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zyafics · 3 months

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play fake | part one

masterlist

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a girlfriend in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content series, 18+, eventual smut, angst, jealousy, fake dating trope, ward cameron being a bad father, rafe and sarah rivalry — reader type hyper-independent, people pleaser, smart mouth, stands on business, mysterious past — rafe's characterization insecure, possessive + jealous person, asshole, mood swings

Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?

Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.

But it's very rare to have a Kook.

It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.

Locals don't tip.

Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.

Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.

Why?

Because he's an asshole.

"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."

You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.

"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."

Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.

But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.

Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.

"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"

His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.

You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.

He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."

You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.

Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."

You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.

"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"

"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."

"What's so funny?"

"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."

Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.

"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"

From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?

"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"

Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.

He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.

"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."

You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.

Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.

"What the fuck?"

"I think it's time for you to leave."

He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"

"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."

Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.

Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"

—

That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.

But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.

You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.

You didn't care.

Your coworker can get his tips.

As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.

"Rafe wants to talk to you."

You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.

"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.

"He said he's willing to wait."

That means he was expecting you to say no.

You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."

"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."

You smile at that. "Exactly."

Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.

Then another.

You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.

He remained until he was the very last customer.

You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.

With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.

"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."

"You finally ready to talk to me?"

"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.

But, you were too hopeful.

"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.

"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.

"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."

"I remember."

"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."

"And old-fashioned, but continue."

His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."

You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.

"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."

"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.

"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"

You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.

"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."

Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.

"Pretend?" You repeat.

"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."

"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.

He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."

You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."

It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.

But, he never employed you again.

"Do you see where I'm going now?"

You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.

"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."

His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."

That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.

"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."

"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."

You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."

You turn your back to him but he stops you.

"I'll pay you."

You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I don't want someone else."

He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.

You were serious.

"I'm sorry, I truly am."

Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.

With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.

You thought it would be the end of it.

Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.

★ part two ★

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sukunasweetheart · 1 year

Text

sukuna is that one boy in class that will do anything to annoy u bc he doesnt know any other way of showing his affection

he loves to see you jumping up and down as he holds something above your head, a nasty smirk showing on his face

aims to get you eliminated first in any game played during p.e (yeah, no mercy for those legs of yours when its dodgeball)

or if you end up in the same team as him he’d use you as a shield for any incoming attacks from the opposite team (even tho we all know this bitch can dodge like a pro)

its so cute how he gets himself eliminated on purpose afterwards tho, so he can sit beside you and annoy you more.

messes up your hair whenever hes walking past... so now you have a habit of instinctively covering your head with your hands whenever hes walking by and it makes him and uraume chuckle...

would be the first to howl with laughter, clutching at his stomach, whenever you make a fool of yourself. you tried to kick a soccer ball, but missed the ball entirely and your shoe went flying instead. and then you had to chase after him bc he snatched it up and went running 💀

if youre a jumpy person, he’d take any chance to scare the living lights out of you. he loves seeing you get all freaked out, screeching (100% chases you around holding a roach)

but sukuna makes it very clear that he is the only one thats allowed to toss you around like this, he would kick the next person that tried to the same

if anyone else told you that hes usually stoic and moody you go 🤨 bc this man is so lively around you

sukuna is so BORED when youre not around, it drives him insane

he’d probably mellow out more as he gets closer to you but still, the teasing is relentless as always

if there is a day where he’s upset you fr bc, idk you were already in a bad mood or something, he would most likely not know how to cheer you up... maybe he’d leave u a drink from the vending machine on ur desk. what’s your go-to drink? strawberry or chocolate milk? pocari sweat? apple or orange juice? (hes around you often, so he prolly knows what you get the most from the machine)

you know that this is the closest thing to an apology that you can get from him so you accept it anyway

at some point, sukuna will assume that you’re already aware of his feelings for you. he gives you so much attention, surely you know by now, right? wrong. youre absolutely clueless, and when he brings it up one day, you just sit there like, what??

“are you playing dumb, or are you fuckin’ stupid?”

you get all defensive and the two of you start bickering.

“enough of that. well, now you know,” he nonchalantly tells you.

youre so confused bc youve never thought of him in that way and you tell him that youll have a think about it... to which he clicks his tongue in annoyance and says “fine”

he keeps pestering you for an answer after that! you keep running away from him. (its like youre triggering his hunting instincts, making him chase you around)

his usual teasing ensues but something feels different... you feel more flustered and your heart races more than it used to... (he notices it all)

when you eventually give him an answer and say “i like you too...” he will respond with “yeah, i thought so.”

watch out bc sukuna is the type to move things fast. blink once and you might already be married to him.

Masterlist

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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tonyboneysblog · 7 days

Text

MOTHER HEN: PART SEVEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: none

notes: daddy’s…home? genuinely so excited to write the next chapter cause if you notice the timeline, something big is coming😈😈

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

You haven’t gotten a text from hawks in the past four days, which puts you in a sour mood.

technically it’s a little bit of your fault for kissing his forehead- but if the little shit would have just let you explain…

what’s even worse is that your unable to watch the sports festival- fucking hospital job.

And when you finally get home from that hellhole, Fumikage will be sassy cause you weren’t able to watch him.

He wouldn’t be angry just..slightly disappointed?

Then when you cuddled up in your nest yesterday you see that damned hawks plush you spent 30 dollars on…

So here you are at this amazing place of work! against your will of course.

Currently you’re at the water station- until you were rudely pulled away due to a pro hero getting hurt…as usual.

You open the door to see a younger, dark skinned woman with white hair and the cutest bunny ears on her head.

She looks at you and starts waving happily…your heart would feel warm if it weren’t for the blood on her face.

“Names Mirko!” Oh, you know her! Your sister used to be obsessed with her…well for a short period of time but still obsessed no the less.

“Mirko, how you feeling today?”

She sends you a thumbs up, “terrible!”

You chuckle softly and walk over towards her, accompanying another one of the doctors.

“What’s her condition?”

The doctor sighs, “nothing too serious, we ought to check her for a concussion though..and she’ll have to at least spend one night here.”

“With those injuries it should be longer no?”

The doctor shakes his head, “can’t keep Mirko tied down for too long.” Then proceeds to just…walk out.

But Mirko doesn’t let it stay too quiet.

“So, your name is?”

You smile softly, “ Y/N Tokoyami.”

Mirko looks like she’s pondering for a moment..looks as if she knows you from somewhere.

“I swear I’ve heard that name before..” she says quietly.

You smile again, “you probably have, so is there anything you need?”

Mirko puts her attention back onto you, “nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Really, Why’d the doctor call me in then?”

“Because I complained my ass hurt, I’ve been laying in bed all day.”

You chuckle, “that all?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get a bed sore kay?” You shoot a thumbs up towards her, same she did to you earlier.

Then you walk out, wondering why she even needed you…

But Mirko knew why, hawks told her you were nurse and she wanted to she what all the fuss was about.

Truthfully, he’d been talking about you every time she saw him while on patrol.

She supposes his ramblings are correct, you’re cute.

Then again Mirko has never really pinned hawks as the mamas boy type, and you echo the motherly type.

But you’re sweet, maybe that’s why he’s so attracted to you?

So, Mirko pulls out her phone to bother hawks about his little high school boy crush.

she took it the the group chat though, little asshole.

BEST PROS.

carrot foot

Found ur gf hawks

caw caw bitch

what

caw caw bitch

where

jorts

who?

carrot foot

Hospital

INCOMING FACETIME CALL

Mirko sighs and answers it.

“Where is she, she look cute?” Hawks says frantically.

Mirko shakes her head, “again hawks, get a grip.”

Mirko can hear the wind howling into the phone, of course hawks is flying while on the phone.

“Answer me.” Hawks says sternly.

Mirko immediately starts rambling about the very small amount of information she has on you, “Damn you got a mommy kink or something, cause that woman is a MILF. I mean M.I.L.F.”

“What- what the hell does…no?” Mirko can pick on hawks confusion through the phone.

“Hawks, man, that woman echos mother. Here she is mothering throughout the halls of a hospital!”

“Mirko, what’s your point here.”

“I mean she’s hot dude, get your head in the game…or in her i don’t-“

Mirko can then her hawks yelling loudly out of shock, “GROSS MIRKO, DONT MAKE JOKES LIKE-“

If he yelled any louder you could probably hear him in the halls.

Mirko laughs loudly, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m joking.”

Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the phone, a little too long for comfort.

but then of course hawks breaks it- as him usually does.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

Mirko starts laughing again, “aha! Damn dirty bird- go get your wings ruffled elsewhere man!”

Hawks responds quickly, ignoring Mirko comment.

“I gotta go- I see a best jeanist and I’d like to go pull his ear.”

Mirko huffs, “fine, but he isn’t your wingman-I am.”

Hawks laughs softly and hangs up, leaving Mirko in silence.

Until you walk in.

“Oh, there’s my favorite nurse!” She beams.

“Do you mind if I watch the sports festival in here? My kids in it..”

Mirko nods her head, “I don’t mind- need to look for recruits anyways.”

So, there you and Mirko sit watching the sports festival together.

Many times throughout it you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and alerting the others your not technically working at the moment.

but during every break in the sports festival, you rushed and did your actual duties as quickly as you could.

Then when you came back, and the 1V1 battles have already started.

And of course your gorgeous boy conquers and destroys the competition.

One after another, what was most surprising to you was seeing todorokis and midoriyas fight, aggressive and raw.

made you vividly remember that was the boy who tripped on his own ice..

You were a little scared that’d he have to face your Fumikage.

Instead it was Katsuki Bakugo who faced him, and after that fight he’ll be the only kid who doesn’t get your end-of-semester cookies.

I mean cmon! Grabbing your son by the beak?! Unbelievable…angers you to your core because who does he think he is?!

But it’s fine.

Fumikage would’ve won if it were anyone else.

But Fumikage still got third, and you can shove it in all your friend’s faces that your son is awesome and that they could never.

Because Fumikage is one of a kind.

You look over to Mirko after jumping for joy for your son’s new shiny medal.

“He’s a good fighter, y’know I know someone all birdy like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea, hawks.” She says bluntly.

You can feel the color drain from your face, hawks low key, high key broke your heart after your last interaction.

“Oh… well I’m sure Fumikage will consider an invitation from him.- if he wanted to work with him.” You say while tapping your fingers together.

Mirko pulls out her phone, typing something, you don’t know exactly what but…it’s whatever.

carrot foot

yea your cooked bud

caw caw bitch

what

Mirko seats down her phone next to the table, where you can hear it buzzing loudly…

“Uhm are you gonna check that?” You say nervously.

“Nah, he’s fine.” She says as she finally relaxes into the bed she had been complaining about all day apparently.

“Ah…okay?” You then hop out of the seat, making your way back to your work.

You should get him an apple pie to celebrate, or maybe just straight apples cause Fumikage will go crazy either way.

Hawks briefly crossed your mind again, what was his favorite again? Wasn’t apples you know what…it was probably something dumb- just like him…

dumb, dumb, dumb man.

enough of him, you have work to do…

right after you call Fumikage!

It rings, but he doesn’t answer? Which is weird because Fumikage always answers his phone unless it’s dead.

Yes that’s probably why, he’ll call you right back when it charges.

But Fumikages phone was in-fact not dead, he was just…distracted?

Fumikages eyes squint slightly, “What could you possibly want.”

It’s hawks he’s being so standoffish with, but hawks just sends him a soft smile.

“It’s the sports festival, of course I’d be here.”

“You decide to stalk me instead of my mother?”

Hawks goes quiet, his carefree smile faltering.

“Not exactly..we got in a small spat.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk to her for you, it’s not gonna work.” Fumikage starts to walk away before hawks grabs his shoulder.

Then dark shadow comes out.

Hawks steps off slightly, “that’s kinda freaky…”

“Kinda like your face.”

Dark shadow looks over to Fumikage, “that wasn’t even a good comeback.”

“Shut up dark shadow.”

Dark shadow scoffs and folds his cute little shadow arms with what looks to be a pout on his face.

Hawks face completely loses the carefree smile, “I’m serious when I say I’m not here for you…well not technically.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Yea, what do you-“

“Dark shadow…”

Hawks lets out a small breath, “I was interested in you being my sidekick due to the skills you showed off on the fie-“

“Not interested” Fumikage says curtly.

Dark shadow whips his head over to look at Fumikage with surprise, whispering something in his ear.

“He’s number three- you can’t just reject an offer from him!”

“I can, and I just did.”

Then it’s silent, Fumikage doesn’t mind though.

Hawks sighs softly, putting back on the smile Fumikage hates so much.

“Well if you ever rethink it, my agency will always be open.”

“I hope retribution comes for you in the darkness of your home.”

Hawks stays quiet but then his face twists into confusion, “what does that even mean..?”

Fumikage huffs and if he had hair he would most likely flip it whilst walking away.

Fumikage leaves hawks standing outside, utterly confused in what Fumikage was even talking about.

Maybe that’s what you meant when you said Fumikage was unique…

speaking of you, you were still at that darn hospital.

Fumikage was aware of that, you always worked a lot but the times that you weren’t working you tried your best to spend them with him.

Until Mr. Pro-Hero decided to come into your life..

The first time Fumikage really noticed your relationship with hawks was when you had the talk on the balcony.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy when he thought someone was under a blanket, a blanket you don’t even use may he add.

Then the next day when he went up to your balcony, the blanket was in-fact no where to found.

Then he caught him in your kicthen, Fumikage debated on even eating the cookies because maybe hawks terrible aura rubbed off on them.

They were delicious but that’s not the point!

Then hawks wanders into Fumikages home, which was locked, uninvited looking for you.

Only time Fumikage could tolerate hawks was when he had to save you from the bar.

But then his tolerance shot down when he walked in on the two of you coddling each other.

Then he heard the “little spat” you and hawks had which is why he rushed into your room so fast.

Honestly, who does that damn fowl think he is?!

Fumikage explains all of this to poor dark shadow, who truly just wanted to watch a movie with him.

“Sounds rough.” Dark shadow says quietly.

Fumikage huffs, “It’s worse than rough dark shadow, it’s appalling.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so…extreme with hawks- Momma seems to like him.”

“Correction, liked, my mother will never participate in any romances with that man again.”

Fumikage ends the conversation there, but dark shadow would like to expand on the topic.

“It was nice of hawks to offer you that side kick position.”

“well being nice doesn’t cut it.”

Finally, the conversation about hawks is finished, Fumikage only ranted for 4 hours this time!

And he’d finished 3 movies in that time as well…maybe the hospital will let you off early.

So Fumikage and dark shadow fight the urge to rest, which they both utterly fail and fall asleep on the couch.

You come in around 5:30 so they never stood a chance, not after the day Fumikage had.

You walk into the door, spotting only Fumikage.

You stumble over towards him, sitting on the floor and brushing your hand through his feathers.

Fumikage is knocked out, so he won’t wake up if you pick him up.

You use all your remaining strength to pick Fumikage up, making your way towards your bedroom.

It’s been a minute since Fumikage got cuddles from his mama.

And also you seriously doubt you could carry Fumikage back to his room, then walk back to yours without passing out onto the floor.

You place Fumikage under the warm covers, then yourself.

You then wrap your hands around Fumikage as tightly as you possible could, as if someone would take him away if you didn’t.

Then you rest, same as Fumikage.

Same as hawks.

And hawks truly needs to thank you for whatever you did to make him stop having those nightmares.

barely dreams now, and if he does it’s always weird shit.

usually has you in it too.

nevermind, you probably cursed him and overrode whatever put that nightmare spell on him.

a curse that just makes him dream about you.

Now he really wishes he talked Mirko into getting a picture of you, he misses you bad.

Maybe a text wouldn’t hurt? No, too risky- you’re probably still mad at him.

Maybe he could worm his way back into your life with that weighted blanket, if his plan worked he could probably steal it back anyways.

It still smells like you, which is weird because he’s had it for awhile.

That’s probably his favorite part of the day now, getting home, taking a shower, cuddling into his mostly bare bed and just sniffing that shit like it’s coke.

Kinda like how some people spray lavender onto their beds to get sleepy, he just smells the hell out of that blanket.

He wishes he was able to snatch another item from your house that smelled like you.

Fumikage doesn’t really smell like you, he noticed.

He smells kinda like wood? And also a little fruity too.

You wouldn’t really guess fruits and flowers from looking at him but maybe your scent rubbed off on him too.

Honestly, hawks kinda feels like Edward when Bella first walked into that classroom though- hawks wouldn’t be covering his mouth to avoid the smell, he would be INHALING that smell.

He would never admit that the night that he comforted you out on that balcony he didn’t even go home and change, he kept that uniform on.

The coat didn’t truly smell like you, but the under shirt did.

Maybe he’s going a little crazy, sure he’s real kept together most the time but- the things you do to that poor man.

And Mirko- peacefully sleeping in the hospital, she may be hawks wingman but she needs her rest too!

And when you wake, you’ll have to go right back to the hospital.

doesn’t men’s you can’t talk to your son before you leave though.

“Mama.” Fumikage says sleepily, awoken from you moving all around the room.

You perk up now your son’s awake, “Fumikage?”

Fumikages eyes a still closed, fighting to go back to sleep.

“Did you see me, in the sports festival?”

You run your hands through Fumikages feathers, “Course’ I did.”

Fumikage smiles softly, “guess who talked to me after..?”

“All might? I saw it on-“

“No it was hawks, invited me for an internship.”

You jaw slacks slightly, “did you accept?”

“No, not after what he’s done.” Fumikage says with a little rasp in his own voice.

“You should’ve.”

“What?”

You sigh, “hawks is number three- doesn’t matter what he did to me Fumikage.

Fumikage stays silent, suddenly now regretting telling you.

“But…”

You kiss his temple, “thank you for thinking about how I’d feel though. Don’t let my emotions or relationships get in the way of your future.”

Fumikage nods, understanding your point of view.

“Are you leaving for work?”

“Yep, it’s not a long shift though.”

You open your bedroom door, “I’ll see you later, Fumi.”

Then walking out of your own house, making your way to the hospital.

Once you walk in, your infact greeted with Mirko!

and hawks.

“Ah, my favorite nurse!” Mirko cheers excitedly.

“Mirko! Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

Mirko chuckles, “glad you’re worried about me toots.”

You gasp a small bit at the nickname, “Oh!”

Mirko places her hand onto her hip, “Hey, didn’t I see you hear like 7 hours ago, why you already back?”

“Duty calls?”

Hawks chuckles at that, wasn’t even funny.

Mirko throws an arm around hawks, “this was the birdy boy I was talking about!”

“We’ve met.”

suddenly there was an awkward silence.

Hawks wanted to throw himself out a window, you wouldn’t even look at him.

Mirko taps her foot nervously.

“Hawks…” you say his name softly.

His head perks up form Mirko hold, “yeah?”

“Sorry that Fumikage rejected you…I know how he is.”

Hawks can feel his heart beating in his ears, “it’s all good- doors always open.”

You nod softly, looking away.

The three of you just stand there in silence, Mirko foot tapping repeats.

Then she breaks, “Mrs Tokoyami, sorry for holding you up-You got a job to do!”

You jump in surprise, “ah- your right, it was nice talking to you both!”

You quickly walk away to clock in, Mirko and hawks make there way outside.

She scoffs, “had the perfect opportunity.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t gonna apologize to her in a hospital.

“I’m going to put you in the hospital/ what the hell even was that back there?!” Mirko exclaims.

Hawks pushes her arm away, “I was nervous.”

“Doors always open!” Mirko mocks him.

“Oh quiet down.”

“I’m your wingwoman- giving you a perfect chance and you fuck it all up.”

“It wasn’t that bad-“

Mirko smacks the back of his head, “Hawks, shut your trap.”

Hawks doesn’t reply, walking next to Mirko throughout the less populated areas of town.

Mirko snaps her fingers, “You know what, I can fix this.”

“You can?”

“Of course I can, I’m Mirko.”

Hawks groans softly, already annoyed by the days events.

Mirko starts her plan, “clearly she cares a good bit about her son-but there feeling are mostly separated for different things.”

Hawks nods along.

“So instead of getting all cushy with her son again, you need to fix it with her- clearly your not gonna getting through with her son based on what you told me earlier.-“

Hawks interrupts, “her son is always home though.”

“Don’t interrupt me, he goes to U.A. I bet they have some trip for passing the exam.”

“How are we supposed to find that out?”

Mirko groans, “let me talk, I’m always going to that hospital for some reason- I’ll find something out…she likes me unlike you.”

Hawks looks away with a pout, “Don’t say that…”

“I’ll say whatever I want, I’m your wingwoman.”

Hawks and Mirko continue their walk up until they get to his agency, since Mirko doesn’t have one.

Though Mirko continues walking, “See ya later, Hawkey.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my house?- don’t fuck up anything else while I’m gone.”

Hawks huffs lightly, walking into his own office.

He has so much paper work to do, then the commission will be badgering him later for “doing it wrong” according to them.

He can’t wait to just be home.

Be home next to you.

or…your blanket at the very least?

…he really needs to fix this.

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consistencynevermether · 3 months

Text

Winter Nights (Vere x gn!Reader) (Touchstarved)

content: verex reader, gender neutral reader, I tried to write this so any origin will work with this fic, SFW but Vere makes his usual jokes, cannon typical swearing, reader bullies Vere just the smallest bit but he does the same.

summary: Vere has a horrible day, not enjoying the ice-cold weather at all. you decide to help out your favorite sassy fox boy.

word count: 5.5k

A/N: In honor of us getting VERE LORE i made this little fic of him. ngl i just saw how much he hated snow and ran with it. im so obsessed w this bitch yall i love him sm.

Vere had had a shit day. In your first few weeks of arriving in Eridia you probably wouldn’t have noticed it. That demon Fox was notoriously good at hiding his feelings when he really wanted to. He'd misdirect your attention, complaining about how shitty the drinks are in the Wick when he was really upset about something else entirely. Something deeper he didn't want you to know about. Honestly, in the first few weeks here you probably didn't care much to know what he was upset about anyways, you were too busy trying to survive. But life in Eridia had settled down a bit after the first month or so. You had stable lodgings, you had picked up some odd jobs, using your specific set of skills to give yourself some income. You even had allies of sorts.

Leander had shown you the ropes of the cities and how to fit in with his Bloodhounds, Kuras had welcomed your assistance at the clinic (even if your help just amounted to laundry or organization), Ais enjoyed your occasional company in the red spring, and even Mhin had gifted you a well made dagger, their face blushing red as they insisted it was simply so you wouldn't be as useless as you had been that night they had met you. You'd even consider some of them almost friends now.

Yet out of all the characters you'd met since entering this city, Vere had been the one you had chosen to align yourself with in the quest to cure your curse. There was something dangerous beneath the surface of all of your new acquaintances, yet with Vere it was different. He knew more than he was letting on. He was more than he was letting on. Vain people like him usually loved to flaunt just how wealthy, powerful or clever they were, but he had always slyly dodged the topic. He was putting on an act, a performance where he was simply a beautiful face, and you knew it was bullshit. You’d be lying if you said curiosity was not a catalyst for choosing Vere as your closest companion, but you also had the sense that staying close to him was infinitely safer than opposing him. Something about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

But that was the other problem. Over these months, you saw Vere as less of an enemy and more like-

-Well, Saying friend was probably inaccurate. You kept your secrets close to your chest and Vere was far too fake with you for you to assume he trusted you. Yet, you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He'd try to get a rise out of you by being an asshole and you'd reply with something snarky, clever, or just downright outrageous and Vere would let out a surprised bark of laughter. Real laughter, a high pitched guttural cackle, not like the fake laughter he uses around most, that breathless smooth chuckle you'd quickly figured out was fake as fuck.

Getting closer to Vere also meant learning things like that, when he was being fake or when he genuinely meant something. And although you'd never admit it, you loved that. Getting to know Vere better and getting rewarded with a real moment with him was like having a stray cat you'd been trying to get to trust you finally approach and sniff your hand before hissing and running off again. You knew that cat would be an asshole the next day, but you also know you'd be back the next day to see if you could get that cat to trust you a little more.

Though said cat (or more accurately fox) had been in a worsening mood recently. The months were getting colder, and when the first snowflake fell Vere’s scowl became more frequent, plus leander had been trying to get closer to you lately, and that man's mere presence could put Vere in a pissy mood for hours. You didn't quite understand his hatred for Leander, but you also had the feeling leander was just a little insane, so it might be genuinely good judgment on Veres part instead of him just being an ass to people for fun, like what he did with Mhin and Kuras. The real icing on the cake to complete Veres' bad mood was his hunting session that happened today. The Senobium had dragged him out at the crack of dawn to kill monsters and only loosened his leash late into the night, after the light snowfall had become more of a brutal sleet, the ice cold rain coming down in sheets. The temperature in Eridia always drops much lower in the nighttime, so by tomorrow you'd put money on the outside either being a slushy mess with ice coating every road, or be covered in a dusting of snow. Though you weren't too sure how likely either of those realistically were to occur, it was your first winter in Eridia. You hadn't even realized that you'd been here for so long the seasons had begun changing around you, but it was clear Vere had hated the colder months.

Your persistence in getting to know Vere, for reasons even you couldn't really explain, along with all these reasons, was why you knew he was going to be in the worst mood yet when he got back. You were by the bar, nursing some hot mulled wine when the door to the Wet Wick slammed open, Vere stomping in (probably to knock some of the slush off his boots and also because he was angry) and taking a seat at the bar next to you.

He didn't say a word to you, silently seething as he gave the bartender a silent look that meant “make this drink strong or i'll make your life miserable”.

Thankfully, the bartender was as reliable and quick on her feet as ever, ignoring Vere’s death glare but pouring him some non-watered down liquor. You were ever grateful for her ability to deal with the people of this city.

Veres' long scarlet hair was slightly plastered to his cheek, wet and freezing, with snow and sleet mixed in, tangling the long strands. You wagered a quick look at his tail, and it was just as bad, if not worse. A bit of mud had caked on the bottom of it, along with the blood of whatever monster they had had him hunting that evening. And the fine fur was drenched to the bone. He looked absolutely horrible, and hadn't said a word to you the entire time, just bitterly drinking his liquor and motioning for another pour.

That's how you knew this bad day was different from the rest. Usually when Vere was upset he'd let you know somehow. Whether it was turning up his nose at you to let you know your presence isn't wanted nor needed, or sometimes he'd rant for hours on how much he hated the Senobium or whatever else was bothering him. And no matter how mad he was, he'd never let you see him in such a disheveled state. It was hard for you to remember even a handful of times where Vere looked less than perfect.

But now? Looked like an absolute mess, and even stranger, he was just-

-just quiet really. If you didn't know better you'd almost think he was a little defeated. Like a person at their breaking point.

You couldn't help but feel sympathetic. Not too long ago you had felt that way, the face he wore now was like the one you wore on the caravan on the way to Eridia reminiscing about how you were betrayed, how your former life and everything you had up until that point was basically nothing but ashes now. It was not a good feeling.

You wanted to do something to help. For some reason you really wanted to do something to help. Luckily you had an idea. Well, hopefully luckily. You knew people who looked like that usually wanted to be left alone to seeth for a while. Or cry, depending on the person. But you wanted to help. If he didnt like it, then he could always leave, it's not like you'd force him to accept your help.

While he sipped what must have been his 3rd or 4th strong drink, you quietly slipped upstairs to your room, and began filling up the tub. A while back you had splurged and purchased a small mesh bag of a few bathing items, all of them lavender scented. You dumped them out to see what exactly you had to work with

A small bar of lavender soap

A single vial of Lavender bath salts

Some lavender hair oils

Lavender shampoo

And a small white comb, most likely made of some mid tier material, enough to do its job, but nothing stunning. This seemed like a passible amount of stuff for Vere right? You knew he was fancy and he probably had much higher quality items in greater amounts back wherever he lived, and what if-

Wait a damn minute. You were doing this out of the kindness of your frickin heart. If it wasn't nice enough for his stuffy ass then you'd just use the items yourself. Hell you already were a bit disappointed you didn't get to use this stuff yourself, more for you if he decided he didn't like it.

With that settled in your mind, you turned towards the now full tub and a smaller basin next to it, both filled with clear water, and began to use a simple spell to heat the water. Almost all humans had some potential to learn magic, and being able to heat water to steaming hot was an extremely basic magic, almost anyone could perform it if they knew what to do. You finished it off by pouring the bath salts into the tub and grabbing two towels out from your closet, one large one and one suited for drying hair, and laid them to the side along with the assortment of small lavender products you had gotten out. You then lit a few candles set on the sink, considering it was dark outside, and candles were now the only source of light in the bathroom. With that prepared and the bath still steaming hot, you headed back down to the tavern.

Vere was still there, still drinking some strong amber liquid. At least he was no longer shooting them back, but instead nursing the drink with slow sips. He was definitely at least a little buzzed, judging by the way he slightly tilted off the barstool.

You walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Vere. Hey Vere, are you still with me? Or are you more drunk than you look?”

The fox glared up at you for a second before he fixed his scowl, a look of boredom and slight amusement painted on his pretty face in an instant.

Fake bitch.

“Well, well, well. Here to keep me company now? I'll be honest, my standards are lowering with every glass I down, so keep trying and maybe you'll get lucky.” a lecherous smirk spread across his face as he spoke.

Sigh. he was so going to take this the wrong way.

“Lets go to my room”

“W-” Vere momentarily stumbled over his response. Probably only because he was drunk. Any other time and he would have absolutely dominated this situation easily, poking and preening about how you were not immune to his charms. And yet up till now he didn’t think you were the type to fall for his flirty act so easily.

And he was right, you were smarter than that. If you hadn't been he probably would have killed you by now.

“Hey.” you practically scolded. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Not for those reasons. Come on, up we go.” you said while grabbing his elbow gently to steady him as he got off the stool, just in case.

Mercifully, he let you lead him upstairs without complaint, probably out of curiosity on what the hell you were thinking.

When you opened the door to the bathroom, Vere was momentarily stunned looking at the steaming bath, but quickly put two and two together. It seemed this unexpected scenario had sobered him up a little bit. He instantly became more alert and aware of his surroundings.

Fair. it's not like you two were very soft and caring to each other. If anything you got along best when you were trying to out-snark each other. This was definitely out of character. But regardless his mask of calm indifference didn't falter a bit.

��Oh I see” he drawled. “Set to join me in the nude aren't you? My goodness you could have just asked if you were this desperate to see me undress, I might have only made you beg a little.”

His smugness was palpable at this point. Why were you doing all this for him again? Bitch-ass sad soggy fox.

You pushed your annoyance to the side. If you reacted to his bullshit he'd get what he wanted.

“Actually yes I was planning on joining you. But not in the bath.” you responded.

“Oh? And what exactly are you planning on doing?” his questioning was genuine, as if he actually had no idea what you were thinking.

You held up the comb that came with the rest of the bath items you planned on using.

“I'm going to rip those knots out of your hair if it kills you.” you deadpanned.

The look of genuine fear on Veres' face for a split second when you said that was worth all the effort.

After assuring him that you wouldn't actually rip out any of his hair (on purpose at least) and then additional promises that you would be gentle, Vere finally relented and began to strip down. As soon as he did you turned around, waiting until you heard him submerge himself in the tub before turning back around. You knew he thought about making a comment about you turning around to let him undress, but thankfully he seemed too worn out to poke you any further.

He let out a slight gasp, and then sigh of contentment as he sank into the waters. When you had left to go fetch Vere from the bar the water was basically boiling, but it had cooled in the time it had taken you to get him up here, so it was just a little too hot to be perfect, but that meant a longer time in the warm water. Something Vere definitely needed, it was going to take a while to detangle and clean this mess.

You handed him the soap, then took the smaller basin and poured a gentle stream over his head before grabbing the shampoo and lathering it up into a froth in his hair. If there was one thing you had learned, it was how to make a little supply last a while, so you only used about half the small bottle on his hair, making sure to massage all the way down to his roots and ensuring every inch of dirt would be rinsed out. You also made a conscientious effort not to disturb the chains around his neck. Tonight was not the night to try to sneak a peek at them. Not that it would do much good with how low the lighting was in here.

True to your words, you tried to be gentle for the process, and you could feel Vere eventually relax under your touch, taking a break from scrubbing himself with the soap to lean back and close his eyes while you continued to work the shampoo into his hair. You were glad he was relaxed, but the last thing you needed was him falling asleep in the tub, especially after all the booze he'd had. You grabbed the basin and poured another stream of water on his head to wash out the shampoo, the water in the smaller container now closer to mildly warm than hot.

After the shampoo was out it was time for the oils. And the comb. As you Began to massage the oils in, you felt Vere tense up once again. It was like he was fighting between exhaustion and being on high alert. Was your presence really this stressful to him?

You leaned down right next to his velvety ears and tried to keep your voice as quiet and non-stress inducing as possible as you spoke.

“Hey. I promised I would be gentle. Relax” you whispered, the fur of his ears slightly brushing up against your lower lip as you spoke.

For some reason when you said that Vere went completely still for a second.

Seriously? Was your entire presence just so annoying to him that he absolutely could not relax around you? Honestly that felt a bit hurtful. You could be so nice when you wanted to! Just look at what you were doing for him now!

You shrugged off the sting of rejection at Veres discomfort at you and began to massage the oils into his hair.

First you gently felt out the knots with your bandaged fingers, taking care to rub the oils into each one and loosening the knot. Then you started to comb them out. Taking extra care to go slow and try not to tug too much, Vere eventually relaxed again and finished up using the bar of soap on his skin, saving his face for last so he could dunk his head under to rinse out the soap and hair oils in one go.

It took a hot second, but Veres' hair was smooth as silk once again. A selfish part of you wished you could run your fingers through it without the bandages, but that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, if ever.

Satisfied with your work, you fully stood up and handed Vere the remainder of the shampoo, oils and comb.

“For your tail” you said as you passed along the objects. “Do not fall asleep”

Just before leaving you tested the waters' warmth. Lukewarm. You quietly summoned the magic needed to add a little more heat to the water. Just enough so he’d have enough time to properly wash out his tail. With that you gathered up his pile of clothes and headed out of the bathroom.

Usually you just washed your clothes in the basin in the bathroom with a cleaning solution and then left them to dry on the very, very small balcony your room hosted, but Veres clothes were of infinitely higher quality than yours, so doing that might ruin them. Not to mention your modest balcony was currently being blasted by the cold weather.

There wasn't anything you could really do, so you just folded up the clothes and opened your closet to see what other options there were. You could let him borrow something of yours, but something told you he wouldn't appreciate that, not even considering the fact that it definitely wouldn't fit him perfectly like all his outfits did. His clothes were definitely custom made.

Then, something caught your eye. Last time you were helping at the clinic, someone had kindly gifted some linens and basic white clothes to the patients who might need some (like you had), and in the mix there had been a few fluffy bathrobes. Kuras had kindly gifted you one considering there wasn't too much use for that in the clinic, and it had been sitting in your closet ever since. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was good quality. And as long as you didn't tell Vere you got it from Kuras he probably wouldn't protest too much.

You walked back over to the bathroom door and rapped your knuckles on the door twice.

“Hey I’m going to hand you a bathrobe. Are you out of the tub?” You called through the door.

You heard the faint sound of bare feet on tile and the door open as vere stood before you, the smaller towel currently in his hands being used to dry his hair while the larger towel was draped over his now clean tail.

Needless to say, you kept very strong eye contact as he took the robe from your hands and slid it on.

You watched him feel the plush of the robe, a very tired but somewhat satisfied look on his face. The quality of the fabric had met his standards apparently (probably just barely). Then he turned towards your bed, walked over, and flopped down on said bed.

Well, you weren’t exactly expecting him to go back out in this weather, but still. You really wanted to sleep in your bed tonight.

Veres' muffled voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his words muddled by the pillow he was currently face planting into.

“What???” You responded.

“I said brush my tail” he huffed before nodding to the comb from earlier he left on the other side of the bed, which he had left untouched, seemingly content with just half the bed.

Well, this kinda meant he was willing to share right? No floor for you tonight, and all you had to do was preen this peacock of a Fox.

You situated yourself on the bed and began to gently brush out the mountain of damp fur in front of you. Luckily he had done a solid job of washing his tail, it was a lot easier to brush out than his hair had been.

He flicked it occasionally, the fur brushing up against your nose more than once. His normal spiced scent was now overpowered by lavender. You involuntarily inhaled the scent, remembering it was known to relax people into sleep. (Kuras had told you that once).

“Please, try to contain yourself.” He cooed at you before flicking his tail at your face once again. “I always smell incredible, no need to act all enamored”

You let out an annoyed huff.

“Sure you do.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Excuse you” Vere turned on his pillow to look at you through half lidded eyes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You quipped, focusing on his tail to look busy.

You were avoiding the question instead of bantering with him, that’s how Vere knew you were being honest. You actually thought he smelled bad.

“What?” His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

“Hm?”

“What do I smell like to you?”

You avoided eye contact and continued to really focus on brushing his tail.

“Hey!” He sat up now, and looked ready to wrestle the information out of you. “What do you think I smell like?”

“Well-“ you conceded, “you kinda smell like a Fox.”

Vere looked at you unmoving, mouth slightly open.

“It’s not like it’s super noticeable! Or like an inherently awful smell!” You assured him. “It’s just- once you notice it under all the fancy perfumes you usually wear it’s kinda hard to not pick up on it.”

Vere grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and smacked you with it. Hard.

“Hey!”

“How dare you!” He seethed. “I smell incredible all the time! Take back what you said.”

He finished his sentence by wacking you with the pillow again.

After receiving the second pillow smack, you gave Vere a quick glare, but your annoyance quickly gave way to amusement, and you were now struggling to hold in your giggles. A slight blush had graced veres normally stoic face, along with a look of affronted shock. He was embarrassed. Oh this was actually too funny.

Normally Vere would never let himself look embarrassed in front of anyone. But he had a shit day. He was exhausted, and his mask of arrogance had washed away with the lavender soap.

You began laughing. Quietly at first, but after those first few giggles an enraged, red-faced Vere had gotten up from his longing position and was now attacking you with your own pillow. The slight giggles on your part has turned into full on laughter, occasionally muffled by a repeated pillow to your face.

“Take!”

*Smack*

“It!”

*Smack*

“Back!”

*Smack smack*

You knew you would get noise complaints from the other tenants tomorrow, because you were absolutely overcome with laughter. Genuinely, you could feel your stomach start to cramp from how hard you were cackling at Vere.

You looked up at him, towering over you with a pillow at the ready. You could see the tips of his fangs. He was smiling too. He was so pretty when he smiled.

“Ok, ok” you conceded. “I take it-“

*Smack*

“Vere wait!” You squealed. “Wait, I said I take it back!”

“Not good enough anymore.” He responded. “You owe me a compliment, for telling me I smell like a wild animal.”

*Smack*

“So get with the complimenting asshole.” he smirked, readying his pillow for if your answer was not satisfactory.

“I’m not going to-“

*Smack*

“Alright, fine! Your hair looks great!”

*Smack*

“Your eyes are stunning!”

*Smack*

“Hey those were good! Stop attacking me!” Your smile was so wide you thought your face might split for a second.

“Try harder~” he cooed. “You’ll need to get creative in order to earn my forgiveness”

Right as he was about to bring the pillow down to your face once more, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you.

He let out a yelp as you did so, but you knew he let it happen. The truth was if Vere didn’t want you to touch him, you’d never get close enough to even think about it. He knew the second you began reaching for his wrist, and he let it happen. He let himself fall against your chest, still heaving with laughter.

Chest to chest you looked at eachother, faces close enough that your noses nearly touched, both of you still smiling like idiots.

“Vere, You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Vere smile shifted at your words. He wasn’t cackling to himself anymore, instead he was looking directly at you. Studying you almost.

You didn’t mind. You knew he wasn’t one to trust. Neither were you. But at this moment you didn’t particularly care.

“I feel like it’s rare to see a real smile from you,” you continued. “It feels rewarding, knowing I can make you smile. I want to see it more, but-“

You couldn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what you wanted to say.

But I selfishly want you to look at just me like that. Not anyone else.

“Well. I like seeing it regardless.” You finished.

You saw the look on Veres' face. Most would call it indescribable, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. You had said something real just now. Real in a way he didn’t want to respond too or process right now, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Was that a good enough compliment?” You asked, an easy smile falling over your face. One that said you were willing to brush off what you had just said as nothing more than a game if he was.

The tension seemed to melt from his face as he playfully rolled his eyes and flopped down next to you.

It amazed you how expressive he could be when he was exhausted.

“Fine, I suppose I’ll forgive you. Just this once.” He mumbled.

Speaking of exhaustion, sleep was overtaking him quickly now that the fun had died down. He turned around and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, fur and hair now dry. Despite this, you could tell he was still cold. It seemed this weather didn’t agree with him.

You pushed yourself out of the bed and went back over to your closet. In the bottom was a thick scratchy fleece blanket. Not comfortable, but great for keeping the heat in. The perfect blanket to lay over someone already covered in other blankets.

You walked back over to the bed and draped it over Vere before waking back to your side and getting under the covers yourself.

A few moments of silence went by, and you were sure he had fallen asleep, until you heard him whisper, so quiet you might have missed it-

“I hate the snow.”

“Mhm.” You replied. “One of my earliest memories was about snow.”

Vere turned to face you once again, barely still awake.

It was true. It definitely wasn’t your oldest memory, but you remembered being a child and seeing snow for the first time. The person who had betrayed you was there too. They had told you, “every snowflake is unique, no two are alike.” You had spent the rest of the day catching snowflakes and trying to look at the patterns before they melted in your palms.

“Is it a good memory?” Vere asked.

“I’m…not sure.” You responded.

Something told you Vere already knew that would be the answer, he just wanted you to know the same. Sly Fox.

“Goodnight Vere”

“…”

No response.

That night your dreams were filled with snow. And when you woke you saw it was already late morning. You had been out cold.

You looked over to the other side of the bed to see it empty. Not shocking. What was shocking was the items on the bedside table next to you.

You unfolded the note. It was undoubtedly Veres' handwriting.

“Mhin told me that bathrobe I used was given to you by that fucking doctor. I’m burning it. Here’s a replacement.

-Vere”

Sure enough there was a blood red bathrobe neatly folded underneath the note. It was definitely higher quality than the one Kuras had given you, but less fluffy.

Besides that, there was also a black wicker basket placed on top of the robe as well. Replacements for the lavender set you had given him last night. But these products were far nicer than what you had used on him, and far more greater in quantity.

You sifted through the many hair oils, heavily scented bars of soap, lotions, and vials of perfume. The whole set was probably worth more money than you had ever had at one point in your entire life.

You opened a bottle and inhaled, and immediately recognized the scent. This is what Vere normally smelled like. He’d given you some of his products. It was shockingly sweet of him to do so, you didn’t think he cared that you were basically dirt poor.

Speaking of, it was time to get up. You had odd jobs to complete and were supposed to help Kuras later today.

Over the next few weeks, what had become what you would assume a one time thing had now become commonplace. Veres work would often end in the lowtown in the winter months it seemed, the Senobium only leaving hightown after all soulless had been cleared out, then heading to lowtown to kill maybe just one for their reputations sake before letting Vere off his leash.

Sometimes he’d just flop down in bed and immediately go to sleep, other times he’d demand you pamper him a little. Sometimes with a whole routine like you had done before, other times he just handed you a hairbrush and his tail and expected you to get to work.

“Didn’t you say to me you’d never be caught dead slumming it in the wet wick like the first day I was here?” You teased him.

“It’s literally a blizzard outside shut the FUCK UP.” He replied, stealing all of your blankets as punishment. (After that you kept an extra one under your side of the bed just in case)

Over time you had to make space in your closet for a few of his outfits as well. He’d made a joke about how if you didn’t want his clothes here he’d gladly walk around in the nude, and you had agreed to let him keep some things here just a little too quickly for his liking.

You didn’t think it meant anything. Yes, if it had been anyone else but Vere you could see how people might perceive this as romantic or something but not with him. Vere would never see you as more than a means to an end, and you would never open up to him. That’s just how the two of you were

Or that’s what you told yourself, wearing the robe he had given you while wearing the same perfume as he did, as you brushed his tail in comfortable silence while the snow fell outside.

Vere hated the snow. He always would. But as spring began to arrive and he no longer had any excuse to spend the night in your room, he began to miss those winter nights. Vere still hated the cold, but somehow that time with you had been anything but.

#touchstarved #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved game #touchstarved vere #vere touchstarved #vere x reader #vere x mc #touchstarvedgame #touchstarved fic #touchstarved fanfiction #touchstarved fanfic #vere my beloved #touchstarved x mc

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macbethsymphony · 22 days

Text

Port Wine & Sake | Chapters 1 & 2

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

wc: 5.8k

Chapter rating: SFW

Whole fic content/warnings: eventually NSFW and 18+, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, slight alcohol abuse, dysfunctional family dynamics

Summary: You were tired of the fucking nuisances freeloading in your brother's castle, but it seemed you had no choice but to endure. A tumultuous romance between Roronoa Zoro and Dracule Mihawk's sister, set throughout the 2 year time skip.

Also on AO3 if you prefer

Your heels clicked violently against the cold marble floor, the feathery hem of your robe flowing behind you dramatically. “MIHAWK,” you roared, your voice echoing thunderously down the corridor as you strode with purpose towards the entryway.

Your lip curled in disdain as you caught a glimpse of pink hair disappearing through the wall in front of you. You had enough of these fucking children freeloading in your brother’s castle.

The specter princess, Perona, had been a source of trouble from the outset, her annoying negative hollows and ceaseless demands wearing thin on your patience. And then, she had somehow managed to summon another one. The green-haired boy, Zoro, had been barely clinging to life when he’d first arrived. He had been a monumental challenge to nurse back to health and yet he remained oblivious and thankless in the face of the colossal efforts you had made on his behalf. Instead of showing gratitude, he wandered the halls aimlessly, trying to escape this cursed island. Every time the pink-haired annoyance had brought him back, he had been on the brink of death, nevertheless his resolve never faltered. The determination was almost… admirable. Even through the curtains of your anger, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was still alive.

You took a sharp turn, the reverberation of your stomps traveling through your legs. You dodged an incoming ghost with a grace that was becoming practiced ease. The fucking bitch was trying to stop you.

"MIHAWK!" Your frustration boiled over once more as you descended the steps, your fist clenched tightly around the expensive bottle of port in your grasp. The tie at your waist loosened, allowing your robe to fall open and reveal the thin silk of the jet-black slip you wore underneath. You edged at the limit of decency, the softness of your thighs, the roundness of your cleavage on display, but you didn’t care in the haze of your fury.

You spotted your brother’s silhouette against the glass of the front door, the two nuisances in tow behind him. Good. You’d settle this once and for all. The scorching intensity of your gaze caught the warlord’s glacial stare, a quiet conversation flaring between you.

You closed the distance, the click of your heels a statement in themselves as the sound reverberated loudly in the silence.

“Sister,” he acknowledged you when the tips of your toes defiantly touched the edge of his boots.

You glanced up at him wordless argument still carrying on. You squinted in contempt. You knew that look in his eyes. “No,” you said coldly, in no mood for leniency.

His gaze narrowed in turn, gaging your resolve. “I will hear them out,” he stated as matter-of-fact.

“You will not,” you retorted, unwilling to back down.

You spotted the pink-haired girl shift nervously in the periphery of your vision. It was rare to see her squirm. You scoffed in anger. Of course she would only show respect in the face of your brother’s power.

Mihawk’s stare remained steadfast. Your grip tightened on the bottle in your hands, knuckles whitening.

“These children have overstayed their welcome,” you added with a scowl. “You will send them on their way.”

“We shall hear them out, (Y/n),” He said in answer, moving past you, heading towards the dining room.

He’d used your name. He only did so when he was final in his decisions. Your jaw clenched as the two uninvited guests followed him. With an annoyed click of your tongue, you turned and followed too.

Perona eyed you with uncertainty as you made your way to your habitual chair. As brother and sister sat at their respective head of the table, she was suddenly acutely aware that her fate depended on the outcome of this conversation. Her gaze avoided yours as if she knew she was the primary cause of your vexation.

You sank rather ungracefully into the plush embrace of the red velvet, a deliberate act of rebellion against the stifling formality of the room. In petty defiance, you lifted the bottle of port to your lips, taking a sip directly from its neck, all the while keeping your stare fixed firmly on Mihawk. You couldn't help but smirk as a subtle twitch crossed his features. You knew all too well his contempt for such uncouth behavior; after all, fine wine deserved nothing less than the reverence of a proper glass.

As the seconds stretched into an uncomfortable silence, Perona's agitation became increasingly palpable, her movements growing more restless with each passing moment. "I-I'm sorry for causing—" she began tentatively, her voice trailing off.

Your scoff cut through her attempt at an apology, your tone dripping with disdain. "Save your breath," you snapped. You didn't even deign to spare her a glance, your eyes fixed firmly in a battle of will against your brother.

A snort from the green-haired boy punctuated the tension in the room, his amusement at the exchange evident.

Mihawk's voice sliced through the atmosphere like a blade through silk, his words commanding attention. His unwavering gaze swept across the faces assembled around the table before settling on yours. "We will hear their plea, (Y/n). That is final," he declared with an air of authority that brooked no argument.

Your teeth ground together, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you knew better than to defy Mihawk when he had made up his mind. With a begrudging nod, you reclined back in your chair, the bottle of port cradled against your thighs. With a subtle gesture, you indicated to Perona and Zoro that they could speak.

Perona shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes flickering nervously between you and Mihawk. "Um, well, you see," she began, as she tried to voice her thoughts. "We didn’t choose to come here. Kuma sent us."

Incredulity washed over you, as you turned your gaze from Perona to Zoro. His nod of approval to the specter princess's statement only heightened your surprise, coloring your features with a mixture of shock and astonishment.

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Your fucking coworker, Mihawk?” you shouted in anger looking back at the warlord.

You observed the imperceptible shift in his stance at the revelation, but his expression remained unreadable.

The sound of young man clearing his throat drew your attention, prompting you to turn your head and meet his gaze. His eyes, steady and unwavering, held a firm resolve as he spoke. "I have no intention of staying," he declared with conviction, his voice carrying a hint of defiance.

You couldn't help but scoff at his confidence, your skepticism evident. Images of the army of humandrills surrounding the castle flooded your mind, reminders of the countless wounds you had tended to. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, boy," you retorted, your tone laced with doubt.

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant, a sudden tension seizing his frame as your words hit their mark. You could practically feel the wave of anger emanating from him as he stiffened in his seat. It was evident that you had struck a nerve, and the glare he shot your way was nothing short of furious.

You met his gaze head-on, a sneer on your lips, refusing to back down. There was a challenge in your stare, a silent invitation for him to unleash whatever retort he had brewing.

Before he could respond, Mihawk intervened, his voice commanding attention. "If you want a small boat, there is one on the west side of the castle," he suggested, his tone both authoritative and diplomatic.

The tension in the room escalated as he pushed himself from his chair with a strained effort, the legs of the intricate piece of furniture grating against the stone floor. Perona's reaction was immediate, her panic palpable as she shot up from her seat with wide eyes.

"What the hell?!" she screeched in a mixture of disbelief and distress, her usual composure unraveling in the face of her companion’s sudden departure. "Don't leave me alone! You fool!"

Zoro ignored Perona's frantic pleas, his gaze fixed determinedly ahead as he limped towards the door with stubborn resolve. His movements were stiff and labored, a testament to the injuries he had undoubtedly sustained earlier in the day.

As you watched him limp away, conflicting emotions churned within you. There was a flicker of worry mingled with a begrudging sense of admiration for his obstinate resilience. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but scoff inwardly, the bottle of port in your hands finding its place to your lips once more.

A bitter chuckle escaped you as you took another sip, the rich liquid burning its way down your throat. What was the point of even caring? He seemed intent on getting himself killed, after all. Perhaps you should just let him, sparing you the trouble of stitching him up any further, elbow deep in blood.

Mihawk's gaze remained impassive as he observed the unfolding scene, his expression unreadable to most. But you could clearly see the hint of approval in the subtle tilt of his head, a silent acknowledgement of the boy’s determination.

Swordsmen and their damned pride.

As the door swung shut behind Zoro, leaving Perona standing alone in the center of the room, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. Mihawk looked at you and you knew in that instant that he’d taken his decision.

“I will allow you to stay,” he said simply, eyes not shifting away from yours as he spoke to the source of your annoyance.

“You will?” The pink-haired pest smiled.

You ignored the hope in the girl’s voice as you bristled at your brother’s decree, the feeling of frustration simmering within you threatening to boil over. “And what about me?” you demanded, your tone laced with venom. “Must I endure this circus indefinitely?”

Mihawk’s demeanor softened, a rare hint of empathy shining through the golden hues of his eyes. “I trust you can handle the situation with grace, Sister,” he replied unusually gently.

You scoffed, a sneer breaking the elegance of your features. Grace. The word rang hollow in your ears as you fought the storm that threatened to reign over your temper.

You sank further into your chair, your expression bordering on insolent. You had half a mind to continue the argument, but your pride wouldn’t allow this conversation to degenerate into pettiness in the presence of a guest.

The silence between siblings dragged on, only broken by the specter princess’s incessant worries for the swordsman who had just left. You smirked as you watched Mihawk’s patience grow thin, he hadn’t been in their company for an hour and he was already struggling. It was an almost sweet revenge, if only you didn’t have to endure the torture too.

“Perona, if it troubles you so much, why don’t you go look after him,” he snapped, although his tone remained cordial to the unknowing.

“What?! Why would I do that?” She screeched. Ah, there it was. Her petulance was back now that her worries were eased. “The idiot can die for all I care,” still, she stomped out of the room, inevitably going to find the younger swordsman.

You watched Perona storm out with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The girl's mood swings were like a tempest, unpredictable and chaotic. But at least her departure brought a temporary reprieve from her incessant chatter.

As the door shut behind her, you let the quiet rule over the both of you for a moment. You turned your attention back to Mihawk. His gaze was fixed on you, a silent question lingering in the air between you.

You met his stare head-on, refusing to back down. "I won't pretend to be happy about this," you muttered, your words laced with bitterness. "But I'll tolerate their presence... for now."

He nodded in acknowledgement, his expression unreadable as always. "I appreciate your cooperation, Sister," he replied, his tone even.

You scoffed, the rancor lingering in your voice. "Cooperation implies I have a choice," you retorted, your gaze flickering to the bottle of port still clutched in your hand. "But I'll play along... for your sake."

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the faint sound of arguing drifting through the thick walls. After a moment, you rose from your seat with a sigh, prompting Mihawk to quirk an eyebrow in your direction. You shrugged nonchalantly, crossing the room to the credenza where several bottles of wine lay.

Selecting one at random, you retrieved two glasses and carried them back to where he sat. You leaned on the edge of the table, observing him warily. Your tongue passed on your teeth as you deliberated how much patience he had left. With practiced ease, you uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into each glass. The rich red liquid shimmered softly in the dim light of the room as you passed him the glass.

He savored the wine with a deliberate slowness, his eyes drifting shut in appreciation of the velvety flavor that danced across his palate. Though it still needed time to breathe, its initial taste was nothing short of delightful.

"It’ll do you good to be around people your age," he remarked casually, setting the glass back down on the table with a gentle clink.

Your reaction was immediate, a scowl breaking across your features in response to his comment. "Don’t you fucking dare," you started, your tone thick with bitterness and incredulity.

A warning passed his lips, your name was spoken softly but with a weight that carried a subtle reminder to tread carefully.

Your jaw clenched as you fought to rein in your temper. Instead of succumbing to the urge to snap at him, you leaned forward, your focus shifting to the intricate details of his coat. With practiced precision, your hand followed the seams, exploring the armscye, tracing the eyelets and the leather cord that replaced the traditional stitching.

Though there were signs of permanent stretching, you found no further damage, a small relief amid your frustration.

A gentle flick of your fingers against his neck prompted him to tilt his head, allowing you to continue your observations without interruption.

"How did you find the changes I made to the jacket?" you inquired, your attention fully consumed by the collar as you awaited his response.

He shifted slightly under your examination, a faint hint of annoyance evident in his demeanor. Yet, he remained cooperative, his own compromise to the situation, permitting you to inspect the garment without protest.

As your fingers moved along the collar, tracing the lines of your craftsmanship, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The jacket had held up remarkably well, even through the turmoil of a war. Truly, a reflection of your commitment to perfection.

His response came after a moment of contemplation, his voice measured as he offered his feedback. "The changes are subtle but effective," he remarked, his tone neutral. "The fit is much improved, the changes you’ve made to the sleeves allow for a better range of movement and increased comfort."

Your lips curved into a faint smile at his words, a glimmer of satisfaction creeping into your expression. It was gratifying to hear his acknowledgement of your efforts, even if it was delivered with his characteristic stoicism.

"Good," you replied simply, mentally tallying all the modifications you wanted to try for the next version. "Let me know if you have any requests for future alterations."

With a final nod of affirmation, you leaned back. Your gazes met each other in a far calmer display than before. Your fingers found the stem of your glass, taking a well-earned sip. “I am glad you are back safe, brother.” You said genuinely, your eyes gentle.

As the tension dissipated, you appeared more youthful, your features softening without the weight of anger. Mihawk couldn't suppress the faint smile that graced his lips as he raised his glass to his mouth, the crimson liquid flowing in smoothly. "It feels good to be back," he confessed, a sense of contentment evident in his tone.

You cast a glance towards the window, noting the subtle shift in the ambient light as dusk descended. The evening had drawn its curtains over the sky, painting it in hues of twilight. You hummed in consideration. "Since you are so insistent on letting them stay,” your voice dragged on in a gentle pause. “Please make sure to bring him back inside before he meets his end at the hands of those baboons," you said, the words leaving your lips with a reluctant resignation.

theHis brow arched gracefully at your demand. “He is more resilient than you think,” he assured you, his words carrying a loftiness of confidence.

His affirmation beckoned your attention back to his countenance. You squinted, trying to decipher the secrets hidden within the depths of his gaze. "Is that a sliver of respect I detect in your tone, Brother?" you taunted, the corners of your mouth curling upward in a playful dance, teasing out the nuances of his response.

You observed as he put his hat back on, rising to ensure your request would be fulfilled. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his tone laced with a trace of elusive admiration.

You snorted, as you watched him leave. It was a rare intonation, one you’d barely ever heard in all your years together.

"Oh, and (Y/n)," Mihawk's voice cut through the air with a hint of reprimand as he stopped in the doorway. "Please do make yourself presentable when we have guests."

Your response came swift and sharp, a blade polished by an eternity of familial repartee. "I will take no commentary on my lack of propriety from you, dear Brother,” you retorted laced with a whisper of playful sarcasm. You looked him up and down, “But do try to keep your shirt closed... especially now that we have guests."

The warlord’s mask cracked for an instant, his eyes rolling almost imperceptibly, an acknowledgement of your jest. “You’re incorrigible, sister,” he let the door close in a heavy thud behind him.

“MIHAWK,” you shouted after him, knowing that even though he would not answer, he could hear you very well. “Do come and get me, when you inevitably come back with that boy tittering on the edge of death.”

And it did not take long until they indeed came to fetch you. With a sigh, you rolled the sleeves of your robe and went to get the medical kit. After all, there was little difference between stitching silk and closing wounds.

Roronoa Zoro needed to get the fuck off this cursed island, and he needed to leave NOW! He had to get to Luffy. His captain, no, his friend was alone. He should have been there, fighting by his side. If only he wasn’t so fucking weak… none of this nightmare would have happened. But, not only was his crew waiting for him, between the Thriller Bark girl's antics driving him up the wall, the looming threat of the man he’d sworn to defeat and your peculiar brand of insanity thrown into the mix, he was about to lose it himself.

He reluctantly blinked his eyes open, greeted by a wave of pain coursing through his body. Each limb felt like lead, dragging him into a pit of exhaustion. His gaze, heavy with fatigue, slowly lifted to find your silhouette illuminated by the flickering candlelight, perched gracefully in the plush confines of the chair beside his bed.

Ah, that's right—he had passed out from the pain. Mihawk had brought him back from the brink of death and held him down as you’d patched him up. As he lay there, his eyes took in the delicacy of your traits, the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, and the softness of your thighs, accentuated by the shortness of your black silk slip and open robe. What was he doing? Was he delirious from the pain? You were infuriating, unreasonable, flat-out insane. Nothing about you was pleasant, from that petulant smile to your awful bedside manners.

“Remarkable. You’re still alive,” you quipped with bitter sarcasm, wrenching him away from his thoughts, your eyes not looking at him, a deep frown of concentration marking your features.

With meticulous precision, the small blade in your hands glided through a block of cheese as you tried to create the thinnest slice possible. He knew that knife. His stare narrowed as he placed it back in his mind. Was that the knife Mihawk usually wore at his neck? His gaze dropped to the chain attached to it. For fuck’s sake it was. It somehow pissed him off, hard.

You let out a sound of triumph as you held up the paper-thin piece of cheese to your mouth, the light seeping through it before it melted against your tongue, the metal glinting tantalizingly as it touched your lips. You reached for the glass of wine at your side, taking a sip with closed eyes, delight on your features as you savored the taste.

He clenched his fists. His frustration simmered beneath the surface, mingling with a sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. Your carefree arrogance only served to exacerbate his agitation.

With a grimace, he forced himself to lean up on his elbow, ignoring the protests of his weary muscles. His gaze flickered to the creaked open door, the burning desire to escape clawing at him with renewed intensity. His captain needed him. He had a promise to keep, and nothing – not even his own battered body would stand in his way.

Summoning every ounce of willpower he possessed, he pushed through the pain, determination slowly lending strength to his limbs. Before he could fully sit up, your eyes snapped dangerously to his, freezing him in his attempt.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” your voice was calm but the coy smile on your lips held menacing threats.

His jaw clenched. “I need to leave,” he declared, his words tinged with desperation. “My captain needs me.”

Your gaze narrowed. “Is that so?” you mused as you slowly slid a leg onto the bed, your foot rising when it touched him.

You let it fall none too gently, bare foot meeting his lower abdomen. There was defiance glinting in your stare as you raised your other leg with a smile, crossing your ankles over him and sinking in your seat comfortably. “You can try again when you’re healed.” You went back to the block of cheese in your hands, uninterested by him once more.

The agony that staggered through him at your touch was deafening, he slumped back, lightly bouncing against the bed. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to stifle the grunt of pain escaping him.

Fuck.

You were infuriating. With each passing moment, the realization of his own helplessness grew more profound, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue.

“Woman,” he groaned, his voice thick with anger. The single word, laden with frustration and exhaustion, slipped past his lips like a curse, hanging heavy in the air between you. Yet, despite the venom in his tone, there was an underlying note of desperation, a plea masked by his stubborn pride.

You didn’t look away from the knife as it sliced into the cheese, the blade visible through the thin layer. But the way your brow arched in amusement and the ghost of the smirk gracing your features told him that you’d heard him well enough.

“Yes, Zoro?” you replied innocently, his name drawled out emphatically from your plump lips.

He wrestled the urge to snap at you. “Let me go,” he demanded with a resolute frown.

Your mouth curved into a sly smile, a glimmer of mischief passing in your eyes. You hummed in consideration, drawing out your answer. “And why should I do that?” you teased, sinking more comfortably in your chair, your feet inching ever so slightly closer to a wound on his chest.

His muscles tensed instinctively, a moan of pain escaping him between muttered curses. “My captain needs me,” he repeated in a growl.

You let out an annoyed click of your tongue when the slice of cheese broke in the middle of the block. Your eyes met his, all playfulness gone, replaced by a sharp displeasure instead. “Yes, yes, I know. Your captain needs you, you need to go back to your crew, three days or something, you’re already late, et cetera, et cetera,” you rambled on coldly. “You’ve said so over a hundred times, boy. It won’t change the fact that you’re bedridden.”

Tension lingered in the air as your words hung heavily in his mind. You muched almost aggressively on the broken piece of cheese before downing the glass of wine, stare not leaving his as he deliberated.

“I can handle myself just fine,” he retorted defiantly, trying unsuccessfully to rise from the bed.

His stubbornness was met with a derisive snort, your eyes rolling in exasperation. “Clearly,” you remarked dryly, your tone heavy with sarcasm as you gestured toward him with the cross-shaped knife in your hands, the chain rattling against the wood of the armrest in the sharp movements. “You’re the very picture of strength and resilience.”

His teeth ground audibly. If only your feet weren’t pinning him down, then he’d at least be able to make it to the door. He struggled for a moment, his soft grunts of effort the only sound filling the room.

“I won’t be kept here against my will,” he declared eventually, his hand grabbing at one of your ankles almost painfully, trying to pull it off him.

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected tantrum, then you started giggling, until rich laughter flowed within you. “Against your will?” You laughed harder. “Are you implying I care about your well-being, little swordsman?” You brought the bottle of wine to your grinning lips, taking sips between chuckles.

He bristled at your amusement. “Release me, woman,” he snapped, his grip tightening around you.

He didn’t notice the flicker of pain that passed your features in his rage. A flicker you expertly hid behind the facade of your smile.

“Oh my. Did I hurt your delicate sensibilities?” You snorted at him nonetheless. “Don’t worry, I’m not stopping you. If you want to leave, you can leave.” You paused, cocking your head to the side. “Or are my feet so heavy that you can’t stand up?”

Zoro's frustration reached its boiling point as he glared daggers at you, his muscles tensing with every fiber of his being. You were fucking mad. The urge to lash out, to throttle you, to break free from the invisible chains that bound him to the bed, surged through him like a tidal wave, threatening to consume him in its relentless grip.

But as he pushed against the weight of your feet, the searing pain that shot through his body served as a harsh reminder of his own limitations. With a guttural growl of frustration, he released his hold on your ankle, his hands falling limply to his sides as defeat washed over him like a suffocating blanket.

For a long moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rhythmic sound of his ragged breaths. You watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity, the corners of your lips curling into a satisfied smile as you savored the taste of your victory.

“Ah, right,” you suddenly spoke when he finally closed his eyes in defeat. You slid your feet off him, reaching to the side table and tossing something on his chest. “Mihawk said there’s something about that captain of yours in the papers.”

His eyes shot open. You couldn’t be fucking serious. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?!” He yelled at you as you got up from your chair, giving your ankle a few twists.

You ignored him, bending down to put on your heeled slippers. He tried to lift his arm, grab the paper.

He NEEDED to know.

You waltzed to the side table, the feathery hem of your night robe grazing the marble of the floor as you sheathed the knife back and draped it around your neck. Your hand grabbed the bottle of wine and you turned on your heels, fabric bellowing softly behind you in a flurry of black. His hand fell to his side, paper crumpled in his fingers as he struggled to hold it long enough to see.

“Oi,” he snapped with urgency. “Woman, what does it say?”

“Who knows,” you said in a singsong, humming a random tune below your breath. You moved to the door. “I didn’t understand it myself.” You crossed the threshold to the corridor.

Zoro panicked. Fuck. What did it say?

“Woman,” he yelled after you. “Fuck, come back here.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It took three days for Roronoa Zoro to decipher the contents of that newspaper, but he had figured it out. To your amusement, he was now sitting on the floor, his features etched with determination as he eyed your brother. You arched an eyebrow, barely hiding your smile behind the rim of your wine glass.

You looked at him curiously, the intrigue of his actions somehow extremely entertaining. Your gaze flickered to his face. It was easy to forget how young he was through that wall of will power. But as his mouth moved silently, as if rehearsing something, the softness of his traits hit you. He was pretty, you guessed, with his barely noticeable freckles and stubborn fire in his eyes. You cocked your head. Maybe even handsome if you were to put him in better clothes… after all those earrings of his. You licked your lips. Yes. You rather liked them.

“So, Zoro,” you drawled out, breaking the quiet atmosphere ruling over the room. “Did you figure out the code, or are you still trying to stare it into submission?”

Silence dragged on as he ignored you, but the twitch of a scowl that passed his mouth was answer enough for you. How adorable.

"Please," Zoro finally said, his voice uncharacteristically humble as he bowed his head toward Mihawk. "Train me as a swordsman!"

You choked on your sip of wine, coughing as you struggled to regain your composure. Perona let out a small, shocked gasp, her eyes wide with surprise. You glanced at your brother, trying to read his expression. His attention flickered toward you briefly, making sure you were alright before returning to his glass, making the younger swordsman wait. Oho , there was unmistakable displeasure in his gaze as he peered into the red liquid, swirling it absentmindedly.

“Are you asking your enemy for instruction?” Mihawk finally said, his eyes still avoiding Zoro. “I’m disappointed in you, Roronoa,” he admitted. “Shame on you.” You listened, entirely engrossed by the scene before you. It was by far the most entertainment you’d had in the past decade. It was rare to see Mihawk so expressive. It made you wonder what he truly thought of the man before him to react so. “I think I overestimated you,” he continued, his words punctuated by a long sip from his wine glass. “Get out of here. I have no time for a boring man.”

Oh, how you wished you could see the boy’s expression. You bet it was priceless. You noticed how he obstinately didn’t budge, his jaw tightening. Yet, he was not backing down. The weight of Mihawk’s scorn seemed to press on him, but his resolve was unshattered. You heard the unsteady breath he took in before continuing.

“I want to get stronger,” he cried out, somehow digging his forehead more intensely into the marble floor.

Mihawk considered his plea as he filled his wine glass, the sound loud in the uncomfortable silence. “You were beaten by the baboons. I have nothing to teach someone like that.”

"I beat the baboons," Zoro declared, his voice reverberating through the room.

Oh! Interesting. You watched as clear shock registered on your brother's face. It was a rare sight, seeing Mihawk genuinely surprised. You couldn't help but smile; it was a reminder that even the world's greatest swordsman was human.

Mihawk’s gaze finally settled on Zoro, who was bowing deeply before him. The tension in the air was palpable.

"But I’m not so stupid as to think that I’m good enough to beat you," Zoro continued when the silence stretched on.

Mihawk's confusion was evident in his furrowed brow. "Then why are you bowing to me and asking for my guidance?"

Zoro took a moment to consider the question. "I want to beat you," he said simply, his voice unwavering. The straightforwardness of his answer was almost comical, and you couldn't suppress a giggle. Somehow, your amusement seemed to lighten Mihawk's expression as well.

"You’re asking me to train a swordsman who wants to kill me?" Mihawk laughed heartily, the sound loud and rich. “(Y/n),” he turned to you. “Teach Perona how to treat him, you’ve already done more than required of a graceful host.”

You hummed in consideration. “I suppose I can,” you eyed the pink haired girl with slight annoyance.

She flinched at the coldness of your stare, her mouth opening in protest.

"And you, ghost girl, learn to treat him," Mihawk called out to Perona, before she could say anything. "The training will begin when you’re recovered," he added, turning back to Zoro.

Perona floated over, a mixture of curiosity and irritation on her face. "Fine, but don’t expect me to be nice about it," she grumbled, already on her way out. “Oi, you dumbass, come with me.”

Zoro straightened up, a determined glint in his eyes as he followed her out.

“You’re enjoying yourself, Brother,” you couldn’t help but muse as you filled your wine glass.

Mihawk's stare met yours, and for a brief moment, you saw the glimmer of amusement there. He took another sip, his demeanor returning to its usual stoic calm. "Perhaps," he admitted, the word hanging in the air between you like a rare treasure.

You leaned back in your chair, peering into the velvety darkness in your glass thoughtfully. "He's got spirit, I'll give him that," you remarked, watching the door through which Zoro and Perona had just exited. "Do you really believe he'll be worth your time? You’ve never taken anyone under your wing before."

Mihawk's gaze remained on the swirling liquid in his glass, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. "He reminds me of someone," he mused quietly, almost to himself.

Curiosity piqued, you leaned forward slightly. "Oh? And who might that be?"

For a moment, you thought he wouldn't answer. But then, with a small, nearly imperceptible smile, he said, "Myself."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, the sound ringing through the room. "I see.”

Masterlist

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #one piece fanfiction #charlou writes

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Note

The Vees are Overlords but also a business, therefore they hold meeting and work with clients right and workers? Well what if a Business client or worker unknowingly said something about Retro!Reader in a meeting?

If its before Vox it come be commenting on Retro's cooking, as I see Retro would always ensure Vox had home made snacks for while hes working. Something like "That House Wife of yours is decent in the Kitchen, I see why you keep them there"

If its before Valentino I assume its after Retro brings him something between shoots, some fool would comment on Retro's looks or ask why Retro isn't one of Val's 'Stars' kinda a "Bod like that should be in those sheets"

Velvette would most likely be dealing with jealous models who don't know fully who Retro is but Retro gets to walk in, get the nice personal design treatment from Velvette and not have to talk the cat walk? Bitch fight would incoming.

Hope you don't mind my ramblings and if this sparks something Hooray!

He would destroy the person in question if it’s an insult^

Vox is always boasting about Retros cooking, how skilled and talented they are. He literally never shuts up about it. Now, the demon who said ‘I can see why you keep them there’ might have meant it as a sort of joke or some shit, but Vox would not be pleased. He does not take kindly to people who insult or degrade their partners (ironic, considering Valentino), so someone who’s making that sort of implication about his wife? Death.

He’d sort of chuckle and go ‘excuse me?’, daring the demon to repeat themselves. It’s over for them either way. If the demon backtracks, Vox will very pointedly dedicate the rest of the meeting to bragging about all of Retros other skills, too. He’d try to start by mentioning it off hand, but he’d get so invested in proving a point to the low life that insulted his wife that he’d get carried away. He’d go on and on about how creative and thoughtful Retro is, how nice they are to everyone, including those who work at the company. He would not-so-politely remind everyone that Retro knits sweaters for people at the company picnics, how they always cook at least half the food at the company get together and parties, stuff like that. It’s a stupid move to insult Vox’s wife, but insulting the person who everyone loves just because of how nice and kind they are? That’s ten times dumber.

Valentino would shoot a bitch on sight if they made a comment about Retro in bed. Yes it’s hell, insults and comments like that are to be expected, but he has standards when it comes to Retro. Val is so unbelievably protective of them when they come by the studio, it’s startling. He knows what Vox would do if anything happened, and Val doesn’t want to see Retro in any sort of compromising situation to begin with. He’d do his best to keep everyone in line.

He’d shoot glares and insults at anyone who looks at them the wrong way, anyone who looks at them for too long. Keep in mind, Val is in a wonderful mood whenever Retro visits him at work. They help him with scripting, and he’s always admiring them and gushing over them. He draws little hearts in the margins of his papers and sometimes lets them on set. He’s always nervous about it, but it works out nicely. They usually only help adjust someone’s clothes (with how few they’re wearing, it’s very important), the perspective of cameras, sometimes the hair or makeup (only a little). They know exactly what Val is looking for, and how to get the scene how he wants it. They’re calm and polite and everyone is just so relieved about it. Retro even does their best to make sure the actors are comfortable, the clothes aren’t too tight, the clasps work correctly, things like that. So yeah, if someone makes a comment about them, they’d be lucky to only receive extra hours of work as a punishment.

Velvette? Okay, if Retro was the type to confront people, Vel would record the entire thing. Unfortunately, Retro usually pretends they don’t hear a thing. They’d rather ignore it and keep up the nice and polite house wife routine. They’re probably busy admiring their lovers, anyway. So, instead, Velvette would shoot a model a glare and walk right up to them, demanding they tell her what makes them think they can say such a thing.

Retro gets treated special because Velvette respects them, thinks they’re awesome and adorable and can’t do anything wrong. Mostly. So, the fact that one of her models (people she sees as frequent fuck ups) would try to put themselves on Retros level? The fact that someone would even think they’re anywhere near as good as them, anywhere near as deserving of Velvettes attention and affection as Retro? A ridiculous notion. The model is lucky not to be torn apart by Val. Velvette would go off on the model, listing every single mistake they’ve made in the past hour alone.

The workers at Vee Tower learn not to fuck around when it comes to Retro pretty quick.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

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zillasvilla · 2 months

Text

Beyond the Lights

V. Chapter Five: Out of the Ordinary

Summary: Soraya spent the last couple of weeks working her way back into her family and friend dynamic, all while keeping Jey a secret.

Warnings: slight use of the n-word. Some fluff i think.

No mood board. Just words. Been feeling uceyjucey, so here’s more into their relationship. Also trying to speed things up a little bit.

Soraya opens the door to greet a somewhat smiling Trinity, with a hand on her hips. “Mhm. I should sue for emotional distress.”

“Sorry?” A nervous grin spreading across her face. They stared each other down until Trinity finally caved.

“Bitch, you could’ve told somebody.” Trinity pulls her into a hug. “Had us thinking you weren’t coming back.”

Soraya bites back a laugh, while hugging Trinity. It had been a couple of weeks since her return and she was slowly calling family and friends to work her way back in the dynamics of her family.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, I’m sorry girl.” she pulls back letting her come in.

Trinity brushes her off, scanning over her cousin’s living room, taking note of the men’s shoes by her sectional. She had a feeling she knew who it was from the car that was parked outside. However, she didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Oh you’re good.” Trinity closes the door, making herself comfortable. “Just glad you’re back. And that song girl, I’m in love.”

“Which one?” she asks, leading her to the kitchen where a bottle of wine was opened, two wine glasses ready.

Trinity sits on one of the black leather barstools, leaning back while watching Soraya pour them each a glass. “Personal, cause that shit he did felt personal.”

“Yeah, I wrote that in the heat of all the drama.” She had actually wrote it after what the Breakfast Club had to say about her. She just shelved it, deciding to let the world suffer without her talents.

Welcome back to the breakfast club with Dj Envy, Charlamange tha God, and JessHilarious. Trending topic of the day, Xl artist Dame. My sources say Dame had his entire catalog removed from all streaming services, essentially stopping his main source of income. Allegedly, this was due to his songs, promoting his other lifestyle, others believe it was due his alleged “mistress” RnB artist Sariah. If it is the latter, why. You ended a career over a man not claiming you for real, when y’all were in a publicity stunt is wild. Alleged relationship. She has yet to come out to tell her side. But I agree. These females are different. If anything her credibility as an artist is shot. Start calling her Fatal Attraction.

“I hate that you didn’t trust us enough to talk to us. We would’ve helped.” Trinity brings up the elephant in the room. She had hoped to skate around the topic. Yet, the purpose of her growth is to face things head on. She knew Trinity was probably affected the most.

She spent a lot of nights in her bed crying her eyes out. Jimmy, leaving to sleep in the guest room. Soraya bites at the inside of her cheek. “We were worried about you Raya.” Her family and friends probably were worried, but her mental health was more important than coddling their need to seem like heroes. She was sorry for not telling them, but she wasn’t sorry for leaving.

“I get it. I do.” She looks at Trin. “I’m sorry for not telling you guys. “I didn’t want to drag you guys in that mess.”

”It’s all cool girl, at the end of the day it’s your life..anyways. I know you didn’t invite me over here for this. What’s really up?” Trinity grabs the bottle, pouring herself another glass of the sweet red wine.

Soraya tucks her lip between her teeth. “Dame is out.”

”Oh I know, how do you feel?”

Hearing his name again brought up some past emotions and trauma and she wasn’t sure how to react to him being out. It wouldn’t be an issue if every journalist didn’t bring him up during her interviews, they just didn’t care.

”I just hope he doesn’t break the NDA.” She mutters, but Trinity heard every word; slapping her hands on the island in shock.

”NDA!?”

Soraya’s eyes widened, forgetting that no one knew about it but them and their lawyers. “fuck” she curses, downing the wine, and refilling her glass, mentally preparing for the insane amount of questions Trinity was bound to ask. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Soraya sighs, closing the door behind Trinity, she peeks out to see her finally driving off. The hard footsteps coming down the stairs let her know Jey was just waking up from his nap. He stretches his arms and back, making his way over to her. “She's gone?”

”Mhm, finally.” She turns to him, a smile forming on her face at his sleepy eyes.

Jey rests his arms on her shoulder, looking down at her. “We gotta tell them you know.”

She frowns. “I know. But I like what we got going on. Don’t you?” His face morphed into that of confusion, fingers scratching at the back of his neck. Soraya didn’t like that he took forever to respond.

“Joshua.” His name slipped from her lips in a questionably tone. “It’s only been a few weeks since we became official.”

Jey had to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to start an argument, not before he had to leave for work. He presses a kiss to her head. “Let’s not talk about this right now.” His arms wrapping around her, to pull her in a hug,

“We need to talk about i-.” His lips press softly to hers to shut her up. She hums, relaxing into his hold, catching on to what he was doing. She didn’t care, as long as his lips never left hers.

He pulls back with a chuckle, seeing her eyes closed and her lips still puckered up. He gives her a quick kiss. “Kissing me still doesn’t hide the fact that we gotta talk about it.” She tells him.

“We do. Just not now.” He grabs her hands, leading her to the sectional. “I wanna chill before I leave.” He sits on the couch, pulling her into the spot next to him. Soraya moves closer to his side, his arm draped over the side of the couch.

“So, we chillin’ in silence.?” She questions, looking at him.

“Uh no.” He leans closer, with a bite of his lip. “I had more in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” She follows his lead, a small smirk on her face. He presses a tender kiss to her mouth, the hand holding hers pulling her over his lap. She lets out a soft gasp, using it to his advantage to explore her mouth with his tongue. The kiss became heated while he hugged her close. Their phones ringing in union breaks them apart, a soft sigh leaving her lips.

“Can’t be great huh.” He jokes, pulling out his phone. In agreement, she grabs her phone.

Soraya stays seated in her favorite spot, his hands rubbing at her thighs. They tend to whatever work business they had quickly, in hopes to get lost within each other again. However, this is not the case. Jey puts his phone back in his pocket while sliding his feet into the sneakers by the couch, keeping her in his arms. He plants kisses along her shoulder, waiting for her to finish. she leans more into his touch.

“Everything good?”

She drops her phone on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. You?”

He shakes his head. “My flight got pushed up an hour, something about weather conditions.”

“So, you gotta leave now?” A pout on her lips. He gives her a quick kiss, while standing up with her in his arms. “I do.” Her arms wrap around his neck, holding her self up, slightly slipping. “But I’ll be back in a few weeks.” Jey holds her up by the thighs while walking to the front door, turning his back to it.

“That’s a long time.” She tells him.

”A kiss for the road?” He asked, puckering his own lips. She giggles, kissing him, letting him take the lead while slowly dropping her legs. He rubs her side, to her backside, a quiet moan escaping her lips. He hums, pulling back still placing kisses to her lips repeatedly.

“I’ll call you when I’m there.” He grabs his keys from her entry table. She nods, walking him out, knowing if he kissed her again, she would make him stay and he would never leave. Once he left, she let out a giddy squeal, rushing to grab her phone, pulling up his message thread.

Lights, Camera, Action or Conceited.

She was going to wait, but he put her in such a good mood that she wanted to drop one of the songs to her album tonight. He’s heard samples of both, and she trusted his opinion. The three dots dance across her phone before disappearing. She frowns and they pop up again and she gets slightly irritated, forgetting that he was driving.

Come on lil nigga. 😊

Jey 💙: 😒 you lucky yo ass cute. Conceited

Zilla’s Villagers:

@justazzi @yana3sworld @wrestlingprincess80 @abadbitchblogs @courtninacole @kill-the-artiste @destinio1 @reci1996 @mindairy @kill-the-artiste

#jey uso x black!reader #jey uso x black!oc #original character #roman reigns #black oc #black character

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minniiaa · 6 months

Text

ok this chapter isn't up yet but i want to feed the people this deliciousness NOW.

explicit lawlu content incoming in

3...2...1...

“I was laying right next to you, fingering myself while I watched your sexy sleeping face. I couldn’t wait for you to wake up so you could fuck me until I cried,” Luffy lewdly explained and Law’s cock twitched. God this man drove him absolutely wild. He was so unabashedly hot. Luffy hands snaked down to spread his ass and rub his wet hole against Law’s cock. Law groaned at the sensation.

“I’ll give you what you want but I want you on your hands and knees like the little dog you are,” he purred, biting down hard on Luffy’s throat. His boyfriend gave him a devilish grin before rolling off of him and moving into the requested position cute little ass in the air just for him.

Law sat up onto his calves and observed the picture of his lover acting like a bitch in heat. He loved it when Luffy obeyed him so eagerly.

“Such a good boy,” he praised before kneading his hand into Luffy’s ass harshly, nails digging in. He brought his other hand back and gave the other cheek a resounding slap. Luffy yelped.

“You like that? You know, I think I’ll make you cry before I put my cock in you. How does that sound, darling?,” lust dripped from Law’s lips. He was in the mood to have some fun. It was his birthday after all.

“Yes, master.” he gasped. Fuck. Luffy was really getting into this depraved dog act and it was driving him crazy. He pulled his hand back and gave Luffy another hard smack. He hissed and pushed himself forward into the pillows. He gave the other cheek its own violent attention before pressing his lips to it and biting down hard enough to leave a mark. He continued his movements, teeth biting as nails scratched lines on the plump flesh. Luffy whined and thrashed but didn’t leave his position. Law appreciated his work, the bright red palm marks dirtied the once pristine pale cheeks. Nail and bite marks seamlessly flowed through. Truly, art.

“Are you crying yet? Let me see your pretty face,” he requested and Luffy turned his cheeks to face him and nodded silently. He observed the beautiful sight of tears running down his red cheeks. Perfect. So fucking sexy his lover tattered and crying under his gaze.

If you wanna read more of this shit my brain cooks up click here

#lawlu #smut #fanfiction #ass slapping #luffy #law #lulaw #lawlu fanfiction #bottom luffy #top law #what i would give for law to call me his little dog #brainrot #help

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nonclassyparty · 2 years

Text

Starring Role- ACT III (C.S; S.MG)

title; look into his angel eyes, one look and you're hypnotized, he'll take your heart and you must pay the price

summary:

We’ve all read about the infamous player who falls in love with the good girl that manages to make him change his ways…but what happens to the other girl? The pretty, popular one that has warmed his bed before the good girl came along and took him away.

Well, no one cares about her. After all, she’s just a side character.

It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not the starring role in someone else’s heart.

pairing: choi san x reader, song mingi x reader (for now lol)

wc: almost 14k

warnings (PLEASE READ!): this chapter contains mentions of food and heavy dieting, mentions of unhealthy eating habits. mentions of drug abuse and drinking

taglist: @joonsthethicc @cookiechristie @purenjuniverse @hwaist @littleparkseonghwa @hwasong @hwadump @hongshines @kitty4hwa @knisterlicht @flamingi @revehosh @gayliljoong @naiify @btshook@atzcoke @circusjanreblogs @baguette-atiny @kpopnightingale @xosim@raineadlr

Buy me a coffee!

act ii / masterlist / act iv

“She’d been in love with the man, and love is a scary thing. If not reciprocated, it can turn a person into a monster.” ― Michele Young-Stone, The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors

You do something you've never done before in your one year long "relationship" with Choi San- you start asking around about his latest conquest.

And by asking around, you mean that you ask Minjeong because she knows everyone and their mothers on your campus. From names to majors to the gossip that might follow them.

You try to do it as inconspicuously as possible because you can't have anyone knowing that some nobody piqued your interest, soon enough after that they'll start to ask why. And God forbid, people could come to the conclusion that you might be threatened by the girl San kissed.

Jennie and the girls would never let you live that one down.

You clear your throat, glancing at Minjeong from the corner of your eye. It's just the two of you at lunch in the cafeteria today and your little friend is munching the sushi she brought for lunch, completely clueless to your incoming inquisition.

"Hey, Jeongie..." You start, swallowing down the piece of salad you stuffed in your mouth before this, as you turn to her innocently.

"Yeah?" She asks, eyes meeting yours. Minjeong is pretty, in a cute sort of way. She's not the type of girl you would usually call hot but she has a brilliant smile and doe eyes that make her seem adorable when she laughs.

"Okay, don't look right away but.." That catches her attention instantly as she turns to you completely, immediately intrigued. Nosy ass bitch. "Do you see that girl sitting next to the vending machine? She's wearing a black hoodie."

Minjeong keeps eye contact with you for a second longer before subtly turning in the direction of the vending machine, pretending to read the drink labels on it.

The girl next to the vending machine, the one San kissed or whatever, has earphones stuck in her ears as she reads a book. She occasionally reaches over for a fry off of her tray which she stuffs in her mouth. Other than that, she doesn't really look up from the book.

Her hair is in a messy low ponytail, strands that escaped are tucked behind her ears and she's in a plain black hoodie. Alone once again. She's really a nobody but the moment she walked into the cafeteria and crossed your vision, your mood dampened significantly.

"I see her." She says quietly, face not giving away much when she slowly turns to you again.

"Do you maybe know who she is?" You question, voice light and unbothered. Making sure not to portray anything other than faint curiosity.

Minjeong nods in response, taking another sushi roll in her mouth, you try not to seem impatient as you watch her chew but your foot is tapping against the cafeteria tiles.

"That's Son Boyoung. She's a biology major."

"That's it?" You push, brows furrowing in slight annoyance. Usually, Minjeong knew a lot more. The juicy stuff like who the other person dated, what stupid thing they did while drunk, what embarrassing thing they posted on social media. Something other than just this.

But Minjeong just shrugs in response.

"I don't really see her around that often, I don't think she goes out or has many friends or anything. The only time I ever see her is maybe the library." She pauses, eyes narrowed in concentration before her eyebrows raise and eyes widen. "Oh, she's Song Mingi's friend!"

"Song Mingi?" It's the first time you hear of him. Minjeong gasps scandalously.

"Oh em gee! Y/N, you don't know Song Mingi?" She questions in a hushed voice. When you shake your head in response, she drops her chopsticks down and gives you her full attention. "Well, he's, like, this computer wiz or something. He's an IT major but most importantly, Song Mingi is fucking hot!"

You raise your brows, not really buying that he can be that hot if he's friends with the likes of Son Boyoung. Plus, you've never heard of him before. Hot people are usually popular. Minjeong is quick to continue.

"He's, like," Minjeong lets out a dreamy sigh, "Tall and just the right amount of muscular and has the best lips ever. And he's mysterious as well, literally no-one knows anything about him except for the small group of people he hangs out with."

"And Son Boyoung is in that group of people?" You ask with an arched eyebrow, not really caring about this Mingi guy much. It's probably overhyped bullshit as per usual.

"Oh, she's much more!" Minjeong leans in closer, "Word on the street is that Mingi is in love with her since, like, forever. They've been friends since they were kids."

"Woah, wait a minute." You pause her ramblings as you sigh, closing your eyes to recollect yourself. "You could've led with that, Minjeong."

"What do you mean?" You shake your head at her question.

"So, you're telling me that this, supposed, God of a man is in love with her? And he couldn't swoop her off her feet by now?"

"Well, it's just a rumor." Minjeong pauses, "But I'm, like, seventy percent sure he's in love with her because he had a project to work on with Chaeyoung, you know her right?" You nod your head even though you have no idea who Chaeyoung was. "She said that Boyoung called him in the middle of their assignment and he dropped everything just to go to her. Chaeyoung was trying to flirt with him as well!"

"He always gives Boyoung special treatment, it makes me kind of jealous." She sighs dramatically and you have to hold back an eyeroll, "And I don't think he ever even hooks up with other girls, at least not that everyone else knows about it. You'd think we'd hear stories about his hookups all the time with how many girls are after him but nothing!"

"Interesting." You hum, leaning back in your chair and letting your eyes wander to Son Boyoung, who still had her nose in a book.

"Right? Maybe he's gay." Minjeong says thoughtfully and you give her a bland stare.

"No, not him-" But you stop yourself, if you mention Son Boyoung one more time, Minjeong might be onto you. She's a bit of an airhead but you aren't being as sneaky as you initially planned. "I mean, maybe he likes her."

"You think so?" Minjeong asks warily, eyes fleeting to where Boyoung sat one more time. "She's kinda..."

"Right?!" You ask gleefuly, making her jump a little. "She's really not that special, right?"

So, you might've been projecting onto Minjeong a little bit right now, who obviously was talking badly about Boyoung with Mingi in mind.

You didn't know Mingi but you know San.

And San kissed Son Boyoung.

"I mean, she's pretty." You say quickly because talking down on a girl's appearance never sat right with you but the shallow, rotten side of you is squirming in delight. "But she's kind of plain, don't you think?"

"Definitely. She dresses weird, as well." Minjeong scrunches up her nose.

It's going to make you feel bad in the long run, the dissection of Boyoung's appearance and dogpiling on it along with Minjeong and probably a dozen of other girls who are after Song Mingi, but in this moment- it makes your heart hurt less.

If Minjeong agrees on this Boyoung girl being no-one special as well, then it's not just you! It's not the jealousy or bitterness speaking in your stead because someone else also agrees that this girl doesn't deserve all this special attention.

Maybe San lost his goddamn mind.

The theory of San having a couple of screws missing up there continues to be the only logical explanation when you're sitting in the library with Hongjoong the next evening.

Your pink laptop is set up in front of you with the rest of your material as you patiently waited for his friend to show up, so he can help you with the main assignment for Computer Science. Hongjoong sat opposite of you, scribbling notes down as he flipped pages of the book in front of him.

You've been spending more time with him recently as San has been completely ignoring you and you'd like to think Hongjoong is your friend. The two of you never hung out outside of the walls of the library, you never asked but neither did he.

"Hey." A deep voice interrupts your train of thoughts and your head picks up at the new presence standing right next to the table where you and Hongjoong sat at.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat once you recognize him as the guy who called Boyoung clumsy the day she bumped into you.

"Mingi! Dude, finally." Hongjoong exclaims in a hushed whisper, failing to hide his excitement at the newcomer as he pulls a chair for him to sit, moving his box to clear out the side of the table.

Wait a second. Mingi?

"Sorry, the TA wanted to talk after class so I got held up." Mingi says quietly as he sits down, eyes fleeting to you and nodding in some sort of greeting you suppose. You nod back, trying not to seem so shocked that Boyoung's friend is, coincidentally, the person that was supposed to help you with your assignment.

Maybe you took Minjeong's words a bit too lightly because fuck, Mingi was hot.

He was tall with broad shoulders covered in a sweatshirt and you couldn't help the way your eyes stayed glued to his hands, decorated with silver rings, as he pulled out his laptop out of the backpack that was hanging off of one shoulder when he walked in.

Tan skin, luscious lips, slim nose and dark eyes that were almost covered by the fringe of dark hair. If you weren't paying such close attention, you wouldn't notice the strands of dark blue in it weaved underneath the raven ones.

But you were mostly focused on his lips. Fuck, Minjeong was right about those as well. They were amazing.

Pretty, pink and plump.

You quickly dragged your gaze somewhere else clearing your throat which seemed to bring Hongjoong's nose out of his book.

"Oh, right!" Hongjoong points to you, "Mingi, this is Y/N. She's the girl who needs help with her assignment."

"Hey." Mingi just repeats, coolly.

"Hi." You respond back, pulling your lips in because you feel slightly awkward since you really do remember him from when you snapped at Son Boyoung a couple of weeks ago.

"Did you start your work already or?" Mingi asks, placing his backpack down on the floor.

Your eyes dart to Hongjoong, who is back to his own work, before you respond.

"Um, I started it but I'm already stuck. I only know the basics..." You drag out and he nods once again before quietly moving to sit on the empty chair next to you and turning his laptop around.

Half an hour later, Hongjoong is long gone saying he has an essay to turn in tomorrow morning and you're stuck with Song Mingi alone as you both try to work on your assignment. But it's quite difficult and you don't grasp it as easily and it definitely doesn't take long for his true colors to show.

"You're doing it wrong again." He huffs, moving your hand away from the mouse and taking it in his own hand. "This is quite literally one of the simplest tasks in the assignment."

"Oh..." You muse out, not really knowing what to say. The fact that you're not good at this subject was already eating away at you but now, he was just making you feel like an idiot.

"What 'oh'?" Mingi asks a little bit harsher and you turn to him, cheeks flushing. His brows are furrowed and he's looking at the screen with annoyance radiating off of him. "'Oh' isn't going to fix shit."

You pursue your lips, watching him click away and re-do your mistake with a clenched fist in your lap. You don't want to be rude because one; he's Hongjoong's friend and two; he's the one taking the time out of his day to help you.

"Where are your exercise books?" He asks as he presses the 'save' button, you bite your lip before turning to him again.

"There are exercise books?" You ask in a small voice, almost trying to act cute so he wouldn't get angry.

"Seriously?" But Mingi is dead serious and looking even more pissed off now. Your eyes fall down to the table, feeling like you're getting scolded by a teacher in middle school. "You know maybe if you spent less time planning your outfits and more time actually sitting in class and paying attention, you wouldn't be failing."

"I..." You mouth is ajar a bit as you let his words sink in before you're just filled with anger. "I'm not failing and I do sit in class and pay attention."

"Oh, really?" He asks almost mockingly and you have the urge to slap him. "Because I'm pretty sure professors are obliged to mention the material for the subjects they're teaching. The assignment is literally from those exercise books."

You clamp your mouth shut, feeling your cheeks turn redder by the second. Mingi hums, eyes dancing over your face for a second.

"Maybe your way of paying attention is as bad as your common courtesy."

Wha-

"Common cour- What the fuck are you even talking about, right now?" You snap in a hushed tone, being completely done with this guy.

Minjeong was wrong about him. He's not the mysterious, smart hunk she thought he was. Song Mingi was just a dick who thought he was better than you.

He thinks he's all that because he's hot and knows how to code stuff.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about or do you intend on playing stupid and acting like you don't recognize me from the day you yelled at my friend." He hisses back in the same way, his laptop already being pushed shit by his big hand.

It seems like your tutoring hour is finishing early today.

"Seriously?! That's what you're so pissed about?!" You chuckle in disbelief, looking around the almost empty library just to refrain yourself from blowing up on him.

The fact that he's being an asshole to you right now, all because of Son fucking Boyoung almost makes you scream.

"I have every right to be pissed about that. You embarrassed her in front of everyone that was there that day." He accused and you roll your eyes before turning to him.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." You lazily waved off, "I merely raised my voice a little bit, she'll live."

Now it was Mingi's turn to let out a humorless chuckle of disbelief as he stared at you for a second too long.

"You're unbelievable, you know that right?" He breathed out, collecting all of his belongings into his backpack. You watch him place the backpack over his shoulder and get up from the chair in silence. "We're done for today."

Then he stops for a second before turning around to face.

"And by the way, I don't care what Joong said. I expect to be paid for these lessons."

And he's stalking towards the exit, leaving you with your mouth slightly ajar as you watch him leave before letting out a final chuckle of disbelief.

What an asshole.

Still, you're not all that bothered by his clear dislike towards you. Song Mingi was equally of a nobody as Kang Yeosang to you, why would you let him plague your mind for a moment necessary .

Especially when you have some fucking rich kids party coming up that Friday, which you really don't want to go to but you have to for the sake of appearances. If they sense that you don't want to run in their crowd anymore, you'll become prey.

You're not scared of any of them, far from it actually, but you know that Jennie and the rest of girls would quickly follow in turning their backs on you. And being an outcast would be easy if you knew you had people watching your back but you don't. You're all alone.

They're all patiently waiting for the moment you screw up, so you could be kicked off of the top and placed at the bottom of their fucked up food chain.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That Friday, you sit in front of your vanity and carefully apply your make as you always do. The hinges on your face are tightly shut because this time, you refuse to see what hides below the surface.

It's peaceful despite the storm raging inside of you.

Until Jung Wooyoung bursts into your bedroom.

He looks entirely out of place as he closes the door shut behind himself and almost awkwardly looks around your room, ignoring your question.

When you just continue to stare at him with raised brows as if he lost his whole entire mind, he lets out a sigh and his head falls a little in somewhat embarrassment.

"Look, my parents sent me here to pick you up, okay? They want us to go to the party together." He explains, face portraying the annoyance you're feeling as well as you exhale shakily as if you're about to explode.

"My parents sent you to my room?!" You hiss with a glare, dropping the brush you were using to apply your highlighter loudly back to the small makeup table.

"I mean, yeah. You mom sent me up here." Wooyoung nods, slipping his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he continues to stare around your room.

"Un-fucking-believable." You mutter being thoroughly done with your mother who never allowed any boys in your room but suddenly it's okay just because it's Wooyoung, grabbing your mascara and pulling out the wand to apply it to your lashes.

You pause when you notice his gaze on your face.

You turn to him, expecting for him to look away or fucking leave.

"Well, don't fucking stand there! You're stressing me out!" You snap rudely and he rolls his eyes, hands sarcastically going up as if in defence.

"Sorry, princess. Didn't know I caught you in such a crucial moment." He's quiet for a moment. "Well, what am I supposed to do then?"

You sigh, hand dropping to the wooden surface for a second as you turn to glare at him.

"I don't fuckin' know. Go sit down or something!" Because you know there's no way around it. You're going to the party with him, there's no getting out of this one.

With a hum, he walks over to your bed and plops down on it.

Once again, he looks as awkward as you feel. You haven't seen Wooyoung since the night of that party a couple of weeks ago and the last time you two spoke, you were very close to ruining both of your lives.

Not that Wooyoung and you ever had anything to talk about. But somehow, with that night in mind, your bedroom seems suffocating with him in it. Especially since he's not as hostile as he would usually be.

"Oh, shit. You actually do paint." Wooyoung sings innocently, observing your painting aisle set up next to the window with one of your current projects half finished, sitting in it. "I always thought that was another pretentious farce of yours."

You grit your teeth as you continue working on your make-up, refusing to give him the pleasure of riling you up.

"I always thought you were going to go into business like Seonghwa. I mean, your parents were sure of it." He keeps talking, before turning to you with head cocked in curiosity. "How did they let you go into art?"

"I'm very persuasive." You say stiffly as you dab your lips with a cherry red lipstick.

"I'm sure you are." He nods but his eyes are narrowed as if he's trying to read you. Your eyes meet his through the mirror and you pursue your lips but still keep quiet. "So, it has nothing to do with the summer you spent in rehab?"

"Shut the fuck up!" You hiss, head turning to him sharply with a venomous glare before you glance at the door in reflex from the fear of someone hearing him. No one can know that he knows.

Wooyoung follows your eyes to the door, getting the message that maybe he's not supposed to talk about that here. With a clenched jaw, "Fine."

You turn to the mirror again to finally finish your look.

A beat of silence.

"It's not something to be ashamed of, Y/N." The way Wooyoung says it, it's almost soft. A first for him to talk to you like that.

"Your shit isn't something to be ashamed of either, yet you're still hiding it." You throw back in a low voice and he holds your gaze through the mirror for a moment before his eyes fall to your carpet.

You watch him through the mirror, his face is stoic but his leg keeps bouncing up and down.

He clears his throat.

"I won't tell anyone, by the way." He's still staring at the floor. "So..you don't have to worry about that."

In Jung Wooyoung's booklet, this was his idea of an apology. For cornering you like that? For using it against you and scaring the shit out you? You don't know. But you can tell he feels at least a bit of remorse for that night.

You don't say anything in response but still, you can't resist the curiosity about the thing that's been eating away at you ever since that night.

You drop down the lipstick and turn to him, hesitantly opening your mouth.

"How did you find out?"

His eyes snap up to you and he leans back on the palms of his hands on your bed.

"I didn't." Wooyoung responds quietly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as your mouth drops to tell him off before he shrugs. "It was just a rumor going around. Most of those end up being true when you're in our circles."

"I just said it without thinking because I was panicking and your face only confirmed it."

Your eyes fall shut at his admission, mad at yourself for making such a fucking rookie mistake.

"Fucking stupid." You whisper to yourself, standing up and heading towards your closet to pick out an outfit because you couldn't bare to sit in front of him anymore.

Wooyoung sits in silence as you flick through the options in your closet before deciding on a white flare dress with slightly puffed out sleeves. You disappear in your bathroom to slip into it and pull on thin black nylons underneath because it was nearing November now and the nights were cold.

You step into your Mary Jane heeled shoes and walk back into your bedroom, just running a brush through your hair as you're really not in the mood for this party or anything else that comes with it.

You grab your small purse from the hanger and check if your phone and wallet are in it. Wooyoung opts to just staying silent the entire time.

"Okay, let's go." You say and he jumps up with a sigh, heading out of your room.

Your mother escorts you out of the house as if you and Wooyoung were heading off to prom, you swear she would've asked to take photos of the two of you if you hadn't just grabbed Wooyoung's hand and pulled him through the house with a loud goodbye.

The party is just like any other fancy party you've attended over the years. Filled with fake smiles and pretending to give a fuck about what these people have going on in their lives since you've last seen them.

The only difference is that, now, you stick by Wooyoung's side.

When the two of you walked in together, almost no-one was surprised which is infuriating as it's equally as comforting.

You're surprised neither you or Wooyoung have wandered off to mingle by now but it seems like he hates these things as much as you do and yet, he can't allow his annoyance to show with anyone else but you.

Which is why you stay glued by him. It's a little bit easier to not have to wear your facade around at least someone here and you can share your discomfort and mean comments with him freely.

It's almost kind of nice.

"Oh, Kim Jisoo got a nose job." Wooyoung mutters next to you with a faint smirk and the fact that he almost looks gleeful not because of the nose job but because he can actually say stuff like that to someone now, makes you snort and you're willing to amuse him by playing along.

"Yikes." You try not to grimace once you catch sight of the girl. "Not even a nose job can make that bitch likeable."

Wooyoung snorts in response, inching closer to you as you both rest your backs against the wall near the balcony.

You wonder why he's not with the guys he usually hangs out with but then it dawns onto you that maybe those guys are his 'Jennie and the girls'. It makes you feel pity for him for a second and you have no space to pity anyone when you and Wooyoung are in the exact same boat.

"She's dating Yeonjun, now." Wooyoung comments quietly, careful of anyone overhearing. "I heard they're set to get engaged next year."

You shrug, taking a sip from the flute of champagne. "Good for them. They deserve each other."

Both rotten to the bone, you want to add but refrain yourself.

"You're okay with that?" Wooyoung scrunches his nose, cocking his head to the side as his eyes catch yours. "Weren't you, like, in love with him?"

An unladylike snort escapes you.

"Wooyoung, Yeonjun and I dated the same way you and I are dating now." You turn to face him, lazily fixing the collar of his blaze that got twisted before smiling bitterly. "It was all our parents. I didn't even have his phone number until the day he texted me that he's breaking up with me."

"But...it seemed so real." He furrows his brows. Your hand falls from his collar now that you've caught enough people glancing at the two of you and you smile at him, widely.

"I'm a good actress."

Wooyoung looks like he wants to ask more but he's interrupted by the buzzing from your purse. You fish out your phone, confused to see Yeji calling you.

"Hello?"

"When are you getting here?" Yeji was one of the rare friends you made in the art department. She wasn't rich but she was popular, a party girl and you liked her enough on a superficial level.

"I'm not getting anywhere." You respond confusedly because you have no idea what 'here' even entails, "I already had plans."

"Well, ditch the plans!" There is music in the background and loud cheering which can only mean she's at a party of her own. "San is here."

And you pathetically perk up at that, chest filling with that familiar longing and want that would make you do just about anything- even disobeying your parents' wishes.

"I'll be there." You respond quickly and she giggles from the other line.

"Are you coming alone?"

"No." You eye Wooyoung who busied himself with munching on a piece of chocolate cake. "I'm bringing some collateral damage with me."

And you hang up.

"What collateral damage?" Wooyoung asks with his mouth full and eyes almost innocent.

"You." You answer swiftly, not looking to see the glare that sets on his face as you push your phone back into your small purse. "Go get your car. We're leaving this snoozefest."

"I don't think I like this." Wooyoung shifts next to you as you both stand in front of the huge sorority house, you can hear music coming from inside and people occasionally spilling out of the door.

It's crowded, even for you who is used to these types of thing.

You turn to him.

"You've been to college parties before, Wooyoung."

"Yeah, but..." He hesitantly eyes the people drunkenly stumbling out of front door, "They're never like this, I think we should just go back."

The timid note in his voice is enough to cause even your eyes to soften, confused by his behaviour. Wooyoung is usually loud, confident and annoying.

"Hey," You softly call, hesitant to show him that you might give a fuck about how he feels. "I just need to see someone, we'll be out as soon as I do. You can wait in the car if you'd like but I think it's going to take awhile for me to find them."

"Promise?" He asks and you cock your head in confusion. "Promise we won't stay here for long?"

You stare at him for a second too long, wondering why Jung Wooyoung would believe any promise you make when even you know it might be a lie.

What if you actually find San and go home with him? Would you really turn that down after weeks of being ignored by him for someone like Jung Wooyoung? Someone who made your life hell since the moment you met him at the tender age of six?

You don't think so.

"Promise." You nod.

When the two of you walk inside, it's exactly how you would expect it. Drunk college students everywhere, sweaty bodies occupying the living room and dancing but on the verge of basically humping. Girls taking photos with their friends, guys trying to get laid and Yeji skipping her way to the two of you.

"Oh, he's cute Y/N!" Yeji gushes as she introduces herself to Wooyoung who stares at her with complete disinterest.

"Stay away from him, Yeji." You say with a snort as you give her a hug. Something tells you that she'll make it a mission to get with Wooyoung by the end of the night. "I don't think you're his type."

She pouts at him and Wooyoung laughs a very fake laugh before pulling you closer to whisper in your ear. "I'll stay with her while you find whoever you need to find, but for the love of fucking God, hurry."

"Okay." You nod before parting from them and continuing your way into the house.

You grimace as you push your way past the sweaty bodies and know that it will be hard to find San like this. You should've asked Yeji where he was but it was too late to go back now so instead, you decide to go to the kitchen which is less occupied to take a moment and think.

Resting your hands on the counter, you let out a deep sigh and thank God that there is a minimum amount of people here.

San wasn't in the living room. If he were, he'd have a crowd of people around him which would attract your attention. The only place he could be is upstairs, again.

You straighten out your posture, eyes falling on the open backdoor that lead to the back porch and you freeze.

....or San could be with Boyoung outside, again. Which he is.

You almost snort at how predictable this is getting.

You can see the two of them through the kitchen window which gives view of the backyard.

They're leaning against the wooden banister, bodies pressed close to each other and they're...talking.

San is smiling softly at her as he whisper something to her that makes her blush, before he gently tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Even Boyoung, who you have usually never seen in anything but hoodies and ugly sweaters, is now in a tight dress stuck to her figure. Meaning she was invited here tonight.

...by San?

Your cheeks flush in...you don't know what. Heartbreak? Betrayal? Humiliation? You're not sure. All you know is that you feel like your chest is caving in and your back is breaking out in sweat as you stare at them with parted lips.

Boyoung says something to him and San throws his head back in laughter, if you listen closely- you're sure you can hear his pretty laugh even from the outside.

Tears well up in your eyes but you just can't look away.

Is she the new favorite? Or was this something else? Was there something more serious between her and San that you have been trying to create for the past year?

And that this nobody managed to do in less than a month.

"Oh, would you look at that." Your body goes rigid once a familiar voice echoes through the, now, almost empty kitchen. "How the mighty have fallen."

"What do you want?" You hiss, eyes falling to the counter so you don't have to look at her face.

Don’t let him giving you attention get to your head, you’re not anyone special to him. You’re just a little freshman who still doesn’t know what she just got herself into.

Seo Yeojin casually leans on the counter next to you, car keys dangling off of her fingers and jacket still on.

"Nothing, just enjoying the party."

You turn to her, eyeing her from her heeled boots to hair in a low bun.

"Aren't you a little too old for college parties?" You sneer, crossing your arms over your chest. She snorts but her eyes hold no offense.

In fact, she looks completely indifferent to you which causes rage to bubble up inside of you because she's actually looking like the bigger person here.

"I came to pick up my baby sister. She's a freshman."

"I don't care." You're quick to respond and she lets out a sigh, eyes falling to the floor for a second.

"You know, you can retract the claws. I'm not trying to fight." Yeojin says earnestly and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

It seems like by not giving her a response it gives her a right to continue speaking or something because she's quick to open her mouth again.

"San seems really happy with her. There isn't that cloud hovering over his head anymore, you know?" Your hands ball into fists and jaw clenches as you draw her eyes away from her and to the kitchen window again. San and Boyoung are still there, whispering amongst themselves, softly caressing each other. "You actually did hold out the longest from all of us, so I'm sure you've noticed it. I'm sure you know how fucking miserable he actually is...why he does the things he does to us."

"Stop talking." You whisper but she doesn't listen.

"He was fucking broken and each and every one of us tried to fix him, Y/N. At one point, you have to give up. Especially now when he seems to find someone he actually might have feel-"

"She's nothing to him!" You snarled, cheeks a deep red as you're that winded up, "She means nothing. She's just another girl to be added to his list and once he's bored, he'll come back to me. Like he always does."

But your eyes well up with tears and your hands shake when you're finished. You're so caught up in your emotions that you have no idea how much you sound exactly like Seo Yeojin did the day she cornered you in that bathroom.

If you were in her place, you would gloat in that fact. You would throw the words you said to her that day, in your own face.

The difference is that Seo Yeojin isn't as rotten as you are on the inside. At the time, you were convinced you were better than her but it seems like it's actually the other way around.

"That's not true." She responds calmly and there is fucking pity in her eyes. For you. Seo Yeojin, the girl you ridiculed and who's place you took the moment you walked into San's life, is pitying you. "And deep down, you know it as well."

"Everything you've said just..." You leered at her. "All of this bullshit. It's what a fucking losers says. You lost him, so now you're trying to convince me that I've done the same."

And Yeojin just smiles. But it's not a mean smile, not even a mocking one. It's a sad smile. The pity in her eyes doubles and it makes you want to curl up and die.

"I'm not a loser." She says with a shrug, "I'm just a girl who found someone that showed her what love is actually supposed to be like. And I can tell you right now, Y/N, that this...whatever it is you had with San, it's not it."

She leaves after that, disappears out of the kitchen and into the crowd of people in the living room while you're left alone.

The hinges on your face are close to coming off. The door is ready to fall and show everyone here what lies behind the perfect facade- the barely working mechanism covered in moss and spider webs, the rusty screws so close to breaking.

You're so close to showing everyone who Park Y/N actually is.

But you can't do that. The door can only come off in the privacy of your bedroom, it's saved for your vanity mirror which has by now grown accustomed to it.

So you suck in a deep breath and will the tears away and with one last look at San still wrapped up in her, you will the tears away and leave the kitchen.

In the living room, a whole new disaster awaits you.

You try to look for Wooyoung and Yeji, pushing through the crowd of sweaty bodies before you notice a little group gathered near the empty fireplace all stuck between what seemed as some commotion.

Jung Wooyoung is in the middle of it.

You push through the crowd more forcefully to get closer to him faster when you notice just how small he looks in front of the bigger guy who looks at him with a mocking smirk and the eyes surrounding them.

"Just leave me alone." Wooyoung sneers and you know he's trying to look unbothered and maybe even a little bit intimidating but you can tell how his eyes coast over the crowd of people around him in panic and fear and you realize just how much you screwed up by bringing him here.

"Hey, hey." You say breathlessly, latching onto the material of his blazer. Wooyoung's watery eyes are still on the guy in front of him. "What's going on?"

"Oh, look everyone! It's Wooyoung's girlfriend!" The big guy laughs as he loudly exclaims to the crowd who seems to break out in whispers. You stare at him a little bit longer when you recognize him as Kim Namhyuk, the university's star football player and resident sleazebag.

"Y/N, let's just go." Wooyoung whispers but you're stuck staring at the guy opposite of him who attracted so much attention to all of you now. Namhyuk redirects his attention to you once he notices your sharp eyes on him.

"He's not going to fuck you, pretty girl." Namhyuk muses with a cruel smirk and you can tell he's drunk and by his blown out and red eyes- maybe even high on something. His eyes coast over to Wooyoung once again, growing meaner. "He likes dick way too much."

Gasps echo through the room.

"Shut up!" Wooyoung almost begs and you've known him since you were both kids but you have never seen him filled with so much desperation and fear. It caused an odd sense of protectiveness over him to wake up inside of you.

Because no-one fucking bullied Jung Wooyoung unless it was you.

Especially not a homophobe.

"Listen, fuckface, how about you go get jacked up on steroids and worry about the classes you're about to flunk this semester instead!" You exclaim loudly, hand wrapping around Wooyoung's wrist and turning around to pull him after you through the crowded space before Namhyuk's voice stops you again.

"Oh, come on pretty girl! Don't get mad!" You try to ignore him, especially when you notice that even his friends are trying to shut him up but he doesn't seem to care. Still laughing, "I'm sure if I let him suck my dick, he'll forget this even happened!"

You stop in your tracks and Wooyoung bumps into you.

You turn to Namhyuk again, trying to ignore Wooyoung's tearful eyes as he looks at you in confusion because all your attention is on Namhyuk.

And he seems to revel in it because he opens his mouth again, "I mean, I'm not saying I'm into guys but a blowjob is a blowjob, you know what I mean?"

He laughs it off with his friend who doesn't really find it that funny. Wooyoung grips the back of your dress. "Y/N, don't."

But it's too late.

Your fist lands straight into his nose before you've flung yourself on top of him and everything just goes to hell after that.

It might've been the anger you felt from seeing San with Boyoung that was festering below your skin that made you have so much power and anger inside of your small body but-

Namhyuk, a football player twice your size is on the floor. It's all foggy but you remember clawing at his face and his hands trying to protect himself. His friends are trying to get you off of him and it's only after there are scratches covering his face and a busted lip- that they succeed.

You shakily push them off of you as you stand up, your hair falling into your face from the ferocity of your attack as you watch him groan on the floor, you breathe heavily. Wooyoung grabs your hand to pull you back to his side as you stare at Namhyuk with a faint smirk.

He goes wild when he sees it.

"I'm going to sue you, Park!" Namhyuk screeches from the floor as he cups his nose, "I'll take every penny from you, you crazy ass bitch!"

"Just try and see what happens." You say quietly as you chuckle before turning around and letting Wooyoung pull you away through the crowded living room which only seemed to grow in the number of people.

Namhyuk is left on the floor in the middle of his tantrum and it's all white noise from there.

Wooyoung is pulling you out of the house and across the lawn towards his car. He's yelling.

"Are you stupid?!" "He will sue you!" "He could've killed you!" "What will your parents say when they find out?!" "You just messed it up for both of us-!"

It's your soft whimper that causes Wooyoung to cease with his shouting at you. The whimper is followed by tears until you're full on sobbing in the front seat of his car as he sits next to you staring with wide eyes and jaw dropped.

"Y/N....?" Wooyoung asks in a much quieter voice, before his face hardens, "Are you hurt?"

You shake your head in response as you cry, hands covering your face and letting the makeup smudge.

He sighs, head falling to the back of the seat.

"Look, I didn't mean to yell that bad. It's just...what you did was really stupid and I don't need-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" You wail, barely managing to get the words out. Wooyoung looks at you like he doesn't know you at all. "It's my fault! It's all my fault!"

"I mean...it's...well, yeah, breaking his nose was stupid but-"

"No." You whine, tears sliding down your face, "I'm not sorry for ju-jumping on him! I'm sorry for bringing you here! It's all m-my fault! I should've listened w-when you said you wanted to leave! I had no place to even go to this f-fucking party and I'm sorry! If I didn't make you come then you wouldn't have had to he-hear anyone say something like that to y-you! I'm so s-sorry!"

And that was the truth.

The guilt hit you like a truck going at full speed the moment Wooyoung grabbed your hand to drag you outside.

You tried not to make it about you so hard but...

You brought Wooyoung here. You're responsible for this. Without you, he wouldn't have ever met any of these horrible people. He never would've been suspected to their prying eyes and mocking smiles as they tried to humiliate him. He would've never had to hear the words that asshole threw at him.

It would be easy to say that you were simply taking your anger from seeing San with Boyoung and from your conversation with Yeojin, out on Namhyuk. But it wasn't the truth.

The truth was that seeing Wooyoung so small and afraid with those vultures surrounding him as he cowered away- it filled you with rage you haven't felt in awhile.

You didn't have a lot of friends. In fact, you think you don't have any friends. Hongjoong would maybe count if you squint your eyes but other than that, you had no real friends. But it seemed like a newly discovered part of you wanted Wooyoung safe and protected.

That's weird.

"You..." Wooyoung starts, eyeing you like you've gone completely mental as he's trying to connect some dots it seemed. "You're crying because...you brought me here?"

You nod weakly, sniffling and Wooyoung snorts next to you. You bring your head up to look at him through the tears which only makes him want to laugh more.

"Y/N, I brought us here. I literally drove." You stare at him. "Also, I'm two years older than you so I don't think peer pressure had anything to do with this. And I do have a mind of my own so if I didn't want to go or walk into the house, I could've just ditched you, to be honest."

Your sniffles and hiccups slow down.

"So, like, you're not this horrible person you've convinced yourself you are or anything." Wooyoung adds. He looks awkward doing it, probably because neither of you are used to actually being somewhat nice to each other. "And it was actually kind of nice. What you did..."

You don't say anything back, only lower yourself into the seat as you look out of the window and the tears dry on your face. He might have a point, your face scrunches up in thought. Wooyoung looks at you with a quirked up brow.

"Are you okay now?" He asks through a cough, eyes going anywhere else but you as he waits for a response.

You shrug.

"Of course, I am. I'm a good person- you just said it yourself." His head snaps towards you as he chuckles in disbelief.

"Unbelievable. Were those tears even real?" Wooyoung asks with his mouth wide open but you can see a smile threatening to pull up.

"Yes, they were! I'm a mini Mother Theresa if you will." You sniffle and a couple of tears still manage to slide down your face, fingers tapping against the door handle, suddenly feeling a lot better once you got what was bother you off your chest and cried it out. At least one thing that was bothering you, that is.

"Okay, see, a good person wouldn't say that about themselves." He commented. "And I don't think Mother Theresa was famous for beating up fratboys at a sorority house."

You lazily wave off with a sigh.

You're both just sitting in Wooyoung's car, you can see people spilling in and out of the sorority house.

"So...I saw you talking with some girl in the kitchen. Was she the person you needed to see?" He prods, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

Oh, right.

The image of San and Boyoung surfaces up in your mind, accompanied by the conversation you had with Yeojin and suddenly your good mood, no matter how fleeting and shaky it was, is gone.

"No. It doesn't matter." Is your simple response, hopefully enough for him to get that you'd rather not talk about it. You turn to Wooyoung, "Are you okay?"

He looks at you weirdly and you feel yourself blush.

"I mean, Namhyuk is an asshole I always knew that.." You stammer out, "And I'm not trying to find excuses for him, like, I literally just broke his nose but I never expected for him to be so...like that. So horrible, you know?"

Wooyoung chuckles.

"The worst part is that he's not like that." Now, it's your turn to look at him weirdly as Wooyoung starts the car.

"What do you mean? You know him?" You prod because you're as nosy as you are rich.

"Doesn't matter. But what if he sues you?"

"He won't." You dismiss easily as you watch the road as he drives before turning to him. "How do you know him?"

"How are you so sure he won't sue you?" Wooyoung avoids the question which makes you even more interested.

"Because he used to snort coke off of my back when I was seventeen." Wooyoung almost swerves to the other side of the street, you don't miss a beat before you repeat your question. "Wooyoung, how do you know him?"

"Y/N, what the actual fuck?!" Wooyoung freaks out, eyes wide but still on the road as he loudly chastised, "You can't just say shit like that!"

"Wooyoung..." You draw out and he glances at you before sighing, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

"I don't want to talk about it." He says softly but the sadness in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you. "Please just,... stop asking."

You slump in your seat again but eyes still on him. "Okay."

There is a moment of silence in the car, you check the time.

"We still have two hours to kill before we can head home." You press your lips together.

"We could go to a bar." He suggests before muttering, "Lord knows I need a fucking drink after tonight."

"You can't drink, you have to drive us back home." You remind and he groans, saying you have a point.

"Wanna go to McDonalds?"

"Sure." You nod, eyes glued to his side profile for a second too long.

It seemed like Wooyoung and you were more alike than you first thought. Both haunted by secrets and past hurt that neither of you were willing to share just yet.

Three days after that you come to the decision of paying Choi San a little visit.

Now, it was stupid. You were very well aware but the unknown between the two of you, how you stand with him now that all of his attention is on Boyoung- is starting to drive you insane.

And it's not like you only ever think about San. It's not! You have projects to turn in, midterms coming up, pilates classes and brunches your mother scheduled. You even start texting Wooyoung a little bit.

Your mom is overjoyed knowing that and every time she catches you smiling at your phone- she thinks it's Wooyoung, probably trying to flirt with you or something but in reality, he's sending you memes he finds on Twitter.

But then, all of a sudden, San would come to your mind and you just needed to know what happens next. Do you become the next Yeojin as Boyoung takes your place?

You were nervous as you approached the door of San's unit. A guy from the frat San was in was leaving the building and probably recognized you from all the times he's seen you around San so he let you into the building but you usually never showed up unannounced like this.

With a deep breath, you ring the doorbell and wait, praying to God that it's not Yeosang who opens it. Of course, luck is never on your side because that's exactly who greets you as the doors pull open.

"Oh, it's you." Yeosang huffs and with an eye roll moves to the side, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hey." You greet, because unlike Yeosang, you actually have some manners.

"Don't be fucking loud." He says bluntly with a stoic face, already approaching the door to his room, "No one wants to hear you fucking."

And with that, he disappears closing the door of his room shut.

You're left in the narrow hallway alone and you wipe your clammy hands on your skirt, making a beeline to San's room.

Knocking on the door, you hear shuffling from the other side and the sound of the desk chair moving and footsteps approaching the door.

San stands in front of you looking as beautiful as always. Hair falling over his forehead, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. His brows furrow when he sees you.

"Y/N." He utters, watching as you push past him and enter his space. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed by the excuse that's about to leave your lips. "I came here for my scrunchie."

"Your...your scrunchie?" San echoes behind you and your cheeks flush. He's looking at you like you're bullshitting him which you are. Well, you did forget a scrunchie at his place but you couldn't give two fucks about it.

"I left it here!" You respond confidently, licking your lips and trying to stop the rapid pounding of your heart. "I need it back. It's my favorite one."

"Well, do you know where it might be?" San asks, eyes roaming over his room like he didn't notice any of your things in it before.

"Uh, I'm sure it's here somewhere..." You drag out, bitting on your bottom lip as you gaze around his room as well.

It's messy but in an organized sort of way, his desk is filled with books and open notebooks with notes scattered around it. Clothes are pilled up on a chair next to his window which he uses to sit on when he smokes. The shelves next to it are still bursting with knick-knacks and among them, you notice your hot pink, velvet scrunchie.

"Ha!" You happily walk over to it and pick up your scrunchie and show it to him proudly, with a small smile. "Here it is!"

San only nods in response, observing you as you plop down on his bed with feigned innocence.

"So, what's up?" You ask, trying not to make the desperation for him as obvious. You doubt you're doing a good job.

"Just..studying." San answers quietly, he seems almost awkward standing by his door and it's confusing you.

You pat a spot on his bed, next to you.

"Why are you standing over there for? Come sit." And in two strides, San sits down next to you with his legs spread out as he leans his elbows on his knees, his hands intertwining in front of him.

"Did you need anything else or-?"

"How are midterms going?" You interrupt, scooting a little bit closer to him. He looks down to the small space left between the two of you but doesn't comment on it which means he isn't bothered by it. Which means you still have a chance. Right?

"Uh, good, yeah." He nods and it's so awkward. San looks so out of his element, like he wants to jump up and create as much distance between the two of you as possible and it brings a pang of pain to your chest.

"What are you studying?" You question again, gripping onto straws of any conversation and just hoping that you can spend some more time with him. It's been so long since you've seen him, since you've been with him.

You haven't been in proper contact with him since the night of the party where you caught him kissing Son fucking Boyoung. And the first time you see him after that, he's with her...again. But if things escalate between the two of you, as they usually would, then it would mean it's all good. It would mean she's just like the others, she doesn't mean anything to him.

Except she got to kiss him. And be held by him at a party filled by other options. He chose to be with her two times in a row now.

But whatever. That doesn't have to mean anything.

Maybe San just wants her in his bed that bad that going out of his way to kiss her is the only way to fuck her. She seems like a prude.

"Math. Error Control Coding." He carelessly responds, eyes roaming over his room again as if it's so fucking interesting. As if he doesn't fucking live here and isn't familiar with the layout of it. Why won't he look at you? "I don't think you know what that is,so..."

And there it is. The insinuation that just because it's math, it's automatically not your thing. Because you're stupid. Daft. Vapid. An airhead.

"Right." You whisper. You could let this upset you, you want to let this upset you because little to San's knowledge, your father had you attending math academies since before you entered high school. You won bronze two times in a row at the Korean Mathematical Olympiad. You were fucking smart.

But San didn't care before when he was fucking you regularly and actually bothered to respond to your texts so you'd be damned to bring it up now, when he barely gave you the time of day.

You have no other choice but to be the Y/N that Choi San is best familiar with.

"Are you stressed, Sannie?" You whisper, hand daringly running through his soft black hair. San turns to you with a sigh at the gesture and it's all it takes for you to climb into his lap.

"I can help, you know." You comment, lips ghosting over the freckles on his neck and pressing a kiss below his ear. "I can help you relieve the stress, San."

For the first time, San seems hesitant and his hands stay glued to the mattress as you continue to layer kisses over his neck. You feel like crying.

He's so unresponsive, so not into it as he usually was. And you have a hunch as to why. You know.

But you would only admit it to yourself over your own dead boy. She means nothing to him. She's nothing.

Son Boyoung is a mediocre nobody. She isn't the reason San is behaving like this. He wouldn't rather have her than you and she is not the reason why he pushes you away the moment your hand trails under his sweatshirt.

"I'm not in the mood, Y/N." He mutters, pushing you of his lap as he stands up.

You sit up on the bed, watching him as he sighs, pulling out a cigarette before opening the window to let the chilly air in. He doesn't look at you as he lights up the cigarette, only sits down on the chair not caring of the clothes pilled on it and you have to press your lips to stop the tears from falling.

He rejected you. Choi San just fucking rejected you. Holy fuck.

"You're not in the mood?" You ask sarcastically, fisting his sheets. He doesn't respond only blows out the smoke through the window.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" You cut right to the chase and San turns to you, probably surprised to see the way your voice takes a serious turn. He isn't used to it, you never use it with him.

"Nothing is going on." He shrugs but his careless attitude contradicts the sharp stare he gives you, "I just don't want to have sex. I'm allowed to not want to have sex with you, Y/N. I know you might find it hard to believe."

"Wha-" You gasp, chuckling in disbelief before, standing up to glare at him. "We don't have to have sex, San, but I haven't seen you in weeks. You could at least answer my texts."

"I was busy." Is his response. Simple and curt. It makes you want to scream.

"With what? Who?" You quickly attack because if he's going to dump you then you want him to do it to your face. You're too good to just get ghosted after a year of running after him and bending over backwards to please him.

"There you go again-" San huffs, rolling his eyes and flicking his cigarette. "It's none of your business."

"None of my business?!"

"Yeah, none of your business!" He snaps back at you for the first time ever. Your face is flushed from both the embarrassment of the rejection but from just the hurt and anger because this is unfair. "You don't see me meddling about who you're spending your time with, do you?"

"You are such an asshole." You whisper, blinking away the tears. You won't cry in front of him. You refuse. He already thinks you're a whiny little bitch, you won't give him a reason to think you're weak as well.

"Oh, am I?" San chuckles bitterly, "And why is that? Because I don't wanna fuck you? Princess doesn't get her way for once and suddenly I'm the bad guy?"

"You know why!" You snap loudly, hands balling into fists at your sides. "You know exactly what you're doing, San! You always did! I'm not stupid!"

By that, you meant that San knew you were in love with him. Of course he knew. Everyone who ever got involved with Choi San somehow managed to fall in love with him, one way or the other. Get trapped in his twisted games of push and pull until it left the other party broken and he just moved on to someone else.

"Well, if you're not stupid then you'd know what our agreement was about and you wouldn't be acting like this right now!"

Your mouth clamps up shut because you know he's right. Technically speaking, if you weren't in love with Choi San and you both still had the same agreement, you wouldn't give a fuck if he answers your texts or not. You wouldn't have bothered to go out of your way to visit him like this.

But you are in love with him, that's an undisputed fact.

He sighs, eyes falling shut as he takes a second to calm down. When he opens them, his dark orbs meet your own.

"Y/N, nothing is going on, okay?" He says quietly, he motions to his desk. "I'm just stressed and trying to pass my midterms."

San is lying. You know it. He knows it. It's bullshit.

But you're willing to play stupid once again, after all it's what everyone else expects of you.

So you feed yourself some more lies; Son Boyoung isn't the reason for your current predicament. She definitely isn't the reason why Choi San has, out of nowhere, turned into a model student apparently that even sex is something he turns down in favor of studying. And she certainly isn't the reason why he suddenly 'wasn't in the mood' to fuck you.

Lying to yourself brings nothing but pain in the long run and yet, it does comfort you for the time being.

"Fine." You hiss out, not being able to drop the bratty attitude no matter how much you want to. You grab your bag from his bed and head to the door with a huff. "Call me when you actually get your shit together."

"Yeah, whatever." He mutters behind you and you want to scream at the nonchalance that he treats you with.

You stalk down his narrow hallway, heading to the front door. Once again, the bane of your existence also known as Kang Yeosang, thinks that's the perfect time to refill his water bottle.

"Oh, well that was quick." He comments like a smartass. You don't miss the amused smirk on his pretty face, letting you know that he heard the yelling from San's room.

"Fuck off, Yeosang!" You snap as you fling the door open and stalk through it, slamming it shut behind you.

When you arrive home and fling yourself on your bed, you spend the remainder of the night staring at your ceiling where Miguel The Skeleton keeps dancing from one corner of the room to the other.

He has a cute little red bow wrapped around his neck now.

You watch Hongjoong copy something into his notebook as you wait for Mingi to show up in the library the next day.

Hongjoong's hair is split dyed, one half black and the other white and he's dressed in a colorful hoodie and has his big rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He's so cute.

"I like your hair." You say mindlessly and Hongjoong pauses with his scribblings. He looks up at you with wide eyes.

"Thanks."

"Why do you sound so shocked? It looks good on you." You chuckle, brows knitting together.

"No, I..." Hongjoong laughs, shaking his head. "I know it looks good on me. I just had a feeling that you genuinely didn't want me around and that I was just annoying you by being around you when you're in here."

You stare at him, taken aback by the honest answer as your mouth hangs open and cheeks flush before you recollect yourself.

"That's not true." You say because you genuinely have nothing to say back and Hongjoong looks amused, mostly by the fact that he seems to have made the moment awkward.

He goes back to his scribblings and you fish for something to say. You don't know how to convince someone you actually like them as a friend because you don't like most of your other friends and they already know it as well.

"Uh, Mingi ripped me a new one for not having the practice books last time, so...I'm gonna go find them." You scramble to already stand up from the chair and Hongjoong hums in response.

He was so weird.

You shake your head and walk away to climb up to the second floor where the Computer Science section was.

There weren't many people in the library yet, mostly because classes were still being held. With a hum, you grab two practice books- one which you recognize because your professor mentioned it (and you have a feeling Mingi is the type of guy to never let you live that one down) and the other because it looked like it could be useful as well.

You're about to turn around and leave the section but hushed whispers and giggles make you stop in your tracks.

"San, knock it off!" Your throat seizes up and as if you're a robot, your feet move you closer to the source of the sound.

"Why? You like it." It's his voice. It's San. You've heard enough of his whispers to be able to recognize them anywhere.

You look through the small opening between a row of books and the wooden shelf and almost drop the practice books from your hands.

It's San and Boyoung and God, you're really fucking sick and tired of seeing them together.

San's arms are wrapped around her waist, face tucked into the crook of her neck where he seems to be placing kisses as she tries to push him away through giggles and with threats that she definitely doesn't mean because she looks like she doesn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

"Someone could see us." She whispers through a sigh as San places a kiss on her cheek and runs a hand through her loose hair.

"So what?" He shrugs with a smile. You can see his dimples and you want nothing more than to be able to hate them and him. And her.

"Can you just..." Boyoung pushes him jokingly one more time and San steps away with a breathy laugh but doesn't take his eyes away from her. "Can you just get me that book? You know, the reason I brought you here in the first place?"

"Oh, I thought you brought me here so we can make-out." He says and relaxes against the shelves opposite of you so you get a clear vision of him. He's still beautiful.

"San..." She whines in a soft tone that makes San smile the way he never, ever, fucking smiled at you and you feel your heart break over and over again.

"When will you let me take you out on a date?" San asks quietly and you can see Boyoung's face flush a scarlet red. It makes his grin widen.

“No.” You answer simply. “I just came here to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” He asks but by the teasing tone of his voice and the smirk on his face, you know what he’s playing at. San didn’t want to seem desperate for anyone, it always had to be the other way around. “About what?”

“Just, you know…stuff.” Shrugging, you pursue your lips slightly in thought before deciding to bite the bullet. “Like, when you’re taking me on a date.”

You take pride in knowing that you caught him by surprise because his head whips to you for the second time, his eyes wide, brows raised and lips parted. It all falls into the water fairly quickly though, once he lets a laugh leave him.

“A date, huh?” And he’s back to his fucking work, screwing something in under the hood. His arms have oil stains on them and you shouldn’t find it as attractive as you do.

“Yes.” You say with the most confidence you could possibly muster, not letting your eyes falter for even a second from him.

“I don’t date, princess.” And San says it so softly, almost as if he’s trying to spare you the humiliation. But you never wanted to be spared.

The tears drop voluntarily down your cheeks and you press your lips together tightly to stop yourself from making a sound but your eyes can't look away from them.

"You..." Boyoung shakes her head, tucking herself into his embrace which he gladly accepts by wrapping his arms around her. "You're doing stuff to my heart."

San let's out a louder laugh at that and she smacks his chest gently to shush him.

"You're doing stuff to my heart too, baby, which is why I'm asking you out on a date." He looks down at her with a cheeky grin, "Do you want me to beg?"

His thumb is grazing her cheek and he's looking at her so lovingly. Then he kisses her gently and you have to get out of there.

The hinges are flying out, the door is falling off and the broken mechanisms are out for everyone to see as you run down the stairs of the library and to your table to collect your stuff.

You're crying, hiccupping, sobbing and everyone is fucking staring at you but you don't care this time. They can stare.

"Y/N?" Hongjoong asks hurriedly as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible, you can't speak through the tears. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

Throwing your notebook in your bag, you stop for a second trying to regulate your breathing before turning to him. "Tell Mingi I can't make it today."

"Wha- Wait, Y/N!"

He doesn't get to speak more because you're already out of the door.

Aroma Mocha is empty when you show up. If you weren't a mess, you'd wonder how this place isn't out of business by now but this time, you were glad.

You sit in the furthest corner, open up your sketchbook and start drawing as the tears fall. You manage to order a coffee through broken sniffles and you don't even care that the waiter probably thinks you're crazy.

You don't know how long you sit there. It could be hours. But your coffee is gone. You're about to order another when a strawberry smoothie is pushed your way.

Hongjoong slides into the seat opposite of you, taking off his jacket as he takes a sip from his own cup.

Neither of you speak, you just continue adding final touches to your drawing and Hongjoong is staring through the window next to you. You didn't even notice it started to rain.

"Mingi told me he saw you here, so I came." He says and motions to the pink smoothie in front of you, "Figured you had enough coffee so I ordered you something sweet."

You say nothing.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Hongjoong sighs quietly, eyes dancing to the rain outside again. "I just thought it would be better if you weren't alone."

Your eyes pick up at that and you focus on him. He's so small and gentle, with a heart almost too big for his own body and an insight on other people's feelings that could be nothing else but a burden.

"You were never annoying me." You start and he turns to you, "Sometimes, hanging out with you at the library would be the best part of my day, so...you were never annoying. I like spending time with you."

He nods with a small smile, you even notice a little blush on his face.

Hongjoong feels like a person you could tell anything to and he would never judge you.

"I feel in love with someone who I knew I should never expect anything from but I still did." You sniffle, dropping down the pencil. "And I don't want to talk about it but you need an explanation to what you saw today so there it is. I saw something that made me sad."

"Okay, thank you." He responds softly, eyes falling to your drawing.

You nod and say nothing more.

He clears his throat.

"Is that your new project?" He asks, motioning to your sketchbook in front of you and the drawing on the first page.

"No." You answer, pushing the sketchbook across the table and towards him. "It's just something stupid."

"It's really cute." Hongjoong smiles, staring at the sketch of the skeleton. His fingers trace over the words you've scribbled down as a title of the drawing. "Miguel The Skeleton. Are you going to turn this in somewhere?"

"What?" You scoff, "Of course not, it's horrible. I just draw stupid stuff like that sometimes."

Hongjoong seems deep in thought after he hears you, eyes glued to the paper in front of him before he looks up at you.

"Would you like to meet a professor of mine?"

The next day everything is officially over.

You walk into the cafeteria and spot San sitting at his usual spot along with Yeosang and Yunho but this time, there is a new addition to the group.

Boyoung is with them. Laughing at something Yunho said and eating her lunch, innocent and completely clueless to what's coming her way. The way San looks at her almost throws you off balance.

The way San looks at Boyoung is the way you look at him. The way your brother used to look at his girlfriend. The way Yeosang looks at-

This idiot. This fool.

San was fucking in love with her.

You walk up to their table with a bright smile at the same time San's smile fades once he catches sight of you approaching them.

"Well, isn't this just lovely?" You quip, throwing your bag down on the table and sitting right next to Yeosang.

"Oh Lord, here we go." Yeosang mutters but as always, you ignore him because all your attention is focused on the couple in front of you.

San is staring at you with hard eyes, you're not stupid and you know he's trying to tell you to keep your mouth shut with how hard he's staring at you.

But San always thought you were stupid before, so today, you'll be fucking stupid.

You turn to Boyoung who almost seems to shrink under your gaze and it causes your grin to widen.

"I don't think we met before. I'm Y/N." You hold your hand out to her and she clasps your hand in her soft one.

"Boyoung." She smiles timidly, eyes returning to her lunch and suddenly the table, which was filled with conversation before you arrived, is quiet.

"So..." You lean on the table by your elbows as you innocently look around, "what are we talking about?"

"Uh..." Yunho starts but is quickly cut off by Yeosang. The pretty Kang Yeosang who never spared you of his words before, so he doesn't this time either.

"It wasn't about you, Y/N. So why don't you leave?" He crosses his arms and looks to your side. You giggle.

"Careful, Yeosang. I can easily make it about me." You say with an easy smile as you make yourself comfortable in your seat. Yeosang pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"We were talking about how Boyoung eats actual food, actually. Unlike some girls who think salads and a cube of cheese is enough to get them through the day." He smiles at you, knowing you recognized the jab and probably expecting you to blow up.

But Yeosang should've known better today.

Because it's not him you're going to go after. Not when Son Boyoung, pretty, innocent and timid is right in front of you.

Your eyes skip to her and you meet her nervous eyes. You don't really know why she's so scared of you, you haven't done anything. Yet.

As you look at her with dissecting eyes, you wonder if Boyoung's mother cooks her anything she wants when she goes home for the weekend. You wonder if when she was a teenager, did her mom allow her to eat as much as Boyoung wanted despite knowing she can gain weight. You wonder if her mother calls her every day to ask her if she is eating well.

Unlike yours who encourages you to skip meals. Unlike yours who made you eat steamed vegetables when the rest of the family was having delicious food. Unlike yours who strips you down every Sunday and makes you stand on a measuring scale.

"Yeosang." San warns and your eyes fleet to him. He's glaring at Yeosang, jaw clenched and it causes your own anger to spike.

Because the only time Choi San stood up to defend you against his friends was when he was afraid that you would take your anger out on his new plaything.

Your eyes are sharp and your smirk widens as you tilt your head to the side, fixating on Boyoung again.

"That's a really nice sweater, Boyoung." You compliment with a wide smile, eyeing the cobalt blue sweater she has on, "Really pretty color."

Boyoung's brows rise in genuine surprise before a small, shy smile settles on her lips and her shoulders relax. "Thank you."

You know you're going to hate yourself for it, it will eat you up inside. You've played the mean girl enough times but it was always to people who have wronged you. This girl didn't fucking deserve it.

But if there was anything you learned from your own mother- it was how to be a vicious bitch.

"And you know it's a good color when it looks good no matter who wears it."

Yunho's head slightly falls as a deep breath escapes him.

Boyoung's smile fades and cheeks flush as you just keep staring at her with a, now obviously, mocking smile. She looks around the rest of the table, eyes watering as the silence ensues.

"Y/N." It's San, his jaw is locked and eyes set on you. "Don't do this."

"Do what, San?" You ask innocently, leaning across the table a bit more to look straight into his eyes. "I just gave her a compliment."

He stays silent, all of them do but you can tell Yeosang is angry as well.

"So, Boyoung," You drive your attention back to her who sits with cheeks deeply red. "You're not usually the type of girl San is into."

Your eyes asses her once more, glossing over each imperfection that you know she is already aware of. She seems like the type of girl who is insecure in her looks, despite the fact that she's pretty.

"Y/N." San warns but you ignore him. You know he doesn't want to make a scene but you're not going without one.

She will go home tonight and compare herself to you.

Turning to San, you shake your head as a small laugh escapes you. Like the two of you are sharing an inner joke. But San is glaring.

"You would hook up with just about anyone these days." You comment to San like she's not even here. San places his hands on the table to stand up but it's Yeosang that speaks.

"Alright, that's enough! You've made your point, Y/N." Yeosang's face is red as well and you wonder if he feels partly guilty for Boyoung's discomfort.

"Oh, my point?" You mockingly smile. "I haven't even started making my point."

"Y/N, leave!" San is quick to intervene but you turn to Boyoung who looks like a lamb brought to slaughter.

A wicked smile grows on your lips.

"You're not that pretty and you're not that smart either if you believe you have an actual chance with him, so the only logical option is that you're a virgin." Boyoung's blush deepens and she blinks away the tears, you chuckle. "Of course. Of course San would be into that."

"Y/N, enough."

Looking into San's eyes you see nothing but hate. It only makes you desperate to hurt her more.

"He always had a knack for ruining things." Giving Boyoung one last look, she's crying. "I advise you to find someone in your own league and stick to them. God knows you wouldn't have many options-"

"Get the fuck up." San says standing up from his own seat as he glares at you. He's angry, you can tell. And it might even scare you a little.

You stand up slowly, trying to seem unbothered as you place your bag over your shoulder. San grabs you by the wrist and drags you out of the cafeteria, every single pair of eyes stuck to you as you grit your teeth and try not to stumble after him.

When you're in the hallway, he flings you away so fast that you almost stumble into the wall. You turn to face him with a glare of your own.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" San hisses as he steps closer to you so he wouldn't have to yell.

"Is it over? Is it over between us?" You ask in a shaky voice, all pretenses falling away. San looks at you like you're actually stupid.

"Over between us?! There is nothing to be over with, Y/N, we were never anything!" He spits out, looking at you like you're gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"How can you say that?" You whisper, tears lining up and ready to fall. "We slept together for a year, San! Even if it was just sex, when were you planning on telling me!?"

"I don't owe you shit." He says lowly, getting even closer to you and making you back up into the wall.

"You do owe me that!" You exclaim loudly, pushing him by the chest away from you. "I deserved to fucking know!"

You near him now, pointing a finger at him. "We slept together for a whole fucking year. I'm not one of your one-night stands, I deserved to know that I shouldn't fucking wait around for you anymore!"

"Wait around for me?" San asks, his voice gruff.

You take a deep breath before looking up at him once again.

"I'm in love with you." You whisper and his face falls.

Before he lets out a laugh. You just stare at him, watching him laugh as the tears roll down your cheeks, staining the collar of your blouse.

"You're fucking crazy." San finally responds and you feel something in your chest hollow out.

"Don't call me that." You whisper, eyes going to the white tiles of the hallway.

"What? Crazy?" He asks mockingly, "It's what you are. You're fucking crazy."

"I said don't fucking call me that!" You yell out and even San is stunned by the volume before he opens up his arms taking a few steps away from you.

"Look around you." He motions to the hallway and the people shocked by your scream as they pass by and whisper amongst themselves. "You say not to call you crazy but look at the scene you've created in here, in there."

Your wrap your arms around yourself, leaning your back against the wall for support as your bottom lip trembles. You're almost too aware of the eyes on you as they pass by.

San steps closer to you again, getting so close that it's almost too hard to breathe.

"You're not in love with me. If you were, you wouldn't have just tried to ruin the one thing that makes me fucking happy. You're in love with the idea of me, Y/N." San whispers, "You're in love with the guy you met freshman year on that balcony after going through something enough to traumatize you and I comforted you."

"That's why I thought that you might change your mind!" You cry out to him but his eyes are dark and blank, "That's why I thought you might care because you were so swee-"

"I only said what I knew you wanted to hear and what I knew would get me laid."

You look at him in disbelief, mouth opening to talk but nothing comes out and all you feel is complete and utter devastation.

"Do you really think I gave a fuck about your crappy artwork or anything else about you?" San hisses, brows furrowed as he pulls his hand away from you when you try to grab it. Latch onto him.

Yeosang and Yunho are the ones to put up the pink tombstone and they leave shortly after. San is nowhere to be found. No one comes to your funeral.

It says; Here lies Park Y/N, The Dumbest Fucking Bitch There Ever Was.

Next to your birth date, the day that Choi San breaks you apart in the hallway of the main building on campus is engraved as the day of your passing.

"Whether you're in love with me or not, I don't give a fuck. Stay away from me, from Boyoung, from my friends. Stay out of my life because we're done."

#san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst #choi san

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homesweetgoodneighbor · 3 months

Text

BIG SCREAMING STARDEW VALLEY 1.6 SPOILER INCOMING!

omigodsomigodsomigods...

Okay, y'all wanna know what my most beloved and favorite thing about SDV was? I mean, I love the whole game even (when I bitch about the fishing) - especially the entire mood CA captured with the Fall and Winter - but there was one tiny, little insignidicant detail that will always keep this game in my top 5: the fact that when your pet cat flops on the ground it makes a little "thoomp" noise. Cats are rarely graceful when they flop on the floor to emphasize that they will in fact die/dry up and blow away if they are not given immediate affectipn/food, and it is charming as all get out CA captured that.

But, you know how CA managed to fucking surpass that?

BY LETTING US HAVE MULTIPLE PETS!

Holy shit! Y'all, I was ranting not a week ago about Coral Island having a full ass animal adoption center and only allowing us one pet, and how even even Stardew, which they emulate, had that flaw. How I was sick of farming games of all genres only allowing one pet, whereas BG3 is over there straight up giving us an owlbear, a dog, a depressed, snarky vampire who is barely house trained, a tressym's pet wizard... I mean, for fuck's sake, they are Farming Games and have you EVER known anyone living on a farm who didn't have a bunch of loved pets other than the livestock? ("Oh, that's my goose, Cuddles. He only tries to take your finger off if he likes you. He's a big softy.")

BUT, CA FIXED IT.

I would send him fucking flowers in thanks if I could.

#stardew valley 1.6 #stardew valley spoilers #sdv 1.6 #concerned ape #when I found out I squealed in octaves only dogs and dolphins could hear

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reikaryu · 1 year

Text

beach (bitch) date ♡ txt cbg

pairing — choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre — one-shot, angst

summary — who knew your stroll to the beach would be your last date together ?

iffah’s bimonthly fics ♡ february edition

warning(s) — light kissing

word count — 1.0k words

author’s note — very first fic of my “iffah’s bimonthly fics” series 😍 thank you my lovely ipah for the spotify premium !! hope everyone enjoys this !

You stood in front of your full body mirror, twisting your body here and there to check your outfit and fix the weird parts of it.

You had decided to don a yellow sundress, since you were going to the beach, after all. You paired the dress with a pastel yellow hair tie in case the wind was unusually strong later on. Your footwear was simple: a white and yellow beach sandal that you reserved specifically for beach dates with your boyfriend.

(You two went often, as both of you like the sound of the waves crashing against the coast, and the freshness of the air.)

You smiled after confirming with yourself that you were all ready. Right after that, the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of your date.

You rushed downstairs to swing open the door and grinned almost maniacally at the man standing on your doorstep. He was wearing matching clothes with you.

He mirrored the expression on your face, but you noticed something amiss with that smile you usually see. It barely reached his eyes. And his eyes — they held the tiniest bit of sadness. It left you feeling unsettled, but you brushed it off as him being tired. You couldn’t let it ruin your mood.

“Are you here to pick me up?” you teased, going back inside to pick up your phone from the little table beside your couch.

Beomgyu smiled at your question, looking down with his hands in his pockets. “Of course. I could never let my beautiful girl walk the streets alone,” he replied in the same tone. You chuckled as you walked back to him at your doorstep and hooked your arms around his neck. You pulled him closer and his hands found themselves on your waist.

You looked into his eyes as he did yours, then leaned in to plant a light kiss on his lips. It was mostly you initiating these kinds of stuff. Beomgyu was always too shy to.

Minutes later, you found yourself barefoot on the sand, your boyfriend beside you, holding your hand. He swung them back and forth slightly, enjoying the breeze.

You loved these quiet moments between the two of you. Just enjoying the sound, the scent, the beauty of nature was what you and Beomgyu loved to do together. Mind you, I said together. You wouldn’t do it if you weren’t by each other’s sides. It was a promise the both of you made. You signed a contract with him — and the consequence of breaking this promise and going against the contract would be deadly, apparently.

Walking by the coast and letting your feet get washed over by the incoming waves, you turned your head to look at your boyfriend. He hadn’t said much on your way here. It was mostly you talking about your days while you were apart and ranting about school stuff. Adding on to the look he gave you previously, everything was starting to get increasingly strange.

“Are you alright, Gyu? You seem a little off today,” you spoke gently, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb. He took a second too long to look at you, and when he did, there was grief in his eyes. Guilt. As if he had done something very wrong.

“I have something to tell you.”

Silence.

His demeanour, his expression, his words. Everything was starting to piece together and you were worried what his next words would be. Did he commit a crime? Was he being hunted down by the police? Or did he get into a fight with a gang and now he’s on the run?

Beomgyu stopped in his tracks, and you followed suit.

“Let’s break up.”

His words hit you like a thousand bullets. Your stomach lurched and your vision was starting to get blurry. You felt dizzy.

But you hadn’t processed his words just yet — they hadn’t gone through your head fully. They went through your brain like a bullet train, not letting you register the information even for just a second.

You choked on your words as you stuttered out, “S-sorry? Could yo— you say that �� ag— again?” You wanted to curl into a ball and bury yourself deep into a hole. Never had you let yourself be so vulnerable in front of Beomgyu. Especially not when he was going to say the two words you have always feared.

Your (soon-to-be ex) boyfriend didn’t bother wiping away your tears as you once thought he would. He simply stared at your shaking figure with pity all over his features. The features you came to love and adore. The features you might never see again, unless you are lucky that the gods will hear your pleas.

“Let’s break up,” he repeated more firmly, holding your hands tighter with each word. To ground you, you realised. To ensure that you won’t come running to his house the next day, claiming you had the most ludicrous dream the previous night. “I have no romantic feelings for you anymore, as I did five years ago when I asked you out at prom.”

He didn’t wait for a reaction from you. He left you on the beach, sobbing quietly, as he walked away and towards the concrete. He didn’t look back once, and you wondered — with what was left of your blurry and unresponsive brain — if he will ever think about you again. Maybe when he gets married to his new girlfriend, or when he has his first child. Or when he looks through his gallery and finds pictures of you and him. Perhaps he might even delete them the moment he got home.

Three minutes later, you crumbled and fell, knee first, onto the crunchy sand. Your knees hurt like hell, and you knew they were probably already bleeding from the impact, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Not when your high school crush had just broken up with you, stating that he had no romantic feelings for you anymore. The man you often dreamt of spending your whole life with. The man who made butterflies erupt in your stomach whenever he simply looked at you.

The twenty-first of February, 2023.

You found your heart broken into pieces and thrown into the vast sea.

reblogs are appreciated ! ♡

taglist — @i520sn @piakae

[ gen. masterlist | txt masterlist ]

#beomgyu angst #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu fanfic #txt angst #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fanfic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x yn #beomgyu x you #txt x reader #txt x yn #txt x you #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #tomorrow x together #txt #raena writes

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bagelbongos · 10 months

Note

Rant incoming. Feel free not to post: Tobin saying what all of us sonnett fans have been saying... that her world cup start was a long time coming, it was years of being there for her teammates, her not being set up to succeed and absolutely succeeding anyway, just for a heartbreaking result. It was validating to hear someone else say it.

It's also conflicting hearing people say stuff like "who knew emily sonnett was the key to unlocking this team's cohesiveness". BITCH WE DID. But thank you for finally giving her the praise she should have been getting.

i just watched that video and i have so many thoughts about the emily sonnett narrative that are definitely way too emotional for tumblr, but i basically agreed with everything tobin said, and everything you just wrote as well.

i think about how often we see players who love her come forward and talk about how she's a delight to play with, how she's integral to every team she plays for, how she gives everything to any team she's in, how they all know how unfair her career has been and there's truly nothing anyone can do about it but watch sonny put her head down and grind even harder and do everything right until a coach randomly decides this day is the day she gets her chance.

it's very cruel to watch, her be denied a bigger role over and over, and still be expected to be the first defender off the bench in every position, still expected to keep the mood light and make her teammates relax, and like we saw against sweden, basically be tasked with fixing this entire team with no previous indication that that was gonna happen.

i'm so proud of her for stepping up, and always being ready, and giving her all, she's a better person than i could ever be.

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myckicade · 11 months

Text

WARNING: Contains reworked spoilers for Season Four.

Prompt: Can you do a Coco imagine and fix it please????

A/N: Ugggh. I still wish that I could properly fix it. I do. I'm so, so sorry that I can't, loves. All I can offer is this, and a massive hug.

As a further warning, I've played with canon (clearly), in order to fit the wider universe that this story follows. Since the events of Meth Mountain never would have taken place, Oakland wasn't a bitch detail for Coco.

P.S. This is over a year old, but I finally finished the bastard!!!!

Title: Catalyst

Pairing: Coco/Reader (F, Wife)

Teaser: You don't really know the realities of being a biker's wife, a fact that is becoming painfully clear. You can prepare for injuries, for accidents and scrapes and broken bones and concussions and-... Fuck, this? No, no, there's been no preparing for this.

There’s a high-pitched chirping coming from the nightstand, and it’s everything in you not to reach across the bed and fling the source of the noise against the wall. Fucking Club. They always need Coco at the strangest of hours, out to do fuck knows what, only fuck knows where. Under normal circumstances, you would let it slide, even at two in the morning. Unfortunately, normal circumstances are on holiday.

“Coco,” you groan, burying your face futher into your pillow. It muffles your words, but you know he’ll understand you, regardless. “Your phone…” You’re practically whining, but it’s… That sound, it’s grating on your nerves, ringing in the space between your eyes in a way that makes you want to cry. Another complaint is about to meet your pillowcase, when the tone abruptly cuts out. Thank fuck.

And, yes, you’ve counted those stars too soon. Almost as quickly as it stopped, the chirping starts again.

“Coco, what the fuck?” you hiss, pushing yourself up on your arms, to look over at the other pillow… Only to find it empty.

Oh. Oh, right. Coco’s still in Oakland. Sadly, this isn’t the first time you’ve gone to reach for him in the night, only to realize… Well. This is going to do nothing to rescue your mood. Because, for all you’ve been complaining to your husband’s temporary ghost, it’s most decidedly your phone that’s interrupted your sleep. Guilt settles in around the edges of your slowly-forming sense of consciousness. Eh. You’ll apologize to him when he gets back. You’ll say you’re sorry for yelling at him when he wasn’t around to hear it. He’ll laugh, and call you adorably crazy, and that will be that.

One more day, you tell yourself. Just one more day, and he’ll be home.

You stretch your arm toward the nightstand, intent to grab hold of the offending hunk of plastic and metal. Just as your fingers touch the surface, the ringing stops again. Huh. You’re beginning to grow concerned, the more alert you become. Coco wouldn’t call you in the middle of the night, not unless it was an emergency. Letty… Letty is safe in her bed, further shortening your list of potential callers. What if it’s from back home? It can’t be good, no matter who it is. Swallowing down a wave of honest terror, you pick up your phone, and-

Ding-ding.

The display lights up, alerting you to an incoming text message. It’s Gilly. Gilly never messages you. Your heart climbs into your throat, thumb shaking as you swipe up, and tap the icon to open your messages. You don’t want to know, and you can’t wait another second to find out what’s happened-

GET HERE NOW.

Your next breath catches in your chest, as you pull yourself upright in your bed. Get where? What the fuck is-

Ding-ding. Another message. It’s an address. You copy the address, and open it into your web browser, only to freeze up again as you realize... It's an address to a hospital.

A hospital? Oh, no, no, you’re going to be sick. The nausea is creeping up, burning in fear-

Ding-ding.

Tears fill your eyes. No, you can’t look. You just can’t. But…

COCO IN SURGERY. CALL ME.

Eyes frantically scanning the screen before you, you locate the appropriate icon, and smash your thumb against it. Every part of you is shaking, warmth slipping from your eyes, a sob fighting harder and harder to break free with every passing ring.

“Come on, come on, Gilly,” you whimper. The shaking has taken over every limb, so violent your bones are beginning to ache.

Ring…

“(Y/n)?!” It’s Gilly. His voice is such a relief, that sob finally forces its way out in a harsh cough.

“Gilly,” you plead. “What the hell happened?!”

The path before you opens up slowly, accompanied by a too-loud woosh of sound, and a burst of chilled air. You hate that you have to stop, even for the two or three seconds it takes for the glass doors to part far enough that you and Letty can get through them. Side by side, that's been the way since you'd had to wake her up, not an hour prior. Hands clasped together, a lifeline for one another. With a deep breath, you step through a second set of doors, and into the hospital's emergency department.

Six gunshot wounds. Fractured right tibia. Some kind of skull fracture. Gilly hadn't been terribly clear after that. Trying to get hold of a medical professional was a fuck of a struggle the entire way up, a wash of dropped calls, hold music, and after-hours answering services. Still, thanks to what Gilly was able to tell you, you aren't walking into it completely blind. Neither is Leticia, but, feeling the girl's hand tremble in yours, and hearing her half-stifled sniffles, you can't help but wonder which would really be worse.

The check-in desk is only a few steps away, but they seem to drag on for far longer than that. There's someone ahead of you, because, yes, of course, there is. Letty doesn't say a word of it, not right away, doesn't tell anyone to hurry their ass, or get the fuck out of the way, which says enough about how fearful the both of you are, concerning this discussion. The woman behind the desk could say anything, could be forced to direct you anywhere that would shatter the hope that Gilly left you with.

He's alive, though. Those were Gilly's exact words, and that's what you keep telling yourself. That's what got you into your clothes, and your coat, out the door and to the gas station. That's what kept you on the road, and not in a ditch, too blinded by tears and shaken with nausea to keep it between the lines. You're holding onto it now, grasping it with every last shred of your sanity. Coco's alive. He's alive, and he's a fighter, and if you find out who the fuck is responsible for this, you'll-

"Fuck this," Letty grumbles under her breath, taking a single step forward. Her mouth is open, surely ready to spout some obscenity that you can't find it in you to fault her for, when someone shouts from the left.

"(Y/n)!"

You jerk your head up, legs weakening at the sight of Gilly and Bishop hurrying over from the waiting area. They're still here, you tell yourself, as Gilly pulls you and Letty into a tight hold. That has to be a good sign, right? No one is off seeking... Shit, you don't know. Revenge or balance, whatever response the M.C. would typically have in this sort of a situation.

It strikes you suddenly. You don't know what the fallout from this is going to be. You don't really know the realities of being a biker's wife, a fact that is becoming painfully clear. Bits and pieces of conversation overheard during parties, and Coco failing at whispering over the phone, and that's it. He's never let you know, and you've always been fine with that, but now... Now, you'd give your left arm to understand, at the same time that you just don't fucking care. It wouldn't change a fucking thing, either way. You can prepare for injuries, for accidents and scrapes and broken bones and concussions and-... Fuck, this? No, no, there's been no preparing for this.

"What the fuck happened?!" Letty shouts, the second she's able to pull back from Gilly's arm. She looks between both men standing before you, expectant. You can't help but do the same.

Bishop sighs. "We don't know very much-"

"Bullshit," Letty spits. Reaching out, you place your hand on her forearm. She doesn't shrug you off, but it doesn't stop her argument. "You fuckers always know shit."

"Well, in this case," Bishop replies, tone firm, but not entirely unkind, "we weren't given much to go on." He glances your way, expression somber. "We know he's still in surgery. Bullets in his back, and his right leg. Fucked up the bone."

"G-Gilly," you begin, nodding, "Gilly said it was the tibia?"

Bishop nods, and Gilly hangs his head. "Right."

"The skull fracture?" Letty demands, when Bishop doesn't continue. You glance up, and find your daughter blinking back tears. Admirably, you might add.

Gilly shrugs, miserably. "Cracked his head when he fell, maybe. He was near his bike. Mighta' landed on it." Letty reaches out to grab your hand in hers. Good timing. It's all you can do not to bury your face away from the rest of the world. "The doctors've been waitin' on you. Won't give us the full story without family present."

Yeah, that makes sense. You look between the two men apologetically. Poor bastards. They've surely been trying to get every scrap of information they can, and here you two are, grilling them for details they've been prevented from learning.

Shaking your head, you sigh, a fragile, shaky sound. "Where is he?" you ask, glancing down the hallway from which they had emerged. You want to know what waiting room to pace, what nurse's station to post up at. Taking a deep breath, you focus as best you can. This is terrifying, but not all-together unfamiliar territory. "Where were you guys waiting?"

Bishop places a hand at your back, guiding you down the hallway. Gilly swings an arm around Letty's shoulders, leaning in to murmur something you don't bother trying to hear. Now that the fear of the unknown is simmering a little lower, the numbness is beginning to creep in.

Alive.

Surgery.

Shattered.

Christ, Coco, you pray, silently, as you lower yourself into an open waiting room chair. You had better be okay.

There are more tubes and wires attached to your husband than should be possible for one human being. Your cousin hadn't looked this bad after his car accident in '09, you can't help but remember, as your eyes wander across what little of Coco's skin is visible. A bit of forearm, between medical attachments. Shoulders, neck, and chin. Forehead. There are bruises across his face, and it looks as though the doctors have reset his nose. You've seen Coco through scrapes before, from bar fights to dumping his bike while intoxicated. Even then, even with bleeding legs and a bruised tailbone, he hadn't been this beaten up.

It's everything in you not to burst into tears, all over again.

Heaven help you, that you should cry anymore. Your throat is already so dry you're going hoarse. For better or worse, there's no one around to hear your voice, anyhow. Letty wandered off to the cafeteria a while ago, intent to get you something to drink, and a snack. You didn't have the heart to fight her on it. She's every bit as anxious as you are, and she needs something to do, something she can control to keep herself from falling apart. If she can seize the opportunity to keep one of her parents going, and healthy, you won't stand in the way.

A loud tone chimes in from the machine behind you, followed by a series of pulsating beeps. Time for vitals. When the results are displayed, you can't help but glance up. No change. In this instance, it's as good as gold. He's living off of so many aids - breathing tube, I.V. solution, anesthetics - any little change could be explained by just about any detail.

You sigh, low and slow. Fuck. You knew this could happen. You've told yourself as much at least half a dozen times tonight, alone. That doesn't change the reality. And didn't it just figure? It feels like you've been married for five minutes, and everything is going to shit. It had seemed so... Ugh, so fucking perfect, much as you hate to be that doe-eyed, but that's what it's been. Fucking. Perfect.

It's just your luck, Santo Padre doesn't allow for perfect.

Looking back to the bed, to Coco's closed eyes, and his exhausted form... Well, you smirk, just a tad. "Didn't need to go getting shot, just to get a good rest, y'know," you murmur, before blowing out a breath. Levity isn't going to make you feel any better, much as you'd like to try. The nurse said to talk to him, which makes perfect sense, but... You don't have much to go on, besides nervous joking, and desperate pleas.

"Maybe I ought to take a page from Leticia's book, and break something," you continue, now talking to yourself, just as much as to your husband. "You'd be so pleased." You reach out, and slowly slide your fingers into Coco's palm. He's a little chilly, unsurprising between the loss of blood, and the air conditioning blasting down from the ceiling. You grip his fingers as tightly as you dare, and lean in. "Come on, mi rey," you whisper, barely loud enough to reach Coco's ears, even if he was awake. "I have faith in you. You keep fighting. No matter who, or what comes after you, baby, you fight." Your voice catches, as you slide your free hand into your purse. "We need you to be okay, Johnny." It might sound selfish to anyone else's ears, but you know Coco would want to hear it, to hear that he is needed, and loved, and wanted. All the things he knows, but sometimes forgets.

The things you will work even harder to keep him from forgetting.

"We all need you to. Me, and Letty..." Bringing your hand up, you prop a small slip of paper on Coco's chest, tilting it in front of his face. Your jaw trembles, and your voice cracks as tears flood your eyes. "And your son, baby." You pause to get yourself together, which doesn't amount to much. There's more guilt behind this conversation than you wish you felt, the feeling drawing a sob from your throat. "I was gonna' tell you when you got back. I swear, I was." He's waited for this for so long. You both have. "So, you've gotta' fight it, okay? Take whatever time you need, but-..." Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself. "You need to get better," you instruct, in as commanding a voice as you can manage. "I'm not raising this baby without you, you hear me?"

There's no response. You don't expect one. This isn't a sappy romance movie, or the daily soaps. Coco will wake up when he's good and ready. And you'll be here, holding his hand, and chatting about what he's sleeping through all the while. You lean down and press your lips to his fingers, thumb brushing along the back of his hand. "I love you, baby," you murmur, pressing another kiss to his skin before you sit back up. Lean back. Try to relax.

Vitals sound again.

Someone wheels a cart by, just outside the room.

You sniffle. Just once.

"Y'know, I thought I'd be bailing our Princess out of jail, by now," you admit, thoughtfully. "She really kept it together. You'd be proud as hell of her."

Letty stands in front of a cafeteria display case, filled with questionable-looking salads and tempting baked treats in plastic clamshell containers. Each one makes her stomach turn. She's not here for her, though, is she? She's here for you. She's here to make sure her mother, after six straight hours of waiting in a lousy fucking hospital chair, isn't going to drop on her, too, from something as stupid as low blood sugar. If that was to happen? Jesus Christ, she doesn't know what the fuck she'd do. End up in the psych ward, more than likely. Or break someone's worthless neck. Yeah, that sounds more like it.

She's just about to reach for a slice of what she thinks is chocolate cake, when a hand comes to rest on her arm. It startles the living shit out of her, but when she looks up, ready to gouge out a motherfucker's eye with one of the plastic-wrapped sporks within her reach, Letty finds Gilly staring down at her.

Fuck. Yeah, that tracks. She's been in here for a good little while.

"Find anything for your Mom?" he asks quietly, removing his hand from her person to tuck it back in the pocket of his kutte. Letty turns back toward the display case, staring into the middle space for a moment.

"You're gonna' get the motherfucker responsible, right?" Behind her, Gilly sighs. She's expecting a comment about her language, or about how this isn't the time to be worried about something like vengeance. A truly ugly response is on the tip of her tongue, when Gilly surprises her.

"Yeah," he promises, voice quiet, but sure. "Yeah, kid, we're gonna' get 'em."

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