There are some things you don’t need words for.
Some things that can be expressed just as easily with a box full of rose-shaped chocolates.
#jin x reader#seokjin x reader#bts#bts imagine#kim seokjin x reader#jin imagine#seokjin imagine#jin fluff#seokjin fluff#bts fic#jin fanfic#seokjin fanfic#kim seokjin#jin smut#seokjin smut#candywrites
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Poison never tasted so sweet
Alex looks even more unsure of himself, looking around as if searching for help. Morgan can see, over his shoulder, the car parked just in front of his door. The Secretary is probably there, waiting, so why did the mob boss brave the dangers of customer service alone?
“Is this a ‘my condolences’ or a ‘this is a message’ occasion?” he prompts, feeling a little sorry for the guy. He’s obviously awkward in interactions where he’s not barking orders or threatening people.
(Not that I’d be opposed to being bossed around or grabbed by the neck by him, a traitorous part of himself whispers. He’s quick to wave the thought away. He knows when he has no shot.)
-.-.-.-.-.-
In which there's a tired secretary, a smitten mafia boss and a cute florist boy who's way too interested into poisonous flowers.
Or, the meet-cute you don't need but I wanted to write as a bribe.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Jeremy is just so exhausted. And worst, he can’t even complain to anyone. Not because people wouldn't sympathise. A handsomely paid job means nothing in the face of a tyrannical boss who has absolutely no regard for personal hours or boundaries as he demands unfaltering obedience and perfection from his, and he’s quoting, ‘minions’; he knows, without a doubt, that he could go to any bar in town, sit by the counter to complain to the bartender about his life, and make at least three eavesdropper friends who would share his woes and relate to him. Maybe find himself a nice guy or gal to spend the night with, joined both in carnal passion and occupational despair. Could even be his soulmate, who’s to know.
And still, he can’t. Because someone is bound to ask just who his despicable boss is, and there’s no way to sugarcoat the name Alex Createur. He’d be on the second syllable, and the bar would be already empty. And, knowing his luck, some dirty bastard would be scared enough of the boogeyman under his bed to even call one of his boss’ informants (there's thousands of them, all over the city; finding one is no hardship at all) and tattle. Not that Jeremy is afraid for his life (he’s made himself too indispensable to kill), but his paid time off might suffer the consequences of his whining, and that’s something he’s not about to risk.
So here he is, repressing the urge to yawn as he watches his boss angry storming around his office. Yelling to the unlucky soul on the other end of the line something about disemboweling and student debt-levels of stress, before hanging up and throwing the phone at a wall, missing his head by less than five inches.
Jeremy just takes his own phone out, placing an order for a replacement. Because he’s good, and universally known as The Secretary (the only one competent enough to survive under Mr Createur’s thumb longer than two years), he has a direct link to most shipping companies all around the globe, and they all know to deliver whatever he asks for with utmost promptness. They are well aware who he works with, and the consequences of making said man wait. No one wants to tell the right hand man of the biggest mafia boss of the country that he has to wait a day the reglementary 24 hours for his product to arrive, after all.
(And this privilege, Jeremy ABSOLUTELY abuses. Like when he’s home late, tired after a day of dealing with his boss’ latest temper tantrum, and all he wants is some pizza delivered at his door the second he gets out of his five minute shower? He will one hundred percent name drop his title to have the poor delivery man tear ass across the city, arriving at his door a sweaty mess with thirty seconds to spare.
He doesn’t have the best workplace environment, but man does the job have perks)
As an afterthought, he wonders what time he will get off today. Judging by Sir’s murderous frown and his clenching fists, he guesses not anytime soon. Fuck.
Oh well.
“Should I inform Matthew, Sophia and Rick that they are needed, Sir?” he asks, going through his mental list of which hit-people were on shift that afternoon. Because, unlike him, hitmen and hitwomen got to leave at the end of their scheduled time and be replaced with the next batch, keeping an ever flowing, cycling stream of competent killers on call. Lucky bastards.
Mr Createur actually stops at that, still heaving from his tirade. He stands still in the middle of his wine-color carpeted office, head tilted like a panther about to strike. The floor to ceiling windows, with a breathtaking view of the city from up high (as if Mr Createur didn’t already hold the high ground above all other crime families in the country), let in the reddish hue of the setting sun, making it seem like the entire room was painted in drying blood.
Lovely.
“No”, he finally says, voice deceptively calm and collected. Jeremy wants to groan, because that means- “I’ll take care of that personally.”
Yep, extra hours. Yay.
“Of course, sir. The car will be waiting for you as soon as you step out of the elevator. Should I prepare your preferred ‘tool-kit’?”
His boss shakes his head, void-like-black hair hitting the air like little whips with the movement. He pats down his suit, pristine already, because he’s secretly a theatre kid and lives for the drama. Jeremy almost expects to be ordered to find him a cat to pet as he plans his next big blackmail of a promising politician.
“That can wait. First, we need to buy some flowers.”
“...flowers, Sir?”
“To send to Mrs Lucinda. The poor woman is bound to be very sad when she learns about her son’s awful, horrifying, soon-to-happen murder.”
“... of course, yes. I’ll order those and meet you at the next location, then?”
“No. I want to choose them personally. Find me the closest flower shop; it’s been a while since I took care of these matters. It’s good to go back to one’s roots once in a while.”
Jeremy knows better than to ask something he doesn’t really want to know, but- “Didn’t you start your mafia career when you turned 12, Sir?”
“Yes. And?”
“...nothing, Sir. ‘Disaster Flowers’ is three blocks away, or we could go to ‘Sparkly Nature’, if you’d prefer someplace with better yelp reviews and don’t mind a ten minute drive.”
“No, the sooner the better. We can't have poor Mrs Lucinda wait too long.”
Jeremy privately thinks the woman won’t be too cross about her son having ten extra minutes of life, but he doesn’t care enough to actually voice his opinion. He just nods and follows his boss’ footsteps as they make their way to the elevator.
As expected of an establishment with a name including the word ‘Disaster’, the place is empty when they arrive. It’s most likely due to poor marketing, because the shop itself seems pretty okay. Flower beds cover every wall, an eye-catching spectacle of colorful variety. The floor is freshy swept, no dirt staining the green tiles except the parts around the pots in the center of the shop, with small trees that Jeremy lacks the knowledge to recognize.
“Hi! Just a moment, I’ll be with you soon!” comes a voice from behind the counter on the far end of the room, probably alerted by the wind chimes at the door.
Jeremy wants to use his Secretary title to transform ‘soon’ into ‘right the fuck now’, but his boss seems content to wait as he examines the flowers to his right, so he stills his tongue. Another time, perhaps.
He follows behind Mr Createur, paying attention to which flowers he stares at the most (the monster is totally capable of telling him to ‘buy what I liked’ and expect Jeremy to just know ). He’s so focused on memorizing colors and shapes that he completely misses the approaching man, until he’s standing right next to them, happily smiling up at Mr Createur like he didn’t just sneak up to the country’s most dangerous mafia boss. Not that Boss looked startled at all blinking down at the smiling man with something akin to wonder in his golden eyes that Jeremy was immediately wary of.
“Good afternoon, you two! What can I help you with?”
He opens his mouth, because Boss doesn’t normally interact with peasants, as he calls them, unless its to kill/
“Good afternoon”, he says, leaving Jeremy swallowing his words and surprise. “My name is Alex Createur. I’m just…looking”, he says, slowly, enunciating every word carefully. There’s a strange look on his face as he seems to examine every detail on the worker’s, like there’s something in his chocolate colored curls and almond eyes that caught his attention. Jeremy can’t see it.
The heavy name drop should have made the man pale and tremble. If he were sane or smart, that is. This employee is obviously neither of those things, because his smile doesn’t falter as he offers his hand, gardening glove stained with dirt and something darker (water?). Like Mr Createur would ever touch/
And he’s shaking hands with the florist. Had Jeremy fallen asleep on the job, was he having a fever dream? Or perhaps an hallucination?
“Cool, I’m Morgan Contenu. I own this flower shop, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’ll let you browse at your own pace, but I’ll be over there watering the bloodroots if you need anything.”
And then he’s off to the other side of the store, step almost bouncy, audibly humming under his breath. Jeremy mentally tags him as ‘idiot without self preservation’ and turns back to his boss, expecting him to be fuming at the disrespect of not having the worker bending to his every whim.
He looks mesmerized.
Jeremy promptly turns his attention to the indoor mistletoe growing in a nearby pot. It’s probably less dangerous than whatever is going on inside his boss’ mind right now.
Despite Sir not even looking at it once, Jeremy picks a bouquet of Tea roses after a quick google search. ‘Love at first sight’ might not fit a mother soon to lose her son, but damn if it's not fitting for the mood in the car ride to the warehouse ten minutes later, as Sir looks out of the window and sighs like a sad maiden whose love left for war.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Morgan wasn’t expecting the cute dude from last monday to visit again, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he comes back from the back of the store after a quick break to find Alex there, alone this time, looking through his hydrangeas’ selection. Grace, beauty and abundance. Perfect for a man as obviously rich as he is pretty.
“Hey! You’re back! How is it going?”
Poor Alex looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Morgan almost can’t believe this is the most powerful mafia boss in the city. He’s way too adorable.
Because yeah, of course he knows who he is. He’d have to be blind or dumb to not recgonize the name, specially considering his stranged mom was still an active cop before he left home, and wouldn’t stop complaining about being unable to catch him.
Maybe it was his mom’s hate towards him (the enemy of my enemy is my friend?), but Morgan doesn’t feel threatened in his presence. Or maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.
“...Yes, good morning. I’m… flowers?”
Laughing a little, Morgan approaches him slowly, carefully dropping a bonsai on the nearest shelf on his way over.
“Yep, I sell those. What’s the occasion? I could recommend something based on that, if you’d like.”
Alex looks even more unsure of himself, looking around as if searching for help. Morgan can see, over his shoulder, the car parked just in front of his door. The Secretary is probably there, waiting, so why did the mob boss brave the dangers of customer service alone?
“Is this a ‘my condolences’ or a ‘this is a message’ occasion?” he prompts, feeling a little sorry for the guy. He’s obviously awkward in interactions where he’s not barking orders or threatening people.
( Not that I’d be opposed to being bossed around or grabbed by the neck by him , a traitorous part of himself whispers. He’s quick to wave the thought away. He knows when he has no shot.)
The business looking man looks at Morgan straight to the eyes for the first time since he stepped in, all curiosity and wonder. He seems… shocked? Pleased?
“You know who I am”, he mutters, softly, hand twitching. Morgan half-wonders if he was about to reach for his gun or to touch his hand. He hopes it was the latter.
“Well, yeah, I’m not stupid.”
“And you’re not… scared” it's not a question.
“Nah. Why would you hurt me? I’m just a florist, dude. You would gain nothing, so I think I’m safe. Unless I somehow offend you by being my usual informal self, in which case, my mom would be pretty pissed that the one criminal she couldn’t catch killed her youngest son the moment she retired; so it’s still a win in my books. Now, flowers? Did you kill someone, or are you going to? Give me something to work with here.”
“...going to. I want to send a message first, though.”
“Great! I have some poisonous flowers, those should do the trick. Marigolds, for example, symbolise grief, despair and mourning… oh! Morning glory, it means ‘death’! You need some of those in your bouquet too. Hmmm… Oh, bloodroot’s pretty deadly as well, and men used to make paint out of it to cover themselves with when they were courting someone, which could be pretty sick, as in a ‘you’re courting death by messing with me’ kind of way…”
Along the way, Morgan kind of forgets the whole purpose of Alex’s visit for a while, enjoying walking around his store as he points at his precious, poisonous babies and explains their meanings and uses out loud. The mafia boss, surprisingly, doesn’t seem particularly impatient, as he follows two steps behind, silent except from the few questions he asks (that end up encouraging Morgan to speak even more). He’s a captive audience of one, and he seems genuinely interested in what Morgan has to say, which is unbearably attractive.
(And that… might be a problem. Morgan doesn’t need more fuel for his dreams about the dangerous criminal)
In the end, after a whole hour of just talking his heart out about his plants, he finally sends Alex on his way with the perfect threat-bouquet, pretty and deadly (like the man buying it). As he’s processing the purchase, he gathers courage he didn’t know he possessed, and carefully plucks a purple larkspur bloom from the pot near the register. Slowly, oh so slowly, taking care that his movements are not threatening in any way, he reaches up and places the flower behind the criminal’s ear.
He doesn’t know who is more shocked by his daring, Alex or himself.
“That one is… on the house.”
Unblinking, those beautiful golden eyes not leaving Morgan’s simple brown ones, the dangerous man raises a careful finger to softly touch a petal, caught between his ear and dark hair. The contrast with the black strands and pearly white skin is striking against the purple.
“What does this one mean?” he asks, almost breathily. Not at all like someone who bribes and blackmails the president on a weekly basis.
High on nerves and adrenaline, Morgan lowers his gaze as he hands out the bouquet, so he can look back at Alex from under his lashes.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Alex comes to the realization that he needs a new desk. The deep, rich mahogany, with it’s warm and earthy colors, makes him think about pretty eyes and soft looking hair, and he can’t even sign up a single paper without his mind wandering and then stuttering like the bumbling high schooler he never was.
But, as he asks Jeremy to place the order and proceeds to drop a match over the wood, watching it burn in silence, he knows he needs to get a grip on himself. If he keeps destroying things that remind him of the cute florist ( Morgan , his mind demands with the same hiss-like tone he uses when threatening his worst foes, call him by his name ), he’ll soon be without an office at all. The floor to ceiling windows reflecting the sun shining over the city evoke the memory of crystalline laughter, of a short, slim man leaning against glass as he waves him goodbye. The plush chair by the bookcase reminded him of the soft sofa they sat at, together, a few weeks ago, when he arrived too soon at the store and Morgan had to wait for a delivery to arrive before helping him pick his bouquet for the day. The polished white linoleum of the hallway leading to his office, so strikingly boring when compared to lightly worn green tiles.
The only thing safe was, ironically, the withering purple bloom, that he’d tried his best to keep alive for over two months now, even hiring expert botanists to make it so (under threat of death), but that was now on it’s last stretch.
He never did research on its meaning, though, too afraid of what it could possibly mean (or maybe too scared to hope).
Alex sighed, stepping aside to let the clean up crew crowd around his burning desk to put the fire out and exchange the ruined furniture with shiny new one (in a different color, of course). As he did, he walked closer to Jeremy, whose face, like usual, betrayed absolutely nothing.
“Jeremy.”
“Sir.”
“...I feel weird.”
“Should I call a physician, Sir?”
“Not that kind of weird.”
“...”
“...”
“...So a trip to Disaster Flowers is in order, then?”
“How dare you presume something like that!”
“Is that a no, Sir?”
“...Have the chef prepare something to go, and make sure it’s ready in ten minutes or less. I bet Morgan hasn’t eaten yet.”
It’s hard to tell with someone so damnably poker faced, but he’s fairly sure his secretary is smug. He should kill him.
… but then he’d have to go through the whole embarrassing ordeal of being known again with someone new.
Fuck. Maybe he should ask Morgan for his opinion? Last time, he killed the suspicious minion like he suggested, and it turned out he was a mole after all, so that was a crisis averted if he ever saw one. Morgan was so smart sometimes. Then he’d do something like drink conditioner on a dare and scare Alex half to death when he found him groaning into the ground, and make him wonder once again just how many times he was dropped as a baby. God he was so adorable.
“Oh… Uhm, sir?”
He had such a nice laugh, and he just got Alex’s sense of humor so well, not even flinching at his dark jokes or disembowelment puns. He even had some of those, himself! Like the time he closed the shop mid morning just so they could have breakfast together, and said ‘ They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Well, not if it's poisoned. Then the antidote becomes the most important’ as they left, dragging a surprised laugh out of Alex despite the awful morning he’d been having so far.
“Boss?”
And he was just the right level of unhinged yet caring that Alex had never known he craved in his life. For instance, when they stumbled across a cop he hated and told as much to Morgan, and he said ‘ I bet she can make you smile if she tries hard enough’ , and proved himself right as he pushed her over the banister overlooking a dirty lake, making Alex grin for the rest of the day.
“Mr Créateur…"
Oh god, or the time a girl kept hitting on Alex at the store, and he couldn’t just get rid of her because of the cops off duty who were browsing some bonsai trees on the other side of the shop. And then Morgan noticed Alex’s discomfort, smiled at the lady and gifted her with a beautiful flower crown. Mountain laurel, he’d noticed with a grin, a little knowledgeable about flowers at that point in their friendship. She couldn’t get through two more pick up lines, before she was throwing up all over the cops. It was glorious.
“Alexander!”
He stopped, ripped off his daydreams by Jeremy’s annoying voice. He wanted to punish the man (he knew damn well that was not his name, and how he hated to be called that), but the urge in his voice stalled his hand.
“What?”
“The men you stationed at the flower shop sent an S.O.S. Someone attacked. I can’t get back in contact with them, though, which probably means…”
Alex didn’t stay to hear the rest of the sentence. For the first time in his life, the stairs were preferable to the elevator (too slow to arrive), and he ran faster than he ever did down flight after flight, damning his own greed at making his building as tall as he did.
He’d stationed a rotation of guards close to the flower shop once he admitted to himself that his feelings for Morgan were there to stay, and that even if most people wouldn’t suspect the full scope of them, it was still easily visible how much he cared for him. And as a man renowned for his power and lack of weaknesses, his friendship with a random civilian would prove far too tempting for anyone aiming for his downfall.
For someone so powerful, so widely feared and respected, time was rarely relative in a way that didn’t favor him. Things took as long or as little to happen as he wanted them to, as he wasn’t afraid to maim or kill to make them so. And whatever little he had no control over, he rarely cared for. Which is to say, he never truly understood when people complained about a minute seeming like an hour, a second lasting as long as a day, until he had to run all three blocks separating his building from the flower shop. He could vaguely hear Jeremy following behind, listen to his growly voice as he barked orders into his phone, probably summoning his heavy hitters to escort them to their destination to take care of whoever was dumb enough to go after the one person he cared for, but it sounded like he was underwater. Felt like that too, like his limbs were too light but he had no momentum, no way to reach where he wanted to be fast enough.
He desperately needed to know that Morgan was okay. Or, alternatively, that he had enough bullets so he could put one for every single mahogany-colored strand of hair of his that was out of place into the attackers.
The flower shop finally came into sight, the stained shards of the broken windows shining under the lamp post just by the side of the entrance. Whoever it was, had obviously bought out the cops who usually patrolled these streets, because there was no way they wouldn’t have heard the glass breaking.
The night was deathly quiet. Usually, both deadly and quiet were words he appreciated. But in relation to Morgan, they only made him sick to the stomach. He didn’t slow down in his mad dash for the door, but it made his hand tremble (for the first time since he was twelve, way over his head as he decided to become the cruelest mafia boss in the city, then the country, then the world-) as he pushed it open. Heart in his throat, beating so widely it felt like being punched from the inside-
“Oh, Alex! Hi! I was waiting for you.”
Morgan. Beautiful mahogany hair, falling in a curly mess over his forehead. Almond-like eyes, crinked at the corners from his wide smile. Lightly tanned face-
Splattered with blood. Only, he noticed after a heart-stopping second, it wasn’t his .
“Oh, yes, these dudes”, he kept going, acting like Alex wasn’t a breath away from a nervous breakdown. For emphasis, he softly patted the head of the dude he was sitting over. Who was unconscious, arm bent at an impossible angle (broken, he thought distantly as he noted the crowbar on the ground nearby) as he laid face down on the floor. The second attacker, half a meter to the left, was groaning into what looked like a puddle of his own vomit, a vial of what Alex knew to be Morgan’s poisonous flower’s essential oils broken a few inches from his face, arms tied behind his back and legs spasming. His own men, who had apparently taken down the third and final attacker, judging by the bullet wounds on said man’s leg, were either dead or unconscious, laying against the far wall near the register.
Morgan himself looked unscathed, beyond some scratches here and there and a probably twisted wrist that he held close to his chest.
“They said something about you and a weak spot? I don’t know, dude, I saw guns and panicked. Those two guys, that I assume work for you, tried to fight them off at first, and I took that chance to grab my emergency kit.”
Alex, too stunned for words, made a sound that was probably closer to what a whale could do than a human thing.
“Ah, my emergency kit? I meant the poisons and crowbar, dude. I had a face mask, so I smashed my strongest paralyzer on the ground over there- yeah, I would step away if I were you, though the fumes are probably dispersed enough it's not dangerous anymore- and went to town on them with my crowbar while they recovered. Though that one over there had a very strong reaction and he was down and puking his guts out before I even finished with this one, so I only hitted him a little to keep him down while I waited for you.”
Morgan was rambling. It was as adorable as ever, but Alex, for the first time since they met all those months ago, couldn’t really focus on that. His body was battling both the anxiety and adrenaline still running wild through his veins, and contending with the growing, unparalleled attraction that was threatening to make him drop to his knees in front of Morgan and just beg for his hand in marriage. It was a very weird, very numbing wave of emotions, and he could absolutely not process any of this while still worried over Morgan’s wrist.
As always, dependable Jeremy stepped up when he was needed the most, reminding him just why he kept the annoying bastard in his employment.
“Sir, the hitmen are on their way to… clean up, and I have the actual clean up crew on hold to take care of the place once they are done. The car is going to be here any second now, and the driver knows to not care about any traffic law in order to get you and Mr Contenu to the hospital as soon as possible. The medical staff also know to expect your arrival, and they’ll be waiting by the door to escort Mr Contenu to whatever examination he needs to get done. Please go and rest assured, I’ll take care of matters here.”
God, Jeremy was the best damn secretary ever.
Still shaking a little, he helped Morgan up (from where he was sitting, on the back of the hitman he took down like nothing, god, that was so fucking hot) and half supported half carried him to the waiting vehicle.
“Thanks Jeremy!” yelled the shorter man when they passed him on their way to the door. Jeremy merely waved him off, already focused on his phone again, probably busy with damage control.
He’ll give Jeremy a raise, he thinks. After making sure Morgan is safe. And convincing his crush friend that the empty office building across the street from Alex’s own edifice was actually a great place to move his flower shop to. Because he just knows that, after tonight, he’ll develop the strongest case of separation anxiety and will need easy, quick access to him at all times if he ever wants to be competent at work again.
He’ll even redecorate his own office, walls full of bleeding heart’s blooms, and risk speaking up about his feelings, if that’s what it takes to keep Morgan by his side. Forever.
But for now, he has a revenge to plan, and maybe his favorite, devious florist with a knack for poison will be willing to help- it’ll be a fun, bonding activity. Or, if he gathers enough courage to ask… maybe a nice date idea.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Once again, Jeremy is way too tired and not being paid nearly enough for this.
But, when he gets home after dealing with the flower shop break in (henchmen tortured until they confessed who sent them, flowers moved to a safe warehouse until they could be relocated in the empty office bulding Mr Createur had bought to keep Mr Contenu closer, corrupt policemen removed from their part of the city, reporters bribed to just ignore the situation and leave Mr Contenu alone…), he knows he has one more task to attend to, before he can finally go to sleep.
Tired but reluctantly happy, he lets himself fall into his overpriced couch, wine glass in one hand, phone in the other as he opens a new google tab and looks into the best jewelry shops of the country. If they are not good enough, he’ll start searching for worldwide ones.
He wants to find out which one makes the best engagement rings as soon as possible. The Secretary has to anticipate his boss’ needs, after all.
#S&D tier#S Tier/Alex#D Tier/Morgan#Alex/Morgan#S tier/D tier#my writing#the characters are from lighthouseraider's tiktok series#where there's a d tier villain who's besties with an s tier one#the content creator ships them but doesn't want to make them canon so the platonic enjoyers can still like the content#so he bribes the fic writers and fanartist to make ship-y content for them#it works wonderfully#mafia au#flower shop au
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Imagine being in a hate love relationship with Peter Hale
Warning : attempt of rape
You were on Peter duty..Again. Since Peter Hale was the man that everybody feared, it had been decided that you would be the one keeping an eye on the overly fool-of-himself werewolf with the power of your mighty patience. Scott and Stiles stop in front of Derek's loft and he jogs out to meet you.
" Thanks Y/N. I owe you one !"
He says with a grateful smile and you smile back.
" Big time. But come on, you three go hunt whatever creature you have to hunt and I'll stay to take care of Mr Smarty-pants up there !"
You say enthusiastically and they all smile apologetically at you, knowing how the two of you were not exactly on friendly terms.
" Be careful, okay ? And tell him that if he touches you, I'll kick his ass !"
Stiles says confidently, which makes you laugh.
" Don't worry, Stiles. If there is any problem, I'll call you guys immediately and plus, I have a way to take care of moody children.."
You tell him with a mysterious smile and Stiles nods understandingly.
" I know..Just, stay safe."
And with that last warning, they are all out of here. As soon as they are out of your sight, your smile leaves your face and you sigh loudly before turning towards the building and whisper to yourself.
" Welp..Here we go.."
As soon as you enter, you smell something burning and see the stove on fire. You run towards it and take a glass from the cupboard to fill it with water in order to stop the fire. When you're done, you are panting because of the effort and look murderously at Peter that is sitting calmly on the couch, as if nothing had happened.
You glare at him while he doesn't even raise his eyes from his book.
" Let me guess..You couldn't smell the smoke ?"
You ask annoyed and only then does he look up at you with a small mischievous smile.
" Aren't you supposed to be the one keeping me out of harm's way ? You are here to keep me from doing anything stupid, not the other way around..I create chaos and you're here to stop me. Do your job and stop whining."
You grit your teeths in anger before sitting on the couch, as far away from Peter as possible. You can't believe the nerve of this man that was ready to burn the entire flat only to prove a point !
" I don't know why you're so eager to unnerve me. Does it entertain you ? Would it kill you to be nice and helpful from time to time ?"
You ask while taking a nearby book and starting reading yourself, not really interested in his answer that you knew would not be anything but upsetting.
" I'm the spark that lits your fire, sweetheart..Try to let go sometimes, you would actually enjoy it. Why don't you try to be less of a killjoy ?"
You raise an eyebrow at that before returning to your book and replying nonchalantly.
" Have you ever considered, even for only a moment, that I simply don't like you ?"
He fakes being offended by putting his hand above his heart and widening his eyes dramatically at you.
" Oh darling ! Me who thought that you were about to ask my hand in marriage ?! How disappointing ?!"
You snort.
" Hard pass."
He sighs in false disappointment before taking his coat and walking towards the exit.
" And where do you think you're going ?"
You ask with an eyebrow arked in curiosity.
" Out."
He answers simply before opening the door. You sigh before taking your coat and running after him.
" Didn't Derek warn you that I am allowed to use silver bullets if you disobey me ?"
He scoffs before shrugging, not bothering waiting for you.
" I'm going to get a beer, not kill a bunch of innocent virgins.."
He winks at you cheekily before stepping inside the bar that was the nearest to the apartment. You role your eyes at his comment before entering the bar after him.
You look around and are amazed to see that the place wasn't as bad as you had previously thought. It had good background music and not a lot of customers, besides a couple of drunk friends who were talking in whispers at their table. However, Peter isn't visible and you sigh again before walking towards the counter to ask the bartender if he had any idea of where your irresponsible dog had run off to. You sit down and attract the attention of the bartender by raising your hand. He walks towards you and leans in to listen to your order.
" A soda, please."
He arks an eyebrow at you, nearly amused, before turning around and getting out what you asked.
" Are you sure you don't want anything else ? Anything stronger ?"
He says while eyeing your bottle of soda warily, as if it was an insult to his establishment for you to order such a drink. You smile, tempted beyond reason, but then remember that you had a werewolf to find.
" Sorry. Can't. I'm on the job. By the way, have you seen a man ? Sarcastic. Arrogant. Energic. Tall. Very annoying. Awfully blond. Seen him anywhere ?"
He looks suspiciously at you before asking in a slightly worried and even threatening voice.
" You're a cop ?"
You can't help but laugh bitterly at the question before replying.
" You could say that. But I am only responsible of one criminal, and the only crime he committed is to not have messed up my night, yet.."
He smirks when he understands the irony in your tone and was about to answer when someone puts his hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see a very smug Peter with a huge grin.
" Oh ! Look at that ! The overly confident puppy is finally back ! What ? Got lost on the way ?"
You ask sarcastically and he only humphs in response before sitting next to you, the grin not leaving his face.
" Why ? Missed me ?"
You scoff before taking a sip of your drink.
" As much as a needle in my heel..But, if Derek was to find out that I've let you out of your cage, he would have my head.."
He wraps his arm around your shoulders and makes you spill your drink a little over yourself.
" Aww..You do care ! My cold heart warms at the thought of the packs brat worrying about me !"
You groan in annoyance before biting his hand off. He hisses in pain before retrieving his hand and massaging it while glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. Just at that moment, the bartender comes back to get Peter's order and eyes Peter suspiciously before looking back at you with an inquisitive glance, asking discreetly if you needed an escape. You could have laughed if it wasn't so sad. Peter was such a nuisance that people were now wondering if he was the one bothering you, when in fact it was the opposite. However Peter, that had not missed the silent conversation, growls when the bartender gives him a warning side glance. But, not intimidated the nearest, Peter smirks a toothy grin at the bartender before showing his bitten hand.
" Careful. The brat bites. I've seen what it is capable of, first hand..literally. Don't worry, if you should be worried about anyone around here, it's everyone else besides her."
He cautioned and the bartenders eyes widen at the mark that would certainly have left a scar if he was a normal human being while you snicker in your corner. The bartender quickly runs towards his other customers at the far end of the bar, leaving you two in your sudden awkward solitude.
" Well..Isn't he a gentleman ? Thinking you need saving from me. Not even considering that I could be the abused one in this relationship ? How rude !"
You try to stifle a laugh. Unfortunately, he hears you and smirks proudly at his small victory.
" I'm not the psychopath that tried to murder a bunch of teenagers just because I wanted to become the big bad alpha.."
You taunt while giving him an amused side glance. He groans in annoyance as you make him remember his past and he gulps down his whiskey, an attempt to make him forget faster.
" Aren't you a delight ?! Playing unfair by spreading out the touchy subjects like that..No wonder Stiles rejected you. You would have chomped his lips off !"
You glare at him as he talks about Stiles before replying harshly.
" Says the man whose only date was Scott's mom, and that was to trap him ! You're so terrible that nobody could stand being with you more than 5 minutes without hating you ! I would tell you to go to hell, but it would be unfair on Satan !"
He chuckles at that last part and you take your drink in order to take a sip and calm your nerves, but grimace at the awful taste. You had asked for a soda, but it tasted more like salt with water..He cackles at your expression before whispering mockingly in your ear with false concern.
" Oh ! What ? Ain't sweet enough for you, sweetheart ?"
You only raise a very distinctive finger at him, warning him that one more word from him would result in extreme pain and look around the room to distract yourself from his presence..and from the fact that you were his entitled babysitter. Your eyes wander and finally settle on the nice bartender that winks at you when you meet his gaze. You blush slightly before smiling back at him. He wasn't bad-looking and everything would be better than bantering with the overly sarcastic and confident werewolf that couldn't seem to leave you be. You were about to stand up and walk towards the cute bartender when suddenly, a hand raises to lay on your shoulder and pin you down to your seat. You were about to complain and even yell at Peter when you hear him growl from deep withing him while he shoots a dirty glare at the poor young man. You frown in incomprehension and grit your teeths in annoyance, thinking it was one of his attention seeking gesture. You then take his hand and force him to let go of you to walk towards the exit. Here you go again, you couldn't even enjoy your night without having to take care of the sulky werewolf. You soon hear his footsteps behind you and when he is about to grab your arm, you turn around abruptly and glare at him with such seriousness that it freezes him on the spot.
" How about you and your insanity stay the heck away from me ?! I'm so tired of your bullshit, Peter ! Why can't you just leave me alone ?!"
At your harsh words, Peter's gaze hardens and he retracts his hand to only smirk at you and tilt his head a little bit to the side, as if he didn't understand the question.
" Oh darling..I would love to ! But, you see, it seems that me and my insanity are often required to solve your friend's little problems !"
Suddenly, unnerved beyond belief and having had more than enough of him, you feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and yell at him, so loud that it surprises the werewolf himself.
" Leave me alone ! Why am I the only one who always has to handle you?! Why do you always ask Derek for me to keep you, even though you don't even like me ?! If I'm such a bother, why not just get rid of me ?!"
He doesn't seem to be able to find an answer and you don't even let him reply. You start running until you reach a small and dark alley. When you're sure you are far enough for the werewolf not to hear you cry, you crouch down and start sobbing. When you've spilt all of your frustration and sadness out, you wipe your face with your sleeve and stand up to get back home. However, when you are about to leave the alley-way, you see someone else blocking the exit. You first think that it's Peter, but the more you approach the individual, the more you have to admit that it doesn't look like Peter. You try to walk past him, but he brusquely grabs your arm and throws you to the ground. You want to get your phone out of your purse, but the man stomps on your hand and you scream in pain. The man takes you by the jaw and forces you to look up at him. His disgusting breath hitting your face, smelling of alcool and his evil smirk making you want to puke even more.
" Aren't ya a sweat ass ? Tell me, what does a young lady like yourself doing here by herself in the middle of the night, hmm ?"
You want to scream for help again, but another individual behind you puts his hand against your mouth to muffle your screams and you feel the familiar shape of a knife against your throat. When you know that there is nothing else you can do, you close your eyes and try to stop the new tears from leaving your eyes..You didn't want to cry for those men, they didn't deserve your tears..
" Now..You're going to be a good girl and let us take care of you, okay ?"
The one posted behind you whispers in your ear and you clench your jaw, your last thought going to Peter. You had been awful to him, even though you knew he wasn't a bad person..You had let out your frustration on him and you were now regretting it bitterly. You should have sticked to your job and stay with him. If you had, maybe you wouldn't be in your current situation. Reality hits you hard when you feel one of the men starting to open your blouse. When you thought that that was it, that you were going to be raped in that dirty alley-way and probably killed, you hear the hurried footsteps of someone running towards your location. You want to scream again, but the knife is raised once again against your throat.
" One peep and nobody will even find your body.."
You whimper and nod in understanding. The footsteps stop and you hold your breath.
" Sweetheart ? Are you there ?"
You hear the familiar voice of Peter and feel relieved to know that he is near. However, the man whispers instructions in your ear and you can't help but nod in agreement, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to slice your throat if you were to disobey.
" You're going to tell him to go away, that you don't want him to come any closer..I know what he is and the knife is made of silver and has been dipped in wolfsbane for a while..Don't play smart or you'll lose more than your life.."
He uncovers your mouth and you respond in a shaky voice.
" G..Go away, Peter..I don't want you near me ! I hate you !"
You bit to your inner cheek, wondering if he would insist or know that something is wrong. You know that even if he was to guess that something is wrong, you couldn't afford to lose him as well..However, you hear him take a step towards you and sniff the air. He suddenly growls animalistically and his eyes light up in the dark.
" I can smell the stench of two putrid little humans that shouldn't be touching what isn't theirs.."
You start panicking, knowing that he could die if he was to step any closer and yell in a last attempt to protect him.
" Don't, Peter ! They've got wolfsbane ! Run !"
One of the men muzzles you again, but Peter doesn't step back. He gets his claws out and snarls.
" Alright boys. Let's rumble."
The two men stand up and face Peter that doesn't seem scared. He doesn't keep his eyes off them while they circle him. The man with the knife tries to attack him first, but Peter grabs his arm and tears it off from the rest of his body. The man screams in agony, but Peter slashes his throat before turning towards the other man that is shaking with terror.
" What ?! You are brave enough to attack a defenseless woman, but not enough to fight a werewolf ?!"
He roars and the man suddenly gets out a gun that he points at Peter. Before he could react, the man shoots and the bullet goes through his abdomen. Peter falls on his knees and the man runs away, leaving you and him behind. You force yourself to get up and crouch down in front him to see that the wound is not closing itself.
" Wolfsbane bullet.."
He affirms what you already suspected and you have to take deep breathes in order not to panic. You know what to do, you had seen Derek do it a thousand time already. You need to cauterize the wound. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself before trying to carry him back home. When you finally enter the building after a few grunts and moans of pain from the both of you, you lay Peter down on the couch and look around for something hot enough to burn the poison. Suddenly, your eyes fall on a blowtorch and when Peter understands what you were thinking about, he looks pitifully up at you.
" I have a very bad tolerance to pain."
He warns you, a warning that sounds more like a desperate plea for you to reconsider your plan..But you know that you don't have much time and address him a silent apology with your eyes before taking the handle of your purse and make him bite down on it.
" This is gonna hurt. Bad. But, I'm going to try to be as fast as I can, okay ?"
His nostrils flare in fear for the pain to come, but he nods in agreement and you take a big shaky breath before using the blowtorch. As soon as the fire gets in contact with his skin, Peter visibly whitens, his eyes flash blue and you can see his claws digging in the soft material of the couch. You don't know what to do to attenuate the pain, so you do the first thing that comes to mind to distract him..You kiss him. His eyes widen perceptibly at your action, but he doesn't hesitate before burying his hands in your hair and reciprocating the kiss, even though the handle of your purse forms some kind of barrier between you and him. When you take a step back, he seems more relax and you glance down at his wound before switching off the blowtorch. You are relieved when you see the wound closing and smile widely at him. But, before you could truly process what was happening, Peter had gotten rid of your purse and had bounced on top of you to pin you to the floor and kiss you passionately again.
" Stiles doesn't deserve you..Nobody does..Nobody needs you like I do..Nobody can handle me the way you do..I don't want them to take you away from me..Stay with me..If you leave, I'll lose my fucking mind.."
He mutters between each breath he takes while kissing you and you blush vividly at his words. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and you can't help but smile up at him before kissing him back yourself and petting the top of his head appreciatively.
" You damn nut job, if you wanted me that bad, why didn't you tell me ? Instead of making me lose my mind.."
He grins before nuzzling your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.
" Because I like when you get mad.."
You chuckle before returning his embrace.
" Bad pup.."
" Stiles lover"
You ark an eyebrow at the odd insult before replying teasing.
" Does that mean I won't be able to go back to his place and sleep on his couch ? Do I have to remind you that I live with him ?"
He tightens his hold on you and grumbles tiredly against your ribcage.
" Over my dead body. The only thing you will be allowed to sleep on from now on is me, got it ?"
You seem dumbfounded for a second and Peter picks on your uneasiness before laughing and looking up at you with a sly smile.
" Not what I meant, you pervert."
You blush a deep red and hit him on the back of the head playfully.
" Hey ! You're the one always insinuating things !"
He genuinely smiles at you before lowering his chin on your belly and tilting his head to look at you with fake innocence.
" I'm not the one who kissed me.."
You sigh, it was becoming a competition, like many things with him. You sit back up and make him fall at the same time.
" Yeah ?! Well, you were badly injured..and you reciprocated !"
You don't know why you wanted to defend yourself, you just know that you can't allow yourself to succomb for the man that had nearly killed all of your friends. Plus, you had just been attacked and were too weak to make any decisions. He seems to notice your worry and takes a step back immediately to get up and extend his hand towards you.
" I'm sorry. You helped me and I was being an idiot. You need to get some rest. Come on."
You look at his hand for a few seconds before slipping your hand in his. He yanks you upwards and proceeds to carry you back to your room where he lays you down on your bed. He leaves the room promptly afterwards, mumbling a small goodnight before walking out. When you're sure he is truly gone, you curl up into a ball and try to muffle your sobs. You couldn't sleep, every time you would close your eyes, their hands were there, touching you and making you feel as if you were weak..So weak..You whimper and cry as silently as you can until someone opens the door suddenly and blinding light surrounds the room. You turn around to see Peter standing there, his eyes glowing with such an intense color that it shocks you, you then notice the slight rise of his shoulders at each of his heavy breathing and finally, his lips curled and teeths grinding in rage.
" I should have killed them both..I should have never left you.."
You open your eyes wide at the realization, he had probably heard you and was reacting to your emotions. He approaches slowly and tenderly strokes your cheek, placing his forehead against yours.
" I'm so sorry, darling.."
You feel as if he's been crying too and step back. He seems to be hurt by your sudden distance, but you quickly indicate the spot next to you.
" Come on, I need a bed warmer."
His eyes light up like a happy puppy and he crawls next to you in order to cuddle you, making sure that you are comfortable every step of the way. You sigh in contempt before feeling sleep slowly taking over your tired body. Just before you fall asleep however, you mumble sleepily at Peter.
" You were right..I won't be able to sleep when you're not there anymore..You're too good of a bed warmer.."
You feel him chuckle behind you and smile as you realize that being best bud with Peter wouldn't be so bad..and maybe with time, a bit more.
The next day :
Derek finds the both of you on the sofa: you reading a book out loud, and Peter with his arms wrapped around you, listening attentively.
" So, I guess the babysitting went better than our stake out last night ?"
He asks, amused by your sudden friendliness towards each other. You look up at him with a small smile while Peter chuckles against your ear, the sound alone making you feel things you shouldn't be.
" Best of friends, aren't we, sweetheart ?"
Instead of answering his question, you try to change the subject.
" What happened to the stake out then ? I thought you were supposed to catch a couple of bounty hunters ?"
Derek shakes his head before shrugging his shoulders.
" I know, but when we got there, there was only one of them, and he was screaming that his friend had been murdered by another werewolf in town..I wonder if there are any others like us that we've not yet been in contact with ?"
At his explanation, you feel a lump forming in your throat, but when you were about to tell him what happened last night, Peter beats you to it.
" Funny, your description of the scene exactly matches what happened to me last night.."
Derek frowns before looking up at Peter with his jaw clenched.
" I thought I was pretty clear when I said stay put ?"
He glares at Peter, but then his eyes shift to you.
" And you, where were y..?"
But before he could finish his sentence, Peter cuts him again.
" Asleep. I waited for her to fall asleep before going out. Poor humans, can't manage a night without craving sleep.."
You look up at him with your mouth wide open, ready to deny everything he just said when you see him wink at you..He wasn't trying to make you look bad at your job, he was trying to save you the embarrassment. You close your mouth as fast as you had opened it and turn around towards Derek that was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your confirmation. You nod and he sighs.
" Maybe it was a bad idea to leave you alone with him, you're still young and he's had plenty of experience when it comes to get what he wants..I'll ask Scott or Stiles next time."
You feel the lump in your throat slowly making its way to your stomach and your expression twists into one of pain and regret.
" No !"
To the surprise of everyone in the room, including yourself, you're the one who just shouted your disagreement. Derek frowns again before crossing his arms and waiting impatiently for an explanation while Peter only tightens his grip around you, a silent warning as to what you are about to say. You take a big breath before glancing up at Derek and saying in a calm and unfaltering voice.
" This is my job. I'm part of the pack. It's bad enough that I'm completely useless when it comes to working on the field, I can't let my only participation in all this go to someone else. I made a mistake, it won't happen again."
Derek seems to believe you, even though he shakes his head in hesitation.
" I don't know, Y/N..I was allowing this to continue since it seemed to work..But, Peter succeeded in complicating things, again."
He emphasizes on the last word while staring at Peter accusatively. Peter flashes an innocent grin at him before agreeing with you.
" I promise to behave from now on. Please, dad ? Can I please keep my plaything ? It gets lonely around here when you're all running around, chasing your own tails over and over.."
You elbow him as a warning, but Derek is already shooting daggers in his direction, on the verge of growling in annoyance. Fortunately, Derek succeeds in keeping his cool and only sighs in defeat before walking away.
" Fine. But, I warn you, one more mistake and I'll personally kick you out.."
" Can't do that, chief. It's my house !"
Peter answers with a big shit-eating grin, but Derek frowns at him before looking straight at you.
" I was talking to you, Y/N..I can't allow you to become a weakness, we've got already too many and Peter is the master of manipulation, dont fall for his tricks. It's a warning, let it be not a premonition."
And with those last words, he is gone. You both stay still for a moment until you decide to stand up and make yourself a cup of coffee. The words of Derek are swirling around in your mind and you glance at Peter when you think he's not looking..Were you really just another pawn in his mastermind plan to bring down the pack ? He seems to feel your stare and points it out.
" If I didn't know you the way I do, I'd say that you actually believe this idiot.."
" Why did you protect me ?"
You ask him abruptly, still not sure about what to make of last night's rescue. He seems to thinks about it for a while before answering you with such honesty that it surprises you.
" Because there was no reason for me to talk about it..Unlike what you all think of me, I'm not such a monster. I feel no satisfaction in a young girl's life being ruined by such macabre events. I care about you more than any of the other dumb teenagers of your group, even my own cousin. You're nice, kind, smart and you don't judge. You never told me that what I did was despicable or that I didn't deserve to live. You did what you had to do and tried the best you could to help. I agree that we have had our disagreements, but it was always playful and never really serious. Why would I ever want anything bad like this to happen to you when you're the only person who ever believed that I could become an ally ? Tell me, how many people do you think ever read to me or felt safe in my arms ? Not even my own family ever believed I could change..So, yes. I protected you, because you would have done the same thing for me. Your strength remains in your humanity, Y/N. Stiles may be the voice of reason, but you're the voice of mercy.."
You are awestruck by the words that seem to be tumbling out of his lips and surround you like the warmest of blankets. You would be happy to listen to him all day. You genuinely smile at him and, before you could stop yourself, you kiss him. He relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around you to close the gap between the both of you. He finally breaks the kiss and laughs softly before adding.
" You also have very nice lips.."
You playfully punch his torso before laying down on top of him, finding the rhythm of his heartbeat oddly soothing.
" You're a jerk..But you're still a good person.."
You whisper while closing your eyes and you can hear him snicker above you.
" Congratulations, you just qualified me with two opposites. Jerk and good normally don't go together."
You don't answer, already snoring softly on his torso. He smiles sweetly at the sight before kissing the top of your head.
" Sweet dreams, darling.."
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butterfly effect: one
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Word Count: 6k+
Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!
A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.
My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!
butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist
now
It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.
Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.
“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.
“Babe, you have to promise me.”
“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.
In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?
“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.
So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.
Except, well.
I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.
A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.
The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.
I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.
As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.
“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.
“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.
“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.
“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”
“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.
“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.
“Night!” I called back.
I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”
Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.
True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.
To Alex: Just ordered an uber!
I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.
I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.
I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.
From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x
I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.
I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.
“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.
I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.
The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.
I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.
My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.
I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.
“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.
I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.
I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.
“Honey?”
No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.
I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.
Except now, I really had heard him.
Slowly, I turned to face him.
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.
Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.
“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.
I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.
As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.
“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.
Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.
“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.
His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.
I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.
“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.
I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.
My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.
“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.
His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.
Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.
But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.
Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.
“y/n, you’re bleeding.”
“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.
“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.
Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.
He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.
I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.
“Under the sink.”
My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.
I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).
“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.
“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.
Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.
Turns out, that decision was for the best.
He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.
I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.
I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.
I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.
He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.
He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.
Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.
I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.
“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.
His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.
He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.
“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.
“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.
“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.
I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.
He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.
“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.
“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”
“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.
I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.
He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.
Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.
“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”
He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.
There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.
When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.
“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”
“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.
I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.
His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”
Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.
“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.
“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”
My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.
I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”
“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”
My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.
“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.
We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.
We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.
“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.
He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.
“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?
“I came straight from work.”
Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.
“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.
“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.
My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.
“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”
“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”
“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.
“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.
“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”
“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“
“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.
“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.
“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.
“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.
Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.
“Is everything okay?”
“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.
From Alex: I’m coming home
Received ten minutes ago.
“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.
“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.
Shit.
Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.
Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.
There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.
Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.
“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.
Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.
“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.
“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”
********
As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.
From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.
As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.
“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.
The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.
He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.
Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.
“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.
“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”
Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”
chat with me about butterfly effect!
#mob!h#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles series#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry x reader#harry x you#butterfly effect#harry styles writing#harry styles story#one direction imagine#harry styles au#mob!harry#mob!harry styles#mob harry styles#mob h
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Shadow & Bone, The Crows & everyone's complaints
So now that I'm on my 2nd watch of the show, I wanna speak on certain things about the Crows in the show, which have made many people mad and some of which I didn't like either..but which I can still see as tying up with the canon.
⚠ Spoilers for both the Books & Show ⚠
Here we go:
• Kaz accepting the 1M Kruge job
Now ofc we all remember the book Kaz who bargained with a Mercher and raised his prize to 30M. But Leigh, Eric & the Crows Cast has been pointing out since day one that these aren't the same people we know from what we've read. This is a sort of prequel to those characters and just them figuring out their dynamic with each other.
Remember, the book opens with Inej saying Kaz is a feared man in the Barrel without hesitation, she introduces herself as the Wraith who can't be stopped even by gravity on certain days and Jesper as the amazing sharpshooter and charmer.
Now as a new reader, I found that chapter sort of funny because how are you claiming all this without showing me their process of becoming these formidable people? But as I read through, the thought that inded these are 6 dangerous outcasts, settled in my mind.
But before that 30M job, they must've had many smaller conquests too right? Ones which slowly built-up their experience, confidence and relationships.
Since this is a prequel, consider this as another day in their Barrel life, as them going on another of their regular jobs. And just think of this as a learning experience for Kaz. That its the dangers that they got into travelling to a different country that made Kaz learn his and his crew's worth. And prepared him for the negotiations he did with Jan Van Eck in SoC.
• Kaz brought to his knees by Pekka
While Kaz being bested by two mere lackies of Pekka was kinda annoying to me as well, why do we believe that Pekka can't harm him or the others? PEKKA ROLLINS WAS THE BARREL KING BEFORE KAZ.
Remember on the Ferolind when Oomen tells them he was ordered by Pekka Rollins to take down the Dregs? They all were shocked and somewhat worried. And it was brought up later on when Jesper said they were going against Pekka Rollins and Wylan explains for Matthias sake how Pekka is not to be messed with.
It was only Kaz who wasn't concerned at all, who consoles Jesper by saying Pekka is just another Barrel Boss.
And what were we even expecting Kaz to do when Pekka brought him to his knees? Didn't Kaz express in the books enough how a simple beating won't make it up. He promised to take his revenge in small steps— building up his gang, stealing customers from Pekka's clubs, etc. BRICK BY BRICK.
So Kaz can be brought down to his knees too. And Pekka can easily do it if he wishes so. But no one wants outright Gang Wars; Pekka because he is far more experienced and knows when and where to put pressure or when to let go of a job. He even advices Kaz to forget Inej and drop the idea of going against a Mercher in SoC last chapter, because it is a foolish thing to do.
And Kaz wouldn't want gang wars because he knows the Dregs aren't big enough to face the whole of Dime Lions. Besides he already plans to bring down Pekka brick by brick.
But no one threatens Kaz Brekker, so consider this "on his knees" scene as a set up and another reason for Kaz to strike back and pay back tenfold.
It will also serve as an amazing parallel if we get to see him make Pekka beg on his knees.
• Kaz and Inej are too obvious
Are they? Haven't they always been like that when in each other's company or when around the other Crows? So of course they're expressing alot in front of Jesper.
But note that there are was no incident in the show where Kaz expressed his slowly developing feelings in front of his enemies, namely Pekka. In fact all Kanej moments happen only between them or in Jesper's presence. So there's nothing wrong with that.
Are they too obvious? No. As I said before and as we all know Kaz and Inej ALWAYS share deep conversations whenever together even in books— "i will have you without armor", "i would come for you", etc.
So show Kaz telling Inej "no saints have watched over me like you.." was not much different from their canon alone conversations.
Have they shown too much already? NOT AT ALL.
We only saw Kaz putting the Crow Club on collateral but his reason behind it wasn't shown at all.
We only saw Inej kill a man to protect Kaz. We don't know why she chose to kill for him. You can't immediately translate that to love. It can very well be considered her trying to pay back because he saved her from the Menagerie.
Remember in Crooked Kingdom Chapter 4, Inej says: "their lives had been a series of rescues ever since, a string of debts that they never tallied as they saved each other again and again."
So consider these moments as their endless back and forth of saving each other.
*Another thing to note in the show is when Inej gave her knives to Kaz. She says: "as a friend once said".
She has started considering Kaz a "friend" and she knows he feels the same way even though he won't say it. They're only starting to open up and give way to friendship. And not just Kanej, Jesper too.
People can care for and have each other's backs without it having a romantic aspect. The show gave the viewers a peek at what Kanej are willing to do for each other and showed that there's obviously sparks flying but no clear motto. We still didn't see Kanej's first encounter at the Menagerie or Kaz staring at Inej sitting on his window. These are just small moments to set up the ship.
• The Crows only there for comic relief
NO. I don't agree to this at all.
I'm gonna go back to SoC Duology. Now we know both the books have a sort of a dark setting. But both of these books also had hilarious moments.
Right in Chapter 2 of SoC, Jesper joking about spelling with his bullets and Kaz joining in on the joke. There's also the "this whole shoot me thing is starting to worry me". Inej & Kaz's banter about "greed is your god".
Almost every chapter had atleast one moment that was either comical or to lighten the mood or just straight up banter between the Crows. And all those moments were all always entagled with serious ones.
The show did exactly the same. We were given their crime life because they were after all, on a job to capture and sell off a person. But the show lightened it by adding the Crows banter and certain comical moments. And for the finishing touches, they sprinkled in some vulnerability.
• Kaz not being ruthless enough
I AGREE. I DO.
What the fuck is wrong with us all wanting a sinister man being ruthless? 😂
There's not much I can say about this but that even in books, Kaz isn't always ruthless.
He is mostly giving out orders and scheming schemes. But in those rare moments in the book when we get to see Dirtyhands, we are given a view into some really intense moments.
When Kaz dislocates a man's arm in the Ice Court Prison, he himself admits it that he didn't do it as much to make himself look intimidating to the other criminals but more to remind himself that he can do it, that he isn't some helpless man.
The only such thing we got in the show was the brief scene between Kaz and that Inferni where he had that scary look on his face as he crushed that inferni's arm and slammed his face.
WE DID DESERVE MORE OF THAT.
But maybe it was a good moment to set him up for more violence in the coming seasons. *crosses fingers*
• The Crows not stealing from Alina
Okay whilst Inej wouldn't do it, Jesper may only consider, Kaz would definitely do it!
Remember Kaz kazually conversing with Van Eck and Pekka but also stealing their stuff in those moments with his slight of hands?
Yeah, the showrunners had a perfect chance at the end to do it but they missed it 😐
This is probably the one thing that I'm unable to settle with 🤧
So..that's it!
I don't want everyone to agree with me but I hope everyone can be a little less aggressive and more kind to the show. It was still amazing, if not a proper adaptation then at least good as a standalone show. And the showrunners already did say "high budget fanfiction"
#shadow and bone spoilers#six of crows#shadow and bone#the crows#kanej#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#crooked kingdom#grishaverse
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The Black Bulls and their bullshit in the modern time: jobs I guess – Part. 3
Finally the last part is done! Thanks for following the short series of my cursed imagination until now. Here's more headcanons that weren't supposed to be headcanons :D. I made them a little longer than the previous parts, and I hope you all enjoy the mess that is Charmy's restaurant!
Magna Swing
works at the counter in Charmy’s restaurant
nobody knows how he got that job when he shows up to work looking like a teen delinquent going through puberty
keeps his sunglasses on even in indoors
had to learn how to use the cashier machine for the first time
accidentally repeated the order with the machine too many times and the total came out to a four-digit number
the customer got a discount in the end
there was one time when the machine malfunctioned and they thought they had to buy a new one
Magna came in and gave the thing a big smack, and it miraculously started to work again
Noelle gave him the title 'God of Fixing Things Through Abuse', shortened to 'FTTA God'
and now everybody at work refers to him with that title
he doesn’t like it because he’d rather be referred to as something cooler, but he lets them call him that anyway
has very short temper, will not hesitate to call out rude customers
someone once made an offhanded comment about Secré who was too busy to care and he went OFF
both Noelle and Secré had to work together to calm him down when he threatened to fight them outside of the restaurant
wanted to help out in the kitchen because he thinks he has a “thing” with fire, and Charmy let him try when working hours were over
proceeded to set the whole kitchen on fire and from then on Charmy forbade him from going into the kitchen ever again
convinced Charmy to buy a TV and put it in the restaurant so that he can watch baseball games when working
but he once switched the channel to a cartoon show and lost the remote
now he’s forever stuck on watching Miraculous Ladybug
Luck Voltia
King of Working Part Time Jobs™
works at every single shop known to date and jumps between each shop from time to time
sometimes he’ll be in the boutique:
running around the whole store to help customers look for their needed items because he didn’t memorise where each section was
and proceeds to mess up the folded clothes and now Henry has to fold them again
sometimes he’ll be in the restaurant:
ordering and serving the customers their food, even though he doesn’t remember which order belongs to which table
and also cleaning the tables when the customers finish eating
but it’s the best thing he can do there because absolutely no one trusts him in working in the kitchen
and sometimes he’ll be in the café:
bringing out coffee and dessert orders during rush hour because the others are too busy taking orders and making them
and when the shop clears up after a while he spends time watching Finral and Grey brew the drinks
the other bulls wonder how he hasn’t been fired from any of his jobs yet
but that’s because he surprisingly does well for the roles he was assigned to (and extremely fast too)
the only time he has messed up was when he ran too fast when serving food and he tripped and it spilled all over the place
and he went “oops! hahaha ;P”
Magna watching from the counter: i’m gonna kill him
stole the TV remote from Magna when he wasn’t looking and brought it to the boutique so he couldn’t switch channels
always competes with Magna on who can earn the most money
and it somehow always ends in a draw because Secré earns the most out of all of them
Secré Swallowtail
waitress at Charmy’s restaurant pt. 1
was dragged into working there, doesn’t even know why she’s doing it in the first place
but she works well, and store would have fallen apart if she wasn’t there
unanimously voted Employee of the Month every month
takes part in everything; including cleaning, serving, making drinks, settling payments, calming down crying children, calming down a hyper Luck
you name it, and she probably does it or has done it before for the sake of the restaurant
unlike Noelle and Magna, she's extremely unbothered
doesn’t matter if there’s someone being rude or causing a ruckus, she shrugs it off like it’s nothing and just moves on
she’s focused on doing her job and her job only
will only take action if she is touched physically or if other customers are visibly bothered
was the person who consoled Magna when he found out the TV remote went missing
but didn’t tell him that he could actually switch the channels without using the remote
death stares everyone to work when they are slacking off
the person who forced everyone into practicing fire drills in case of emergencies
hums the opening of Miraculous Ladybug because she has heard it playing too much from the speakers
and also because Magna screams the words of the song every time the show airs
is secretly thankful for Luck whenever he visits for his part-time shift
because he picked up the mechanisms of the restaurant SUPER FAST, and things run surprisingly much smoother with him around
lets Noelle style her hair whenever they have free time
ends up looking like a chicken because Noelle has no prior experience in hairstyling despite showing interest in it
and also because she used too much hair spray
Noella Silva
waitress at Charmy’s restaurant pt. 2
claims that she is too high class for this job
but next thing you know she’s putting on her customer service voice when ordering and serving food
took awhile to learn how to work in a restaurant
she couldn't hold the food tray and walk at the same time
and she kept serving the dishes to the wrong table
blamed it on the customers for confusing her, and Secré showed up afterwards to apologise for her behaviour
definitely had 'How to become a Waitress 101' lessons with Secré
takes absolutely no shit from anyone
doesn’t matter how much authority they have around the area, she will not hesitate to kick them out if they don’t treat others properly
would probably spill water on a customer and blame it on the customer for being in the way
becomes more diligent whenever Asta brings the children he's babysitting to the restaurant
also keeps tabs on his table just in case anyone starts to hit on him
rich, but doesn't take it for granted
because she doesn't understand the importance of money and how much she actually has
treats everyone to ice cream, especially on hot days
sometimes pays for the restaurant's bills because she insists
Magna always complains about her flexing her wealth
he shuts up when he gets the ice cream though
claims that she has absolutely no interest in cartoons and thinks they are childish
but is the person who sits at an empty table complaining about how dense the characters in Miraculous Ladybug are when it isn't rush hour
accidentally set off the fire alarm once
because she got scared when lighting a match and threw the lit match at Magna
payed for his motorcycle repair as an apology
Charmy Pappitson
owner of the most popular restaurant downtown
customers ask for her autograph and a photo with her sometimes
a very talented chef that everybody appreciates and respects
a cute, smiley person when greeting new customers and always keeps up with regulars
offers the most amazing dishes for a very reasonable price
whenever she has the time, she steps out of the kitchen to chat with the customers about food and check up on the other bulls (just in case)
but when it comes to the kitchen OHOHO
she gets VERY serious about cooking
in dire situations, she’ll stay cooped up in the kitchen and won’t come out until she has made the perfect dish
has several other chefs cooking in there with her, but no one has ever met them before
though the food comes out good so nobody questions it
does not trust any of the black bulls to cook food after Magna set the kitchen on fire
there is a framed photo of her hung up in the restaurant where everyone can see it
whenever she’s serving food, she has to hold back from eating it all
Secre and Noelle are her impulse controllers, if not the food will never make it to the customers’ table
makes desserts as a hobby and gives them to the customers for free sometimes as service
also donates some food to the local church every month, and offers more if she sees Marie
once dropped a freshly baked cupcake and cried about it for 2 hours
forgets to pay the workers sometimes
weekly gatherings with all the Black Bulls happen at Charmy’s restaurant
that time is usually when she tries new recipes and ask for everyone’s opinions
literally a whole party goes down every week at her place
there are noise complaints every time, but she ignores them because Finral is probably already apologizing for them
Parts - 1 | 2 | 3
#black clover#black clover headcanons#magna swing#luck voltia#secre swallowtail#noelle silva#charmy pappitson#i finally finished this omg#not magna getting bullied smh#living for luck being a mess everywhere he goes tho#its 3am rn and i have school tmr im gonna regret this#in the middle of editing all the points shuffled and i had to put them all back in place it was HELL#save finral from the black bulls he's suffered too much
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SUGOAKU
A/N: I have been having major issues with my reblogs of my work not appearing in tags (i had 74 notes on the og). So I am seeing if a compete, fresh post of it, will work … fingers crossed.
Likes are nice but reblogs is what keeps artist alive …
Parings: Souya x Reader
Words (currently): 2786
Other notes: The reader’s gender, ethnicity etc isn’t stated, its 100% you, no matter who you are! HOWEVER, this work depicts adult, 28 year old Souya and Nahoya, where they’re running their ramen shop, therefore, I will be making the reader and adult too, and around their age.
CHAPTER 1 - KIMCHI
[Reader] recently returned to Japan, after having been living abroad for a number of years. [Reader] found themselves living back in their old neighborhood of Meguro. It felt good being back in familiar surroundings, like many areas of Tokyo, things were constantly changing. There was a mixture of new establishments, along with old favourites. One of the new establishments was recommended to her by a neighbor, a ramen shop called, Sugoaku.
It had not long ago and was finding success fairly quickly, which in [reader]’s humble opinion was a good thing. Starting a business in the food industry was difficult in any location. But in Meguro, with competing with long-standing businesses that have tested time, and popular chain restaurants. There was still a risk of the business failing. However, those behind Sugoaku appeared to know what they were doing, confident in their skills and business know-how.
Business appeared to be doing well for Sugoaku, there were always at least a small handful of patrons in the restaurant at any given time, and (in [reader]’s opinion) their product was worth visiting multiple times a week. The menu never changed too much, typical of ramen establishments, which suited [reader]’s taste anyway. Instead, they always ordered the same type of ramen: a Tonkotsu ramen with normal noodle hardness. Depending on the day, often by recommendation, additions would be added: extra nori, a soft-boiled egg, extra Negi, and even extra cha-shu. The combinations were almost limitless.
With a rapidly growing business, it was only natural that the establishment would be at full capacity, with people lining up outside for a seat, during lunch and dinner rush hours. It wasn’t [reader]’s ideal situation. They had made that mistake once before and were sorely disappointed. Therefore, they attempted to visit Sugoaku after the rush, when the business was quieting down and the atmosphere was more at ease. Such was the case as one particular evening when [reader] went to Sugoaku for possibly the fourth time that week. It was a Sunday evening, and they had (thankfully) just missed the dinner time rush.
IRASSHAIMASE~
The chorus of welcomes greeted [reader] as they entered the restaurant and gestured to the server for a seat for one person. With the rush now over, it meant that the counter was close to being fully vacant, except for the odd random man or two minding their own business as they ate. Reaching their seat, [reader] scanned the kitchen briefly, inspecting who was currently present in front of them.
“Ahhhh~!” A light-hearted voice reached their ears, “you can’t seem to get enough of us!” [Reader]’s eyes stopped in the form of a pink-haired young man behind the counter, his smile growing a little wider as he watched them. The very same smile that they thought was incredibly infectious, as a smile of their own stretched across their lips. “Indeed,” they replied, their eyes flicking around the kitchen for the pink-haired man’s accomplice. “I’m just doing my bit to support a growing business, that is all.”
The pink-haired man was about to retort before a blue-haired man intervened, “it’s very considerate of you, thank you.” He had been on the restaurant floor, assisting their server to tidy up and had come up beside [reader]. Who had not heard his approach, and was slightly startled at his sudden appearance, which was not left undetected by him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured under his breath, [reader] strained to hear it but knew it was directed at them. They threw a smile in his direction, wordlessly telling him it was fine, “you’re welcome.”
The pink and blue-haired men were the owners of Sugoaku, twin brothers of stark contrasts. The pink-haired twin was Nahoya, playful, carefree, and had an ever-present smile gracing his lips. It always seemed that nothing ever bothered him, and it was often hard to take him seriously. He also often spoke his mind a little too much and says “I’ll fucking kill you” in such a nonchalant manner, that it never sat well with the self-entitled (alcohol-driven) late-night customers. He was rather cocky with [reader]’s patronage to their business. [Reader] wasn’t so sure what to make of it at first, but soon learned that he was just teasing and was appreciative of [reader]’s loyalty.
His blue-haired twin, Souya, was completely different compared to his brother. He always looked intensely irritated, looking like he was ready to jump over the counter to beat the next customer, who Nahoya just told to die. However, despite his face and gruff voice, he was the kinder of the two. He was always polite, spoke carefully, and was the one who calmed things down whenever things got heated between his brother and a customer. He was the one [reader] felt more at ease with, it was always easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with him. Like his brother he was appreciative of [reader]’s loyalty, he was the one who personally made sure your order was taken correctly; heaven forbid a part-timer messes up your order.
Souya hummed lightly in response, passing a few empty dishes to his brother, and with his hands now free, reached for a notepad and pen in his back pocket. “What will it be today?” He asked, amusement clear in his voice. A small smile crept along with your features upon catching the tone in his voice, “hmmm…” [reader]’s eyes flickered across their menu as they tried to make a final decision. After a brief moment, they looked up at the blue-haired man and set the menu down, “I’ll have the chef’s choice.”
Souya looked lost for a brief moment but wrote down their request nevertheless. As he did so, Nahoya let out a chuckle, “and which chef’s choice would that be~?” he called out, mischief fully lacing his voice. [Reader] looked over at the elder twin, “not yours,” they responded without missing a beat. There was no way in hell that they were going to let Nahoya choose whatever he wanted in your ramen; chances are he’ll make it spicier than his signature dish.
“Lame~” Nahoya simply shrugged his shoulders and continued what he was doing. Next to [reader], Souya let out a soft hum, “so, my choice then …” he was thinking of what to put together for them. “Is that all? Or would you like your usual sides?” [Reader] nodded in response, deciding that some gyoza and small fried rice on the side would be a good idea. “Noted.” Jotting down the final request to your order, Souya nodded his head and moved to join his brother behind the counter, in the kitchen.
As [reader] waited for their order, they mindlessly scrolled through their phone before setting it down and looked around the shop, before their gaze finally came to rest upon the twin brothers working in front of them. It was always a curiosity watching them work, [reader] was sure that it was all down to the fact they were twins. They worked in unison, both mindful of each other’s space, and did not always need words to communicate with each other. They were certain that they would never get bored watching the two men work together.
“What’s with that face~?” Nahoya’s voice sang out, startling [reader] into attention. “Uh…what?” [Reader] was so engrossed in watching the two men work, that they had become unaware of themselves and their surroundings. A blush dusted their cheeks as they looked between the two, Nahoya was chuckling to himself, and Souya, although poker-faced, held an amused look in his eyes. “Ah, nothing,” [reader] busied themselves at their seat, by taking a sip of their glass of water, which just earned them more chuckles from Nahoya, “… It’s just been a long day.”
“Bro, stop it,” Souya muttered, taking note of [reader]’s embarrassment as he finished off placing the last few garnishes on top of the fried rice he had just finished cooking. He knew that his brother’s laughing was not helping the situation, and he wanted [reader] to enjoy their visits to their shop, not dread it because of his brother’s constant teasing. A playful hum came from the elder twin, indicating nothing but trouble and Souya let out a deep sigh as he placed the bowl of fried rice in front of [reader], “your Gyoza and Ramen are coming…”
“[Reader] was just admiring my good looks as always, Angry~!” If it was entirely possible, Nahoya’s Cheshire Cat-like grin just grew wider, and in turn, if it was entirely possible, [reader]’s blush deepened. “That’s why they keep coming back.” He wasn’t wrong, both brothers were good-looking but to be called out like that was typical of Nahoya trying to get a rise out of them. “Nahoya…” [Reader] groaned in further embarrassment, pressing their face into their palm, missing the threatening look Souya cast over his brother. Letting out a sigh, they turned their focus to the fried rice that Souya made, beginning to eat it while it was still hot.
Meanwhile, Souya closed in on his older brother, nudging his shoulder as he did. “Tch, bro, hurry up with [reader]’s gyoza and noodles. Remember, normal firmness.” He pressed, hoping it would get his brother to work and off [reader]’s back. He had cooked off [reader]’s fried rice, which should’ve allowed Nahoya enough time to prepare the noodles and pan fry the gyoza, so he could start assembling [reader]’s order of “chef’s choice.” But his brother’s taunting of [reader] held up the progress line a bit, which annoyed Souya; it ruined the flow and synchronisation of how the brothers worked.
“Hurry up,” Souya muttered again, leaving his brother’s side and taking a visual sweep of the restaurant, nodding to a leaving patron who was at the cashier being seen by their part-timer. The business was slowing down for the evening, nothing too unusual, the slower pace allowed the brothers to relax and enjoy their work a little more. However, it did bother Souya when his brother slacked off a little too much or became a little too playful with their patrons. He picked up the water pitcher, glancing over at [reader] ’s snow empty cup, and refilled it. “Just ignore my brother,” he grumbled to them, hoping that they weren’t too embarrassed by Nahoya’s teasing. “Don’t be afraid to show him some attitude either. Otherwise, he’ll just walk all over you.” [Reader] glanced up to the blue-haired man, giving him a small smile of thanks for the refill, and let out a small laugh. “It’s quite alright,” they replied, picking up their glass of water and taking a sip. “I’m not that bothered by his antics.” Souya hummed in reply, his eyes flickering over his shoulder to his elder, “but still, don’t hold back if it gets too much.”
[Reader] gave Souya a reassuring smile, they enjoyed their time at Sugoaku especially when they were able to talk with the twins, especially Souya. There had been several times, they had considered giving them their LINE username, in an attempt to see them outside of the business setting; however, [reader] was unsure if it was unprofessional to do so. So for now, [reader] had to settle with their visits to the restaurant. “So, Sou-,” [reader] was about to attempt to strike up a conversation with Souya before the part-timer interrupted. “Boss, new order,” they announced, passing Souya the newly written receipt. “Thanks,” Souya waved off the part-timer, as his eyes flickered over to [reader], who nodded in silent understanding. A constant and expected occurrence, the interruption from new orders. It just encouraged [reader] to take their time eating at the restaurant, the longer they stayed there, the more time they stayed with the twins.
“New order,” Souya announced to his brother and the two seamlessly got to work. Nahoya had finished the [readers] noodles and was plating up the fresh gyoza, while Souya began cooking the noodles and setting up the tray of various plates and bowls for the new order. “M’dear~” Nahoya grinned at [reader], placing the gyoza in front of them, alongside a small plate of kimchi. [Reader] looked at the kimchi for a moment in confusion, they were sure that they didn’t normally order the side dish. So why was Nahoya placing it in front of them? “My treat,” he told them, “since Souya is going to make your bowl, this is my little contribution.” [Reader] let out a small laugh, those two brothers were truly a package, you can’t have one without the other. Even though they weren’t overly keen on the spicy fermented cabbage, as it was a little too spicy for their tastes. [Reader] began to pick at it, gingerly putting small amounts into their mouth.
“You don’t need to eat it,” Souya had spotted them pick at the side dish, as he was putting together a bowl of ramen, which [reader] assumed to be their order. The blue-haired man knew that they were being polite, and wished that his brother picked a different side dish to give them; a few pieces of karaage would’ve been sufficient. [Reader] looked over at Souya and gave him a sheepish smile, “Big bro likes to make his kimchi and makes it too spicy, despite how many times I tell him.” He continued, as he worked on the bowl adding on the finishing touches. “Maybe, if he notices you not eating it, he’ll get the damn hint.”
On the other side of the kitchen, Nahoya heard everything. “Oh ho~ What’s this lil bro? Recruiting [reader] to go against my kimchi~?” He sang out, his usual light and playful voice now having a threatening edge to it. “Just because you can’t handle a little spice, doesn’t mean they can’t either. Right, [reader]~?” [reader]’s eyes flicked between the two brothers, with the elder now getting a rise out of the younger’s comments. Their eyes settled on Souya, who was now placing the bowl of fresh ramen in front of them. His eyes were apologetic and clearly over it at the same time, the subject of Nahoya’s spicy kimchi must be one that had never been resolved. “Well …” [reader] began, their eyes flickering between the brothers and back down at the kimchi. “It is good kimchi …” in unison Souya looked deflated and Nahoya straightened in triumph, “but it is a little too spicy.” The moods instantly switched when [reader] finished off their verdict. Nahoya losing his trademark grin, with Souya looking over his shoulder with a clear ‘told you so’ look on his face.
“Well that sucks!” Nahoya bounced back, his grin plastered back on his face. “That just means one thing~ [Reader] you can be my official kimchi taster,” he declared, placing the next order on the counter for the part-timer to deliver to a customer. “Oi, table 15 is ready!” It was in that instant the near confrontation over the kimchi was forgotten, Nahoya had quickly moved on and began rinsing dishes to put into the dishwasher at the back of the kitchen. “That went better than I thought it would,” Souya commented, watching his brother’s back for a brief moment before drawing his attention back to [reader]. “I have given you a modified version of my specialty.”
[Reader] looked at the bowl of ramen in front of them. It was indeed Souya’s signature dish, which was called “Angry” and was a black Tonkotsu ramen. The broth gets its colour from a mixture of black sesame seed and black garlic oil, and despite appearances, the balance between the flavours was to perfection. Neither flavour overpowered the other or the other components of the dish. It was a quick favourite of [reader]’s, as it combined two of their favourite ingredients on the planet; not that they would admit that to Souya. His signature dish was, of course, a stark contrast to his brother’s which was a white Tonkotsu ramen, which was deceivingly spicy. Having known the twins for a while now, it was always amusing to [reader] how well their representative signature dishes reflected the personalities of each twin.
“So,” Souya began listing out the toppings he added to [reader]’s bowl. “We have the usuals there: menma, negi, cha-shu, and nori. I know you like corn and egg in your ramen, so I added those to your bowl.” The fact that he remembered [reader]’s favourite toppings, made them a little warm and fuzzy on the inside. Souya must make hundreds, if not thousands of bowls a day or week even, and he still made the effort to remember their usual order and favourite toppings. “Thank you, it looks great,” they replied softly, smiling at him.
“Itadakimasu~”
#tokyo revengers#kawata souya#souya kawata#angry kawata#nahoya kawata#kawata nahoya#manga#spoilers#anime#long post
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We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au
1 | 2
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The moment Lucy left the room, Natsu simply turned and gave a silent look to his lieutenant Gray who nodded back in acknowledgment and left with one of the men. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled below his chin in thought. Could it really be one of his own men? Some of the lower level guys didn’t always follow the rules, but it was rare for them to utterly disregard them! Oh! That really pissed him off, because they knew better then to test Natsu’s patience. There’s a damn good reason he was able to create such a lucrative gang in the heart of Tokyo when so many others would kill for it. By the age of 21, his father retired and left the position of Oyabun leader to Natsu. But, Natsu wasn’t satisfied with the old way of doing things. This was the 21st century and times must change.
It was well known that the Yakuza traversed a dangerous underworld full of illegalities. Drugs, prostitution, gambling, shake downs and extortion, theft, or in other words the seedier side of society. So that is where Natsu focused his attention. Some of the very first of the changes were to reign in unauthorized violence or any crimes that utilized it. Such a move sent a utter shockwave through the order and those that refused to let go of the old ways were swiftly eliminated to instill an image of power and fear that Natsu Dragneel was not to be messed with. His logic behind the move was simple. Do not do anything that brings attention to the gang and attacking someone on the street for a few yen is a quick way for the authorities to show up. So, in a way, Natsu was lucky it happened to be one of Lucy’s employees and not a random person, because they would have immediately called the police. Though it also brought up another question. Were there other crimes he just hadn’t heard of yet?
“Well, she’s still as feisty as ever, gihi.” Gajeel broke the silence of the room when he returned. “Could’ve cut the sexual tension with a sword.”
Natsu crossed his arms in feigned annoyance. If it were any other underling, they would have received a harsher response, but Gajeel was one of his oldest and trusted friends. “Pfft. I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s a rival, that’s it. You know that.”
“Mmhmm.” Gajeel snickered. “So, now what?”
“Gray started working on finding who it was. I want you to call your contacts at police and see if they’ve had any reports of recent robberies in the area, and if there were, any details we can use to figure out who it might be.”
“Can do boss. Anything else?”
“You think it could one of our own?”
Gajeel looked up for a couple of minutes as if he were running their personnel through his mind. Finally, he rubbed his chin. “There’s a couple of newbies, a bit young and dumb that might be stupid enough to break the rules. I’ll call my contacts first before helping Gray press the men for info. Someone’s gotta know something.”
“Good. You do that and let me know as soon as you get a lead. I want this dealt with as quickly as possible.”
“Gotcha.”
Between Natsu’s two lieutenants and their best men, they interviewed all of the most likely suspects. Gajeel’s police informant let him know that there were a couple other robberies that sounded similar a few blocks away from where Lucy’s employee and client had been accosted. He also learned those two victims gave a similar description of the robber. With the new information, along with other snitches, they narrowed it down within a few days to a low-level street guy in the organization. But unlike Gajeel’s initial hunch, it wasn’t one of the newbies. Instead, the male had been with them for a couple of years now and never caused any problems. In fact, the guy fashioned himself as a smooth talking ladies’ man who supposedly disliked violence. So, it was a bit surprising it was one of the ones they’d least expected.
Gajeel and his men found the man named Bora Prominence laying low at his girlfriend’s apartment after he’d heard the gang was looking for him. Not the smartest move. The woman gave him up without a fight, fearing the Yakuza more than her boyfriend. So, once she’d let them inside, they quickly found Bora hiding in the bathroom and dragged him out.
“It wasn’t me!” Bora screamed as the men beat him to the floor. “You got no proof I did shit!”
Gajeel planted his foot into the small of the man’s back and held him down. “Two of the witnesses saw the tattoo on your face. That’s enough evidence for us.” He growled. “You knew the code and what would happen if you broke it, so stop being a bitch.”
But Bora continued to resist the four men, pushing off the floor with his arms unsuccessfully against Gajeel’s massive weight or fending off kicks from the others. They pummeled him with fists and kicks over and over until one clear blow finally knocked him unconscious long enough to be tied up. Despite a heavy beating bad enough to leave him bruised and bloodied, he continued to scream about his innocence. Back at headquarters, they dragged him into Natsu’s office with hands bound behind his back and forced him onto his knees.
The room held Natsu sitting at his desk, along with both lieutenants, four of their men keeping Bora restrained, and lastly Lucy with the victim to Natsu’s right side. He had contacted her as soon as he knew the suspect was being brought in. And thought they were pretty certain of guilt, the woman’s immediate reaction when they’d brought Bora in of cringing back and moving closer to her boss spoke volumes.
“Is that him?” Natsu questioned to gain a verbal confirmation.
“Y-Yeah,” the woman squeaked out. “He’s the one who pushed me down and robbed us.”
Natsu’s eyes stayed narrowed and glaring at Bora as he addressed the women. “Thank you, that’ll be all. Heartfilia you both can leave now I’ll handle things from here.”
“You’re a doll,” Lucy giggled and gave Natsu a quick teasing peck on the cheek before ushering her employee away. They’d done what they needed to do, now it was his job to finish it.
“Tch, so that’s what this is all about.” Bora sneered, spitting out a clot of blood. “Cause that bitch got you all worked up over a measly few bucks?”
“Watch it!” Natsu roared. “It ain’t a good idea to piss me off anymore then I already am!” There was a fire burning behind Natsu’s stare because when he looked at this man Bora, he doesn’t see the crimes themselves, but the disobedient threat he posed to their organization. How dare this selfish ignorant punk threaten everything they’ve worked hard to build! And to accuse him of weakness in doing Lucy’s bidding just sealed the man’s fate.
Bora snapped back defiantly, though the crack in his tone gave away the fear brewing beneath. “What does it matter, I know what awaits me.”
“You’re right.” Natsu relaxed back into his chair once he sensed the man’s inevitable compliance. “You knew the consequences for crossing me. What does it matter if my rival is also benefiting in this way? Because I know there are other victims. Dumbass, how do you think we linked you to all this? Those other victims reported it to the police! Which is exactly why I have the rules I have in place! You put all of us in jeopardy by pulling this kind of stupid low level bullshit!”
“Pfft, you act like we’re saints. If the cops really wanted to, they’d look into the other illegal shit we do regardless.”
“No, it’s you who fails to recognize there is a hierarchy to the kinds of crimes that bring heat on us. Drugs? Prostitution? The cops don’t care as much, but assault? Robbing people, murders, now those are things they will pay attention to, and I will not tolerate it!” Natsu sat forward with a malevolent grin. “Welcome to the modern Yakuza.”
Drugs and prostitution were a part of the gangs dealings, but the bigger scheme was in shaking down the local business owners for protection money. Thing is, Natsu’s gang actually did the protection part causing crimes in that area for customers or businesses to drop down to nearly zero. So, while the business owners weren’t thrilled to cut a portion of their profits, they also appreciated not having to worry about security. That and because of the gangs connections, they had pipelines of cheaper priced products which helped to keep their costs down. This more symbiotic relationship is why they didn’t go to the authorities and why the gang could hold such a control over the area. Making sure the areas streets were protected from violent crime is a testament to the gangs power and would insure that these businesses stayed compliant.
“Tch.” Bora retorted. “You’re just young and dumb. Eventually you’ll realize there’s a reason why things were done a certain way in the old days.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but your days of worrying about it are over.” Natsu motioned to Gajeel. “I’m done. Get him out of my face.”
Gajeel then motioned to his men to haul Bora to his feet and drag him away to an unknown destination never to be seen from again. Cliche as it may sound, even in killing off a problem like Bora, Natsu’s gang didn’t follow tradition. Bora would be held as a prisoner until his wounds healed then his death made to look like just another suicide statistic. In the seven years that Natsu has reigned, not one murder had been laid at their doorstep and he intended to keep it that way.
Now that the Bora business was over, Natsu closed his eyes and fully relaxed into his chair with a sigh. He didn’t exactly enjoy playing the tough guy bit and only did it out of necessity. This was a life his father groomed him for since birth, but he’d love nothing more than to just settle down with a wife and start a family of his own. Not that he couldn’t already do so, but that required finding the right woman to settle down with and no one other than his old flame has ever evoked I’m him more than a passing glance.
He didn’t know how long he’d been relaxing when there was a knock on his office door. “Yeah? Come in.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” the man spoke as he quietly entered the room. Invel Yura was Natsu’s Saiko-kamon, the top advisor and managed the administrative side of the organization. “I wanted to go over your schedule for tomorrow in case I need to make any changes.”
“It’s fine.” Natsu gestured to the chair fronting the desk. Invel had been the advisor to his father for the last few years of his tenure and he fully trusted the man’s diligence.
Invel sat down and opened up a calendar. “Tomorrow morning, we have a new shipment of prescription drugs coming in as well as some ecstasy, so you’ll need to appoint someone to oversee inventory processing.”
“Hmm, who should I have work on this?” Natsu asked for Invel’s opinion.
“Might I suggest Rajeel Ramal? He’s gruff but meticulous and has done a good job so far.”
“Is that so? Then that’s fine, let him continue. What’s next?”
“Okay,” Invel scribbled the orders in his book. “Next, the only other thing you have is a party to attend with one of our high end clients.”
“Which one?”
“The son of Yuuji Katsunuma of Katsunuma industries.”
“Ah yes, the one we supply with cocaine. Such a spoiled brat, but he spends a lot with us.”
Invel chuckled. “That’s the one. It starts at 8pm.”
“Okay. Thank you, Invel. Is that all for now?”
“Yes. If anything, else comes up I will let you know.”
“I’m sure you will. Oh. Have an appropriate suit pressed and ready for me for the occasion.”
“Very well, sir. Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No. You may go.”
Invel nodded and returned to his own office. He made a few typical phone calls such as to Natsu’s house staff regarding an evening outfit and the transporters bringing the morning inventory to make sure everything was on schedule. Aside from the Bora issue, the going’s-on of business continued as normal. The final call he placed before he’d leave for lunch was to Rajeel of a simple a five word instruction. Nothing more needed to be said, knowing that his associate would understand. Invel sat back in his chair with a smile. “It’s almost too easy…”
#nalu#nalu au#modern setting#Natsu dragneel#Lucy heartfilia#nalu fan fiction#yakuza au#nalu fan fic#natsu x lucy#fairytail#we'll take back heaven#ch 2#petri808
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Brace Yourselves, I have THOUGHTS on this guy
Okay so I just watched Wizards (Tales of Arcadia) and I, along with many other folks, adore one (1) wizard in particular--Hisirdoux Casperan, better known as Douxie. I’m sure you’ve seen the art, the posts, and, well, the internet lately.
BUT HERE’S THE THING. One of the (many) reasons I love this guy. He’s not what one typically gets in a main character, AND he’s very different than other protagonists we’ve met in Arcadia.
TLDR: Protective, kind-as-summer, ultimate “good older brother vibes” wizard who simultaneously 1) doesn’t think much of himself, 2) tries his hardest, and 3) is actually SUPER FREAKING POWERFUL is unique and I love him for all those reasons and more!! (Details (and spoilers) below the cut)
1: He’s young, yes, but he’s extremely experienced. He looks 19, but is 919. As the first episode shows, he’s been doing his best to live a good life and master magic for NINE CENTURIES. All the while looking like a kid! Douxie lived through the fall of Camelot, has seen technology blossom and evolve, AND has seen countless people come and go, all the while completely on his own except for Archie.
2: He’s extremely humble. He’s apparently been working odd jobs FOR ALMOST A MILENNIUM--so he can work from the shadows to protect people from terrors they don’t even know about--and works hard AT ALL OF IT. Menial jobs AND demon-fighting. First episode, he clearly WANTS to use magic to clean up the cafe (and as a former customer service worker I would have sold my wisdom teeth for magic, LET ALONE magic clean-up help!) but he refrains from doing so, because he really took Merlin’s advice to heart.
(Side note: IMO, Merlin’s an ASS. But the advice he gives in the beginning of “Wizards”--along the lines of “Relying on magic alone isn’t enough, first you have to master how to live well and THEN you can master magic, hard work is extremely important and not to be skipped”--is good. AND DOUXIE STICKS WITH IT FOR OVER 900 YEARS. OF HIS OWN VOLITION. Merlin’s in a tomb, he hasn’t been glaring over Douxie’s shoulder all this time!) Which brings me to-
3) Douxie, although a hard worker, sincerely good guy, and all around badass wizard, doubts himself a LOT (thanks Merlin’s endless snarking and yelling.) BUT, instead of always fighting/planning to get Merlin to approve of him, Douxie instead focuses on doing the right thing. But it isn’t easy and Merlin’s dismissal of him/his ideas/Merlin’s constant disparaging put-downs hurts him. But he doesn’t let it stop him.
4) Douxie CARES. A LOT. He’s patient, kind, eager to help, works hard, and has protected humanity from horrors it didn’t even know about for CENTURIES. While he was still an apprentice, with no master, and no other magic users (that we’ve really seen) that could teach him more about his own magic or how to use it. The hedge wizards are cool, but we don’t get to see much of them and it looks like they’re more of a side society in Arcadia than something Douxie’s strictly a part of.
5) Douxie protects whoever he can whenever he can. To him, all life is precious, and he gives off major “is anyone else protecting this person or trying to make things better okay cool cool cool, I’m gonna try to do that as much as I can for as many as I can right now!” attitude. Which gives off major older sibling vibes to me.
(To emphasize, he cares about EVERYONE. He’s distraught at the thought of Arthur’s death, HE’S the one who uses his magic to remind--not enchant, REMIND--Arthur and Morgana of their old love of the forest and of Gwen (apparently the glue that held their trio together) and how, each in their own way, they miss her and still love each other. HE’S the one who’s constantly checking the time continuum, and keeps trying to tell Merlin that it doesn’t have to be Arthur vs. Morgana. But Merlin outright pushes him aside/ignores him, and events take their course. Interesting note: Right during the big fight scene in the past with Arthur vs. Morgana, just before Arthur cuts off Morgana’s hand with Excaliber and she falls to her death, you’ll notice the time continuum is blue. Which means it’s fine. The future is good. Douxie could go back to his future no problem. BUT WHEN HE SEES MORGANA’S DEAD FORM as part of the repaired timeline, HE SHOUTS AND RUNS TOWARD THEM TO TRY AND STOP IT. Morgana being DEAD didn’t mess up the timeline. Excaliber being broken did. But Douxie was still trying to save Morgana AND Arthur, and only the blast of magic from their fight knocked him back. And he still grieves her death as one of the parts of his failure, even while Merlin pushes him aside and focuses on Arthur and Excaliber in the aftermath of the battle.
6) Does anyone else think Douxie has a major guilt complex/super messed up self esteem? Because Douxie tearfully shouting “I’m so sorry! This is all my fault!” to Merlin, AS DOUXIE’S OWN LIFE IS IN DANGER AFTER HE TRIED TO SAVE HIS FRIENDS and keep the Arcane Order from destroying the world...that hit hard. His life is on the line and (most likely) his last words are a plea for forgiveness to the Master that routinely dismissed him as an incompetent idiot and was more than happy to leave teenagers (!TEENAGERS!) who’d fought and risked everything to protect the world to die horribly at the hands of his enemies. Douxie--caring, kind-hearted, I-get-my-ass-rountinely-handed-to-me-but-always-get-up-again DOUXIE was the one who ran back to get Jim and Claire. Not Merlin. Merlin was *this close* to leaving to protect Nari for the greater good, and only reconsidered because Douxie had thrown himself into the fray (and despite his best efforts got thrown hard into a rock wall by The Green Knight. And then volleyball spiked into the (equally hard rock) floor and crushed by MindControlledTrollJim.
7) Douxie DOES NOT GIVE UP. Merlin writes Jim’s injuries off as hopeless and him as a lost cause, but Douxie relentlessly tries to figure out ways to fix things. Arthur and Morgana’s relationship, Jim’s injury/worsening curse, all the scenarios where they (it looks like) have to choose between saving their friends AND the world. He doesn’t just shrug and write off losses the way Merlin does. Douxie keeps throwing himself at problems and putting himself at risk to solve them.
8) He’s honest. (Certain Lad of Fortune bowl games aside ;) ) Merlin only told Jim the problem with the wound and left it at that. Douxie makes sure that Claire knows the reality of the situation and promises he’ll find a way to fix it. He knows their situation isn’t ideal, but he refuses to just shrug and leave things as they are. He’s more than willing to throw himself wholeheartedly into finding a way to fix things and refuses to let defeat stop him. Which leads me to, finally--
9) Douxie willingly, without flinching or making a big deal about it, walks into the jaws of death for his friends and the world. For Pete’s sake, he does it with a SMILE. He KNOWS getting his friends back is a long shot. He KNOWS the Arcane Order cannot get Nari AND the Seals, or else the world is doomed--AND he could easily have chosen to go on the run, with the Seals, for the rest of his life. His friends would have died (or worse), Nari would have been trapped with the Order for the rest of time, but the world (and Douxie) would have been safe. Why? The Order doesn’t know he has the seals. Merlin said they could be FOUND if his staff was destroyed, he didn’t say they were STORED there. (And yeah, I wanted Douxie to trick the Order with fake Seals too, but after some thought I’d argue that they’re ancient and powerful enough where they probably wouldn’t have been fooled by or chased after a fake.) Also, going on the run with inanimate objects your hunters don’t know you have and having the kind of magic Douxie does--he could have had a niiiiiice life. Maybe a little mobile, but arguably MUCH easier than constantly making sure a small forest spirit doesn’t get snatched up by her angry brethren. In any case--
Douxie’s plan included--and even hinged on--his willingness to die buying his friends and Nari time to escape. He BUILT IT INTO HIS PLAN. And that bravery, courage, and matter of fact heroism--along with that defiant smirk he gives the Order when they threaten to kill him--is why I love this guy so much.
#douxie#wizards#tales of arcadia#toa spoilers#wizards spoilers#long post#but its about DOUXIE you guys#heroism#protectiveness
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The reeducation of a King
!!!WARNING!!! Read the tags before continuing. If any of the tags upset you then you probably wont like it when it happens in the story.
This story was one of the first asks I got, I started it, but never finished, so here we go.
The woman in front of you looked incredibly tired. She had bags under her eyes, her skin was pale, and she looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Truthfully you had yet to even inform her that the King Lamia she had rescued off the street was classified more as a hunting type bitty. She’d been under the assumption, like many people who came to you with rescues, that all bitties could be kept like pets.
“So he’s gotten possessive of you, and he started trying to control your life?” You questioned making sure that you’d gotten her story straight.
“Yes!” She sighed, looking almost on the verge of tears. “I had to slip tranquilizers in his food so I could come here! He goes absolutely berserk if I leave his sight for even a moment, and he refuses to let me decide where we go!” She cried, soundly more and more like an abused spouse than a distraught pet owner. To be fair, this was an abusive relationship, one you would be more than willing to remedy. “He also always tries to tell me what kind of underwear I should wear and gets mad when I don't wear them!”
“That's very troubling.” You nodded, before inquiring about an important question. “How was it that he got so much control over you?”
The woman opened her mouth to answer only to snap her mouth shut again in a frown. She didn't seem to have an answer.
“I… I can't remember…” She mused, before continuing. “I guess I didn't realize it at first, but over time he just got worse and worse, and somehow he convinced me that it would all be ok if I did this, or that. He started getting threatening, baring his teeth whenever I even suggested doing something he didn't want. I was afraid he’d somehow escape his cage at night and kill me, so I just did what he wanted. I figured this was just a part of rescuing bitties. It wasn't until last week when he started to demand I stop seeing my mother that I realized how weird everything was. He’s a pet, not a boyfriend, and I won’t be controlled by a pet!” She stated, seeming to come to a firm resolution in her own mind.
You nodded at her. “I see, so I think I know how this all started. “ You smiled, giving the woman a look that seemed to calm her down.
“What?” She asked, fully invested in what you were going to say.
“You see, bitties are separated into two different types, ones that are pets, and others that are meant for more, violent situations. Lamia’s with venom are generally meant to be either guards, or exterminators. Your King is the former. His breed was designed to protect an owner, staying vigilant for all threats both physical and mental. Where this all went wrong is because your King was born and bred in the wild, where a lot of the original designs and personalities of bitties have changed.” The woman looked incredibly interested in what you were saying. Fully invested and curious, you loved customers like this.
“So his idea of protection involves being controlling?” She asked just waiting for you to elaborate.
“Yes and no. His ideas about protection are skewed more in favor of breeding. If he has a partner he has to hide them away so they can't get taken by another bitty or human. He has to provide everything for them then, food, shelter, warmth, stimulation, everything. The problem with a lot of bitties in recent generations is that their predisposition to be reliant on humans still applies even when they’re experiencing sexual urges. They expect and crave for their human owners to satisfy them sexually alongside everything else.” You watched as the woman's face twisted in disgust.
“Wait, so you’re saying that hes trying to fuck me?” She yelled, grossed out and shivered slightly.
“In short, yes, he wants to fuck you.” You deadpanned watching as the woman hugged herself.
“That's so messed up!” She exclaimed, which made you chuckle.
“I agree, but magic is weird, and magical constructs with origins like bitties are even weirder. But anyways, there is a way to fix this. A way to uncross his wires so to say, and make him desire other bitties rather than you. Which in turn should ease a lot of the behavior towards you. After I do that he should be more receptive to my traditional training in learning how to act more in line with the original king lamia’s.” You finished, watching as relief seemed to wash over the woman.
“So what needs to be done to uncross those wires?” She asked, to which you chuckled.
“Get him a mate.” You stated watching as the woman seemed to balk a little at how simple your answer was.
“Wait! It's that simple?! I could have done that myself.” She asked sitting up straight, shocked and a little giddy at the prospect. You laughed with her.
“Well, kind of, unfortunately if you get involved in the process and give him a new mate, he’d take it as a sign that he needs to fight the other bitty to mate with you. It’s better to let a third party do the introduction.”
“Oh… Well, if it gets him to stop wanting to fuck me I’m more than willing.” She smiled, seeming to realize that a huge weight was being lifted from her shoulder.
“So when can we start?” She added, looking at you with hope.
“Well first we have to pick out a new mate.”
-----
You’d gone over potential mates and your rates with the woman for the rest of the visit. You’d mentioned that a cherry would probably be best for the King, as they were incredibly meek and in need of the amount of attention that this particular King was ready to give, plus they weren't lamia so the chance of breeding while already small, was nearly impossible. The woman was excited over the idea, as she wanted a pet who was easier to cuddle with as opposed to her King who she had to keep far away from her sleeping arrangements.
You’d made sure to explain fully to her why although she had the best of intentions, King’s were not traditionally pets, and she needed to treat him accordingly. She could keep him as part of her family and give him a better home off the streets, but she needed to be careful not to let him take charge of her life anymore as next time he probably would kill her. She ended up taking this to heart, nodding her head as you led her to the door.
“I’ll make sure I read more on how I’m supposed to handle him.” She promised, leaving in her car. You’d set a date for that weekend to go and pick up the King, you needed a few days to get a suitable cherry and set up an area in which you could do everything that needed to be done.
---
Meeting the King in question, Moriarty, as he had aptly named himself, was an occasion that was sure to be violent. You had a thick jumpsuit on, with extra layers covering your arms and legs, combat boots your husband had bought you just for these situations, and heavy duty handling gloves on so he couldn’t bite you. You had some safety goggles on as well in case he tried to spit at you, and even your neck was covered by a long collar from your jumpsuit. You didn't take any chances with violent venomous lamia’s especially ones who had reason to believe that you were a threat. You’d nearly lost your brother that way when he’d insisted on trying to calm a venomous lamia without gear. He’d been in the hospital for two weeks and aptly served as yet another reminder that protection bitties were not to be taken lightly.
Your husband was dressed beside you in a similar getup, and he had insisted on taking at least one Squadron bitty with the two of you, said bitty was currently standing at military attention waiting for you to give him orders. He wore camo like most squadron bitties, with a black shirt, ripped off sleeves, a pair of smaller dog tags and miniature combat boots and a knife. He didn't have his ecto flesh summoned so his outfit was a little baggy. His dark green eyelights were focused on you, while his arms were situated behind his back.
You had planned to use magic if things got too bad, but it was always good to have a backup plan.
Squadrons were very similar to Edgies in terms of vocabulary and humor, the only real difference being that they were never overtly hostile to anyone outside of combat. They made dirty jokes all the time and cursed like sailors, but never called you cunt or assface unless they were set out to kill you.
“I’ll need you to stay outside until we give you a signal.” You said to the bitty, watching as he gave a toothsome grin and saluted you in response.
“Just gimmie da signal an I’ll rip em up ma'am.” He replied, forgoing his usual vulgar vocabulary in lieu of a more respectful tone. He gave you a nod as well to tell you not to worry about him and you turned towards your husband with a pleased expression.
“You said this is your best one so far? I’m impressed! He didn't even cuss at me!” You praised watching your husband's face light up.
“Yeah, he used to cuss more than the others but I straightened him out real quick, nothing a little friendly competition couldn't solve.”
Chuckling you turned your attention back towards the door again, and steeling yourself for the worst you knocked on the door. Hopefully she’d managed to tranquilize her king.
“Hello! We’re here today for Miss Shelby! We’re here to pick up the package like we discussed yesterday.
“*GASP* MOTHER! HOW DARE YOU! I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO OUTSIDE! YOU DISOBEYED ME!” You heard the loud, unmistakable shriek of the problematic bitty then a mumble in response before there was a loud crash and the shriek of a woman. Worried that maybe the King had gotten more violent, you tested the doorknob, relieved to find it unlocked.
“Hello, Miss Shelby! I’m coming in!” You shouted, before bursting into the home.
What you saw caused adrenaline to surge through you.
The king in question was wrapped tightly around Shelby’s arm, hood spread out,tail swishing agitated, and teeth bared. He was on the verge of attacking.
Looking at Shelby you could tell how nervous, how terrified she was as she stared at the King’s teeth. You noticed that a plate of noodles lay shattered on the floor.
“Oh thank god.” Shelby breathed out, relieved to see you.
“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! BARGING IN HERE! MOTHER TELL THEM TO LEAVE!” The king hissed, moving itself so he was partially wrapped around Shelby’s neck, he had placed himself right next to Shelby’s ear with his teeth still bared and from what you could tell, his fangs were already secreting venom. He was very ready to bite.
“M-m-m-mori! She’s a guest, I invited her over for dinner!” Shelby tried to explain, earning herself a shriek in the ear.
“I DIDN'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR THAT! WE AREN'T ACCEPTING COMPANY! TELL HER TO LEAVE!” Moriarty screeched, tail seeming to tighten around her neck.
Shelby moved to try and loosen the tail only to earn a menacing hiss from the king, your eyes widened a bit as you tried to think of the best course of action.
Moving towards her would probably cause him to tighten his grip, talking could yield good results but with how agitated he was it would probably only buy you time before he bit her. Maybe if you challenged him he would take the bait, but you couldn't do that if you wanted him to respond to you in training.
Suddenly you were incredibly glad that your husband had insisted on bringing a squadron bitty. The king would probably never see it again, and it would leave you in a neutral position from which to train the king.
You clicked your tongue at the king, not making any sudden movement, he hissed at the sound, and seemed to be hyper focused on you, before its attention snapped to the door, as a bulked up squadron bitty stormed in.
“The fuck is this cunt ordering ya round for!?” The squadron bitty bellowed, he was still minimal size, but you yourself knew better than to underestimate him.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS! LEAVE MY TERRITORY AT ONCE INSOLENT CRETIN!” The King hissed, attention snapping to the other bitty.
Shaking your head, you looked at the little squadron bitty and gave a firm order. “Nothing crazy.” You stated, watching as he frowned in displeasure.
“Fuckin fine. Yer not a lot a fun are ya.” He stated as he stepped forward, chest puffing out as he readied himself for a fight.
“FIGHT ME BITCH!” He screeched out simply at the king, using the most direct way in which to challenge the king.
Taking the bait immediately, the King slithered down in front of his owner, hood spread, and fangs dripping poison. You took a step back, and whispered at Shelby to slowly back away.
There wasn't much of a fight, the King lunged and ended up shot by a tranquilizer as the Squadron bitty jumped out of the way for your husband to get a clear shot of the King’s hood.
You’d had these instant magic tranquilizers well before the pure bite incident, but they simply did not work on large bitties, they were meant for smaller bitties, and were tested extensively to work instantly said bitties.
There was no need for an actual fight, and really the simplest solutions were generally the best. You nodded at the Squadron bitty, as he immediately made to restrain the King bitty and brought him over to you, where you put a special muzzle on its skull. After which the squadron dragged it by the tail to a pre-prepared cage.
Having completed your business, you turned towards Shelby, noticing how shocked she seemed. It wasn't uncommon, people tended to be shocked when the people, or “pets” in this instance, that had been tormenting them were taken down. You took the lead, grabbing a shock blanket that you had also, prepared ahead of time and wrapping it around her.
“Do you want me to call someone for you?” You asked, as you secretly examined her for any bites or cuts. Luckily the only injuries she had were bruises from where the king had squeezed her arm too tightly.
Shelby nodded dumbly at you, before grabbing her phone and scanning her finger to unlock it. “Could you… Call my mother… I was too scared to have her over before.” She said, then plopping down in a nearby seat.
You nodded at her. “I’ll wait with you until she gets here.” You said, before pressing the call button on the phone.
---
The very first step in rehabilitating the King wasn’t to immediately jump into training. It was a little different from that. You’d brought your client over after she’d calmed down in order for her to pick out one of the Cherries you’d set aside for the King. You’d set aside 5 of them, not that it really made much of a difference as they were all crying at the prospect of meeting someone new. Most bitties were identical, luckily there were” some notable differences between these cherries, mutations weren’t always bad.
The customer came in, and almost immediately grimaced at the crying Cherries. You’d warned her that they were high maintenance pets, but also assured her that with a King around a lot of the more intolerable aspects would almost certainly be enjoyed by the King.
She did however warm up to the Cherries after a little play time, and after finding out that one of the Cherries enjoyed eating literally ANYTHING, she picked that one in a heartbeat. She stated that she loved cooking new things and someone to enjoy new things with was something she struggled with.
After that she bonded for a short while, she left, she had wanted to hear the cherry say “mommy” before leaving but you insisted that that was a TERRIBLE idea.
After she left, you shoved a heat inducing gummy down a screaming Cherries throat and quite literally threw him into the pen with the King. If you heard hysterical pleas for help, and screams to “shut up slut.” You ignored them, that would sort itself out naturally.
---
You monitored the situation between the King and Cherry loosely. It went exactly as you expected it to. The King violently fucked the Cherry, while the Cherry simultaneously cried for more and pleaded for it to stop at the same time.
By the end of the week long fuck fest there were no more pleas for stopping, only begging for more. Until finally, the King had firmly marked the Cherry as its own, and was holding it close and whispering as sweet of compliments as it could muster. The Cherry was crying, as usual, but at the offer of food it had accepted the King as its mate.
You waited another week, allowing the King to thoroughly fuss over the Cherry and fuck away its excess of aggression, before entering the pen. You entered with food, eyeing the King to make sure he didn't pounce. He has significantly calmed down, instead of hissing and threatening he stared at you warily while he held his wide eyed mate close. You set the food down, and nodded.
“I see you enjoy the mate I’ve prepared for you.” You stated, watching as the King’s head tilted to the side as he questioned the implications of that statement.
You left before he could question you. Letting the tranquilizers in the food take effect before you went to collect your newest project.
---
The King awoke in a cage alone while a hysterical Cherry cried as it reached out to him from a cage opposite of him.
You didn't have gloves on as you opened the cage of the Cherry, and you would never admit to smiling at the reaction of the King as you roughly handled the Cherry.
“RELEASSSSSSE MY MATE AT ONCE INSSSSSOLENT HUMAN!” He hissed, utterly incensed at the handling of his new mate. You shook your head, and placed the Cherry on a table, he cowered into your hand, hiding his face as he reached for his mate, but at the same time he still recognized you as a human to trust, you’d bottle fed him after all.
“Ppp-please I want to be with Mori.” He pleaded with you hugging your thumb as his tears colored the edge of his sockets.
You replied softly. “I know, but we have to correct some of his behavior first.” You replied as you shook him off.
He landed on his behind, more tears welling up in his eyes. Before you grabbed a shock collar, and placed it around the neck of the Cherry.
“What’s this’ moAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” You wasted absolutely no time in shocking the Cherry, watching as its tears pooled on the table, and pissed soaked down its bare legs. The king had thoroughly destroyed any clothing that had been on the Cherry in its vigor. You could make out the small cuts on its form, the first few days had been incredibly rough in terms of sex, not enough to kill the Cherry, but certainly enough that you wondered why it wasnt terrified of the King.
The Cherry flopped on the table, while you looked at the King who’s hood was spread as he hissed, spit and thrashed about in his cage. It was bolted down so there was no way for him to tip it, but it was still quite the sight.
Nodding in satisfaction you placed the sobbing Cherry back in his cage across from the King, where he reached out desperately towards the Cherry intent on comfort, even if that wasn’t his strong suit.
“RELEASSSSE ME AT ONCCCCE! I MUSST COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched at the same time trying to thrash his tail to strike out at you.
“No comfort will come to your Cherry until we have fixed your behaviors.” You hummed, as you pulled on thick arm coverings and gloves. You approached the King’s cage and unlatched it, grasping around the King’s throat as he attempted to bite your outstretched hand through the gloves. A calculated move in order to direct him as you pleased.
You wrestled with the King for a while, rolling your eyes and smashing him against the table as he refused to loosen his bite. The King went limp for just a moment while you strapped him to the table with special restraints. His skull wasn't even cracked as you’d gone easy on him, it also helped that his breed was tougher than the pet variety.
Being strapped down by his neck made the king easier to handle, even when he snapped out of his daze and began to thrash again, this time though without the threat of fangs. It was easy for you to pin down his tail and arms down long enough to strap them to the table.
This was all just a show of force, to prove that she could do whatever she wanted to his mate, and he could do nothing about it. She needed him as violent as possible in response to threats to his mate, she needed him to stall in relation to his street taught values, if only so she could delete them.
You finished strapping him to the table, and picked up the remote to your mini shock collar, pausing for a moment and wondering if you should maybe start with pulling teeth first. However you needed a far more compliant King than you had currently, and it helped that the Cherry’s cries were beginning to grate on your nerves.
Looking over at the Cherry you sighed, it was still crying, smelly and pitiful as it cowered in the corner furthest from you and the King, too petrified of the violence to move. You waved the button in front of the king who hissed at the sight.
“DO NOT HARM MY MATE YOU WORTHLESSSSSS HUMAN!” He screeched, as you shook your head and pressed the button. As expected the sight of his mate in pain sent him into a frenzy, he spit, while you mocked him for his inability to do anything. You approached the cage of the Cherry intent on subduing the King in the most effective way possible.
“NOOOOOOO!” The King continued to screech. While the Cherry recovered from the shock cowered and begged for you not to hurt him. Of course, that wouldn't happen.
You carefully took the soiled Cherry out of his cage once more, and placed him next to the King, the King seemed to calm as the Cherry strained for its mate. You let them reunite for a moment, if only to grab a bitty sized dental gag and pry the King's mouth open. Once successful, despite the Cherry’s begging. You once more picked up the Cherry, and placed his hand into the King’s mouth, before carefully pricking him with the King’s fangs.
The unholy screech of the King was nothing like the ones before. His venom was incredibly effective, and on a creature as small as the Cherry its effect was seen immediately.
Pale faced and beginning to flush redder than normal, the Cherries tears became more frantic. He blubbered the same as normal as he tried to free himself from your grasp. Plopping him next to the King you pressed the button of the shock collar again and held. Looking the King straight in the eyes as it began to cry red tears. There was no understanding past the dental gag. But you knew well enough what was going on. A sinister smile graced your lips as you turned away from the king, taking the Cherry with you as you left the room. As far as the King knew, his mate was dead, dead by its own hand.
---
You returned shortly, having cured the Cherry from the King’s venom and stalled it in order to erase its memory of the training. Standard practice for once a bitty had been fully trained, the training would remain while the memory did not, no risk of blabbing to customers who really had no idea what was happening. It was necessary as while you trained the King the Cherry would bond with its new mother.
The King was still sobbing as you returned, and you used the lack of struggle to your advantage.
“It's a shame he had to die because of you.” You egged on, watching as the King seemed to deflate even further. You took that moment to put on your gloves and remove the restraints. The King didn't attack, and your smile was as venomous as the King as you removed the dental gag.
“WHY?” The King asked, and you couldn't help but chuckle, as you started to stroke its head soothingly, as you spit out harsh words. “That's because you are a bad bitty. A horrible protector.” The king flinched at that but immediately you turned it around. “But still so brave, and handsome.” Of course, the contrary information stilled the King, stalling him, and allowing you to reach for his AI, and stroke it. His eyelights buzzed a little, as you wiped away his need to monopolize his mate, his “charges.” There was of course more work to be done, but he would be too grief stricken to struggle. Just the way you needed him. You supposed it was about time to pull out some teeth.
---
By the time your bitty behavioral therapy was done, the King was a model example of a protection bitty. He was still a horribly bossy creature, but he no longer insisted on isolating his charges or displayed sexual desires outside of for his mate. He focused entirely on “protecting” and only grew violent when there was sufficient threat.
Meanwhile, the Cherry had not stopped crying for his mate until he met his new mother. He was of course still sad, but as most pet variety bitties are ought to do, the introduction of a new mommy or daddy tends to cheer them up instantly. Which was good, as the Chery, newly dubbed Sebastian, had sufficient time to bond with his new mother without the interference of a mate. The client learned easily to care for a Cherry, while also undergoing coaching from the rancher in order to be an effective King owner.
On the day that the King was to return to his owners care. The owner had been nervous, she had lost confidence in owning bitties, and while Sebastian had helped, it still did not erase the nervousness she felt even after 2 months.
“I’m not sure about taking him back.” She stated, holding the Cherry close to her heart, he was as usual, teary eyed, but at the words of his owner, he burst into hysterics.
“Nooo!!! Mommy please I want Mori back! Please let me see Mori!” He begged, rubbing his snot covered face into her shirt. The owner seemed to deflate at this, and sighed, rubbing her Cherries back in reassurance. While you marveled at the fact that he was still suffering from some sort of stockholm syndrome.
“We’ll just have to see for now.” She said, and looked at you for reassurance.
“You really don't have to worry.” You replied, voice chipper. “He’s nothing like he was before, you’ll be safer with him now than you would be without. He’s a model King, the perfect guard for any home.” You made your way towards the back noting the wariness of your client, but you stood by what you said, Moriarty was a model King, with all the coaching you’d given Shelby there was no reason to worry anymore.
Making your way into the back you spotted Moriarty in his enclosure, he was sunning himself as you approached. There was no sign of pulled teeth, skinned tails, or broken bones anywhere on him, and he only flinched slightly at the sound of your voice.
“Your mothers ready to see you now.” You sang watching the King light up and practically shoot to your outstretched arm. He curled himself around your arm, vibrating with anticipation at the prospect of seeing his mother again. You hummed in satisfaction as you made your way back to where Shelby was waiting.
The Cherry fell to the floor as he threw himself out of his mothers arms, he fell with a thwack, chanting Mori as he ran to you. The King very nearly pounced at the Cherry, he had tears in his eyes and seemed shocked and elated to see his mate. Although the Cherry's supposed ‘death’ had been erased from his mind he still had thought his mate dead, thus the tears. Before he could rush to his mate you held your hand up. “Stop.” You commanded, preventing the King who was practically vibrating from going to his mate. He was restless and voiced his immense displeasure. “YOU MUST LET ME GO SEE IF MY MATE IS HARMED!” He practically screeched into your ear, but still stayed still, causing Shelby’s eyes to widen in shock. She would have never imagined that the previously unruly and violent King would become so obedient, even if he was still incredibly bossy.
The Cherry at your feet practically hugged your leg as he cried and pleaded for his mate to come to him, you stopped walking forward before your punted him across the room, and smiled warmly at Shelby even as Moriarty squirmed on your shoulders as he looked between his mate and his mother, frustration growing as he stayed put, as you were gesturing for him to.
The cries of the Cherry became background noise as you spoke to Shelby. “As you can see, he’s fully trained now. All you need to do is handle him like I taught you and he’ll respond appropriately.”
“YOU MUST LET ME DOWN NOW!” The king snapped, as he crossed his arms, still waiting for permission. Nothing could change his bossy tone, but he still could be trained to behave.
Your customer sputtered for a bit, before she seemed to snap out of it. “Oh… Um… Yes… Come here.” She said, and gestured with her hands as you’d taught her for her previously unruly King to come.
The response was instant, he practically lept from your arm, disregarding the Cherry, albeit patting him on the head as he passed, and basically leapt into the outstretched hand that his ‘mother’ had out for him. He practically purred at the contact with his ‘mother’, nuzzling her arm affectionately as he hugged her arm, shocking her while at the same time earning a smile.
“I AM VERY CROSS WITH YOU MOTHER! YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU!” The King stated, holding on firmly to his mothers arms as he stared longingly at the crying Cherry that was running and trying to climb up his mothers leg.
“I can see that.” She answered, smile wide and tears coloring the side of her eyes.
“NOW I MUST INSIST THAT WE COMFORT MY MATE!” He screeched, looking down at Sebastian with longing. Which in turn caused his owner to laugh and reach down to pick up the crying Cherry.
“There we go, the whole family’s together, Sebastian, Moriarty and mommy!” She cried, sniffling as Moriarty kissed the forehead of his crying mate.
“Thank you so much!” She cried, as she walked over to you and shook your hand. “I can’t believe how much he’s changed! Thank you! I can’t thank you enough!”
Grinning ear to ear, you replied. “Really, it was my pleasure.”
#bitty abuse#bitty torture#Psychological Abuse#psychological torture#king lamia#cherry bitty#shock collar#bitty rape#stockholm syndrome#memory manipulation#abusive realtionships
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Squeeze that bunny tail!
Part 4
Description: The RAD student council as well as the exchange students help out at a bar where, oops, the staff´s dress codes are those sweet bunny outfits that we all know and thirst for. The MCs, Violet and Clover, play a game of who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening without getting caught. Prepare for fluff, funny innuendos as well as my thirst over hot boys in bunny outfits.
The story is divided in several parts and will be updated every few days. find the other parts in my masterlist.
Story continues below the cut. Have fun!
Finally having stomached the midnight clothing change, the girls had to get back to work, so they kept their strategic meeting short.
However, when they finally stepped outside into the public again...
The demon lord was waiting for them.
Arms crossed, expression serious.
He was staring at them.
"Lord Diavolo...!" Violet pressed out while Clover gave a quiet but terrified "oh no he will actually kill me" as both backed away on instinct.
"May I have a word with you two?" the demon prince asked, however it felt more like a demand. They have never heard him speak in such a serious tone before.
The girls not able to give an answer other than a nod, Diavolo gestured at the staff's office room.
He let them step inside before closing the door... And locking it.
None of them have ever felt like shitting their pants more than in this moment.
"Violet, Clover" He raised his voice.
Clover had called her own death, and had accidentally pulled Violet with her.
"There is an urgent matter that I have to discuss with you two..."
That was it. The end.
Diavolo kept them trembling in a horrible silence for way too long.
"Y-yes...?" Violet somehow managed to say.
He took a heavy breath. The girls swallowed their fear.
Then, he spoke up.
"... Why do you keep squishing everyone's bunny tails? Is it some kind of human tradition? I'm dying to know!"
The girls literally felt like they just died.
"I've observed you for quite a while now, but I can't make out the reason behind it" Diavolo continued. "Please, fill me in...!"
----------------------
It took a while to recover, but in the end, the girls confessed about their game.
"We just look how many of those tails we can squeeze" Clover said.
"It's nothing more than a joke..." Violet mumbled. "I'm sorry to have upset you..."
Diavolo blinked at them.
"Upset?"
"Uhm... Yes..." Violet frowned in regret. "We will stop being childish while working. Again, sorry for-"
"Can I join your game?"
Silence.
"Y... You want to... Squeeze the guys' tails with us?" Clover asked.
And Diavolo's natural smile said it all. So, it seemed like another opponent joined the game at half time...
---------------------------
The three parted quickly after as they were needed in the local, but Clover had an idea on how to keep things organized:
* Clover formed the group chat [Squeeze that bunny tail!] *
Diavolo: Hello!
Violet: ... Are you sure we shouldn't call the group something else...?
Diavolo: I quite like it.
Clover: Thank you, Sir :D
Diavolo: This is the first group chatroom I am in without Barbatos.
Violet: Should we add him?
Diavolo: No. Don't tell him. I am experiencing a new kind of freedom right now. Anyway, I wish you girls the best of luck in our competition!
---------------------
As this story is ridiculously long, let’s do a quick squeeze round!
Violet got very lucky... She caught Luke while the angel had been trying to reach for something in the kitchen shelves. He was still in his first outfit (because even demons do not support children nudity, that's gross), and looked adorable, standing on that stool to be tall enough.
After squeezing his tail, Violet offered her help.
... Only to realise she wasn't tall enough either.
But oh well, luckily, Solomon appeared and was there to grab those tiny cocktail parasols.
Later, Violet also worked with Asmo at the casino area for a while and got herself another point.
As for Clover... She tried.
Tried to squeeze Mammon´s tail a second time, but the greedy boy was also a very bouncy boy.
She also worked with Barbatos for quite a while, but as much as she wanted to go get those juicy two points, she just couldn't.
Something about this pretty man was scaring her... She found out later what it was.
Violet and Clover were serving drinks.
And for two girls without any real waitress-practise whatsoever, they did quite well.
But at one table, it had to happen.
The first broken glass of the evening. Clover had been holding the tray a little too sloppy.
As an ugly scream bubbled up her throat, she already felt the full glass of demonous fall, but was unable to do anything. The shattering of glass echoed through the bar, but what was worse was the growl that the customer pressed out.
Looking down on himself, Clover had perfectly spilled his drink onto the demon.
"You little..." he grunted, standing up and ready to break her neck this instant.
Clover backed away, of course, and felt how Violet had been there immediately to back her up.
"W-we apologize for this accident" Violet pressed out.
The demon seemed to get even more agitated, now raising his hand to hit her.
"Shut up you fucking-"
Then, another silhouette stepped in front of the girls.
Barbatos was gently holding the demon's hand back.
"In the name of the owner, I'd like to offer my deepest apologies as well. In cases like these, the local would like to immediately return the money you have spent this evening, and offers compensation in form of three free drinks of your choice."
Barbatos did a little bow after having finished.
"Screw the money..." The demon hissed. "I wanna tear those humans into miserable pieces. That´ll do as an apology."
Barbatos did not look up.
"... In that case..." the butler continued. "Guests who actively threaten the well-being of our dear staff will be treated according to their own attitude."
He straightened his back, beaming the demon a formal smile. "I will show you the exit. Please, do not think of coming back anytime soon."
Despite being so cocky before, now the customer flinched heavily. Finally, he seemed to follow the butler's orders. He spat on the table in some disrespectful dick move, then left the local.
---------------
Violet and Barbatos helped Clover clean the mess afterwards.
"Thanks for dealing with that guy..." Clover mumbled.
"Oh, there is no need" Barbatos hummed. "If not for me, one of the demon brothers would have come to your aid. And I fear a person like Mammon would not have left the situation without a fight, so I figured it would be best to jump in myself."
The girls gave a small giggle.
"That's true..." Violet mumbled. "But that only makes you even more impressive. It's rare to see a demon so calm."
“Calm?” Barbatos looked up from the broken glass he had been collecting. He seemed genuinely confused for a moment, then his usual smile was back.
"How cute" he chuckled.
"C-cute?!" Violet blinked in surprise.
But Barbatos was already making his leave.
"Ah, don't mind it..." he mused. "The naiveté is what makes you humans so charming."
----------------------------
Clover felt safer sticking to cleaning instead of potentially making another mess, so she was wiping the tables when she heard Diavolo calling out to her.
"Are you busy right now?" he asked.
"Not really, I'm still on cleaning duty but there isn't really much to do right now... Can I help you with anything?"
Taking a careful look around, Diavolo stepped closer, lowering his voice as well. "I am in trouble."
"Uhm..." Clover swallowed her stress. "And why?"
"I lost the master key. The one the owner gave me."
"... The one you need to lock the whole place with? The one that basically gives you control over the whole bar?"
"I see you smell the trouble now."
Clover gave a nod. "I do... Should I help you search?"
Diavolo's expression changed into a smile.
"That's what I wanted to hear! Thank you."
"No problem. Do you have any idea where it might be?"
So Diavolo gave it a thought, concluding that he must have lost it during his break.
"I looked through the bathroom already” he explained. “Which leaves only the kitchen and the staff's room."
Suddenly, a third voice joined the conversation.
"I did not notice anything like a key in the kitchen" Satan said, coming to a stop next to them.
"Oh, Satan, so you have overheard our conversation..." Diavolo crossed his arms.
"Don't worry, I won't spill anything to Lucifer" the blond laughed. "He'd only scold you, wouldn't he?" Then, his gaze fell on Clover. "I can help you search."
----------------
Clover and Satan looked through the whole staff's office.
Luckily no one was there to ask what they were doing, especially since they just couldn't find anything. Satan gave a sigh.
"Nothing... I even looked through Mammon's jacket in case his kleptomania had struck again..."
Meanwhile, Clover was rummaging through one of the desks. Giving a resigned breath as well, she was about to give up when she spotted something shimmering behind the wooden desk.
"I think I found it...!" Clover called out.
Satan came up to her, seeing as well how there was a key stuck in the web of cables behind the office desk.
"Wait, I'll get it."
He tried reaching it from above, but some computer monitors kept getting in the way.
In the end, Satan was crouched down, head under the table as he fiddled with the cables.
"I still can't reach it..." he pressed out under his breath.
Clover grumbled in displease, kneeling down as well. There wasn't enough room for her to help in any way, so all she could do was watch Satan do his thing...
Oh no.
She had THE perfect chance to squish Satan's tail. Due to his position, his booty was right in front of her, and he seemed more than busy to even bother her presence.
Three points, she thought...
Just a little tap, she thought...
Holding her breath, she stretched out a finger and reached for the pompom...
Merely a second later Clover found herself landing on her back, her wrists being pressed against the floor next to her head.
"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY."
Satan's body hovered above hers as he held her in a tight grip.
Clover was panicking.
"I'm so sorry - I shouldn't have done that - I'm sorry Satan Sir please don't kill me - I'm an idiot - I'm sorry I'm sorry - I love you sir I'm really sorry I'm-"
"Explain yourself" he interrupted her pleading.
"Hnnngh...” Clover fought actual tears but finally calmed down. "I... Uhm... Violet and I might be playing... A game..."
"Go on" Satan demanded in a sharp voice.
So Clover took a deep breather, speaking terribly fast in her fear.
"It's a competition. We wanted to see who can touch the most bunny tails over the evening, without the people noticing. Look, it's weird, I'm sorry, Violet has some kind of pompom kink and suggested it and I can't say no to people so I joined, also because it's funny, oh also please don't tell Violet I said anything about a kink, she will kill me."
His glistening greenish eyes kept mustering her flushed red face.
"I'm not satisfied yet."
The girl gave another whine.
"Pleeaase... Dearest Satan, Sir..."
"Keep going..."
"Ah...uhm… Oh lord, my man, oh how I plead for thy mercy, oh mighty Satan...! Thy tail was so tempting, I couldn't resist reaching for it...... And also I suck at this game and need points so desperately...! It was just too perfect of a chance, please forgive m..."
She stopped.
He was smirking at her, his grin almost dripping with this sly and cocky attitude.
Clover only now felt how there was something else in-between his left hand and her wrist.
The key.
And she remembered what Violet had texted her earlier today.
"... Did you trick me? The key wasn't actually hard to grab, was it?" she asked. “You knew I would try to touch your tail.”
His smirk widened.
"Why the fascination with bunny tails?" Satan nonchalantly ignored her questions.
"... They're fluffy..." Clover mumbled bashfully. "Just... fun to play with, y'know...?"
The blond tilted his head. "Never played with one."
"... Try it, it's nice."
"Yes, I would like to" he said, enjoying the flustered mess underneath him as she tried to figure out what he was implying. "Right now" he added.
So Clover tried to stand up... But Satan wasn't letting her.
"Uhm... I-I would let you touch mine, b-but... Could I stand up first...?"
"No."
Silence.
Probably the only thing audible was Clover's boiling head as she slowly raised her hips off the ground, constantly being focused by those sly eyes of his.
One of his hands let go of her arm, reaching down while his whole body lowered slightly as well.
Instead of reaching for her back, however, he first placed his hand on her thigh. Through her fishnet stockings, she felt his touch wandering up her leg, only then he'd brush over her side to her back, finally finding the bunny tail in his grip.
"Interesting" he mused, poking and squishing the pompom as he pleased, visibly amused at her embarrassment. "Yes, very-"
They heard the office's door falling shut.
Both, Satan and Clover, stopped in their motion, even in their breathing, as footsteps came closer.
"My jacket... Where did I leave my jacket..."
They were staring at each other first, then at the person casting a shadow on them.
And... well...
Luke stared back.
Stared at the demon bending over the human, the human arching closer to the demon, touching each other in those... those clothes...!
The angel could only press out some dying squeaking noises as his face exploded in an outraged blush. He took a step back, raising an arm as if shielding himself from the evil.
"S... S-s..."
Clover was the first to move again.
"Luke, this is not what-"
"SIMEEOOOOOONN....!"
Aaand Luke ran out of the room in a great whine. Slowly getting over the shock, Clover let out a sigh.
"... He's going to arrange some exorcism for me now, ain't he..." she mumbled.
The demon only gave a chuckle. "Serves you right" he hummed.
"Wha-?! You're the one who start..." her voice gave in immediately after meeting again with this almost sadistic stare.
"S-s-stop... Satan... Since wh-when are y..." Clover stuttered as the demon continued to play with her tail.
He leaned in closer.
"You should know that trying to play pranks on me will always backfire thrice as much..." he purred into her ear.
Then, Satan let go, pulling back and rising onto his feet.
"Well, I think that is enough of a punishment for now. I'll go and bring Lord Diavolo his key."
Clover sat up as well, but her legs were way too wobbly to do any more than that.
She glanced up at him, seeing him wave a goodbye.
"See you around" he hummed, adding a little wink before heading out of the room.
-----------------------
About another hour had passed when Clover and Violet decided to check up in Diavolo again...
Clover: Lord Diavolo, how is the game going?
Diavolo: Good! I have 62 points so far.
Clover: WHAT
Violet: U-uhm... May I ask how you got to have so many...?
Diavolo: I asked Barbatos to let me touch his tail.
Clover: ... For all of the points?
Diavolo: Yes :)
Violet: ...
Diavolo: What is wrong? Is that not a good score?
Clover:
It is... But... We actually had made some rules that we didn't get to explain...
Diavolo: Oh! Which would be? :)
Violet: Uhm... For example, you are not allowed to squeeze the same tail twice in a row, and the target is not supposed to notice you...
Clover: Meaning... If you simply touched Barbatos' tail 31 times in a row with him knowing... You would have... No points yet...
Violet: ...
Clover: ...
Diavolo: :(
----------
Ironic enough, Diavolo had been taking a break in the staff room while texting.
Minutes later, Barbatos came in to bring him something to drink.
"Barbatos! You are not allowed to notice me anymore when I touch your tail. Apparently I did it wrong the whole time!"
"Of course, my lord" the butler answered, the slightest smirk glistening in his eyes.
Diavolo noticed immediately, pointing out how Barbatos looked way more relaxed than usual.
"Oh, do I?" Barbatos tilted his head. "Well, it certainly is a weight off my shoulders to have a crew to rely on. For most parts, at least."
He was heading for the exit already.
"And I am glad to see you are enjoying yourself, my lord" he smiled. "I will have to thank those girls for that..."
----------------------
Violet was working at the bar.
Lucifer had promised her to teach her some cocktail mixing, and there they were.
Turns out she was learning quickly, and the demon soon entrusted her with serving drinks to actual customers. Keeping an eye on her, Lucifer watched as Violet worked, also receiving help from Asmo.
... Which was impressive, by the way, because anyone could sense that Asmo had been sneaking some drinks here and there, and was getting a little... Tipsy.
It showed at one point, though. A customer came up, asking for a drink rather difficult to mix.
"I can do this!" Violet assured her friends and started mixing the juice.
But just as Violet was bending down to put some ice cubes into the drink...
They heard -- and Violet felt -- a slap that was audible even despite the quite loud music playing.
And everyone around them went quiet.
Blinking, Violet straightened her back again, turning to find Asmo behind her.
"Did. You just."
"Slap your ass? Fuck yes I did!"
"Asmo!!"
"Come on, you CAN'T expect me to NOT go for that booty when you're stretching it RIGHT into my FACE."
Lucifer next to them barged in. "But you can't just do th-"
"It was on INSTINCT" Asmo said.
"What do you mean, instinct?!" Violet asked, her face still in a slight blush.
"Oh my godddd, I'm the avatar of LUST, if I see a cute butt I just can't help it!"
"Asmo, that's not okay", Lucifer scolded. "You need to learn to control your sin."
"WHY?! Y'all have your quirks too, why am I not allowed to be myself?! That's so unfair, I always get shouted at! Like, Beel's also snacking our whole storeroom empty but THAT'S fine, huh?!"
Lucifer´s eyes widened. "He's doing WHAT?!"
"And Mammon is stealing money out of the guest's pockets, but NO, let's sue ASMO for giving a booty the appreciation it DESERVES!"
Lucifer looked like he was about to have a stroke. A growl crawled up his throat.
"MAMMOOOOOONNN...!!!"
And he was gone.
Asmo turned to pout somewhere, and Violet was left at the counter, still a little overwhelmed.
The customer slowly raised their hand.
"... Could I... Get my drink now...?"
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me fanfic#obey me bunny event#is it obvious that i had a huge crush on Satan around that time#if not then#i did#also im sorry this story is so long#had too much fun with it#only one part left i swear
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Canvas// Jeon Jungkook (m)
(Part of the “Dream Career” Series)
In which Jeon Jungkook is a soft tattoo artist, and you are a very clumsy girl.
⤿ Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Jungkook x Reader
⤿ Word Count: 5,086
⤿ Genre: Fluff, Smut
⤿ Warnings: Oral (F Receiving), Fingering, Unprotected Sex
⤿ A/N: Aaahh! Finally the first part of this series! I hope you guys enjoy this ^.^
You stood at the door of the tattoo parlor, its presence was so familiar to you, yet so curious all at once. It looked the same as it always had since you were young. The windows were adorned with what you could only presume to be tattoo designs done by various artists in the shop, and the building itself was illuminated by the soft glow of the LED sign atop its roof. However, it certainly put off the unmistakable threatening aura and stench of regret that you always got from tattoo shops.
Walking through these doors and getting a tattoo was a decision you couldn’t reverse, and you knew this very well. Nights of staying up late with your friends in your younger years and laughing at the “top ten biggest tattoo mistakes” were enough to teach you this. However, you also knew you weren’t the type to back down from a dare, and a dare this was, so you couldn’t go back on it.
With a heavy heart and shaking hands, you pushed open the door of the shop. You had half a mind enough to tell you to turn around and get out of there, dare is damned, but you knew you were too late when you heard the ting of the bell that would signify to the workers a customer had walked in.
Your brain barely had time to process before it felt like you had walked into a different world; you could’ve sworn you were having a sensory overload. The shop itself was relatively clean, and they had their licenses on display above the check-in desk, validating that you would, in fact, not go home with any weird skin rashes. It had the nauseating smell of disinfectant, which in this case you presumed to be a good thing. Several books were open for looking at on top of the desk, labeled by older works to newer ones.
You knew that this shop had quite the reputation in your little old town, knew that ever since Woo-Jin passed away it had been struggling with business. Woo-Jin was the heart and soul of this whole business, the sweetest old man with a love for his job. Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago due to a fishing boat accident. His death left not only a hole in the heart of the community, but a lingering feeling of something missing in the shop. Spread of word in the town told you that his grandson had taken over the shop, and spread of rumor told you that he was struggling. A lot of Woo-Jin’s loyal customers stopped coming in, saying that the boy was sweet but it just wasn’t the same.
Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you realized you had no clue what you wanted to get. You simply came in here for a dare. You took tentative steps closer to the check-in desk and reached out for the binders scattered on top, hoping to see some design of interest or just anything to give you an idea really. However, it seemed that luck was not on your side as you didn’t even get a chance to look at the designs before you knocked over the stack of binders that had previously been by your elbow. Heads turned your way as you bend down shakily to clean up your mess.
It seemed you had scattered some papers everywhere, with no clue of the order that they belonged in. The longer you took the more your embarrassment grew. You couldn’t help but feel like everyone was watching. You were in such a panicked state, you barely noticed the hands that had come beside you in assistance to pick up the papers. As the last paper was taken from beneath you and put in its rightful place on the desk, you lifted your head with a beating heart and a cherry red face.
“Hey now,” the person’s voice chuckled, “No need to be embarrassed.” The voice belonged to a man. It was soft and warm, the type of voice that could make you feel peaceful and calm, make everything seem like it’s okay. Slowly, you tilted your head up to meet eyes with quite possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His appearance was very soft, innocence is a prominent feature, but he also had an edge to him that you couldn't quite describe. He was almost god-like. Some sort of mythical being that you would learn about from Greek mythology.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wondering if he had frightened you, a safe assumption based on your speechless nature.
You suddenly remembered what was happening and felt even more embarrassed. “Yes, I’m sorry. I was going to clean it up, I just didn’t know where anything went.” You bowed in apology. “I’m sorry to burden you.”
The man smiled at you and you could’ve sworn you physically felt your breath leave your lungs. “It really is okay. It’s not the first time this has happened. I do it myself more than you would think.”
When your breathing had calmed down a bit, you looked up to meet the man in the eyes properly, ditching the red face and sweaty palms. This didn’t make him any less ethereal. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Before you could thank him or even get his name, there was a yell from behind the curtain where tattoos are done. He groaned and rolled his eyes before setting the binders down and taking off to go deal with the situation.
You stood at the desk for a few moments longer, before the lingering anxiety finally got to you. You would not be getting a tattoo today. Making your way back to your home, you couldn’t help but think maybe you had made a mistake. Your friends would never let you live this one down, and besides, if you had gotten the tattoo maybe you could’ve had the chance to have an actual conversation with the cute worker.
Once you entered your home, you threw off your shoes and flung them up against the entrance that connected the living room to the dining room. You went to your bedroom and changed into more comfortable clothes and flung yourself down on the bed. Soon, you slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing on your mind for the night is the sweet voice of the young man you met today.
When you woke up the next morning, the sun was shining through your windows in contrast to the somewhat cloudy weather of yesterday. It seemed what was supposed to be a short nap had turned into your night’s sleep. You didn’t even get to eat dinner. You sat up and stretched, giving your eyes time to adjust to the light. Slipping out of bed, you made your way to the kitchen. You weren’t in the mood to cook, so you settled for a banana laying out on the counter.
As you sat on your couch eating your breakfast, you couldn’t help but think about the events of yesterday. You wondered if the man had noticed you left, or if he cared. As you ate, your mind drifted off somewhere else when you noticed something missing. On your finger was always a golden ring with a little heart, just a plastic one, nothing of real value but rich in sentimental value as it was a gift from your father from before he went off to the military. Today it was missing. You began to rack your brain about what could have happened with it before going off to your bedroom to see if you had taken it off last night.
Your eyes scanned the tops of your dresser and your floor, hoping to find a trace of your ring. You knew it was highly probable that you dropped it outside, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind and kept looking. As you searched your carpet on your hands and knees, you remembered a crucial detail from yesterday. This is exactly what you were doing when you dropped all the papers. The ring must have slipped off of your finger in your haste.
Cursing under your breath you got up and checked your phone, seeing that the time was only nine in the morning. You hoped the little shop was open this early. You made your way back to the very place you had been yesterday, only to find the doors locked. Getting frustrated at yourself for losing the ring in the first place, you turned around to walk away, before being stopped by a familiar voice. The voice was smoky and silvery, and as soon as you heard the honey-laced tone, you knew it was the man from yesterday. As you turned back around to face him, his gaze met yours and your breath hitched in your throat. You thought yesterday’s anxiety was because of your embarrassment, turns out he just took your breath away at any given time. He was just as pretty as when you first saw him.
“You know we are closed right?” He asked with a small chuckle. He must have noticed your attempt at opening the door and you must have not noticed the LED “closed” sign flashing bright on the door.
You flushed red with embarrassment. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t see the sign…” You professed sheepishly.
He shook his head with a small smile. “You’re okay. I’m assuming you’re here for your ring.”
“Ah, yes, actually.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. So you did drop it here. He smiled and pulled it out of his pocket.
“You know, you’re really lucky I’m the one that found this. There can be some not-so-nice people that walk through those doors.”
“Thank you, again...where did you find this anyways?”
His gaze never seemed to leave yours as he spoke. He nodded his head at the shop’s door. “On the floor by the front desk. You must have dropped it when you knocked all of the papers over.” You lifted up your head to quickly apologize again, but a glance of the smirk on his face let you know he was joking. Your body relaxed.
“I’m uh...sorry about that...again.” You twisted your lips in a train of thought. “Why did you keep my ring? You said to yourself that most people would have taken it home and pawned it for some cash. But you didn’t.”
“I guess I’m just not that kind of guy. Besides, Pops would’ve killed me if he found out I was doing something like that.” A little chuckle escaped him. You figured by Pops he was referring to Woo-Jin, the previous owner of the establishment and his grandfather. You figured it would be a sore spot to bring up, and as you looked at his face you could see that even if he didn’t show it, his joke had hurt him a little.
“Would you like to go get a cup of coffee with me? If not for anything to at least let me thank you.” The offer flew out of your mouth before you could even think about it. Maybe it was the hurt expression on his face you knew all too well, or maybe it really was just you wanting to thank him for finding your ring, but you wanted to spend more time with him. Though he was surrounded by people everyday in his line of work, something about him seemed so… lonely.
His gaze met yours and his eyes lit up. He gave you a nod and the slightest smile. You let him follow you to the coffee shop; he seemed to stay close but not too close, as if he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.
When you arrived at the shop, you grabbed the door and held it open for him. “After you.” You smiled brightly, gesturing with your hand for him to go inside. He stepped in with a grumble, something about how it was his job to open the door for you, being a man and all. You giggled at his little comment. “It’s the twenty-first century, women can hold the door for men too. It’s called being nice.” He blushed a bit, not realizing you had heard his comment. “Now. What would you like to drink?”
After ordering your drinks, you two went to find a table while they were being prepared. You made small talk for a while, but you couldn’t help but notice him staring at your ring, which had taken back its rightful place on your finger the instant he had given it back.
“My grandmother gave it to me.” You commented, scaring him a bit since he didn’t seem to know you realized his staring.
He nodded in understanding. “Were you close to her?”
“I think we were pretty close. She was like my mother in a way.” You smiled softly. Most people would be hurt from talking about a loved one that had passed, but talking about your grandmother just made you happy, sort of a sense of comfort.
“I’m sure she was a lovely woman...to raise someone like you.”
“What do you mean?”
A light shade of red dusted across his cheeks. “Oh… well, I just mean that you have a very kind soul… I guess.” He gave you a sheepish smile and looked away, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact.
Before long, the coffee had arrived, and you both continued to make small talk over your cups. About mid-way through, something you hadn’t noticed before caught your attention. His coffee. It was black. Bitter, tasteless, black coffee. You scrunched up your nose in disgust. Who willingly drinks coffee like that?
“You like your coffee black?” you asked, a sort of bewildered tone to your voice.
He nodded shyly. “I’ve never been into sweeter drinks. It seems like every time I try to order one with something in it, it’s just overbearing, and it gives me a headache.”
You clicked your tongue. “Then you, my friend, have been drinking the wrong coffee.” You picked up your own cup, tilting it towards him. “Try this. It’s cappuccino. There isn’t much sugar in it and the way this place makes it is,” You stopped and brought your fingers to your mouth, making a kissing sound, “chef’s kiss.”
He just chuckled, taking your cup and taking a small sip from it. A delighted noise conjured up in his throat and you giggled. He looked up at you after hearing your giggle, a soft smile appearing on his face. “You weren’t wrong. This is pretty good. Has nothing on black coffee though.”
You just shook your head and made a disgusted sound. “You don’t deserve my coffee dates if that’s your opinion.” You stared at him for a moment, before realizing you two had not yet exchanged some very important details. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“I’m Jungkook.” He offered with a smile.
“Jungkook…” You said softly, trying to engrain the name into your memory. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” You grinned at him and he gave you a grin back.
“You too, Y/N.,” he said softly as if the name coming off of his lips was pure joy to him, and you couldn’t deny that your name sounded a lot nicer coming from him. It was strange how you felt a connection to him, only having known him for maybe an hour at most.
You ended up spending the rest of your day talking to Jungkook about pretty much everything that comes to your mind. The coffee had been finished long ago, but the conversation never ended. Before you knew it, Jungkook was looking out the window at a setting sun. You looked out the window yourself with a sigh. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”
The sound of your voice caught his attention, and he nodded somewhat sadly at you, having had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You both stood up, making your way to the door. He halted his movements for a moment, as if deciding whether or not he should say what he was thinking. Ultimately, he decided on speaking. “Thank you for this Y/N. You’re welcome back at the shop anytime.”
You shook your head and waved him off. “Nonsense. You’re the one that held my ring for me. I should be thanking you.” You smiled warmly at him. “But...I’ll be sure to stop by sometime.” He looked up at you, seemingly taken aback by your answer. He bowed his head and opened the door for both of you.
“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He said, giving you one last shy smile before you two went your separate ways.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Days seemed to turn into weeks with your budding new friendship, and before long you and Jungkook had been attached at the hip for a number of weeks.
He had come over to your house once or twice. You two would have dinner together and he would help you clean up afterwards, which sometimes resulted in a sleepover as you would both be too tired to even think about him driving home. If you weren’t sharing a nice meal together, you were deep into a game of Mario Kart or watching some crazy nature documentary, which would soon both be abandoned by your long conversations that lasted well into the night.
Slowly but surely, he had become a part of your daily routine, like you could no longer imagine a day without seeing him. He fit right in. You also took up his offer of coming into the shop every once in a while, where he showed you that the idea of a tattoo wasn’t so bad after all. You still remembered a conversation you two had after a particularly busy day at the shop. He was stressing over something or the other and you asked him why he kept the job if it did nothing but stress him. He told you he loves to listen.
At the time, you didn’t understand it, so you just left it at that, but after coming around for a while, you began to take notice of things. The shop was filled with a variety of stories and people from all walks of life, wanting to tell their stories through the ink on their skin. Of course, there was the occasional drunk college kid that would more than likely regret everything in the morning, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t heard stories that brought you to tears. Tattoos for passed loved ones and promises of love for newly established family members written in ink on the skin. Symbols of strength for those that had just been through too much, and symbols of happiness and joy for those that felt better than they ever have. Customers would talk and talk while Jungkook drew what he heard on their skin, and that’s when you understood. You knew then how important this shop was to Jungkook and why, it went deeper than just his story, so many others were written on those walls.
You confronted him about it that night at your house and he just smiled at you. That was the first night you experienced what it felt like to fall in love with someone. Maybe you weren’t deep in love yet, maybe you hadn’t known him long enough, but at that moment you would have fought against anyone who tried to tell you any different.
The second time you felt yourself falling in love was when you saw him cry for the first time. That night was the anniversary of his grandfather’s death. You two were sitting in silence, eyes on the Animal Planet documentary currently playing on your TV, when you heard soft sniffles. Slowly, you brought your eyes over to the other end of the couch where Jungkook sat. His eyes were red, and tears slipped slowly down his cheeks, which were also red, indicating that he was trying to hold it back. It killed you to see those usually bright eyes that you had come to love in so much pain.
Without saying a word, you scooted closer to him. His eyes made contact with yours and you almost broke. You reached out your arms to wrap them around him, and as soon as he was engulfed by you, the dam broke. You could feel him shaking in your arms, and you began to draw little circles on his back with your thumb. “It’s okay.” You cooed softly. “I’m here Jungkook. I’m here.”
You held him there for what seemed like hours, before you heard his gentle snores in your ear. You laid him down on the couch, covered him up, and went to bed. Neither of you spoke of it the next morning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The third time you felt yourself falling in love was different. You were far past falling, at this point you had already crashed. Touches and smiles that you once would’ve returned and left it at that were now keeping you awake at night. The only decent sleeps you got were on the nights he was in your living room, snoring away. He made you feel at home, and you were afraid of it.
You didn’t know how he felt about you, and you were sure it could never be the same way you felt about him. You couldn’t risk losing your friendship, so you kept your feelings locked away, in a part of you that only you had access to.
However, Jungkook didn’t make this easy on you. He was the same as he had always been: touchy. Yet it didn’t feel the same. It was different and it drove you crazy. And then one day you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
The shop had closed up and you and Jungkook were the only two still in there, in the months that you had known each other closing shop with him and heading to your house was part of the routine. But not tonight. As Jungkook was cleaning up the counter, a thought crossed your mind. “Jungkook, what about your tattoos?”
He stopped wiping and turned to you, rag still in his hand. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... “, you fidgeted with the edge of your sundress. “Your story. The reasons behind your tattoos.”
He smiled softly and placed the rag down. “Well…” he started, walking over to where you were. “This one.” He pointed to a small butterfly on his neck. “Symbolizes change. A promise to myself to be a better me every day. This one.” He trails his fingers down to a key on his collarbone. “Loyalty. I’ll protect what’s closest to me.” He pulls the collar of his shirt down a little, revealing a semicolon somewhat to the right and below the key. “This was one of my first ones. After I overcame my depression. A symbol to stay strong.”
Almost as if you couldn’t control yourself, you reached out to him, tracing your finger softly over the shape of the semicolon. His breath hitched in his throat, the feeling of being that close to you more than he could handle. Hearing his breath catch, you looked up at him, fingers still in the place they were previously tracing.
“Y/N…” He let out in a breathy whisper. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please.” You almost begged, though you barely had enough time to get it out before his lips crashed against yours. At that moment, you didn’t care if he would hate you after this, maybe he regretted everything, but you needed to feel him. You craved his touch. The kiss deepened, the fiery passion that had been growing deep inside both of you for so long now exploding into fireworks. He wrapped his hands around your waist, lifting you up around him and setting you down on the edge of the counter, to which you did not object.
He pulled away, breathing heavily. “Should we get you out of these clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded almost too quickly and he reached down to pull off your dress. He tugged it up and you helped him pull it off, the only material separating you two now being your lace bra and panties. He stared at you hungrily, as if he were a predator and you were the prey. He dropped your dress to the floor and went back to giving you attention with his lips, trailing them around your neck and lower and lower down your body, sending a shiver down your spine.
His hands made their way to your thighs, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He parted your legs, beginning to grind himself closer to you. God, that feeling alone was enough to drive you mad. “God Y/N, You’re so fucking beautiful.” He growled. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” You let out a sigh of intense pleasure, tangling your fingers into his hair and trying to pull him closer. You wanted to feel all of him. You let your hands slip down his body, coming to the hem of his t-shirt and raising your hands under it, feeling over his bare chest.
“Y/N…” He moaned out breathlessly, the tight feeling in his pants making it hard for him to think. He wanted to ravage your body. He was so desperate to feel himself inside of you, to feel you around him. He wanted you in every which way. You felt the same, evident from your increasingly soaking panties.
You faltered at the sound of him saying your name. “My name...say it again.”
He leaned in close to your neck. “Y/N.” He muttered, attaching his lips to the spot right below your ear. He kissed you again, this time lower. “Y/N.” He started to nibble on your collar bone and you felt like you were losing your mind. “Y/N. My beautiful princess, Y/N…” His hands slowly pushed you down, his lips never losing contact with your neck, until he had you laid on top of the counter, not caring about the binders and papers to be lost underneath you. He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing the rest of his toned ink-filled skin. Your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, tighter against you.
His hands found their way to your bra, wasting no time removing the lacey material. He threw it on the floor with your dress, eager to give his attention back to you. Jungkook couldn’t believe the sight before him. You were so beautiful to him, and he couldn’t wait to show you. After all, actions speak louder than words.
He lowered his mouth to your chest, letting his tongue explore around the new area. The feeling of his tongue on you had caused your nipples to harden, and Jungkook had no intentions to neglect this fact, immediately swirling his tongue around the perky buds. He traced his tongue relentlessly around, leaving no room for any untasted spots.
“Jungkook.” You moaned out his name softly. This encouraged him more, his mouth now capturing your whole breast, making you mewl and squirm beneath him, mixing with his grinding against your center. You whined, eager for him to touch you, and he trailed his fingers down to your heat, rubbing the inside of your thighs in a circular motion, teasing you. You rutted against his fingers, causing him to slip two digits inside, a desperate whine erupting from the back of your throat.
He pushed them in deeper, swirling them around inside of you,stretching your walls and making you weak in the knees. You thrusted upwards, shoving him deeper inside of you, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be closer to you. He pulled his fingers away, to which you were about to object before he sunk down to his knees in front of you. He put his head in between your thighs, trailing kisses all around the inside. He looked up at you and you could unraveled right there, his lust filled eyes looking at you like you were a treasure to him, the only thing that mattered. Your thoughts were cut off as he placed his tongue over your slit, giving it one good lick. Your fingers found their way to his hair, pulling on it lately, making him let out a whimper and dive into you deeper. It felt euphoric, better than anything you had ever had before, and you could feel yourself edging closer to your orgasm. “Jungkook please..” You whimpered, and he let out a soft groan. You tugged on his hair again. “This feels amazing but please just get inside of me already.” When you told him like that, he couldn’t deny you.
He removed his belt buckled, sliding his pants down and positioning himself in between your legs, wasting no time pushing himself inside of you. He sighed at the feeling of your wet walls wrapping around him. You could feel him deep inside of you, and your back arched in pleasure, his hands going to hold your waist, giving him a better angle. He pounded into you mercilessly, and you let him take you over. No one could tell where you began and he ended, as your bodies molded together and your voices mixed to create the perfect song. One for only you two. As his pace quickened, you could feel your whole body getting tighter. Your walls clenched around him and your legs shook, your body wanted more of him, but it could only take so much. You let out one last yell and you swear you saw fireworks as Jungkook spilled the evidence of his pleasure inside of you. As you both came down from your high, Jungkook gave you one last kiss and pulled himself out of you. “I love you.” He whispered after he pulled away.
You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Jeon Jungkook, someone you didn’t think anyone could ever deserve, just told you he loved you. You loved him and he loved you. You smiled.
“I love you too Jungkook. I have for a while now.”
He kissed you once more, but it wasn’t the last time. It was only the first of many.
Tag List: @hazeljrz @goldenwidow3
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love bites | ksj
*written for the FWL luv library project*
⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader
⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff
⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.
⇥ word count: 5.4k
⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi
⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)
“Will you marry me?”
I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?
I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.
“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”
The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.
My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.
A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.
God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.
Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.
“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.
“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.
Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.
“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”
I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”
“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”
Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.
“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”
“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”
“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.
“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.
And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.
Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.
Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.
Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.
Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.
Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.
Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.
Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.
Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.
I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.
Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.
Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.
Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.
Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.
When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.
“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.
“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”
I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.
He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.
“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”
“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”
“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.
Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”
“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.
The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”
Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”
Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.
Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.
“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.
“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”
I pointedly look everywhere but at her.
“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”
“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”
“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”
His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.
“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”
“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.
“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.
“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”
“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”
Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.
Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”
“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”
Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”
With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.
“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?
Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.
“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”
“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”
“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”
Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.
I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.
“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.
“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”
Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.
Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.
Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.
“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”
“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.
Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.
I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”
His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”
“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”
Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”
Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.
“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”
He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”
That bitch said what now?
“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.
“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”
Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.
I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?
Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”
My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”
“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”
My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.
“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”
“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”
His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”
“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”
“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”
“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”
“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”
“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”
Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.
My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.
hughchefner: u up
hughchefner: wyd
hughchefner: date me?
(y/n): bet
Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”
“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.
“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.
His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.
“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”
I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”
His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.
Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.
I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.
The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.
“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”
“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.
“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”
I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.
Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.
No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.
Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.
Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.
I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.
“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.
���Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”
“Take off yours first,” I order.
“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.
“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.
Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.
His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.
“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.
“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.
I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”
“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.
My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.
After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.
“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”
He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”
“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.
Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.
“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”
He immediately pulls away.
“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.
“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.
“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”
“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.
It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”
It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.
Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.
Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.
“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”
“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.
I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”
I release him ruthlessly.
“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”
“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”
Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”
“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”
Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.
I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.
“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.
“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.
“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.
He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.
I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.
“Harder,” I moan.
“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”
“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”
“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.
His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.
“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”
I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”
“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”
I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.
“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.
His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.
When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.
A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.
“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.
“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.
“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”
Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”
“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.
Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.
“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.
“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”
I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”
I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.
He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.
I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.
I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.
“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.
“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”
I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.
“Bet.”
a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!
© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.
#fwlproject#luvlibrary#bangtanhq#bangtanarmynet#btsbookclub#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#hyunglinenetwork#ksj#ksj x reader#seokjin x reader#jin x reader#bts#bts smut
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The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5
Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
4 Months Pregnant
“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.
“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”
“Nope! Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.
The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.
“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.
Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.
“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”
“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.
“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.
“Are the lids glued?”
Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.
“Yes sir. How is she doing?”
“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”
“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.
“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.
“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.
Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.
J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.
That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.
It happened before.
“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”
“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.
“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.
A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.
“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”
In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.
You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.
“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.
Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.
More than usually.
That’s why he has to clear it up.
“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”
You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.
“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.
Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.
“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”
OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...
If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.
Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.
“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.
“I am,” you defend yourself.
“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”
“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”
“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”
This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.
“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”
Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:
“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”
The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.
The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.
The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.
“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.
*************
6:02pm
You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.
Luckily there’s stuff to do.
Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.
Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:
“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”
Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.
“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”
“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.
“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”
The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.
You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.
You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.
“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.
“Hm?”
“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.
“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.
“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”
A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.
“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”
“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.
“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”
Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:
“You’re stupid!”
Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.
“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.
“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.
Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…
**************
3 Hours Afterwards
You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.
“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“Did you see my shaver?”
“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.
At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.
He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.
You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.
You’re not that fortunate today.
“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.
Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.
“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.
“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.
You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.
“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”
Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Yes you did!”
“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’
“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.
The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.
“Why not?”
“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.
“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”
No answer, Pumpkin’s out.
“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.
“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.
“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.
This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.
It’s a two way street.
Also read: Masterlist
You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.
#the joker x reader#the joker imagine#the joker fanfiction#the joker jared leto#the joker suicide squad#the joker#joker#joker x reader#joker leto#joker imagine#joker suicide squad#joker jared leto#mister j#mr. j#dc#dcu
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