#but that comes with the chance of getting poisoned (seeing angst of him)

[srjlvr]

HOW TO NOT SURVIVE HIGHSCHOOL

LYING to his friends about having a girlfriend was definitely not on his ‘how to survive highschool’ list and now, he has to convince his biggest rival that will surely laugh at his face, to fake date him.

PAIRING. rugby player+rival!sunghoon X rival-fem!reader (mentions of the rest of enha, aespa’s karina and boynextdoor taesan)

GENRE. childhood enemies to fake dating to lovers, angst, comedy, fluff and idk what more.

WARNINGS. young sunghoon’s a bitch, so is young y/n, also older sunghoon’s a bitch and so is y/n, manipulating here and there, misunderstandings, miscommunications, definitely curse words (seventh graders already know how to curse here!) , horrible humor, ik its weird but all of the mentioned idols here are the same age! (lmk if i missed something pls!)

WORD-COUNT. 10.4k+

NOTE. ok fine! bully me for not knowing how to make a pretty cover, its the story that matters though, right? anyways besties i really dunno when will be my next update so please be patient!! i miss writing and being here 24/7 honestly but its just been really hard for me.

“i need you to fake date me”

“no”

“please?”

“are you seriously begging right now?”

“yes?”

“that’s fun, get on your knees and beg more”

“are you nuts? i’ll never do that”

“fine then, pay me for that”

“how much?”

“two”

“dollars?”

“billions”

if there’s one thing sunghoon can say about himself is that he’s quite an organized person, therefore he made a list for highschool.

a list that will help him survive his last years in highschool and will help him stay sane at the same time.

he called his list “how to survive highschool”, creative, right?

he’s been following his list and so far managed to survive just perfectly.

staying in rugby team with his friends? check!

“sunghoon! catch!” he heard a voice calling him and saw a ball coming right at him, he caught the ball and ran with it, then passing the ball to riki, his friend and teammate who scored the game and ended it with a win.

“that was a good one! take a break and return in thirty minutes!” the rugby team’s coach clapped and sent the players off for break.

“hey! i got your exam grades here! come collect them!” jungwon, one of sunghoon’s friends waved the exams to show the players he got the them in his hands.

sunghoon went up to jungwon and took his own.

get high grades? check!

“i got A+ again!” he looked at the grade and excitedly smiled.

“ugh, you’re making me sick being the nerdy rugby player” jay, another friends of his rolled his eyes.

“you’re just jealous my grades are higher than your chances with your crush” sunghoon joked.

“oh you—“ “enough! no fighting on break time” heeseung cut jay in the middle of his sentence.

“let’s just get something to snack, it’s lunch time anyway” sunoo suggested and they all nodded.

“you guys ready?” riki asked before they entered the hallway.

get popular enough so students will freak out when they see you? check!

“sunghoon! i got you this chocolate snack! please accept this and enjoy it” a one random student handed him the chocolate snack.

before he could take it, jake snatched it and smiled, “i’ll take that, thank you” and left the girl and sunghoon speechless.

“dude what the fuck?” he asked his friend.

“it could be poisoned for all you care” jake shrugged but proceeded to take a bite from the snack as they kept walking.

“let’s just sit right there!” jungwon pointed at one lunch table as they entered the cafeteria.

“really? right in front of where y/n is sitting?” sunoo whispered in his ear.

“sure, let’s do that” sunghoon replied and started walking towards the table.

“um, i’ll go grab the snacks” riki said and ran to get the snacks.

“did he just-“ “oh, it’s going to be interesting” jake smirked and watched sunghoon as he walked really closer to you, who was sitting with your back towards him.

“so, what are your plans for the weekend?” your friend karina asked as she took a bite of your food.

“oh i don’t really know, probably chilling at home and—“ you were cut off middle sentence by someone bumping into you, causing you to spill some of your food on your uniform.

“what the fuck?” you turned around and saw the person behind it, “should’ve known it was you, park”

get yourself a rival so it’ll be more fun and interesting….? check!

“sorry, couldn’t see you there” he smirked.

“just go away” you rolled your eyes at him and turned to your friend who looked awkward as hell.

“sure” he started to walk but bumped into you again, causing you to spill more food on your clothes.

“oops! that happened again” he chuckled and continued to walk to the table.

“that’s it” that was your last straw.

you got up and took your water bottle, “y/n dont—“ your friend tried to stop you but it was too late already.

as you got closer to sunghoon, you poured all your water on him.

“what the—“ “sorry!! i slipped over and spilled some on you!!” you replied with a smirk and stormed off.

his friends who were watching the whole thing from afar, walked closer to now drenched sunghoon and started laughing.

“damn, that was fun. do it again!” jay cheered.

“here sunghoon i got you a towel!” a student walked up to him and handed him a towel to dry himself.

“thank you, i’ll take it” sunoo said and took the towel.

sunghoon glared at him, “what? you’re already used to being drenched by sweat, it’s the same thing, no?”

“i hate him” you rolled your eyes.

“say, what’s the deal with you and sunghoon? you never really told me and i just assumed he annoys you because he’s a nerdy rugby player,” she chuckled, “but it seems more than that”

“park sunghoon has been on my ass ever since seventh grade” you sighed.

“why? what happened on seventh grade?” she asked, leaving everything she was busy on behind and crossing her hands to focus on you and you only.

before seventh grade you and sunghoon were best friends, hell, your parents could’ve sworn that one day you’ll end up marrying each other.

you were stuck like a glue, always around each other and doing basically everything together, no one could tear you apart.

until, seventh grade happened.

you were the top student in class, you aced everything, from math to arts and received praises from all teachers. for the last few days of school, the teacher wanted you to show the whole school your arts project.

you drew your favorite view, which was your house garden, the teacher got so excited over the drawing and decided she wants you to show it to everyone else too.

a day before the last day of school, you were busy doing the last touches of your art, sunghoon was busy doing his usual, which was to annoy you.

“sunghoon stop! i need to focus” you scoffed.

sunghoon shrugged, “but i’m bored”

“go play around with others or something” you sighed.

he shook his head, “not when i can annoy you!”

he walked back and forth, even twirled around, until he became dizzy and accidentally pushed you over your drawing, making it look like a big mess over the canvas.

you let out a yelp and looked at it with teary eyes.

“i….i’m sorry!” he quickly said.

“get out!” you yelled without even looking at him.

“it can be fixed! just a few little—“ “i asked you to get out! you ruined my drawing! how will i be able to show it to everyone now?” at this point you started crying.

you didn’t show your unfinished and ruined art in front of everyone, instead it was sunghoon’s drawing that was shown to everyone.

your teacher saw the ruined art and decided to change the plans by taking sunghoon’s project and showing it to everyone.

jealousy was eating you alive. it was supposed to be you up there on stage, showing the project to everyone and getting the compliments, you deserve that after working so hard.

it was sunghoon’s fault, all of it.

before you walked away with your parents, sunghoon called you a few times. at first you ignored his callings, but your parents, unbeknown to the whole story behind it, stopped your tracks and told you to go to sunghoon.

with heavy steps you walked closer to him, “what do you want?” you coldly asked.

“i wanted to apologize” he took a deep breath.

“great, you just did”

“wait—“

“we’re good now, i forgive you” you lied. you just didn’t feel like hearing his excuses and explanations.

“wow, really?”

“yeah” no.

although you told sunghoon you forgive him, things became really awkward between the two of you.

summer vacation arrived and you did your best to ignore him, except the times where he left you no choice and just randomly showed up at your house.

eighth grade was cool between the two of you, but you still held strong feelings against him.

he tried his best to overcome the weird awkwardness between the two of you, you’re too important for him to let go. he was honestly so scared of entering highschool without you by his side.

the second half of eighth grade was the last straw between the two of you.

you started crushing over someone in your class, and started hanging out with him, slowly getting close to the guy.

sunghoon, who was carefully watching you from behind, didn’t like your new crush, he seemed like bad news to him, getting close not only to you, but to other girls as well.

your parents, who were strict that time, warned you about dating a guy at such young age, and sunghoon had to do what he had to do.

“park, what the fuck?” you came up to him and pushed him.

“what?” he asked surprised.

“why the fuck did you tell my parents about him?” you shout.

“oh,” he rolled his eyes, “so it’s about him”

“of course it’s about him! you know about my long time crush on him!”

“he’s bad news y/n” sunghoon tried to warn you.

“no, you’re bad news! i should’ve known not to forgive you at all” you scoffed and walked away.

“y/n, wait!” sunghoon called you but you were faster than the light and suddenly was nowhere to be found.

“uh oh” jay, who was there to witness everything pat his friend’s back, “you fucked up”

“yeah, thanks jay i really needed that” sunghoon rolled his eyes.

“really? going behind her back and telling her parents about some guy? you could’ve just talked with her about it” jay snapped.

“it’s not that easy”

“it sure isn’t, and so will be your attempts to talk with her”

jay was right, sunghoon tried everything to get to talk with you, followed you everywhere, sent you numerous texts and calls until you had to block his number, even showed up at your house a few times. nothing helped.

so sunghoon, being the cool teenager he is, decided to move on. he doesn’t need you anymore anyways.

nineth grade came and so did a new student that sunghoon couldn’t take his eyes off of.

slowly he tried his best to get closer to her and spending more time with her, he was so close to confess his feelings towards her.

“did you do that on purpose?” she asked, nothing but hatred in her eyes as she looked at sunghoon.

“do what…?” he asked confused.

“did you tell the whole school about my family issues?” she raised her voice.

“what? no! i would never—“

“forget it, you’re such a jerk!” she yelled and stormed out.

“wait!!” he called her and was about to run after her but his eyes caught a glimpse of a person smirking.

he clenched his jaw and moved closer to the figure, “what the fuck did you do?” he asked.

“nothing, i don’t know what you’re talking about” the person shrugged.

“don’t play dumb, y/n. i know you had something to do with it” he rolled his eyes.

“still don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged again, “maybe someone’s just taking a revenge on you, i don't know” you added and left with a smirk.

“i hate you choi y/n!” he shout. “it’s mutual park sunghoon!”

“oh now i get it! yes girl! give him the revenge he deserves to get” karina cheered and you nodded.

“but, don’t you think he ruined your chances with your crush just because he was jealous?” she asked and you glared at her, “i mean, even your parents could’ve sworn you’d end up getting married”

“even if he was jealous, he should’ve confronted me about it” you replied and she nodded.

“you’re right” she sighed, “but what if he was, i don’t know, scared?”

“are you seriously on his side now?” you asked in disbelief.

“never!” she hugged you and you giggled.

“let’s get you cleaned up, i think i have an extra uniform in my locker”

“oh no, walking in school hallways like that is like just straight up asking to be bullied”

“i won’t let anyone bully you bae, let’s go”

“by the way! all of you are invited to my brother’s wedding, no single hoes are invited though, that includes you sunghoon” heeseung chuckled,

“sweet! when is it?” jake asked.

“in a month”

“what? you cannot be serious!” sunghoon complained.

“sorry, your single ass will not be able to handle this wedding” heeseung shrugged.

“even riki has a partner before you” sunoo laughed.

“guys just realized sunghoon is really the only one single here” jungwon added which made everyone laugh and make jokes about him.

“all of you can shut up because i actually do have a girlfriend”

heeseung was obviously joking about sunghoon not being invited because he’s single, but he was not expecting to hear his friend confessing that he actually is seeing someone now.

sunghoon was also not expecting that big lie to come out of his mouth, but it was already too late.

“what?” jungwon spoke first after the silence that surrounded after his confession.

“i do have a girlfriend” no sunghoon, you can still get away with it and say you were joking.

sunghoon’s list of surviving highschool has a lot of tasks still left untouched, but this one was definitely not, and was never written, as one of his tasks on his list.

lie to your friends about having a girlfriend? definitely not on the list, stop with the lies!!!

his friends looked at him in shock. riki dropped the spoon he was about to shove into his mouth, jake choked on his water and heeseung pat his back, jay almost fainted and jungwon and sunoo froze in their place.

“what?” sunghoon asked.

they all burst into laughter, “that was a good one! i almost believed you!” riki wiped his tears that fell down because of the amount of laughter he let out.

“i’m serious!” sunghoon scoffed.

“you? a girlfriend? sunghoon, i saw your ‘how to survive highschool’ list, you had a ‘no matter what, stay single until you finish highschool!’ line!” jay chuckled.

“i can break one line its not a big deal, besides, she’s definitely worth it” sunghoon smiled.

he’s talking about no one, no one comes to his mind at the moment, but he still keeps on with his lie.

“will we be able to see her before the wedding?” heeseung asked.

“a day before maybe” sunghoon nodded.

“hey! we’re already late for practice! get up everyone now!!” jungwon checked the clock and hurried everyone up.

sunghoon knows he fucked up, real bad. he never had a normal conversation with a girl in highschool, and let’s not forget about the fact that everyone talks to him as if he has some kind of royal blood.

the only real friendship he had with a girl was with you in his childhood. and you’re the only girl who can talk back to him without feeling threatened. wait, that’s it!

“i need you to fake date me”

curse him and his very awful impulse control.

as soon as sunghoon finished his practice he went to the library, figured he’d find you there and apparently he was right.

the book you were reading was long forgotten as you tried to process what you just heard.

“no” you replied shortly.

“please?” he sounded so desperate.

“are you seriously begging right now?”

“yes?”

“that’s fun, get on your knees and beg more” you smirked.

“are you nuts? i’ll never do that” he frowned and rolled his eyes.

“fine then, pay me for that”

“how much?”

“two”

“dollars?”

“billions”

“hell no”

“kiss my ass goodbye then” you shrugged.

“you’re unbelievable”

“said the one who barged into the library and started begging me to date him”

“yeah, it’ll help you become popular” he slightly nodded.

“right, you’re already popular and have multiple fans or whatever, why don’t you just ask them?”

“it’ll just make things worse!”

“fuck off sunghoon, i’m not going to fake date you and help you because of some stupid lie you told” you rolled your eyes and got back to reading the book.

he tried begging you once more but at this point you just decided to ignore him until he left.

“what the heck was that?” you asked yourself and shook your head.

“hey y/n!” you heard a voice calling you and you immediately recognized this voice.

it belonged to taesan, your classmate and also your longtime crush. taesan’s quite popular amongst the students, and surprising so, he’s not a rugby player.

you’ve made a pros and cons lists about your few old crushes and also made one about your current crush, taesan.

pros? he’s funny, smart, creative, caring, friendly, kind and would prefer to spend his free time in the library with you.

cons?

“hey sunghoon dude! didn’t see you there, what are you doing here?”

he’s sunghoon’s best friend. that is a BIG no no for you.

“just came to check something, studying again?” sunghoon smirked as he looked at you.

did he seriously wait for taesan to come so he could spend more time annoying you?

“yeah, it’s my studying with y/n time, we’ve been doing that for a while” taesan smiled widely and winked at you.

without even noticing your cheeks started to heat up. but your blushing cheeks were already noticed by someone who’s definitely going to use that against you.

“right, i’m not going to interrupt you two, enjoy!” sunghoon said as he gave you one last smirk before turning around and leaving.

“isn’t he so weird sometimes? i can definitely understand why you hate his guts” taesan chuckled and you nodded.

“how are you today anyway? didn’t see you that much” he smiled.

“so far so good, you?”

“great now that i’m here with you”

you tried your best to stop your racing heart beats after hearing what he said and making eye contact with him.

you just giggled and opened a book right away, “let’s just start with this book!”

after some time that felt like half an hour to you (but was actually two hours or so) it was time to go back home.

“let me walk you home” taesan suggested.

“it’s okay, i live closeby, if so i’m the one who needs to walk you home” you giggled.

“i insist”

you didn’t reply to him and just walked out of the library as he followed you.

“oh hey y/n, taesan!” you stopped your trace when you noticed sunghoon standing right outside the library.

“sunghoon? why are you still here?” taesan asked, emphasizing the last question.

“just walked by after dropping yeji at her friend’s house, also i promised y/n i’ll walk her home, right y/n?”

you looked at him confused but he gave you the ‘you better say yes now’ look, and besides, you didn’t want to bother taesan with the long walk.

“right, i completely forgot, i’m really sorry taesan, next time i’ll be the one to walk you home!” you said and he nodded.

“don’t worry about it!” he said, quite confused since he never saw the both of you getting along and actually walking home together, even though you live right across each other.

sunghoon took your hand and dragged you away from taesan.

“what the fuck park?”

“walking him home? seriously? your lazy ass could never” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“fuck off sunghoon, why are you really here?”

“i’ve got a deal to offer” he stopped you from walking and you glared at him.

“no”

“you haven’t heard it yet”

“i don’t care, it’s a no from me, i can never trust you” you scoffed and started walking away.

“i’ll help you to get close to taesan!” he said and you froze for a second, “i don’t need your help”

“oh but you do” he smirked as he figured he got your weakness point, “you’ve been acting awfully trying to hide your little crush on him”

“what do you need?” you asked, half convinced.

“a month” he said straightforwardly.

“are you—“

“a month of fake dating and then i’ll let you tell everyone you broke up with me and broke my heart and whatever you want” he licked his lips, “i’ll help you get closer to taesan too”

“i need a day to think about it” you sighed.

“fine” he said, full of hopes and prayers.

as you arrived you bid your goodbyes for the first time in years, and it never felt so weird as much as it just did.

as you entered the house you took a quick shower and ate, right after that you ran to get your phone a called karina.

“i think you should do it, a month wouldn’t be so bad, plus, he did say he’ll help you get close to taesan” she said.

“can i really trust him though? he ruined my chances with my crush once already” you groaned.

“you’re right, don’t trust that guy”

“but he’s also the only one that could get me close to taesan”

“right again, trust him fully and agree to that deal”

“you’re not helping me at all!!” you complained.

“i don’t know bae, i guess that if i was you i would’ve probably go with what my heart says”

“cliché much, aren’t we?”

“i didn’t know what to say!”

“i guess i just…”

“really? are you for real? is it really happening right now? i need you to sign this contract right now before you regret” sunghoon’s eyes widened and his lips formed into a little smile.

you rolled your eyes, “don’t make me regret this”

“okay okay, i won’t, let’s just find a spot where we could talk” he said and took your hand.

he dragged you to an empty classroom and closed the door.

“so,” he spoke, “we need rules”

“no shit sherlock”

“can you stop being an actual bitch for a second and hear me out?” he spat and you rolled your eyes.

“i’ll be walking you home, mornings and afternoons no matter what” he said.

“does that really matter? i mean, no one sees us” you sighed.

“that’s what you think, my friends are stalkers it’s actually scary”

“whatever”

“we’ll be posting pictures together which means we’re going to have to go on date—“

“im gonna stop you right there” you cut him off middle sentence, “you can just use pictures from pinterest”

“what?”

“there’s no chance im going on dates with you” you argued.

“you agreed to this fake dating, you need to face the consequences”

you groaned and he continued, “kissing is not prohibited, you can kiss me whenever you want, if it’s necessary”

you felt like throwing up hearing this sentence.

“who’s gonna buy that? just yesterday you were bumping into me and acting like a total bitch in front of everyone” you rolled your eyes.

“it’s as simple as that, we’ll say we’ve been forced by our parents to come as a couple to an event and we had a deep conversation about our past and after a while of reuniting i asked you out and we decided to hide our relationship until now” he shrugged.

“wow,” you clapped, “you thought about it the whole day yesterday didn’t you?”

“no…” he scratched his nape and looked everywhere but at you.

“sure” you nodded, completely not believing what he just said.

“anyways it’s all settled, we’ll be posting a picture today after school” he said and was about to leave the classroom.

“one more thing,” he said, “pda is a must, therefore you’d have to give me your hand and we’d have to go hand in hand to classroom”

“just say you want to hold my hand, i’ll take that into consideration, but i’m not interested” you asked annoyed.

“you wish someone would actually want to hold your hand out of his own will” he rolled his eyes.

“you haven’t touched a single soul in your entire life”

“just shut up” he sighed.

“never as long as your annoying ass is right besides me”

he just groaned and took your hand.

“starting now” he nodded, “it’ll make everyone confuse until we reveal our relationship”

“yuck, even calling it a relationship is making me want to throw up”

“hope your stupid brain knows it’s mutual but whatever, just don’t act like that when we’re together”

walking through the hallway while everyone is whispering and glancing at you was never a problem to sunghoon, it was a big problem for you though.

you tried letting go of sunghoon’s hand to stop the whispering and glancing but he held you tighter.

“it’s okay, calm down i’m here with you” he whispered.

as much as you’d like to deny it, it made you feel somewhat safe.

however, it’s the park sunghoon we’re talking about. your worst enemy.

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you whispered back.

“and we’re here, outside your classroom” he changed the subject and stopped right outside of your class while everyone else kept looking at the two of you.

“i’ll wait for you after class” he winked and left a peck on your forehead before leaving to his classroom.

you so wished you could wipe it off at the moment. or at least, you think.

“what the fuck did i just saw?” karina walked up to you as soon as sunghoon left.

“we have a lot to catch on” you sighed and dragged her inside the classroom.

“and you agreed?!?”

“ms. karina and ms. y/n, would you like to share to your class what were you talking about?” the teacher knocked on the desk.

“no, we’re sorry” you said quietly and the teacher went back to teaching.

“you told me to follow what my heart says!” you whispered-yelled to her.

“i didn’t think it’d say to agree to it!!” she replied back.

“well i did, and now i’m stuck with the worst person ever”

“maybe he’s not that bad”

“get out karina”

“can’t, we’re in the middle of a class” she shrugged and you groaned.

“so you’re now dating your worst ever enemy, the infamous woman in this highschool, choi y/n?!!”

“yes jake, i don’t know why it’s so surprising to you” sunghoon rolled his eyes as he took a bite from his lunch.

“surprising only to him? sunghoon, just a few days ago you called her an attention seeker bitch, now you’re telling us you’ve been dating for a few months already?” jungwon asked, concerned.

“well we did great at hiding didn’t we? our parents told us we should sign to drama classes”

“nothing here makes sense” jay shook his head.

lying to his friends about his whole relationship life? was definitely not and never will be on his list but he couldn’t care less about the list anymore.

“life doesn’t make sense, jay” sunghoon sighed, “it just happened, now i can’t stop thinking about her, it’s like i want to spend every minute with her”

“ew, not in front of my salad” riki gagged.

“although it makes no sense to me, i’m happy for you sunghoon, so proud of you for finally getting along with someone” sunoo pat his back.

“hey what do you mean by that?”

“from childhood friends to childhood enemies to lovers, that sounds like an actual pretty good story genre” heeseung crossed his arms and nodded.

“can’t believe you haven’t told me anything about it!” taesan, who for the first time in a while joined their lunch table, lightly pushed sunghoon, completely in disbelief.

“you’re right, i should’ve told you about it before” sunghoon nodded.

sunghoon’s a bad friend. a very, very bad one.

a few weeks ago he had a conversation with who he considers as his best friend, but how could he face him now after this conversation?

“hey hoon! i wanted to ask you something” taesan bit his lips, a bit anxious to start the conversation.

“yeah dude, what’s up?” he asked.

“i know you and y/n are….not on good terms, but i actually started spending some time with her and i’m really interested in her” his eyes lit up from excitement just by talking about you, “wanted to ask you if that’s okay that, you know….”

“yeah for sure! even though i hate this person with all my heart, i can’t decided on your life, can’t see how and why you’re interested in her but whatever, it’s yours” sunghoon shrugged.

“thanks sunghoon, i’m really glad i got you as my friend” taesan hugged sunghoon tightly.

sunghoon definitely knew about taesan’s little crush about you, and the day he told you that taesan has a little crush, he actually meant you.

back to today, sunghoon feels like his whole life was tearing apart.

how could he betray his friend like that? after everything taesan did to him. from helping him with studies to even paying for the things he couldn’t.

taesan shook his head and smiled weakly, “whatever makes you happy sunghoon” he said.

sunghoon was expecting him to shout at him and get mad about it, but was actually surprised he took it well somehow.

‘i’m doing this for you too’ sunghoon thought, after all, he has the perfect plan for taesan and y/n.

“thanks taesan” sunghoon hugged him tightly and pat his back as a sign for asking for forgiveness.

“that’s not gonna work, too many people are looking at us” you complained as soon as you got out of your last class for the day and noticed sunghoon who was already waiting for you outside.

“with popularity comes the consequences” he shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“enjoy lovebirds!” jay shouted as he walked past you.

“let’s go” he extended his hand out for you to hold it but you shook your head.

“i promised taesan i’ll review his essay he wrote”

“you can do it tomorrow—“ “can’t, plus you said you’ll help me with taesan, we can go on your stupid fake date later”

sunghoon rolled his eyes and sighed, “fine, i’ll walk you to the library”

when he noticed you smiling he couldn’t help but feel that weird feeling of excitement, but then he realized you were not smiling because of him.

“hey y/n!” taesan smiled warmly at you when he noticed you, “and sunghoon” he added quietly.

“hey taesan” you called with a wider smile on your face and sunghoon nodded.

“i’ll pick you up later then” he said and walked away.

“so…you and sunghoon huh?” taesan asked.

“ugh, don’t even— i felt everyone’s eyes on me throughout the whole day” you groaned.

“you don’t seem that happy with that”

“because i’m not! i’m so tired of it already, i should’ve known not to agree to that deal”

“what deal?”

“uhhhh” you freaked out, how stupid can you actually be??

“nothing!! no deal” you giggled nervously.

“if you say so” he shrugged and opened his laptop to show you his essay.

“why dont you just tell him?” karina asked you over the phone.

“and what will i say if he asks why i agreed to the deal?”

“simple, ‘i did it because i want sunghoon to help me date you’, like that”

“sure, it’s that easy” you rolled your eyes.

“how was your first day dating sunghoon anyway?”

“he took me to get some ice cream, he actually remembers my favorite taste”

“yeah i saw on your instagram story, if i didn’t happen to know that this is all fake i’d actually believe it” she said teasingly.

“can’t believe i’m saying this but” you sighed, “he’s not that bad to hang out with”

you expected a reply from her right away but all you heard was silence.

“karina?”

“i can’t believe this conversation is not being recorded” she finally spoke.

“forget that i said tha—“ “no no no! please continue”

“well….he was actually super nice and even paid for my ice cream, even found a nice spot and brought me his jacket since it was starting to get cold” you said calmly.

“y/n”

“hm?”

“you might end up falling in love with him instead of taesan” she said and you scoffed.

“are you forgetting that he literally ruined my life?”

“i said what i said!” she argued.

eventually you ended the call and drifted off to dreamland.

“so….”

a few days passed since you revealed your (fake) relationship and today was the first day you sat with seven other people at your lunch table.

“you and sunghoo—“

“stop it”

“sunghoon and yo—“

“shut it!”

sunghoon’s friends tried to ease up the awkward situation but were shut off by you and sunghoon.

“we just think it’s weird that’s all!! it’ll pass sooner or later” jay chuckled.

“so y/n, how’s life?” riki asked.

“seriously?” sunghoon raised his brow.

“babe, it’s okay,” you almost gagged after using the nickname on sunghoon, “life’s fun, you never know which surprises awaits for you”

you raised sunghoon’s hand and showed everyone your locked hands.

“ew, don’t need to use those nicknames and act all cheesy here” jake teased.

“you wanted to meet my girlfriend didn’t you? here she is” sunghoon spoke.

that’s when it got to you. sunghoon lied to his friends about having a girlfriend! why did he choose you though? out of hundreds of students.

“you’re right” heeseung nodded, “if you already know each other so well, why don’t we ask you questions about sunghoon and you answer?”

“baby you don’t have to—“ “it’s okay, hit me with the questions”

“sunghoon’s favorite color?”

“white”

“his favorite season”

“used to be winter, it’s autumn now”

“favorite ice cream flavor?”

“um” you froze for a second.

“ah ha! got you”

“coffee”

“aw man, you suck!” riki said in disappointment after you answered all the questions correctly.

sunghoon in the meantime was busy staring at you and daydreaming.

when did you become so pretty? with your cute eyes that lit up every time you answered a question correctly, and your lips that formed into a smile when you noticed you won over his friend’s questions.

how come you remember those details about him as well?

he had tons of questions, but curse his inability to communicate well, he’ll probably leave those questions unanswered.

the only thing he does know, is that he’s scared to fall in love with you.

“babe? are you ready to go? let me walk you to the field now, you have practice”

you called him and he zoned out, for a second there he really forgot this is all fake.

the way you’d look at him and call him babe, it made him feel so weird, he had never felt like that before.

“yeah” he slightly nodded and got up.

when both of you arrived at the field he stopped in front of you and frowned.

“what if i’ll just take you on a date instead of practice?” he asked.

“sunghoon what the fuck? we’re all alone here nobody sees you, you don’t need to act all lovey dovey” you snapped back.

“right” he said, almost sounding too disappointed.

“i’ll go back now to the library, taesan’s waiting” you smiled and started walking away.

“pull yourself together sunghoon” he sighed and entered the field.

“hey” you called taesan as you saw him already sitting at your usual library desk.

“hey y/n!” he called you back excitedly.

“missed being with you after school, i went on too many dates with sunghoon lately” you sighed.

“yeah” he whispered, you could hear a bit of disappointment in his voice but he shrugged it off quickly, “hey how about instead of studying we’ll go hang out, i got pretty tired of reading today”

“sure! of course, i would love to!!” you excitedly replied.

taesan got up and held your hand, “let’s go watch some movies”

practice ended and sunghoon went straight to the library without even showering first. he couldn’t wait telling you how his friends couldn’t stop talking about you and praising your (again, fake) relationship.

he looked at the clock and it was usually around the time you and taesan would finish and get out, only this time you were nowhere to be found.

sunghoon started to freak out, what if something bad happened to you? did taesan leave you alone? what if he did something bad to you?

no, no. sunghoon was just freaking out.

he tried calling you, but your phone was turned off, you weren’t available.

he ran all the way to your home and asked your mother if she happened to see you, but got a negative answer.

“why, is she missing?” your mother asked and tried to stay calm.

“no of course not!” sunghoon awkwardly said, “we’re just playing hide and seek that’s all, i was wondering if she walked all the way here to hide in her room”

seriously sunghoon? that’s the best thing you got?

“alright, have fun!” it seemed like it made your mom believe him!

“y/n where the fuck are you?” he whispered to himself.

he decided to call taesan, “if he’s not answering i swea—“

“hey dude, what’s up?” his friend on the other line answered calmly.

“do you happen to know where y/n is?” he straightforwardly asked.

“yeah, she’s right next to me, didn’t she tell you we’re going to watch some movies?” taesan’s voice stayed calm but on the inside he was smirking.

taesan 1, sunghoon 0.

“she probably forgot or something” sunghoon giggled, “when do you plan on coming back?”

“don’t know, but don’t worry dude, i’ll make sure she gets home safely”

“yeah, okay” sunghoon said and ended the call.

“who was that?” you asked.

“your boyfriend, didn’t you tell him we’re here?”

“oh no, i forgot about it”

“yeah he was worried sick”

“i think we should head back now” you let out a sigh.

“okay, sure” he nodded and both of you got up.

you don’t know why you said it instead of staying the whole night just watching random movies with your longtime crush.

what the hell did this fake dating with sunghoon do to you?

taesan walked you until it was already safe for you to walk alone, you argued with him that it’s fine and your house was a minute away, he tried insisting but you didn’t budge.

both of you knew why you wanted to walk over to your house alone.

sunghoon 1, taesan 1.

you really tried using you muscle memory and walk to your door with your eyes closed so you won’t have to meet with—

“well who do we have here”

“i really didn’t want to see you here now” you sighed and opened your eyes.

“i was worried sick! why didn’t you just send me a text or whatever?” he spit out and you never really realized how irritating his voice is until now.

“what are you? my mom? why do i have to tell you my whereabouts?” you snapped.

“we’re dating, of course—“ “hell no we’re not, this whole thing is fake and you know it, i dont owe you shit, park”

for the first time sunghoon was stunned and speechless because of you. he did not know what to say or even process what the hell just happened. and why the fuck was he so annoyed by you going to the movies with taesan?

“if you dont have anything to say just go” you sighed and just like that he left.

you finally got inside your room and laid on your bed, thinking about your last events and how stupid it was of you to go home early because of that fucking rat who was ‘worried’ over you.

your phone buzzed and when you looked at the caller ID you smiled.

“just checking that you arrived safely”

“i’m not a five years old kid taesan,” you chuckled and got up to sit on the edge of your bed, “besides, it was a minute walk from where you left me”

“alright, was just checking if you were still alive” he giggled.

“hey taesan”

“hm?”

“let’s hang out more, i had real fun today”

“all i was just asking is for you to text me if there’s a change of plans! i was really worried because i knew i had to pick you up but you were nowhere to be seen” that is how your morning started, for the past few days it because a routine for you to have a morning and after school walk with sunghoon, and each morning you’d have a little fight.

this time, even though you hate to admit it, he’s right.

“you’re right, i should’ve told you beforehand, i just got super excited to go out with taesan so i forgot about it, besides you’re supposed to be happy for me, i’m finally getting closer to my crush” you huffed.

“thank you, and yeah, i’m super happy” he rolled his eyes and you nodded.

“another thing, heeseung’s brother is having a wedding in less than a month and we have to go there together, as a couple” he said, “after the wedding we’ll plan the break up and will part our ways”

“sounds like a plan to me” you shrugged.

“no matter what happens, please just show up to his brother’s wedding, i think heeseung already favors you so much, he always did but i always warned him not to get too close to you”

“obviously you did” you rolled your eyes, “but i will do it, for him and for his happiness”

“thank you” he said sincerely.

“wow, didnt know you could be genuine”

“just shut up and continue to walk”

two weeks passed and as much as you hate to admit it, dating sunghoon park isn’t something that bad.

you went to all kinds of ‘dates’ together, that one amusement park date was your favorite.

“no no no no! don’t go too high, y/n hold my hand tight!” he yelled on one of the roller coasters you forced him to get on, “i think i’m gonna throw up oh no, here it comes! i hate it here”

while he was busy yelling, you were busy laughing your ass off at him. he was cute, you admit.

it reminded you of that time you went to an amusement park together when you were kids, he remained the same, nothing changed.

as you got tired of the amusement park, he took you to a restaurant and both of you sat one in front of the other.

“i like it here, this place is designed so beautifully” you said.

“not as beautiful as you” he mumbled.

“hm?” you asked and he shook his head, “nothing”

“you know, it wasn’t so bad today, i really had fun” he started speaking, “reminded me of our childhood”

“yeah, i thought about that too” you nodded.

“i kinda miss it” i kinda miss you, he wanted to say, but he felt like it’d be too much.

sunghoon that day realized his strong feelings for you never left, and probably never will. your past antics were long forgotten and all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, and he have always had.

“i kinda miss it too” you replied and it was like an unspoken tension between the two of you.

none of you would talk after that and just walked home in silence, but it was a comforting one.

“girl, he’s super like, into you, and you’re so like, into him too” karina said after you told her about the amusement park date.

“am not! i’ve been actually going out with taesan a lot, i really really like him” you smiled.

“whatever you say girl!”

“i actually am going to hang out with taesan today, i’ll update you on everything, bye bae” you smiled and ended the call to get ready for your hangout with taesan.

an hour later he sent you a text that he’s already waiting and you got out of your house right away.

“you look, really pretty” taesan was being so stunned by your beauty that he forgot how to talk.

“thank you” you smiled, “so, where are we going?”

“a new arcade just opened and i know how much you love arcades so i just thought of testing it out”

“oh my god you really do know me so well!!” you took out your phone to text sunghoon about your whereabouts.

you became more responsible and it suddenly didn’t bother you as much to text him about it, it almost became a habit of you.

‘off to the new arcade that opened up with taesan, don’t you worry about me’ you texted him and closed your phone.

as you arrived your eyes roamed around the big arcade and suddenly you looked like a five years old child who just got their first ever vanilla ice cream.

“what are we waiting for? let’s just go!!” taesan cheered and you clapped.

after hours and hours of playing you both went to sit down by the nearest park there.

“it was so fun today, we have to do it again!” you grinned and taesan nodded.

it suddenly became so quiet and you noticed taesan was staring at you for too long.

“are you okay?”

“i know about you and sunghoon,” he spoke, “about your fake dating thing”

you were too stunned to speak.

“i heard you arguing on the same day we went to the movies, i wanted to check on you if you arrived safely but i noticed you and sunghoon talking and i couldn’t help but eavesdrop” he shrugged.

“oh” was all you could let out.

“i was actually glad to find out that this whole thing with you and sunghoon was fake”

“what do you mea—“ “i like you y/n, a lot” he cut you middle sentence and you felt so weird hearing his confession.

“oh! there you are!” before you could even respond to taesan you heard a voice calling the both of you.

you turned around and saw the one and only, park sunghoon. what was he doing here?

a few days ago taesan asked to meet up with sunghoon. he confessed to him about knowing your fake relationship and told sunghoon he was going to confess to you.

“i like y/n, a lot, you already know that” he said.

“what’s your plan?” sunghoon asked.

“asking her out after going to that new arcade” he exposed his plan, and sunghoon’s cue to stop the confession was a simple text from you about your whereabouts.

sunghoon for the second time chose to be a shitty and egoistic ass friend, and prevent his so called ‘best friend’ from confessing to you.

but of course sunghoon wouldn’t tell you all of that.

“me and y/n were planning to go on a date today! i guess she forgot” sunghoon smirked.

“cut it sunghoon, i know you’re not really dating” taesan clenched his jaw.

“doesn’t matter, i still made us a reservation for this new restaurant” sunghoon rolled his eyes and dragged you away.

you were too shocked by the whole scene that only when you arrived back to your home you realized what happened.

“did you just—” you sighed, “ruined my fucking chance with taesan?” you felt your blood starting to boil.

“what do you mean?” he asked confused.

“taesan just fucking confessed and you just fucking showed up and dragged me away, what the fuck were you thinking?” you shout.

“y/n i—“

“you what, sunghoon? want to ruin my life once again? just like you did with my painting from seventh grade and my crush from eighth grade?” you snapped.

“you seriously still hold that against me? we were in seventh grade for god’s sake!”

“and it ruined my life ever since then! did you become your family’s disappointment? because i did, oh! and funny enough, not only that seventh grade made them disappointed in me, but also my stupid crush on eighth grade that you decided to snitch on!” you looked at him in disbelief.

“what about my crush from nineth grade then, huh? not only you lied to her and told her i spread the rumors about her, you made me look like the bad guy and the other students refused to talk to me for months! you basically made everyone back away from me!”

“and rightfully so” you rolled your eyes.

“y/n, look” sunghoon ran his hands through his hair and sighed,

“save it park, i don’t want to hear from you ever again, i had a blast ignoring you for the last few years and i’ll continue having a blast if it’ll continue that way” you lied through your teeth, “we’ll only talk when necessary and cut ties after heeseung’s brother’s wedding”

“y/n” sunghoon called you again but you already walked away and entered your house.

sunghoon knows he fucked up, and he realized there were so many miscommunications between the two of you over the past few years and he didn’t know how to fix it.

meanwhile you, the minute you stepped inside your room and closed the door, you started crying.

you didn’t know how to feel with yourself. you were glad that sunghoon cut you off before you could answer taesan, because surprisingly so, you were about to reject him.

taesan is a nice guy, he really is, and he really was your longtime crush, until your old crush entered your life again.

you realized you gained back your feelings the moment sunghoon opened his mouth to genuinely talk with you, in fact, those feelings never really left.

you found yourself so focused on the way that his dimples would always show while smiling and talking to you, or the way his fangs would show up with every smile he gives you.

but you couldn’t help but let your blood boil after his whole ‘i’m not going to let y/n have another chance with someone’ show, it made you think about your past and you hated it.

the next few weeks felt normal to everyone but you, sunghoon and taesan.

you and sunghoon acted as if nothing happened between the two of you when someone you know happened to be around.

when you two were alone? hell, you won’t even shoot a glance at him.

and as for you and taesan, you told him it’d be better if the both of you would take a short break for a while, just for you to adjust everything.

sunghoon refused to let go of you so easily once again, he tried everything, calling, texting, even calling your parents to ask if you were home and maybe they can tell you to pick your constantly ringing phone up.

it all felt like a deja vu now, but not the good one. you were getting distant again and it scared him that the same thing will happen yet again.

“thank you for coming” sunghoon welcomed the person into his house.

“why are you so stressed? oh no don’t tell me you got someone pregnant”

“jay, i sometimes wonder if your last braincells are just off to go travel or something” sunghoon groaned.

“well, you seem so tense, what is it?”

sunghoon decided to tell jay everything from A to Z, they’ve been best friends for long and he feels like he can trust him wholeheartedly, plus he had to get some help from someone.

“i knew it the moment you told me both of you are dating! it felt so unreal”

“thanks a lot jay, it really helps”

“well, i think im getting a little deja vu for eighth grade”

“exactly! i don’t want this to happen again! i know i fucked up but i….” sunghoon sighed, “i’m willing to do everything as long as i won’t lose her”

“okay first of all, ew dude that’s so cringy” jay said in disgust, “second, i think you just need to give her some time, i’m sure that if you still haven’t heard about her and taesan dating, she might as well was about to reject him”

“then why would she get so angry at me? it doesn’t make sense”

“you took a whole ass opportunity from her to try and sort her things out, of course she’d be pissed”

“right”

“try to talk with karina maybe, she might help you out on this one” jay pat his friend’s shoulder, “besides, the wedding is in a few days and you told me you made her promise you to show up no matter what, it’s not like she can run away from you for long”

“i hate that you’re so right” sunghoon groaned and jay shrugged, “i’m just saying whatever comes to my mind, whenever it comes to my mind”

“what do you want, park?”

“wow you really sound like y/n now” sunghoon sighed as he saw karina looking at him uninterested, “i guess she already told you what happened”

“yes, she did” she also told me she’s scared because she actually has feelings for you, she wanted to say. but its not her place to say it anyway.

“how….is she doing?” he asked quietly.

“why do you care?”

“oh no please don’t make it harder than it already is” he mumbled under his breath.

“because, i need to talk with her, a serious conversation”

“oh no don’t tell me you caught feelings”

“how did you— nevermind, please tell her that i’ll be waiting for her, and i really want to sort things out between us” he sounded so desperate it scared karina.

“i’ll see what i can do” karina nodded and he bit his lips and smiled.

“thank you, thank you, thank you, thank—“ “i get it you can go now!”

he nodded as he got his bag and went for another practice.

“hey bae how are you doing today?” karina hugged you as she sat on your bed.

ever since your last encounter with sunghoon you started missing a few classes here and there, you didn’t really feel like going to school and seeing sunghoon anyway. that’s why karina came to check up on you.

“same as usual, i don’t know”

“i know what you’re thinking” she said and you looked at her creeped out.

“relax, it’s nothing scary” she laughed, “i just know you’re thinking about him”

“am not!” you argued.

“yeah, and i’m queen elizabeth”

you can’t stop thinking about sunghoon, she wasn’t lying really.

you realized how messed up your whole story was. you need answers from him, you need the apology you’ve been waiting to hear, the confirmation that he misses you as much as you miss him. you need to hold him tight and never let him go again.

“fine, you got me” you sighed.

you wish you’d know how to sort things out without going crazy.

“he came up to me today,” she said and your eyes sparkled, “he asked me about you, he’s been so desperate to talk with you, he looked and sounded really sincere”

“i don’t know karina, i’m not sure if i’m ready to face him without getting angry again, it’s just that whenever i see him my blood just starts to boil when i think about our past”

“that’s your problem, you refuse to let go of your past” she put her hand on your shoulder, “just let it go, and get the answers and confirmation you need from him”

you decided not to show up at school ever since your conversation with karina.

sunghoon tried checking up on you multiple times but each time you’d lie to your mother who opened the door for him and told her to tell him that you’re sick. both of you knew it was wrong.

sunghoon was going crazy, his friends couldn’t stop asking about you and about your whereabouts and he could only lie and say that you’ve got really sick and that he’s been taking care of you.

he asked karina about you again and again, until she got tired and told him everything, about your wellbeing and your health.

he was so worried for you it surprised her, he was really acting as if he’s your real boyfriend.

karina would lie if she said she didn’t confuse him as your boyfriend for a while.

“here” sunghoon handed karina a notebook.

“what’s that?” she asked.

“i took some notes on this class, give it to y/n please”

“sunghoon, i’m not some kind of—“

“i know i know you’re not a delivery guy but, i don’t know how to give it to her in any other way” he sighed.

oh the poor guy, she really pities him.

wedding day came and sunghoon was going back and forth in his room.

will you be coming? should he pick you up? you promised him! if not for him then for heeseung!

at the end, jay called him and told him it was becoming too late and he should just come without you.

sunghoon left his house with a heavy heart and empty hands, that were supposed to hold you tightly and close to him.

“hey hoon! you came!!” heeseung welcomed his friend with a hug and a big smile over his face.

“where’s y/n?” he asked.

“oh y/n, she really wanted to come but—“ “but what?” he was cut off by someone else.

when he looked over his shoulder he found you, walking over to them and putting your hands together on sunghoon’s right shoulder.

“i was getting ready and it took me too long to come, so i just told sunghoon to go away so he won’t be late because of me” you smiled and planted a kiss on sunghoon’s cheek.

“i’m so glad you came!!” heeseung smiled widely and hugged you tightly.

sunghoon was still shocked seeing you there, first you walked in, looking gorgeous than ever in the outfit you put on yourself, then you went and put your hands over his shoulder and lastly, you kiss his cheek.

he froze and zoned out for a few seconds until you waved your hands in front of him.

“let’s get in! it’s about to start” you were about to walk in but sunghoon was quick enough to pull you back to him.

he was holding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“first, you walk in here, looking prettier than any other person here, no offense to the bride, then you smile and kiss my cheeks. i don’t understand, what’s happening?” he asked, his face is closer than ever to yours.

“i don’t want to open it up now—“ “if not now then when?”

you sighed and closed your eyes.

“i only have one question”

“shoot”

“did you really regret what you did back then?”

“of course i did, i still do” he reached your hand to hold it, “look at where it got us”

“why did you ruin my chance with my crush back then?”

“you said only one question”

“okay so maybe now i have more”

“i did it,” sunghoon stayed quiet for a second, is this the right time to confess? “because i really liked you, and i still do” fuck it.

“when we started to fake dating i realized those feelings never left, everytime i look at you i just cant help it but smile, i think it’s way beyond just ‘like you’, i love you y/n” he let go of his hold on your waist and held both of your hands in his.

you stopped breathing for a second as you tried to process what you just heard.

“park sunghoon” you whispered and he hummed.

“i’m here baby”

“i hate you” you said and sunghoon could swear his heart dropped.

“i hate you for making me hate you so much to the point it ruined our friendship for so long” you continued, “you could’ve confessed your feelings and we could’ve been the best highschool couple by now”

sunghoon furrowed his eyebrows, he got so confused by your words.

“if you still didn’t get it, i happen to love you too, you dumbass” you laughed.

without giving you a warning he pulled you into a kiss with a big grin on his face.

it was a desperate kiss, as if he was waiting to do this for so long. both of you didn’t want to part away but you did eventually because of the lack of oxygen.

“i can’t believe we fucked this up because of this stupid painting in seventh grade” that was the first thing he said afterwards.

“you fucked this up and it’s not just a stupid painting!!” you argued and he laughed as he hugged you tightly.

“i’m joking, i’m really sorry for that, and for the crush thing in eighth grade too” he grinned, “but he was just not good for you, you had me the whole time and still wanted him”

you kissed him again and smiled.

“i was too blind i guess”

“can you two cut it off lovebirds? the wedding is about to start” both of you turned your heads and saw annoyed jay standing in front of you.

“sorry! coming” both of you said at the same time.

as you sat one next to each other, sunghoon interlocked your fingers together.

“hey” he whispered and you hummed.

“hearing ‘i love you’ from you really warmed my heart” he smiled, “just letting you know”

“oh really?” you asked and he nodded.

“i love you” you kissed his cheek.

“i’ll keep saying this until you’ll get tired of it”

“which is basically never”

jay groaned and turned to look at the both of you “can you please just stop being so lovey dovey oh my god”

“you were exactly like that on your first days with your girlfriend stop being such an attention seeker” jake rolled his eyes and jay hit him.

“shhhh!! why don’t we just pay attention to heeseung that’s crying right there?”

“just took a picture! will definitely use it to blackmail him!”

“poor little thing only wanted to get emotional in his brother’s wedding”

“soon to be us at sunghoon’s and y/n’s wedding”

and they lived happily ever after! i mean, as much as you can when you have those six people as your friends and karina’s nonstop questions about future kids.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v @s00buwu @hoonheepretty @jjeoni-7 @dimplewonie (bold means cannot be tagged)

[roosterforme]

Stateside | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley made a mistake last summer when he left for his deployment without ever asking you out, and then he thought about you a lot when he was gone. He was stateside again for less than a day when the other guys coerced him to help with a fundraiser at the Hard Deck. A friendly wager with the squad might not be the only thing he wins by the end of the night.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, swears

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger Written for Pick Your Poison

Bradley had barely been stateside for twenty four hours when he woke up in his bed at noon to an array of texts arriving all at once. Five months on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with nothing much going for him left him surprisingly exhausted. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his friends, he just needed a full day to himself to readjust. 

He groaned and rolled over after glancing at his phone and seeing the words Hard Deck in a message from Jake. He closed his eyes again after tossing his phone aside, but about ten seconds later, he cracked them open again. If there was one thing he had consistently thought about over the course of those five months, it was you. Your bright smile, your perfect laugh, your navy blue tee shirts that said The Hard Deck across the front.

When he reached for his phone and checked the message from Jake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Maybe this could be an excuse to see you again sooner rather than later.

Hangman: Hey, we need you to come to the Hard Deck tonight. It's the annual charity event, and Bob can't make it. We're short a bartender. And don't try to bitch out of this, Phoenix told me you're home.

Bradley covered his face with his hand and thought long and hard about this. The real bartenders would be there to help which meant there was a chance you'd be one of them. If he volunteered for this, then maybe he'd find himself in close quarters with you for a few hours instead of the other Naval officers he'd been stuck with for months on end. Just the idea of accidentally bumping into you while pouring a beer had him texting Jake back.

Yeah, I'll be there.

Even though he was still pretty tired later in the afternoon, Bradley took a shower and then spent some extra time on his hair before dressing in his lucky shirt. That five month deployment was the reason he didn't ask you out during the summer, and now he was nervous to see you again. He had good intel from Penny that you'd been single the last time he saw you in August, but what if you had a boyfriend now? Or worse, what if you didn't even acknowledge him when you saw him?

He groaned as he looked in the bathroom mirror. Hours, possibly even days... that's how much time he'd had you on his mind while he was away. And for what? A crush on a girl who was probably too young for him? A cute bartender at the Navy hangout who definitely got asked out nightly? Shit. He was a lost cause. 

And now he was going to be late if he didn't leave right away. He grabbed his keys, and headed out to his Bronco which he had missed dearly. So if nothing else, he'd get to cruise around later after the event. But on the ride to the bar, all he could imagine was how you'd look in the passenger seat, smiling at him at every stoplight and singing along to the radio. 

"Fuck," he grunted as he parked next to Jake's truck before heading inside. He let his heart fill with hope as he strolled in to find Penny, Jake, Javy and Reuben behind the bar with two bartenders. But neither of them were you.

"Rooster!" Reuben cheered, and soon he was being clapped on the back and high fived by the guys he hadn't seen in months. It was nice, but he couldn't help but think that his smile would have been more genuine if you were here.

Jake smirked. "So glad you left your perch and joined us."

Bradley laughed as he gave Penny a hug. "Come on, man, I literally just got home."

Penny smiled up at him. "Thanks for filling in. It'll be great." Bradley really wanted to ask her about you, but then Penny patted him on the cheek before turning to reach under the bar top. "This will be a breeze for you guys," she said, handing matching shirts to the four of them. "Just a basic bar menu tonight. No super fancy cocktails. Just beer, wine, some pre-made sangria, and a few different kinds of shots."

Bradley started to unbutton his lucky shirt before pulling the new one on in its place. He smoothed his hand along the front of the blue shirt that said THE HARD DECK FIGHTS CANCER, and he noticed the two bartenders glancing at him. They were both cute but decidedly not what he had been hoping for tonight. 

"Hey," he asked them with a nod. They smiled in response, so he decided to just go ahead and ask them about you.

"She quit a few weeks ago," the first one told him. "After she graduated from law school."

"She moved, too," said the second one. "Left San Diego."

Shit. He was too late after all, nodding in response to them as he pressed his lips together in a firm line. He'd never been any good at this kind of thing, which was why he always fell into casual relationships. What should he have done? Asked you out, gone on a handful of dates and then tried to persuade you to wait five months for him? Just for him to get deployed over and over again? That wouldn't have been fair to you.

But he didn't feel like it was fair to him either, because right now he was having a hard time even remembering exactly how pretty you were and the precise tone of your laughter. Probably for the best. At least he only needed to do this event for a few hours before he could leave and go for a long drive. He swallowed down his disappointment and turned toward the guys who were in the middle of conversation. 

"How about a side wager?" Javy asked, tossing a bottle of vodka up into the air and catching it over and over again. "You know, for the charity?"

"What did you have in mind?" Bradley asked as Penny went to peek outside. "Because I doubt Penny will let us strip for charity again after last year. The two of you scuffed up the bar top," Bradley added, gesturing at Jake as well.

They both started laughing like idiots before Jake said, "Nah, let's give Penny a break this year and just tally up our tips at the end of the night. Whoever donates the least amount of tip money to the charity is the loser."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Javy said as he ate the orange slices and cherries that were meant to garnish the drinks. "What's the punishment for losing?"

Reuben smirked and said, "Loser has to report to the tarmac on Monday in his underwear. Instant push ups from Mav."

"Deal," Jake said.

"Absolutely," Javy agreed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Bradley, and he slowly said, "Okay." If he strolled out of the locker room in just his underwear and boots on his first day back from a long deployment when he was supposed to sit down with the admirals and Maverick and have a debrief, he'd probably earn a greater punishment than just a few push ups. But it was for the charity, so he'd do it.

But he soon learned he'd made a mistake after Penny called out, "Let's get started," and propped the doors open. The first person through the door was Reuben's wife, followed by Javy's fiancee and Jake's girlfriend. And all of her sorority sisters. 

"Shit," Bradley grunted. "Did you make me come here just so I would lose?"

Javy was handing out pint glasses that they could use as tip cups as he smirked, and Bradley was wondering if there was any way he could actually stuff his discreetly with cash from his own wallet.

"You'll be just fine," Jake drawled as the jukebox came blaring to life. But even the music was mocking him as Slow Ride started to play, and Bradley had people in front of him expecting him to make them drinks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jake's girlfriend open her purse and start stuffing Jake's tip cup full. "I feel like that's considered cheating," Bradley told her, and she rolled her eyes and smirked before tucking five dollars into his cup as well.

"Don't tip Bradshaw, Sweets," Jake complained. "We made him come here as a buffer!"

"I knew it was a setup!" Bradley groaned as he listened to someone ask him for some wine and some beer. That was easy enough. He knew how to do that. Or at least he thought he did, but then one of the bartenders who had volunteered for the night told him he poured too much wine into the glass.

Then a woman asked him for a green tea shot, and he stared at her blankly. He leaned closer to Javy and asked, "What the hell is in a green tea shot?" 

"I don't know," he replied as he poured two pints at the same time. "But you better figure it out, because your tip cup is still practically empty."

"Shit." He was scrambling to flag down the young bartenders again when he froze. He only caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but he knew it was you simply by the way you moved and the color of your hair. And then you sat down in the only empty stool left at the bar and smiled at him, your voice drawing his eyes up to your perfect face. 

"Rooster. You're back."

The little thoughts and fantasies he'd indulged in while deployed had nothing on the real thing, and he knew he was blushing as you smiled and waited for him to respond. But it had been months since he'd been this close to you, and now he was really beating himself up for not trying to make you his sooner. Because if you were his, he could do all the things he wanted to do right now. Like kiss you.

"Rooster," you repeated with hesitation in your eyes, your voice softer, nearly drowned out by the jukebox. 

"They said you quit," he blurted out as he leaned on the bartop, curious as to why you were here tonight. "And that you moved."

Your eyes went a little wider as you nodded, your smile still soft. "I did. You asked about me?"

"Can you make me a green tea shot or not?"

Bradley begrudgingly switched his focus to the woman next to you and sighed. He was about to tell her he didn't even know what that was, or that maybe she should fuck off so he could talk to you, but then you reached out and ran your fingers along the back of his hand. 

Your touch was brief but intentional, and all of the irritation seemed to ease out of his body as his gaze snapped back to yours. "Yeah," you told the other woman as your finger grazed his knuckle one more time. "He can make you a green tea shot."

"I don't even know what's in it," he told you, with a helpless smile, trying to fight the urge to reach for your hand. 

You kind of shrugged as you said, "I do. I'll talk you through it."

Bradley's smile grew which left you giggling as he said, "I'm kind of helpless back here. Nothing like you."

"Well, you can learn from the best," you told him, reaching out to squeeze his wrist before pointing to the many liquor bottles behind him. "Irish whiskey and peach schnapps," you told him, leaning on the bar now, so close that he just couldn't bring himself to turn away from you. 

"Okay," he said, memorizing the exact color of your eyes. "Thanks for doing this."

You bit your lip and smiled up at him, and when Bradley moved just slightly closer, he thought he heard you whimper. Your eyes were full of emotion that reflected his own as you said, "Focus, Rooster. Irish whiskey and peach schnapps."

He nodded once and then finally moved away from you as he scanned the bottles and grabbed the two you told him. "Good," you said, pointing to the mini fridge and saying, "now get the sweet and sour mix. It's in a pink jug. Yeah, you got it. Now you need a half ounce of each."

Bradley listened to you explain how to use the shaker while he gave you another helpless look. "I'm just a simple beer or bourbon drinker," he said as he strained the drink that his customer had been waiting several minutes for into a shot glass.

You laughed and said, "I know you are, and it's kind of endearing that you don't know what you're doing. Now top it off with a splash of Sprite." 

Bradley grabbed the soda gun, pressed the little green button and then looked up at you again. "This is endearing?" he asked, finally sliding the shot to the annoyed woman who unenthusiastically put a dollar in his tip cup and turned away.

"Very," you promised him. "And now I want you to make me a kamikaze shot."

He gave you a bland look, but his heart was pounding. "Are you joking right now?"

Bradley was hyper focused on your lips as you said, "Not at all. You can handle it. It's vodka, triple sec and lime juice. I prefer Finlandia. Impress me, and I'll leave you a nice big tip for the charity."

Then he groaned. He had forgotten about the wager and the other patrons looking for drinks and just all of it. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'll probably still end up in my underwear at work on Monday morning." 

When he pushed away from the bar again, your eyes dipped down to his jeans before snapping back up. "Underwear?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he reached for the type of vodka you liked best. You told him how much to use, and he dumped it in a shaker. "The guys coerced me into volunteering tonight. I literally just got home from deployment, but here I am... their scapegoat," he said, arms held out at his sides. "They threw out a side bet based on tip money, and next thing I know, all of their wives and girlfriends show up with a bunch of cash."

While he shook your kamikaze shot, he watched you turn first to your right and then to your left, eyeing up the overflowing tip cups in front of Reuben, Javy and Jake. Your lips parted, and you gaped at Bradley, but your eyes looked a little devious now. "You know, all of this makes a lot of sense since the guys made me come tonight."

Bradley carefully poured out your shot and asked, "What do you mean they made you come?" He realized his voice sounded annoyed, but how did they all have your phone number anyway? He'd been standing here thinking about asking you for it, but they were apparently already texting you. 

You accepted the shot and took a small sip to taste it. "They kept messaging me earlier today, saying I absolutely needed to be here tonight. They said it was important I made it to the charity event." Then you tipped your head back, and Bradley was treated to the soft looking expanse of your neck as you swallowed down the rest of the shot he made. When you were done, you set the glass down and licked your lips as you dug some money out of your pocket. "That was delicious."

While you loaded his cup with all the cash in your pocket, Bradley tried to ask you where you lived now. If the guys were bugging you earlier today, you couldn't be that far. But before he could get a word out, you pushed yourself up so you were kneeling on the bar right in front of him, and he looked up at you as you grinned down at him. 

"Don't worry, Rooster," you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. "I got you." Then Bradley was reaching for your hips. He didn't fucking care if the place was packed, he was ready to haul you off to the back hallway and ask you if he could kiss your pretty lips. You beamed at him as his hands met your body, but you just cupped your fingers around your mouth and shouted over the music, "Come get your drinks from Rooster! He knows how to make everything! But kamikazes are his specialty! And he's hot!"

His eyes went wide as you slipped out of his grasp and back onto your stool while an influx of mostly women queued up in front of him. "What did you do?" he asked, trying to mentally process an order for a cosmopolitan while stumbling over you calling him hot.

"I'm helping you not embarrass yourself at work. Keep the vodka out. Grab the Cointreau and a martini glass. We're about to show the guys what's up."

Bradley struggled through drink after drink as quickly as he could, but you never gave up on him. Occasionally you'd slide things out of his way or point out where he could find something he needed, and at some point you grabbed a second pint glass for his overflowing tip money. And all the while, he stole as many glances at you as he could while he worked. 

When Penny eventually walked behind him, patted him on the shoulder and said there was less than an hour left of the event, she also shared a smile with you. But there was no hope. The other guys were already working on their third tip cups each. "I don't think I can make up the deficit," he groaned, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his brow with it. 

"Oh, that's a great idea," you mused, leaning across the bar and pulling his shirt up higher. "Take it off."

He stared at you as you tugged on the fabric. "Take it off?"

You nodded, the moevent exaggerated as you said, "Absolutely. Take your shirt off." As he looked around awkwardly before pulling his shirt over his head, you cupped your hands around your mouth once again and said, "He has six pack abs!"

Now the guys were glaring at him. "So do I!" Reuben complained.

"Don't you dare take your shirt off!" his wife told him, pointing at him in warning. 

Bradley knew his cheeks were flushed, and all he really wanted to do was talk to you and hopefully kiss you. And he really wanted to do all of that with his shirt on, because he felt a bit like a stripper now as you reached for a third tip cup. The cash was filling it up quickly, and he smirked as he thought about Reuben, Jake or Javy in their underwear instead of him. And it was all for a charity after all. 

"Make him use the shaker!" you urged a woman who looked like she was in her seventies and holding a crisp fifty dollar bill. "Make him flex."

Bradley groaned your name which sent you into a fit of laughter, your second empty shot glass still in front of you. "This isn't right," he complained half heartedly as he shook the older woman's Mai Tai with flexed abs and biceps. 

"It is so right," you told him, and he appreciated that you were scoping out the other guys' tip cups instead of looking at him right now. "Keep going. It's going to be so close." And then that fifty ended up in Bradley's cup when he handed over the cocktail, and you said, "Or maybe not!"

"Last call for the fundraiser!" Penny shouted over the crowd, and Bradley almost sighed in relief when the last few people ordered beers and a glass of wine. And then it was all over, and he had a huge amount of cash in front of him along with you. But he didn't care about the tips as much as he did getting to finally talk to you. The fundraiser was technically over, and you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you.

When he took a breath to suggest you and he go for a walk, he felt a hand on his bare back. It was one of the young bartenders who was helping out, and she said, "I can count up your tips for you," with a smile.

"Nope," you said, reaching for his cups yourself and shooting her a glare. "I'll do his. You go help Coyote." You didn't move again until her hand slipped off of his back and she walked away, and then you looked at Bradley and asked, "What are you going to do for me if you win?"

He watched as you quickly sorted the bills into efficient piles as he pulled his shirt back on and leaned against the bar. It had quieted down significantly, and now Penny was taking a few drink orders while everyone else seemed to move to the tables. He felt like he had a moment of privacy with you as he said, "I guess that depends. Apparently you moved away, Sweetheart."

"I did," you confirmed with a smirk as you counted up his twenties. 

"But you came back tonight."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you moved to the pile of tens. "I'm not too far away. I took a full time job and moved to Del Mar. The guys told me I needed to be here tonight for a special surprise. They said something I had been missing was returning. So I came down."

Bradley's fingers flexed on the edge of the bartop. "They did?"

You looked a little vulnerable as you stacked the bills in one pile and said, "Eight hundred and seventy one dollars." 

He nodded once and pushed the money aside without really looking at it. "You'd been missing something, Sweetheart?" he pressed gently, heart pounding in his chest. 

You bit your lip as your eyes drifted closed when he rubbed his thumb across your cheek. "I guess I must have asked the guys one time too many if they knew when you'd be back from your deployment."

"Oh," he rasped as you looked at him again. "You missed me?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to ask you out, but then you were just gone. And they told me you were deployed, and I thought I really missed my chance. And I didn't even know if you were single or not, so I-"

Bradley had heard enough, so he kissed you. Just a soft press of his lips to yours, but you practically crawled onto the bar to get closer to him. And it was better than he spent the last five months imagining it might be. He could taste the vodka and lime on your tongue as it met his. Your fingers gently combed through his hair again, and he moaned, "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Your laughter was soft and sweet as your nose brushed against his, and then he jerked back a few inches as Reuben shouted. "Yo, Rooster! There's time for that later, man! How much tip money did you make?"

"Eight hundred and seventy one," you replied as your fingers trailed down his scarred cheek to rub his mustache before you pecked him on the lips. The three guys groaned in unison, and Bradley watched your face light up in a beautiful smile. 

"This is not why we told you that you had to come tonight!" Jake whined, pointing at you and pouting. "You were supposed to distract him, not help him win! He was just supposed to turn into a bumbling mess and admit he has feelings for you!"

You turned away from Jake, and you asked Bradley, "So, do you have feelings for me?"

He huffed out a laugh before he hopped up to sit on the bar, swung his long legs over to the other side and hopped down again. You jumped from your stool and into his arms when he said, "I thought about you the whole time I was away, Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you out in the summer, but I didn't think it was right to hope you'd wait almost half a year for me to be stateside. For us to be together again."

"Bradley," you moaned. His hands found your hips just like earlier, and this time he pulled you snug against him while your fingers teased through his hair. "If a guy is worth waiting for, then I'd wait forever."

He kissed you again, tasting and nipping the lips that he'd dreamed about. Inhaling all of your sweetness that his mind didn't do justice to when he'd been away. Feeling your smile against his lips for the first time.

"Let me ask you again," you said, pausing between kisses. "Since I clearly helped you win the bet, what are you going to do for me?"

"Anything you want," he said immediately as you started to push him toward the door with a grin. 

"How about we go for a long drive? And we can talk about how the next time you're deployed, your girlfriend will be waiting patiently for you to return?"

Bradley scooped you up, sending you into a fit of laughter as he carried you directly to his Bronco.

------------------------

Bradley was exhausted on Monday to the point where the travel mug of coffee you sent him with did nothing to keep him from yawning out on the tarmac at 8:00. But every yawn ended with him smiling as he thought about how perfect the weekend had been. In the very early hours of Sunday morning, you'd agreed to be his girlfriend. And now he was waiting for the cherry on top of it all.

He didn't have to wait long as he stood between Reuben and Javy, the three of them looking nearly identical in their matching flight suits and boots, standing at attention in front of Maverick. Then Jake came strolling out, and Bradley instantly started laughing. 

Maverick turned, took one look at Hangman in his boxer shorts and combat boots and said, "I don't even want to know what's going on here, I just want five hundred push ups."

Jake's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his face as everyone else tried their best to hold in their laughter. Bradley took his phone out as discreetly as he could and snapped a picture of Jake panicking on the tarmac before he dropped down onto the ground and started on his punishment. 

"Everyone else to your jets," Mav barked, and Bradley didn't stick around to hear him say it again. Instead he texted you the photo of Jake along with a short message.

Couldn't have pulled it off without your help, Sweetheart.

------------------------

The way I would die of this man just casually started calling me his Sweetheart. I love that he swept the guys to win the bet! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[patches-and-her-selfships]

bro

[starshipsofstarlord]

surrogate comfort

summary. daryl comes to your home, finding peace between your legs before you relieve his homeward bound struggles

warnings. smut (just a little fem!reader receiving oral), angst, mentions and descriptions of abuse, commitment, young!daryl

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

An undeniable sensation pooled in the apex below your abdomen, causing your eyelids to flutter slowly open from your slumber. Your brows drew firmly together as your mouth gaped wildly open, releasing silent sounds of pleasured expression. But you were forced by the consuming reality in your brain to push the face that rested against your thighs, and the heavenly lips that had already landscaped the area of your cunt in prior situations.

Daryl hadn’t fallen asleep beside you, he had sullenly returned to his poisonous putridity of his home the eve before, dreading his father’s exploitive rage. As much as you wanted to continue receiving the fantastic oral that he was perfectly tainting your body with, you were commended by your saint lifestyle to shuffle away, rejecting his efforts of keeping his face attached to your most intimate area.

“D.” You addressed him by the initial, reaching beside you to pull at the dangling string of your bedside lamp so that the bulb would create an ambience that would aid your eyesight, rather than squinting in his direction through the consuming darkness. Daryl melted his face in the tousled sheets that rested raggedly beside your legs, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

He just wanted to see you, and get lost in one of his all time hobbies so that he wouldn’t need to bring acknowledgment to the repetitive reason as to why he had snuck in your home with the key that you had gifted him in the dead of night. “Daryl… look at me honey.” With concern filled empathy, you combed through his brunette locks with your fingers, squeezing your thighs together so that he wouldn’t be able to visualise his sacred escape for the moment.

This was important, far more important than any sexual activity. It took him a couple of minutes to finally build up the strength to comply with your soft demand; you weren’t forcing him, he was well aware of that fact, however he resented skulking away from your embracing and delicate nurturing, and thus he drew his face upwards, his blue and bruised eyes connecting with your orbs that unfortunately did not hold shock.

His father was sadistically cruel, he never let up on a chance to unleash his pent up frustrations and anger out on his sons, it was why Merle had joined the military - to escape the man that had raised them without any aspect of love. It didn’t matter that you were half nude due to his skilful appearance, you shuffled down the bed towards him, crossing your legs as you brushed your fingertips across his shoulder that was clothed in a shirt made of tired fabric, and he restrained a wince.

“Oh honey.” You cooed, seeing a horizon of purples and blues and deepening greys that harshened his features. “You can stay here, for as long as you need. I’d hate for you to keep going back there, so…” You braced yourself to say the words aloud, aware that Daryl was a young man whom was easily shaken. “Why don’t you move in?” You would never hurt him, emotionally or physically, no matter what situation that you found yourselves in.

Your blood boiled like there was a stove interlinking your veins to your arteries as you thought of any man bringing such abuse upon their child, but especially horrid old William and his treatment of Daryl. The bruised son’s lips conveyed his emotions in a wobbling manner, as he allowed his well constructed walls to lower, and water glazed in his eyes. He held you, and sobbed, and sobbed, until he was all out of frustrated tears, and you knew then, he would be using that silver key every day.

[toji-sweetheart]

tags: fem reader + oc! daughter that you share with Katsuki + reader and Katsuki are 25+ + angst and some feelings that need to be talked about + there will be more to come...

part one | part two

Well before eight in the morning, Sukia was already in your bed and under the covers to shake you awake. Her little arms having enough power to get you out of your slumber. "Let's go see Daddy!" She squealed with delight and slithered from under the blankets.

Your eyes struggled to open to watch her flit about the room holding her magazine, the glossy cover still untouched. It was the only thing she took really great care of and if you dared to touch it she'd cry.

"Mommy! Please!" She begged sitting on the edge of the bed tugging the blankets off giving you no choice but to wake up and get out of bed shivering when the cold air hit your exposed skin, the heater must've went out during the night leaving the whole place chilly.

Sukia clapped her little hands together and watched as you peeled yourself from the bed with a groan, the mattress was springy not helping your sleepless nights. "Get your teeth brushed honey."

She was all to glad to agree and ran to the bathroom, the whole room in the entire place. While she got ready you did the same and dressed in something decent before helping her finish, placing the colors of Katsuki's hero suit in her hair via little bows.

Once you both were ready to go with the magazine tucked under her arm you held her hand and walked outside feeling like it was hard to breath, the thick air from the heatwave that hit the city is awful.

Plus seeing your ex-boyfriend after six years with the kid you never told him about made a lump form in your throat. "Do you think Daddy will be happy to see us?" Sukia asked, the innocent question made the wound you tried to patch that much wider and the guilt didn't help.

"He's going to be shocked I think at first but he will welcome you with open arms, you're a lot like him." You replied struggling to keep up with her tugging but her smile and laugh propelled you forward.

Morning rush on the sidewalk always proved to be a headache, trying to weave your way through the crowds was tiring until Katsuki's agency stood in front of you, gleaming from the thousands of windows that let the sun in filling each room with it.

You didn't get a chance to look more at it before Sukia was tugging you along and through the front doors. "Red Riot!" She screeched catching the attention of everyone in the front lobby and making you wish the floor would swallow you whole because Eijiro saw you both.

His eyes shifted from the little girl who looked so much like his best friend then to you, his ex. "Well, do I have the cutest fan here or what?" Eijiro asked with a grin as he came over to you both.

He crouched down in front of her answering the flurry of questions that fly from your daughter's mouth as he glanced at you. "We're here to see my Daddy! Do you know where he is?" She asked, wanting to meet him already.

Her patience was running thin.

The red-haired hero chuckled, noticing the way she frowned like her dad. He stood up and guided you both to the elevators in a thick silence unsure what to say.

"I'll lead you to him."

What you hadn't expected was for Katsuki to be waiting behind the doors that opened. His eyes honed in on you first, then down to Sukia.

Your eyes all but popped out of your skull watching as your daughter wrapped herself around Katsuki's leg with fat tears crying his name causing him to scowl at first but then he saw her face clear cut.

It was his own staring back at him when he was her age.

Instantly, you stepped inside and scooped Sukia up tucking her in your arms trying to ignore her tantrum. "This is why you needed to speak to me? About your kid?" He balked, his tone accusatory.

An insult hung from your tongue, sharp and the point dipped in poison to hurt but instead, you squared your shoulders and turned to Eijiro who stood on the sidelines watching the scene unfold in case he needed to step in between the both of you for whatever reason.

Katsuki grappled with the truth staring back at him, her eyes glassy and red. She clung to your neck tighter as you moved over to the red-haired hero. "Go with Uncle Ei, he's going to get you a snack." You assured your daughter and handed her over to him.

"She's never been out of my sight unless I was at work, please keep her in yours no matter what." You murmured to him and kissed Sukia's head watching as she left with Eijiro giggling as he told a joke.

After making sure no one else witnessed the whole ordeal, Katsuki led you to his office to keep the conversation private.

With the door shut trapping the hostile air, charged with unsaid questions and insults, you leaned against the wall staring at Katsuki. "That's your daughter you asshat." You hissed crossing your arms.

He sighed and sank into his chair rubbing a hand over his face and chewed on it all but it seemed stuck in his throat. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Katsuki demanded unable to sit still.

You watched as he paced back and forth in front of his desk, the ceiling-to-floor windows letting the sun spill in bathing Katsuki in a golden glow that defined his muscles that he worked hard for.

"Because you told me that night to never get a hold of you no matter what, you pretty told me if I was bleeding out to lose your number so I didn't tell you, I've taken great care of our daughter believe or not."

Katsuki growled in an attempt to let go of the anger that was rapidly building in his chest. "I didn't want her to hear this because we can't get along long enough to have a conversation. She saw your new photoshoot and trust me I've tried to keep her away from you."

He stopped in his tracks trying to keep control of his old self but your words only brought him back to that night, all it took was ten minutes and hurtful words to be exchanged to lose the best thing that happened to him all because of one simple mistake.

"That's my kid too...you can't just keep her from me!" He shot back.

Pushing away from the wall you walked over to him standing in front of him, your hands on your hips. "You told me to never ever reach out again no matter what so I heeded your advice." You replied coolly.

A harsh laugh ripped free from his throat as he ran his fingers through his hair when you noticed the ring on his finger, a golden band. Nausea rolled through your stomach as you stumbled back.

"Because you uploaded a picture of us having sex! That could've ruined my career but you wanted that because you were too scared!"

His words were a blow each time they landed on your heart and tears stung your eyes as you struggled to keep your feelings contained. "I-I told you it was a mistake and we were so drunk...I apologized and tried to make up for what I did because I know I messed up but you just love to punish me for it and everything else." You cried softly.

Katsuki was convinced that you were scared he'd lose his life working as a Hero and what happened when he was in UA, your worst nightmare came true. You've both known each other since elementary school but you didn't want to become a Hero so you never attended where he did but you kept in touch often.

The air seemed to thin making it hard to breathe as you gripped your purse. "This was a mistake coming here, I'm going to tell Sukia that you're not her father, it was nothing but a huge mistake." You whispered moving toward the door but Katsuki stopped you.

His hand on your elbow made you jerk back as you ignored his gaze. "No, I want to get to know her...she's my daughter too and I want to get to know her, and there is no way she could pass for anyone else but me unless you were sleeping with another blonde hero."

"There you go again with those damn comments. If you want to get to know her you can come to my apartment tomorrow, I'll let you see her today but I'll be right here then we can take it from there." You told him knowing that Sukia wanted to know him just as well.

His eyes searched your face before you yanked the door open to scurry down the hallway to the breakroom where Sukia was in the middle of a few Heroes, including Katsuki's friends and the sidekicks.

"Mommy!" Her loud voice echoed off the walls as she hurried over.

You scooped her up and kissed her nose with a smile. "Thank you everyone for keeping an eye on her, she's going to spend time with her dad then we'll be gone." With that you both waved and went back to Katsuki's office where he waited for Sukia.

An hour passed by slowly as she bombarded him with questions while showing him the magazine she saw with him on it. "I've always wanted to meet my hero!" She gushed hugging his neck tightly.

"Okay, baby. We got to go to the store then home, maybe we can stop off at the park or something before. It's bath night." The last bit was for Katsuki who seemed to struggle with wanting to let go of her.

Sukia pouted and shook her head. "Can I go home with daddy?"

Her question felt like a knife that cut straight to your heart but you knew she was excited, however, you still couldn't stomach that. "Maybe sometime soon, but for now you're coming home with me."

Katsuki stood and patted her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, your mom said I can come over. I'll bring breakfast for you two, sound good?"

She nodded with a sad smile and hugged his legs before joining you.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[yaksha-lover]

There was a time in which Malleus had come to loathe his own name. Whether said in apprehension or in praise, it always sounded wrong when others spoke it. As they uttered the awful sound, they seemed to barely refrain from making a face, as though the words tasted of ash in their mouths.

It was difficult not to take such things personally. To watch them spread when he came, whispers of fear on their tongues, as though he were pestilence itself.

Could you not sense the danger, as they did?

A month ago, he may have thought you were the only one who saw his gentle nature. The one who saw the ‘true’ him.

Not the awful creature, but your friend.

Things have a way of changing, he supposes. How fast a breeze can blow away any sense of familiarity, stripping the air of comfort and leaving only a lingering melancholy.

You used to call him Tsunotaro. It was almost hopeful, if only for a moment; if he was not Malleus Draconia, then he could be anything and everything he wished. The sweetness with which you called him was completely unintentional on your part, yet it did not stop his disobedient heart from skipping a beat.

And yet, he knew it would all come tumbling to an ungraceful end. This was the way of things; once you discovered his true designation, there would be no more chances for him to pretend that he was not who he was, whatever that meant.

Malleus never knew which part of him kept the others away. Was it his name? His appearance? His status? Or maybe, he’d think (late at night when the moon was the only one else awake), he was everything that was wrong with him. Maybe it wasn’t being a powerful prince, maybe there was something inside of him, a poison rooted deep that everyone could see.

A month ago, he would’ve dismissed the thought. Now, as he stands outside the gates of Ramshackle, he is not so sure.

You’d said his name once, before everything. As nice as it had been to finally have a friend to nickname him, hearing you say his true name was something different.

When others spoke it, they grimaced. When you spoke it, you beamed. As though he was something worth beaming about, not something twisted to avoid at all costs.

They were the same words, the same vowels and consonants, but coming from you, his name transformed from something shameful, something he dreaded, into something…wonderful. He hoped you would say it for him again, maybe speak his name all day for him to listen. He couldn’t get enough.

You say his name again now, but it’s different. There’s a weight to your voice, a strain which was never there before. Things have changed, and it’s his own fault.

All he ever wanted was to make things right - to let everyone be happy. Instead, he’s only proven the whispers right.

He stares into your fearful eyes, his own reflection gazing back.

He doesn’t see your friend anymore. He sees the monster they all call him.

-

Post-overblot malleyuu angst to hurt the soul <3

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Six: Telephone Call

Chapter Six: Telephone Call

warnings: smoking, angst, phone sex, male and female masturbation pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: after the party, you and Kento find yourselves almost too nervous to talk to one another, yet at your last chance meeting before the summer he drops a bomb on you. despite this, you two find yourselves getting busy over the phone a/n: sorry for the delay...but I found my inspiration for this chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @cherryblossombankai @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat @marikuchanxo

@harlekin6 @entirelysein-e @brokennerdalert

@sugurusprettygirl @hazzelle-kento @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist

The week that followed the disaster of that party, you decided to try and cry it all out. The memories were still so fresh in your mind. The look on his face; the betrayal and hatred for you. It hurt so goddamn much. You wondered if you’d ever be able to get out of this funk.

The promise of a summer vacation seemed nice, and possibly would be a bandage for the pain that was still seared deep into your heart. Knowing you’d have to come back to school at the end of the break didn’t seem very promising either. Knowing you’d have to face him again.

Your pride had been so wounded. He continued to act as if you didn’t mean anything to him, and you wondered every time you two crossed paths if you’d be able to face him like you once did. Kento seems to be perfectly content with not talking to you.

In fact, the rumors of him hating you have been spreading like wildfire. So your friends decide to spin it all around and make you see the positive in all of this.

“He was just one guy! You can meet all kinds of cute guys when you come out with us to the beach this summer!”

“Yeah! You’ll see, lots of fish in the sea!”

Still you were clinging to empty promises and tender wounds. By the end of the semester, you found yourself wanting to find the man who stole your heart and to tell him off. You wanted to scream in his face, punch him a few times and leave him discarded on the ground. Just as he had done to you, you would gladly do to him. You would find yourself feeling much better if you were able to feed him the same poison he had fed you.

Your mind kept thinking about all the fun you two had together during the school year. It wasn’t just hooking up and fooling around either; it was deeper than that. It was getting to know him, to know what made him tick, what made him laugh. Cracking the outer layers of the man who was Kento Nanami.

As much as you wanted to discard him and leave him be for the rest of eternity, you found yourself at an impasse. You were madly in love with him. You wanted to go all the way that night too. Everything had been hinging on him returning from getting those damn waters and him just fucking kissing you.

Since that night, you were dreaming of his lips on yours. You missed the way he made your stomach flip with just the sound of his voice. You longed for the all-nighters you two spent together. The sounds of the old N64 and the cursing from the AVGN videos playing in the background on your old and clunky laptop.

And while you suffered in silence, Kento was living his life as if you weren’t even a part of it at one point. You wondered if maybe he even cared that you were suffering. You wondered if he even thought of you. Given the way he doesn’t even look in your direction, you think you know the answer.

Behind those cruel hazel eyes, there was something else there that most people couldn’t see. Kento was wracking his mind with a way to get you back.

He was sure you hated him, so he didn’t even bother to try and talk to you since that night. But the days were counting down and soon you’d be gone for the summer vacation. Soon you’d be gone for a while and maybe when you came back you’d have a new man.

The thought of you kissing someone else pissed him off. It made him angry and jealous and fuck he was seeing green. Every time you wouldn’t even glance in his direction, his heart was breaking even more.

There was just nothing he could do to bring you back into his arms. He thought of every opportunity and every single action of kindness he could bestow upon you. And none of them could ever come close to show you just how terribly sorry he was.

It was killing him inside. It was tearing him apart completely. The thought of you leaving school and coming back with hickies on your neck, or wearing someone’s sweater, or even just having that look in your eyes from a new love, that would be the death of Kento.

Then the final day of school comes and everyone’s getting ready to leave for summer vacation. He’s been thinking about this day over and over. He keeps thinking about how he’s going to catch you right before you leave and tell you he’s sorry.

The words sound so good in his mind. They sound perfect. He can hear it all so clearly. So why does he feel like his tongue is overly tied and his brain is a fog when he approaches you near your friend’s car?

The giggling and talks of summer vacation stop when your friend notices him lurking nearby. Your eyes widen suddenly when you see Kento so close. The butterflies multiply a thousandfold when he comes up to you.

“K-Kento?” you ask, your voice trembling.

Your friends all move aside, making sure he’s not about to attack you or anything like that. They want to see that he’s here to make amends and not break your heart even further. Some of them even think maybe you two could remain friends.

“I…I need to talk to you,” his own voice doesn’t sound strong.

With a nod from your friends, you make your way over to him. They all lean against the car, ready to intervene if they need to. Then you turn your attention back to Kento.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Kento notices the way you cross your arms over your chest when you ask him this.

“I wanted to talk about what happened the other night.”

There was a beat of silence before you both looked at each other. You could see all the words he wanted to say in his eyes. He looks away bashfully before he fishes out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He offers you one, but you decline. Then he brings the cigarette to his lips and lights it. You note that the smell is so comforting to you. 

“I was being such a shithead, alright? It was stupid of me. Those damn girls’ words had gotten to me.” He says between drags of the smoke.

You tilt your head to the side, “What girls?”

He looks away, and you’re starting to put the pieces together. Someone said something bad to him that night. Someone had made him feel like you weren’t completely in love with him. 

“Those damn girls we saw when we arrived. I guess they must have felt entitled to tell me that you were using me.”

Your heart feels broken. This was the cause of the rift between you two. The words of some dumb girl and her posse of bimbos. People who had no idea that you and Kento were more connected and bonded than most people are with their parents, their pets or even their good friends.

“Wait…you saw them? What the hell did they say to you?”

Kento shakes his head, “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. I just wanted to apologize to you. I was stupid to leave you like that.”

You wanted to reach out to him. To hug him. To kiss him. You were desperate to hold him against your body once more. You wanted to hear his voice whisper sweet nothings in your ear once again.

And all too soon, your friends were ushering you into the car. You wanted to run back to him, but they were telling you that they needed to get a move on. Then you hear those three words from his lips…

I love you.

The drive back to your hometown was awkward and quiet. All your friends felt bad for driving off without giving you a chance to answer Kento. He would be thinking about this moment for the rest of the summer and you wouldn't know how to deal with it.

His heart clenched as he watched you get into the car and he desperately called out to you. Saying those three words, they weren’t supposed to come out just yet. No, they were supposed to stay deep inside of him until the perfect moment came. If it ever came.

He was silently cursing himself for messing it all up. How would you ever want to talk to him again? You were probably telling your friends just how stupid all of this was. And with this, he leaves to go stay at his friend’s place for the summer.

The text message comes later. Then the phone call. He’s happy to see you messaging him. You ask him how he’s doing. It’s a few days after summer vacation started. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about leaving you hanging. My friends are jerks,” you say on the other line.

Kento is hanging out on his bed, his head feeling fuzzy from just hearing your voice. “Nah, don’t even worry about it.”

The two of you have so much to talk about. Neither of you mention the party nor do you mention what he said on the last day you saw each other. You two just spend time talking on the phone and enjoying one another.

And with each day, you two find even more conversations to have. Until one day you send him a picture. It’s a picture of you in bed, wearing just an oversized shirt. It makes his heart race and his cock hardens immediately. He finds the courage to call you up.

“Tell me what you’d want to do with me if I was there,” his voice sounds so husky like this.

You’re barely awake but you feel the need growing inside of you, “Kento…I want you to kiss me.”

Just hearing you wanting him to kiss you excites him even more. He’s fisting his cock, moaning into the receiver. You hear the slick sounds of his precum coating his cock. You let one of your hands dip down under your shirt and you begin to play with your aching clit.

“What else? Come on…talk to me.”

“Want you to kiss me, touch me…need your fingers in my pussy.”

This causes him to squeeze his cock to prevent himself from cumming too fast. This was going to have to be enough until you two saw each other again next semester.

“Yeah? You want me to lick that cute little pussy?” He doesn’t understand where he’s getting the courage to talk like this.

You whimper, “I wanna cum all over your tongue.”

This makes it even harder for him to slow down. You’re both working towards a similar goal, moaning and panting for one another. Kento growls softly.

“I’m gonna cum,”

You groan, “Me too.”

Tighter and tighter becomes the coil in your stomach. You see stars when you fall off the edge with a quiet call of his name. Kento is right behind you, biting his lip so he doesn’t yell too loud as he spills his cum all over his fist and his abdomen.

Both of you are panting as you catch your breath. Kento is the first to say something, coupled with a breathy chuckle.

“Hope that’ll keep you happy until we can see each other again.”

You smile, “I’ll be counting down the days.”

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

How OP men would comfort you after losing a pet || Shanks and Crocodile

I have to put my dog of eleven years down on the 31st (it's 7/30 when I'm writing this). Unfortunately, he has an inoperable cancerous mass on his perineum that is giving him incontinence issues.

Warning: use of (y/n), angst, pet/animal death mentioned.

Shanks would be there for you and give you anything you ask for, even if it hurts him.

Lucky Roux barged into Shanks's office, going as far as to kick in the door, and yelled, "Boss, I swear to god, you need to go check on (y/n)."

Shanks stopped conversing with Hongo, looked up, and blinked incredulously at his cook's extreme, unusual reaction. "Why's that?" he asked, instantly worried you had crossed some line, you always did have issues identifying people's unspoken boundaries, even though you did try your best.

Lucky Roux vented, "They haven't been coming to meals for several days. They haven't been coming out of their room, except for necessities, and we're all worried about them."

"I see," Shanks muttered in dismay as he averted his eyes.

The large, round man ground his teeth together in frustration before he boomed, "Is that all you have to say! There's something wrong with someone you care about, and you sit there and do nothing!"

Hongo stood up, lifted his hands towards Lucky Roux, and tried to ease him down, "Whoa, whoa."

Shanks declared, "It's alright, Hongo, he has every right to be upset." When the blonde sat back in his seat, Shanks sighed, "They're sad because their cat had gotten into that field of lilies on the last island."

"So? Their cat frolicked in a field of flowers." Roux snapped.

Shanks fixed his friend with a stern gaze, and growled, "Lilies are poisonous to cats. It developed fatal kidney failure a few hours later, and we had to put it down before it started to suffer."

Lucky Roux visibly deflated as Shanks continued, "I know better than any of you how much they're hurting right now. I sleep in the same bed as them, I've woken up to them crying next to me during the night every night since it happened. They asked for some space to process their grief, so the only thing we can do, until they're ready to reach out, is make sure they're comfortable and taken care of."

Lucky Roux unclenched his fists, as a tense silence briefly filled the room. All three men grimaced, dissatisfied with the anguish, from feeling like they couldn't do anything to help, gnawing at their hearts. Shanks broke the silence, "They've been eating, they're just taking them in their room."

Lucky Roux huffed, "Why wasn't I informed? It's usually my job to take people their food when they're under the weather."

"They asked me to not make a fuss, they didn't want to worry anyone." Shanks groaned, "Fat lot of good that did."

Hongo piped in, "He came to me to discuss healthy strategies to help them get out of this grief-funk they've sunk into."

Lucky Roux hummed thoughtfully for a moment, before snapping his fingers, "Why don't we have a crew meeting about this?"

"That's a wonderful idea because I've been feeling lost on what to do." Shanks thundered, slapping his knee as he leaned back into his chair.

Sir Crocodile would empathize with you in silence, while he gives you physical comfort and considerable amounts of leniency.

Crocodile walked into his office to see you sitting on his couch, silent and seemingly dazed, clutching a tissue box as tears ran down your face. He eyed you, noting that you weren't moving, and showed no knowledge of his presence. The large man shook his head in disbelief, pulling his lighter and a cigar. He took off his coat, threw it over the couch on the other side of the coffee table, and plopped down next to you on the couch. Crocodile took his sweet time to light up, to give you a chance to say anything before he leaned back into the couch cushions, and asked "What's the matter with you, Kid?"

Unsatisfied with your lack of response, Crocodile put his arm over the couch behind you and used his hook to tap your shoulder farthest from him. When jerked away in surprise, he blew out a large plume of smoke. As you coughed and tried to fan away the smoke, Crocodile cocked his head and enunciated, "What is the matter?"

When you stopped coughing, you rasped, "Why would you think that something is the matter?"

Crocodile rolled his eyes, and grumbled, "Cut the crap, you are visibly a wreck."

"My dog died." You admitted.

Now feeling like an ass, Crocodile muttered, "Fuck, the one in the picture on your desk?" When you nodded, he silently allowed his hand to rest on your shoulder and offered his cigar to you. As he watched you take the cigar from him, Crocodile asked, "How did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Cancer," You sniffled and took a long pull off his cigar. "It was inoperable, and the tumor grew rapidly over six-ish months. I decided that given all his health issues, age, quality of life, and the number of tumors he had, it was best to put him to sleep before he really started to suffer."

Crocodile nodded, slightly relieved that it wasn't anything violent. "Knowing you, he had a good life, and at least he wasn't in pain." Crocodile offered.

The tall man started to panic as tears filled your eyes once more and your face twisted in grief. "I felt I should have done more for him, I could have done more for him." Crocodile, using his free hand, guided the cigar to your lips and shushed you, "Take a hit, dear, it'll help."

You took a shaky hit and leaned against his shoulder.

"Oh! And that's silk you are getting your snot on," Crocodile grumbled but made no move to push you away, before he tisked, "I guess it's fine." In resignation to the fate of his waistcoat, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, lifted the cigar in your hand to his lips, and took a hit. He'd sit there for as long as you needed him to.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 7)

AN: Ooop. I haven't updated this in a year and I feel terrible, I am trying to go through all of the unfinished fics I have, and update one every week. (dream big Jules) Hopefully get through all of the things I have in my head. Hopefully it's been worth the wait! I've done my best to edit this myself, but it hasn't been beta'd. Enjoy! xo 🩷

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) ANGST, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, Joels injury / ptsd / nightmare

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

He’s gone when you wake up. Both of them are, they’re gone most of the day but it makes sense. You chalk it up to Joel catching up with his brother and Ellie taking advantage of the safety of this place. You, in turn, find yourself almost haunting the house Maria and Tommy had put you up in. The time spent in the trailer, although quiet for the most part, was also wrapped up in the web of anxiety. Every second spent there was corrupted with fear of someone finding it, always the danger of infected wandering into the woods and surprising you when you’d go scavenging, and in comparison to that, this felt peaceful. 

This house gave you a chance to rest, to nap and enjoy the safety of the walls surrounding you, surrounding the town itself. Even when you got hungry, it was only a matter of making your way down the street to the cafeteria. People looked at you with curiosity, but didn’t pry, which only inspired intense gratitude. 

The whole day was a much needed respite from the worry and anxiety, until Ellie stormed into the house to find you reading an old novel on the sofa late in the evening. Anger burning on her face and it seemed strange to be so angry in a place like this. 

“What happened?” The adrenaline shoots up, the familiarity of it is so depressing, it seems your body is always ready to feel this way. 

“He’s leaving me.” She runs up the stairs and you find yourself running up after her, the door to the bedroom she’d claimed all but shut in your face before you could follow her inside. 

“Ellie? Can I come in?” You knock, hoping she’ll elaborate, “Ellie?”

“Whatever.” She calls out and you follow her inside, finding her sitting on a dusty bay window. 

“What happened?” Your heart races but you do your best to control your breathing. 

“He’s leaving me,” she sighs, picking up what looks to be someone's journal, “I heard him tell Tommy, that he has to leave me.” You frown at her. Joel hadn’t exactly been the cuddly type but he did care about Ellie, that had been obvious to you. “Maria told me something about him, something that makes sense-” 

“I wouldn’t listen to what Maria has to say about Joel, it seems to me she’s been listening to Tommy say some not-so-nice things about his brother.” Annoyance burns brightly in your gut that she’d dare poison Ellie against the man that had been keeping her safe. 

“No–I didn’t let her talk shit, I told her where to fucking go about that but–” A soft tap on the door pulls you out of the argument, Joel’s voice coming through before he opens the door. 

The familiar ‘Joel-frown’ is back in place as his gaze shifts from Ellie, to you, and back to her again.

“Listen-” He starts, but she doesn’t let him get very far.

“Why are you here?” The anger still burns on her face, but you know what’s really there. Sadness, fear, disappointment, you know because you’ve felt it all before.

“I came here to talk to you, both of you.”

“No, why are you still here? If you’re gonna ditch us then ditch us.” her eyes cast down as she speaks, looking without really seeing the journal in her hands. You see him let out a heavy sigh, resignation taking over. 

“What exactly did you hear?”

“‘I have to leave her, you have to take her’,” your eyebrows must have raised up into your hairline, Joel leaving Ellie had never crossed your mind, “You know I stuck up for you today because I thought-” She bit her lip, cutting off her own words.

“I made this decision for your own good. You’ll be way better off with Tommy, he knows the area better than I do-” He was floundering and it was as though you were listening to a stranger, his whole demeanour completely different from last night. 

“Do you give a shit about me or not?” Her voice rose, and your heart broke for her.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then what are you so afraid of? I’m not her, you know? Maria told me about Sarah-”

“Don’t.” The change in him was chilling, “Don’t say another word.” Seeing his eyes shift, the whole of him as cold as ice. 

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel, but I have lost people too.” And there it was. 

He’d had a daughter, and he’d lost her. This was it, the missing piece. It made so much sense, the cloud that followed him around, the loss that poisoned him to the world. It wasn’t just the terrible, awful, practically unbearable state of the world, it was his loss. 

“You have no idea what loss is.” His eyes hardened even more, and you understood why he would be upset. The loss of a child would definitely make anyone lose their minds, but Ellie wasn’t wrong. Everyone in this world knows what loss is.

“Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you!” She pushes him, her anger and hurt getting the best of her and you can’t help but move from your place on the couch to comfort her. “So don't tell me that I'd be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared.” Your hand goes to her shoulder, letting her know you’re there for her. 

“You’re right. You aren’t my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad. Now come dawn, you and I go our separate ways-” Your hand flashes up without your permission, and cracks him clean across the face. It was too much for you to bear. 

“Enough! I am so sick and tired of this, and I am through with letting you act this way. You can’t keep living your life like this, Joel. Head down, barreling through like a juggernaut, cutting through everyone and everything, completely closed off to the world.” The hurt was sharp in your voice- “I can’t even begin to imagine how much losing your daughter must have hurt you, I wish it had never happened. I cannot take it away from you, neither of us can but we don’t deserve for you to treat us this way. Losing her doesn’t mean you can throw Ellie away.” His eyes flashed with something, a hurt so deep it was part of him, “Tomorrow, we’re going–whether it’s with you, or Tommy is up to you.” You turned from him then, gathering Ellie into your arms. You heard the door click, and then you and Ellie were alone. 

-

You spent the night with Ellie.

A soft knock sounded as you gathered the few things you had to take with you, both of you. Ellie opened the door to a very resigned Tommy standing at the door. 

“Y’all ready?” He spoke to both of you, the look on your face leaving no doubt as to whether Ellie would go alone or not.

“Yes, we’re good to go,” you reply and he nods once before leading the way out, “Come on Ellie.” You don’t look at the room across the hall, even as the outline of the door burns bright in your peripheral. That it was closed and he was probably asleep inside only filled your stomach with rocks, so you keep your eyes forward and ignore the feeling.

The morning is crisp enough to see your breath and it wreaths around your head like a halo as you all make your way towards the barn. Your anger with Joel is a simmering pot on the back burner, and that’s where it has to stay, there’s too much to focus on with Ellie to give it any attention. Tommy leads the way, bundled up with a rifle on his back and the anger you’re trying to tamp down finds its bullseye.

“How much shit did you talk about Joel, Tommy? Be honest.” He turns, his brow furrowed, “Must have been a lot, with the way Maria was eyeing him.”

“Yeah, not to mention giving me some bullshit warning about him not being who I thought he was.” Ellie chimes in, he lets out a deep sigh.

“You don’t understand, we did terrible things-“

“Yes, both of you, and you got to explain yourself. You’re letting your grievances with your brother colour the way people in this town view him. If he stays here, you’ve just made his life harder when you both did the same shit.” You round the corner, ducking into the barn to find the man you’re discussing, loading the horse's saddle with what looked to be supplies. You’re angry at him, at the cruel words he threw at Ellie, at the thought that after all of your confessions he might have let you go. It’s hard not to feel relief that he’s here though, ready to follow her, ready to follow you. 

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie’s voice is neutral, but the hurt simmers under the surface. 

“No, I came here to steal one of these horses.” He kicks at the ground, nervous.

“I woulda gave you one.” Tommy sighs, his frown still in place but now directed at Joel.

“I know. Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess you deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-“

“Let’s go.” She tosses her bag at him. Your lip curls without your permission, but you keep it to yourself.

“Okay.” He grunts out the word, but you can see he’s just as affected as you are. He turns, and speaks to Tommy while you and Ellie lead the horses out, letting them have a moment. 

“You okay?” Ellie’s eyes find yours at the sound of your words, and for a moment you see her age and it breaks your heart. Her eyes are wide, dark shadows underneath them, all of the stress and the weight of her lot in this life painted across her face, and still she smiles. 

“Fuck yeah, all good.” 

God, she’s just a kid. 

“Let’s get going.” Joel comes out, Tommy’s rifle on his back and his eyes are wild, darting between you and Ellie. His words still ring out in your ears, but so does the knowledge of his loss. It’s the Rosetta Stone, the why of all of his anger and hurt and reluctance to open up to anyone and anything coming into focus. 

There are two horses, and Ellie claims one right away, leaving you to share with Joel. He climbs up and swings his leg around, then holds out his hand to help you climb on, and wordlessly you take it. The horse is calm underneath you, for which you are grateful, even when you climb up, much less graceful than Joel and sit tucked into his back. 

The anger in you still burns bright. Too bright to say anything to him just yet, so you let it wash over you. Ignore the happy chant to have him there, to have his familiar, safe shape solid in front of you, and focus on not spooking the animal beneath you. 

Hours pass with small talk between Ellie and Joel, and silence from you. He doesn’t press, but his voice sounds lighter than it ever has with her. You let them have this conversation and bonding and you keep your mouth shut. He tests the waters though, your arms wrap around his waist, and every so often you feel him squeeze your hand or your knee. A silent olive branch, a request for connection and as much as you try to hold out and ignore him, punish him for his cruelty, you cannot help but give in. You press your lips to the little bit of skin exposed at the back of his neck. You can feel the way he melts, and part of you feels guilty for denying him for so long, but then his words come back and so does the anger. 

Ellie has gone ahead, just a little bit, close enough that he can keep an eye on her, but far enough away that he tries his luck with words. 

“It was bad wasn’t it?” He speaks over his shoulder, his words heavy with resignation.

“Real bad.”

He sighs, but says nothing else. You don’t expect an apology, and you don’t get one. It’s there though, the remorse, in his voice, threaded through the soft words and explanations he gives Ellie as the day goes by. He speaks to her of his life before, and it’s a marvel to hear him speak so much, he used to be a contractor. The shape of the word in your mouth feels familiar, one of those words adults used to say but there’s no reference for it in your memory. She is happy, that is all that matters.

When you stop to camp, it’s in a densely populated forest, eerily quiet but good enough. The land is far enough away from any QZ to be free of infected, but they aren’t the biggest worry. He sets up camp, a couple of sleeping bags all piled together.

“Sleep, both of you, I’ll take first watch.” It doesn’t take much convincing on your part, and for once, Ellie doesn’t grumble, she yawns hard enough to tremble and gets into the sleeping bag without comment. You want to give him something, a promise that you’ll discuss what you both know you need to discuss but he shakes his head when your eyes meet. “Sleep, Sunny, you need your rest.”

You nod, and sleep claims you, quick as falling.

You wake with a gasp. 

“You’re okay.” He’s sitting on a fallen log, watching the surrounding darkness. Full consciousness creeps in, and awareness calms the anxiety of whatever nightmare that had spilled over. Even the horses are calm, no immediate danger threatening, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep. 

“I’m up now. Here, give me the gun, you should get some shut-eye.” You stretch for a moment, before getting up. At this point, he knows you better than to argue, and so as much as he wants to keep watch, he gets up with a groan, and climbs into the sleeping bag still permeated with your body heat. The brief spark of warmth and comfort that was born of your new found intimacy with him, although still there, is obscured by the things you know you need to discuss, but it won’t be tonight. He knows it too, and so you keep watch, and when the morning comes, you all set out again. 

-

Days pass, and you travel in peace. The days are cold but clear, and he surprises you even more. He teaches Ellie to shoot, instructs her on how to load and reload the rifle, how to aim and even lets her keep a pistol and you can see the father so clearly in him. He notices your quiet withdrawal, and he lets you have your silence, but it doesn’t last.

Three nights into your trek, he finally breaks the silence. 

You feel him slip into the sleeping bag behind you, the night is colder than you expected and his warmth is welcome, even if your heart is still hurt. You’d found a small copse of trees, hidden enough that you could all sleep relatively calmly.

“Sunny.” It’s just above a whisper,  “How long you gonna punish me?” His breath tickles the little hairs at the back of your neck, raising goosebumps in its wake. You sigh.

“I’m not punishing you Joel.” His hand slips around your waist.

“You’re angry at me, I can feel it.” He presses his lips to the skin just below your ear, soft and sweet and your eyes close at the feel of it, you turn towards him. 

“I’m hurt,” he pulls you close enough to tangle his legs with yours, “Not just for what you said to Ellie, but for what happened to you.” You felt the clench in his jaw, felt how his body tensed. “I’m not trying to pry into your past Joel, I don’t want to open old wounds and make you relive anything, but I’ve been with the two of you long enough to see the bond. That girl-” you gestured to Ellie’s sleeping form near the horses, “-sees you as a father. You’re all she has, and you were ready to drop her.” 

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tension going out of him like a balloon deflating. “It’s why I didn’t think I could do this, I am scared that I won’t be able to protect her, if she got hurt on my watch I couldn’t forgive myself.” All of a sudden you felt stupid, his anger and lashing out at her was a way to protect her, it didn’t excuse it, but it definitely explained it. “I don’t think she heard my whole conversation with Tommy, I was tellin’ him how scared I am.” 

“She needs you around, she needs to know you aren’t going to abandon her.” You can’t help but bring your hands to his face, comfort him. “We need you, I need you, I don’t want you to leave me behind either.” The little part of yourself that you’d been stomping down reared its head. “I’m sorry I slapped you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He shakes his head, dismissing your apology. 

“I won’t leave you behind. I meant it when I said I needed you to be patient with me.” He presses his lips to your hand, then to your lips, an apology and a promise and you clutch to it, despite the fear that permeates every aspect of the world. You don’t say anything more, trusting that when he's ready, he’ll tell you about his loss.

-

The university is a massive, rundown building, eerily quiet, without many signs of life. 

“No fireflies.” Ellie points out when you stop just in front of an overturned car.

“Probably in the middle, safer.” Joel leads the way, and the three of you continue throughout the grounds. He answers Ellie’s questions about University life, about anything and everything she can think of while you focus on your surroundings. The quiet irks you.

Monkeys roam the campus the closer you get to the building, and she’s excited to see them, you’re a little more wary but they scatter at the sound of you approaching.

“Lookit.” He points to a sign, a bright firefly symbol spray-painted onto it.

“Here we go.” She sounds a lot braver than she looks, her expression matches yours. This whole place was creepy, and your stomach roiled the closer you got to the entrance of the building. The sound of the horses' hooves clicking onto the pavement echo around you as you approach, guard houses sit unmanned just outside the door, and your stomach drops further. 

“Guard houses.” Joel voices your thoughts. 

“No guards.” You reply, and the mood sours further. “Let’s tie the horses, and continue on foot.” You gesture to a tree and they both nod in agreement. With them taken care of, you make your way inside. 

“Gun?” Ellie looks to Joel, and he nods, she takes out the pistol he’d trusted her with, his rifle at the ready and you follow close behind him, no weapon, but eyes sharp.

The inside is abandoned, but there is a mess of tables, discarded equipment and supplies left behind. 

“There were definitely doctors here.” She rifles through a stack of old gauze, gloves and other things littering the tables, pulling a list from under an empty box.

“This is a packing list,” Joel takes the list from her, “Something you make before moving.” There’s a distinct lack of dust and dirt blown in on the mess left behind you cannot help but focus on.

“Looks like they just left-” Something crashes above, movement in one of the higher floors interrupting your sentence, “maybe not all of them.” You move as one, slowly and quietly following the source of the noise, your heart races, scared of who or what you might find here. Joel leads the way, his rifle at the ready, Ellie brings up the rear, gun in her hands and pointed down like he’d taught her. The place looks more like an abandoned hospital than a school. There are carts knocked over, hospital beds and IV bags still hooked up to the poles littering the hallways. 

He counts down silently, hand just hovering over the door containing the source, and then opens it. A monkey shrieks, and seeing you jumps out the open window. You let out a heavy breath. 

“Well, at least it ain’t clickers.” Joel’s tone is as relieved as you feel. 

“Yeah, no fireflies either. Maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys!” He frowns at her, there’s a disappointment heavy in the air. So much travelling, just to come up empty. There’s a giant map in the middle of the room though. You make your way over to it, there are different colour pins all leading up to one place, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“That’s where they went?” She’s staring at the map beside you. 

“All the pins lead there.” You press your finger to the spot on the map, Joel is beside you, all three of you studying it. 

“Maybe they were getting ahead of the weather? Better facilities? I don’t know.” He frowns, letting out a breath but you hear it, people talking outside the window. You shush them, gesturing to the window but they hear it now too. Your heart jackhammers in your chest, any and all peace you’d found from finding this place empty is gone. 

Quietly you all move closer and peek out the window, and see four men walking past, they hold crowbars, and baseball bats and it’s obvious they’re raiders. 

“Out the back.” Joel whispers, and then the three of you take off. Within a few tense minutes, you’re all back outside, ducking behind piled up sandbags to make sure you don’t encounter anyone. With the coast clear, you all run towards the horses. Ellie climbs up onto hers, and you climb onto the one you share with Joel while he unties them. 

“Joel!” Ellie screams, one man has followed, baseball bat high in the air but Joel turns in time and ducks out of the way, the bat swings hard, hitting the tree and shatters. Ellie holds up her arm, aiming the gun but they move too erratically. 

“Wait Ellie! You might shoot Joel–” She puts it down, he doesn’t need help, they grapple and slam against the tree but then Joel has wrapped his arm around the man's neck, and with a sickening crunch, he falls. When Joel turns, your stomach drops. 

He looks down, and the butt of the broken bat is sticking out of his lower abdomen. He takes a deep breath, and pulls it out and a wave of nausea hits you to see at least three inches of wood come out, his blood pulsing between his fingers. 

“Joel–get on the horse!” You scream out to him, seeing the others spotting you and running full speed. He struggles, but climbs up with a pained yell, swinging his leg over and managing to get in front of you. 

“Get back!” Ellie follows behind, shooting at them when they get too close, with the frosty wind whipping at your face you get away. The horses gallop across the grounds and away, your grip on Joel is iron.

You know that going so fast is only hurting him but you have to get far enough away that they won’t follow. 

“They don’t seem to be following us, I think we’re safe.” Ellie calls out behind you and you’re glad she’s keeping an eye on your back, because you cannot focus on anything other than Joel’s weakening grip on the reins. 

“Joely, baby you have to hold on, please–” He teeters, swaying like a boat in choppy waters and you feel the way he cannot hold himself up anymore. “Joel-Joel!” He topples off the horse and into a pile of snow despite your best efforts, he's so pale you can barely contain the tears that flow freely down your face. “Joel, please, please wake up, we need you to wake up.” You slap at his face, but he doesn’t stir. Ellie is off her horse and kneeling beside you, trying to aid in waking him but she’s as unsuccessful as you are. She presses his hands as well as hers to where the blood pulses out of him slowly. 

“Joel, open your eyes.” You stare at him while she speaks, pressing your hand to his face, “I can’t fucking do this without you, I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, or what the fuck I’m going to do, we need you Joel please, get up.” Tears stream down her face and it hits you then. You’ve cursed him, this is what comes from loving another person. 

There’s no time, you have to move him. 

“Let’s get him somewhere safe, Ellie, one of those houses.” You gesture to a residential area not far from where he fell. There’s no way you can carry him, instead you look for something to put him on that you can drag like a sled. You send Ellie to look, warning her to be careful and to keep her gun out and she comes back with a wide mat, almost like a big dog bed and it’s perfect. You shuffle him onto it, and tie the mat to the back of one of the horses, pulling him towards one of the houses. 

It takes so long to get him into the basement. By the time you’ve piled a stained mattress and musty blankets and laid him on it, your skin is slick with frozen sweat, your breath comes out in pants, exhausted with the effort. There had been an old towel in one of the bathrooms of the house, Ellie had grabbed it while you wrestled him to where he lay. Once settled, you ripped it up, and moved his shirt to press it to the wound, barely looking at it. You had to stop the bleeding, if he kept bleeding he’d die. 

“What are we going to do?” She watches, terrified. 

“I don’t know.” You want to comfort her, but you cannot stop swallowing the lump in your throat. You both stay quiet for a while after that, focused on his breathing. 

It’s because I love him

The thought squeezes your heart like a vice, the curse of you fills your head, overtaking every thought. This is what happens when you love another person, the black hole has taken him just like it took your parents, just like it took Johnny and there is nothing to be gained but misery and heartache. The black pit of your love is full of emptiness and all you’d done was sentence him to death. You should have just let them leave, given them your supplies and stayed in your trailer. 

Tears stream steadily down your face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up, that the wound will close, that nothing inside had been too badly damaged. You hoped you’d wake up back in that bed in Jackson, that this was all just some horrible nightmare and that he’d be there, rubbing your back. You didn’t wake up though, and he lay there motionless while you cried, breathing shallow enough to fill your stomach with nothing but dread and nausea and regret and every other horrible thing you’ve felt since this world went to shit. 

You move the towel after a while, to see how bad the damage actually is and your body tenses, it’s angry and red and still blood pulses out, his skin shredded where the sharp wood had pierced him.

“We need to close it, we should see if we can find a needle and thread.” You speak to her, but she watches him, his eyes are open, and there is nothing but naked fear in them. He groans and grabs at your arm hard enough to bruise when you press the towel back to the wound. 

“Go.” He grits it out, at both of you. She puts her hands on yours, helping to staunch the blood. “Go, leave, take the gun.” He repeats it. 

“Shut up, shut the fuck up Joel!” She all but screams at him but he grabs her by the jacket, pulling her close. 

“You go.” He doesn’t relent, “You go. You go north, go to tommy.” He shivers, speaking the words clearly and when he pushes her back, she stumbles, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes find yours, and he repeats himself. “Leave.” He does not expect to survive, and all at once you are angry with him, angry with yourself for ever having opened your heart, angry at the world for your lot in life. His eyes find yours then, tears slowly streaming from them, the same anger burning in your chest shining out through his eyes. 

You wipe at your eyes, and rise. Leaving him there, as you make your way up the stairs, and out of the basement. 

She catches up to you in the kitchen. 

“Are we really leaving him?” 

“No. I’m looking for something to stitch him up, but if you want to go find Tommy I won’t stop you, you can shoot, and he’s taught you how to keep watch and find safe places to sleep. You can take all of the supplies–” You open cupboards, pulling them off the hinges in your haste and spilling drawers in the pursuit of something, anything to help him. 

“I’m not leaving either.” She moves, and helps you search. 

—

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[starillusion13]

omg Hi! Im not sure if you’re still accepting requests but if you still do… I would like to request an ot8 ateez x reader where they all leave her because of a misunderstanding and then they chase her back after but she doesn’t forgive/give in so easily ? Thank you love ❤️

Lost you forever

Pairing: Ateez! ot8 x fem! reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia, Mature

Warnings: crying, mention of death, poison, mentions of mafia activities like shooting and deals in mafia, misunderstanding, pregnancy(?) [plz tell me if I have missed something] oc doesn't forgive easily coz she is deeply hurt.

W.C: 5.3k (i was so into it sorry)

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated 😭. Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

“I have found her.”

All the noise died down with just one sentence. The room is now pin drop silent with all the heads turned towards the same direction and eyes focused on one person. The one who has just entered through the main door and whose voice made everyone stop in their tracks.

The leader of the group with a blank expression, walks towards the said person and grabs the collar of the leather jacket, eyes burning with his creased forehead but somewhere he wants to believe the words he has just heard.

“You realize what you are speaking right, Mingi?”

Nodding his head, he stares right back, “Absolutely.”

“Are you sure that’s her? Maybe, you might have mistaken someone else.”

Closing his eyes for a second, he sighs, “I have seen her with my own eyes, up so close to realize enough that it was her. Her sweet smile and those soft hands, everything is same.”

The one holding his collar loosen his grip and walks over to the table to get back his drink.

“Hongjoong, stop drinking.” The eldest scolds the leader before turning towards the other, “Then where is she and why didn’t you bring back her here? Where exactly did you see?”

“She was working at the café, down the Ross street. The target’s location was last seen in that café and when I reached there, he had already left and then when I heard that sweet voice asking if I need something?”

“did she see you?” The youngest asks him with curiosity filled in his eyes.

“No. I ordered a simple coffee just to see her longer and when she handed it over to me, I felt her soft and innocent hands touching my rough and ruthless ones. I was wearing a mask so she didn’t notice me but she was hiding her pain really well with her sweet smile.”

“But her eyes were telling something else.” Mingi turns towards Yeosang on hearing his response.

Everyone is feeling guilty that they are the reason you are working all alone there and having the pain inside you which your eyes reflect enough to let them know how you are feeling. They have been with you long enough to know every detail of your actions, to read your emotions from afar, to know if you are happy or to realize that you are hiding something then why. Why did they misunderstood you back then and left you all alone helpless?

“I want to see her. Take me there, just tell me which café is that exactly and I will be on my way there.”

“San, calm down. Take it slow. I know that you are eager to meet her like we all are but we can’t just go there like this. You know what we did back that day. I don’t think, she would want to see us again.”

If they had this much power in their hand to erase that day or to change the situation that occurred that day then they would have done long way back but now its impossible to do so. It’s been three years that they have left you but when their mission in this new country led them to cross your path again, they are not going to leave this chance out of their hand. Searching you for so long and not getting any sight of you has made their life a disaster. Hongjoong has been drinking a lot since he found out that he had done wrong with you and not a single member of his gang can control his vigorous nature but being the leader of the uprising mafia gang, he has to control his limits to not let the opposition know his weakness. Yunho is not better than him here, being the fighter of the group, he is overdoing and exhausting himself just because he can’t get you out of his mind and showing his anger on others. Well, Seonghwa needs to be calm here as being the eldest, he finds this as his responsibility to check if his members are doing okay and him being the second in command has to be with the leader most of the time. But the question is how can he just pretend that he doesn’t think about you, his thoughts are always storming inside his head which are revolving around how to get you back. San is restless, he is almost every time being out of the house doing illegal shits without even informing the leader and just messing up things, which sometimes almost bring them to face a hectic situation but thanks to Wooyoung who is always there to save him but what about himself. He is the one who would show his emotions up his sleeves but when it comes to get you back, he is lost in a void. He doesn’t even know whether to be angry, upset, mad or just forget about you. Forget about you? Is it even possible? Mingi is always out of the base, he has taken upon himself to look out for the targets and engaging with the spies all around to know the motives of other gangs and be prepared but one thing is always flashing to him, thoughts of you. Jongho has kept himself silent for most of the times, away from his members and just trying his way to find out where you are. Are you even alive? He is always there to bug Yeosang to find you in every corner of their hometown but you were nowhere to be found and once they had lost all hope of you being alive. Yeosang has taken the job of being hacker too seriously and that just to find you till the last cell of his data but everytime, he is just getting disappointed.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

“Thank you for your order. Have a great night ahead.”

You smile sweetly towards the customer who just left the café and its almost nine at night so you should get prepared to leave for the night. You are always the last worker to leave on the busy scheduled day as you live just few houses away from here and the manager is too sweet to even let her guard accompany you to reach your house. She once requested you to do the extra night shifts on busy days as other workers live bit far away and you could be much helpful to her. She has this warm motherly aura and so you couldn’t reject her request.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry that you had to stay back late again. It’s Halloween season and you know how people are crowding over here.” Your manager having a guilty expression on her face approaches you.

“Oh no, it’s really fine with me. I can keep my mind off with some stuffs while working here so it’s not a big problem. I rather enjoy being here than staying at home and overthinking.”

“You are so sweet. You should take some leaves and rest for few days as I haven’t seen you taking leaves or going out with someone. Don’t waste your young age everytime working here. Have some enjoyment and refresh your mind.”

“Working here gives me the happiness. I don’t think being with someone can actually refresh my mind or rather haunt me…..Nevermind, you must go back as your son is waiting for you and after getting everything back to it’s place, I will hand over the keys to Mr.Lee.”

Nodding her head and waving at you, she rode back to her place leaving you and Mr. lee, who must be in the locker room getting his stuff and later waiting for you outside.

Arranging all the stuffs, it took twenty minutes as your other co-workers had almost done everything before leaving and the previous orders were simple so you didn’t have much to do. Picking up your bag from the counter, you give a final glance to the place to make a mental note if everything is fine. Satisfied with the result, you quickly went outside to see him already standing and waiting for the keys but he is looking impatient.

“Are you fine, Mr.Lee?”

“U-uh yeah…” sweats visibly lining the forehead and lips quivering. Why is he sweating in this cold night?

“If you need help, please do tell me.”

“Actually, I need to leave early… my daughter needs some help and she has just now called me so I think I cant go with you today.”

“Its fine with me. I can manage on my own, its just few steps and I will be home so don’t worry and leave. I hope your daughter is fine.”

He thanked you several times and left. Like always, your smile is still having that warmth even in this chilly night. Your hands rub your arms and you start walking towards your block. Everything is like usual until you start to feel someone is following you but waving it off as if it must be your fear of walking alone without him. Also, it’s Halloween and anything creepy can happen. Even the children’s pranks are creepier than ghosts. You quicken your steps, hands gripping the bag tightly.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you almost had screamed when another hand pressed over your mouth, shutting you up and muffling your scream. Your eyes closed tight and hands trying to remove the palm from over your mouth.

“Y/N. Don’t be afraid, it’s me.”

You froze. Not due to the chilly wind just blew past you but because of the very familiar voice. Familiar? You don’t think it has that same familiarity like before. Every morning, this used to be the first voice you would listen while waking you up and engulfing you in a big bear hug. That’s past as now you are used to being wake up with your alarm or nightmares. Just a reminder, he is the part of causing that nightmare.

Parting your eyes, you can see the tall man standing in front of you. Looking down at you with a soft look on his face, teary eyes and hands slowly slip down from your mouth to your biceps to hold them firmly. The street is brightly lit due to the decorations for the occasion so everything is very clear for your eyes. You stare back at him and not knowing how to react as your body and mind is going against each other but you know a little part of your heart still beats for him, for them.

He is about to pull you in for a hug when you stop him with your hands pressed over his chest, preventing him from coming any closer.

“Y/N….”

“Stop it. You should not just hug randomly someone. You may know me but sorry I can’t really remember you.”

“Random? You are my angel. I want to hug you and say sorry for what I have done. Don’t pretend that you don’t know me, please tell me you have missed me equally.”

“Look, you must have mistaken me with someone else but I’m not her.”Pushing his hands off from you, “Even if I know your name doesn’t mean I know you, you are just like the rest of the customers in my daily life whose name I have to hear often. So it’s nothing special and as I don’t hear your name anymore maybe I would forget it forever.”

“Y/N!”

You make a ‘tsk’ sound on hearing him shout your name. Even if they pretend to be polite or gentle with you, they are the ruthless uprising mafia gang so what do you even expect less from them while controlling their aggression?

“This is you. Shout on me. Blame on me. but. Don’t show your kindness to me again. You have literally showed your true colors that day and look here we are. Standing face to face and you still shouting on me just like that day. You are still the same, Yunho.”

Hearing his name coming out of your mouth after three years is sending a wave of warmth to his heart. Atleast, you called him by his name even though your words are straight away piercing his heart like a sharp knife, you haven’t spoken to him like this ever but he knows he deserves it for leaving you that day.

A black SUV comes to a stop near to a side of you both. If it were any other time, you swear you would have got frightened but the raging veins with hatred towards him is not minding any danger surrounding you. You didn’t look at it’s direction but can hear several footsteps are nearing you. Why are you not scared? Is it because you are feeling safe in his presence? No, it’s just you don’t want to be saved or show your weakness, atleast in front of him.

“Doll.”

Don’t turn back. You are just imagining things. He can’t be hear even yunho is not here, right? You want to believe this but the presence behind you is too near you, his warm hands placed over your shoulder sending a jolt through your body. It may be warm but is lacking the warmth, you can only feel the coldness of feelings there. Turning around, you look into the eyes of Mingi, who just called you with the name he gave you on your first date with him.

Okay, so everyone is here. All the eyes are just looking at you, only you. If it was something back in those days then you would have become shy and hide behind Yunho and not look at them but this time, your daring eyes precisely staring back at them. Their eyes filled with regret meeting your eyes filled with hatred.

“Why are you all here?”

“For you.” Hongjoong replies quickly enough and this made you raise your brow.

The scene is like a deja-vu, very similar to the last time you had seen them. Them circling you under the night sky and you are the centre of the situation but that time, they had that rage in their eyes for blaming you and hoping you to vanish from their eyesight but this time, they have the fear…of losing you again.

“it’s not funny. If you all are going to have some Halloween pranks on people then go somewhere else, don’t waste my time.”

“It’s really not funny and also not a prank. We are really here for you.”Hongjoong said calmly.

“And? You got to see me. You needed to know if I’m alive or not and now you might kill me as I already know a lot of your things and it’s dangerous for you all to keep me alive. Go ahead, shoot me.”

“Y/n, are you insane? How can you think like this that we will shoot you?”

“San, it’s very obvious from the way you were pointing the gun to my forehead with fire in your eyes.” You point to the middle of your forehead with two fingers. They would have found your acts childish but your tone is too harsh for their ears, making it obvious how much hatred you have towards them.

The said man fidgeting his fingers, looking down and a single tear escapes his eyes. The tear of losing you. You are so near to him, just few feet away where he can run to you and hug you tightly and pull you in for a kiss yet so far away because of the way, your eyes glaring at him.

Mingi moves aside when Hongjoong comes in front of you, “Princess-“

“Don’t call me that when you don’t know how to treat one. I’m not your princess. Well, I’m no one to you.”

No one to him and this word burns his heart. Not only his but others too. Still he tried to speak to you.

“Whatever happened that day, we are really guilty for that. We are extremely sorry to treat you that way. I don’t know what happened to me and I put the blame on you, thinking it was your plan, everything I had lost that day was because of me and I lost you but trust me, each day I have spent regretting for this. Please forgive me. Please.”

He is no more holding back his tears, being a leader is a great responsibility and controlling his emotions in every situation is the major part but you were always there with him by his side where he could express himself, to show his vulnerable self to you but this time instead of comforting him, you are mocking back at him.

“Are you crying because of regret or losing your mission that day? I’m sure it’s about the shitty mission or what else-”

Yunho turns you around harshly and this time you can see his flaming eyes, “Are you making fun of him? What happened to you really? You have totally changed. This is not Y/N, we knew back then.”

“Exactly, this is not your Y/N anymore. This is me. An orphan who lives alone in this block and works by the café down the street. Also, not nice to meet any of you.”

You give him a blank expression. His grip on you tightens and you just stare at the hold, hissing but not telling him to leave you. Why? Because you want to feel him. No. You want to see how much he can lose control on you and the physical pain is nothing compared to the mental pain, you have gone through the years.

“Please come back to us. We are here to take you back, to your home, our home.”

Seonghwa. Please don’t speak like that. He is a siren for this because even if you want to hate him, his voice is always as if lurking you to trust him, his words which are still soothing to your ears, remembering those feather kisses. No. They are pinching you like a thorn just like your words are doing to his heart.

“There is nothing called ours. My place is here and nowhere else. I guess you don’t know the meaning of a home. Home is somewhere you can feel warmth and comfort, a forgiving atmosphere to erase your pain into happiness. But the place you are mentioning is a prison to me, hearing the name suffocates me, the memories haunt me. Atleast, here, I’m okay by myself, far away from you all but still nothing is a home to me.”

“Why are you saying like this? Please don’t push us away when we just got you back.”

“So? I should forgive you all and get back to you. Never. This is not happening ever.”

You walk towards him, his ears perk up hearing your heels nearing him, Yunho has left his grip on you but his hands aching to touch you again. The memories of you both spending nights together with warm skin against skin, hushed promises surrounded by the burning love but now even if your skin is warm, the touch was cold with numb feelings.

You pull the strap of Seonghwa’s jacket and other hand block his hand which he was about to raise and swiftly pull the gun out, pointing it towards his forehead. Others come to a warned position.

“If I shoot you here and wait enough to bleed you to death.” You turn to look back at them, their surprise faces looking back at you but no one daring to step forward. “Then if I say, please forgive me. Will it be worthy?”

“But…but we didn’t hurt you. We…we just….” San doesn’t know how to complete his sentence. He is lost within his own words. Seeing you after years, your coldness towards them, even pointing gun towards one of their member and remembering how you and him were in the same position last time causing his hands shake. So ironic for a mafia member. No matter how strong they are, how ruthless they can be but when it comes to you, you are their weakness.

“It’s not always hurting someone physically. Their way of act towards you speaks volume and the words you told me while pointing the gun is way more painful than if you would have actually shoot me.” Turning, towards Seonghwa, “You have already killed me that day. I am dead for you.”

“Baby, please don’t say like this.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I’m nothing to you all? Stop calling me names.”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide on hearing your shout. He is so much taken aback by your outburst that he is almost looking helpless towards Mingi standing near him.

“I’m sorry…I mean…please don’t say like this. You are everything to me, to us. You don’t know how messed up we were when we left you. I’m so sorry to leave you but please atleast lets forget about that incident and please come back to us.” Wooyoung stutters but not again using the endearment.

Mingi chirps in, “Human can may make mistakes. Whatever happened that day, we know it was not your fault, it was a mistake and we really forgive you for that. I’m sorry for being harsh on you.”

“Yes. We are really guilty. We should have listened to you but rather we blamed you on the spot and said such harsh words which even if I want to take back, I can’t. I didn’t let you to explain but ended up on a conclusion.” Wooyoung ends the sentence with tears spilling from his eyes silently.

Do you forgive them? Yes. but Why? They are still telling you it was your mistake. You cant forgive them so. No.

“So you still think that it happened because of my mistake? It was an accident?”

“Y/n…”

“Stop it, Yunho. Don’t speak a single word. I’m getting annoyed with you.”

Your steps come to a stop in front of Wooyoung whose eyes are shining to get you so close to him. He raises his hands but got yanked away by you. Maintaining a straight eye contact with him, you grab his collar.

“look at me and say that it was my mistake. It all happened because of me.”

He remained silent. He parts his lips but nothing coming out and this is making you impatient.

“Tell me!”

Hot tears streaming down your eyes. Still your body is not getting enough warmth and craving for it during the cold night in that lonely street. Even if you are with all of them still you are feeling alone. Your vision is getting blurred but you roughly rubbed your eyes with the sleeves of the shrug. Your breathings are getting heavy and you are losing control.

The youngest pulls away Wooyoung from your hold and holds your red hands in his grip which are shaking due to the tight fist.

“Please, calm down. It’s me Jongho. It’s not your fault. No one is blaming you. Take deep breathes and calm down.”

He knows that you are hyperventilating and he still knows how your body is reacting and you hate this. You harshly pull your hands away from his hold.

“Don’t touch me. My body aches when I remember how I let you monsters to touch me, everywhere, every day. I’m feeling so ashamed of myself. Don’t make me regret more. I hate the fact how you still know this about my body and am beyond surprised that you still remember me. Oh wait, you have to remember every detail of your enemy before plotting a nice plan and attacking them, right? And today is the perfect day.”

“You are not my enemy. You are my-“

“Stop. Don’t complete that sentence, Jongho.”

“Don’t speak to him like that, he was not even there during the whole mission, he was in for a quick need for back-end support for Yeosang.”Mingi says in a moderate tone.

“But was there long enough to blame me.”

Hongjoong places a firm hand on Mingi’s shoulder, “No one is blaming you. It was an accident and you didn’t know what to do there.”

“I know that whatever you did was to save yourself and I’m glad that you are fine.”

You stare at Hongjoong for a few moments and then burst out laughing like a maniac. Any other person would have found you weird and commented that you have gone mad. Even they would have made fun of you and teased you that how foolish you looked like while laughing like this.

Frustrated groans and your hands raising to your scalp and you mess your hairs. You are totally acting like a drunk person.

“hongoong, did you hear what he just said? Did you hear everyone? He said that I did that to save me. Huh. To. Save. Me.”

You skip steps towards yeosang and slap him, “You think I have killed Mr. Kim to save myself?”

“Y/n!”

You could barely hear Seonghwa and Yunho’s shout when you grabbed Yeosang’s biceps and shake him. He is shocked not just because you have slapped him but seeing you losing your mind like this and having no control over your actions and he is still thinking that something like this might have happened which cause you to kill Mr.Kim.

“Tell me Yeosang. You think I did it for myself? Tell me.”

Nothing he said in reply, just stared right back at you, the only thought running through his mind is to hug you and say that he won’t be leaving you again. He would protect you from the whole world. His daily searching to get your location was always in vain and he still can’t believe his eyes that you are standing in front of him but your eyes showing the amount of hatred in you for him. a helpless cry audible to his ears to which he was deaf during last time.

“So, you do think it is.”

You take a few steps back, staring back at each of them. San tried to come near you but Yeosang stopped him and shook his head.

“I…I did it…I killed him…It was not an accident.” You look up to the sky and smile to yourself, “I did it to save my family. I shoot him to save you all from his evil planning. You all were my family and I tried my best to face him, my hands were shaking, head was spinning. I couldn’t place the actions and words right in place but I knew I had to do it to save you all.”

“save us?” Hongjoong asks you in surprise.

You chuckle sadly, “Your beloved dad had only invited you to the party so that he could destroy you and your gang. He realized that you are not his own son and Jungwoo is his real son so to give him all the power, it was a better option to erase you from the path. I got to know this because Jungwoo told me and he didn’t want to support his dad in this way and somehow mr.Kim tried to kill me when he heard that I wont let you join the party.”

“That’s why…that’s why…you were whining to spend time with us and cancel the schedule.”

You nod on Jongho’s statement.

“I didn’t know how to stop you so before I could come up with a plan, you were already in your way to catch your target at the party held by Mr.Kim. And…and…when I tried to follow you all, he caught me and poisoned me.”

“Why did he poison you?” Wooyoung almost shout hearing this.

“He wanted to see you all going down first seeing me die and then it would be fun to end you. He really succeeded here.”

“What do you mean?” Yunho asks you slowly. You glance towards him but nod a bit.

Picking up your bag which is lying on the floor because of the previous commotion, you look down and tears flowing continuously, “even when I was poisoned, I escaped from the room and when I reached the scene, you were already in the middle of the bloody scene with your target. He was going to leave the place and would leave you all dying in the bomb blast and that’s how I thought it was best to kill him.”

“You didn’t tell that you were poisoned, we thought you were acting of feeling sick.” Even though Seonghwa confessed what he did feel right back then still he is feeling guilty towards you. You stare right back into his eyes.

“When I shot him in front of you all, Hongjoong snatched the gun from me and you harshly pulled me towards the exit and then it went on with you all blaming me.” You cast a glance towards San, “you pointed the gun at me and threatened me to kill if I don’t spill whose spy I was. You even doubted me with Jungwoo that we were cheating behind you and it was our plan to destroy you.”

Huh. Such cheap thought they had. They all blamed you and called such names and even threatened to kill you. It was not enough that they even insulted you in front of everyone present in the party even tried to prove your imaginary relation with Jungwoo.

“I’m sorry…”

“Mingi. Say sorry to Y/N who was trying to explain everything to you all, who was enduring the pain of spreading poison in her body and was still trying to protect you. Go hug her and pull towards you and say everything is okay, whose hands were shaking because she never killed anyone in her life before despite you all trained her in every field for her self-defence. Go and listen to her and ask her. Are you fine?”

He can’t match your eyes so he looks down regretting his every move, you throw a dirty look at him yet somewhere your eyes showing a little bit of sympathy. Your body still reacting to their touch and wanting to run to their embrace making you hate yourself.

“You can’t go. She is dead. Your Y/N is dead. Congratulations, you have killed her that day. You have killed a new life with her as well. She didn’t even get to know who her father is. Mission completed Boss.”

You stare straight and boldly towards Hongjoong.

“Her? Father? What are you saying?” Yeosang is impatient on hearing such things from you. He is confused just like the others and their heart is racing whereas yours is calm but painfully beating.

“I have lost my first baby and one of you lost the honour of being the father for the first time. It was too late when I woke up in the hospital, the poison had already been spread too much. I don’t know how I am still alive but maybe atleast Jungwoo didn’t leave my side.”

It was a big storm for them. As if the ground disappeared from underneath their feet. You were pregnant and they were unaware of it. If only they had agreed with your warnings, then they would have been having a happy family time with you and their baby together. No matter whose baby she was, she would have been theirs, they all would have given their fatherly love to her.

Without saying any more word, you begin to walk towards your way and didn’t even look back for the last time towards them.

“Y/N…”You heard wooyoung calls you from behind and they might follow you.

Still facing your back towards them, you speak slowly but audible enough for them, “Don’t follow me or come to find me again. You have left me that day, helplessly crying in the garden. Don’t expect me to forgive you and go back to you again.”

You walk away, far away from them where your silhouette getting lost in the painful dark but they know atleast you are safe and alive beyond that darkness. Their eyes follow the last bit of your presence.

They won’t be giving up on you like this. They will get you back someday but they also know that they have lost a part of you forever.

“I love you but I have lost you.”

PART 2

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[hotheadedhero]

Ok.. so this is for rise. Imagine, like future reader having comed back with CJ, but they only appears after the fight. And reader is just f/caked up, compared to the current reader. Idk if I’m making sense.

This could be platonic, or romantic but it’s just basically. How would the present turtles react to their future best friend/SO from future looking so scard and mentally and physically exhausted and so “out of character”, their personality has completely changed, they are just, grieving, and grumpy.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense 😭

AN: I think I just puked from excitement, holy cheese. I've wanted to write something related to the movie but wasn't sure what, so thank you Anon 🙏 I hope I got the right idea. I've also only seen the movie once so apologies for any inaccuracies :')

Past Days, Future Pain

Rise Turtles x Reader

Warnings: contains spoilers for the ROTTMNT Movie, angst

Premise: 

You knew that Michelangelo opening a portal into the past would be a gamble. You knew there was a chance that there would be complications. You just didn't expect to get separated from Casey Jr upon entry. In actuality, you hadn't anticipated to be joining him in his journey at all. The fight with the Kraang was meant to continue with you in it but Leonardo just had to push you into the portal. There's no telling what negative developments could arise with you being here and bumping into your old friends and, more importantly, your younger self. A worn laugh breaches your lips in a huff. Donatello would have a field day with this last-minute decision made by his brother. 

From atop a building, you gaze over the pristine city, untouched by the nearing destruction you have grown so used to. It would be nice to say that everything is just as you remember it but this peace is a luxury you have long forgotten. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in. The air is so clean - a statement you never thought you would use to describe New York of all places. Voices dance all around, engaging in their idle chatter, obliviously free. 

You frown. No time. There's no time to get nostalgic. Doomsday is just around the corner and there's no telling if that ball's already running in motion. Casey may have been born in ruin but you'll be damned if he witnesses apocalypse's birth.

Hours later, you would find out that, yes, doomsday is ripening into a poisonous fruit. Kraang minions are littered around the city, gravitating around the tall building where, just above it, Pandora’s box is open. It's too late, isn't it? The one chance you had. Gone. Your bleak reality is returning to fruition. As monstrous beings come at you left and right, your world darkens in tandem with all around you. Hope is lost for a second time. All the same, you continue to fight. Every breath, every swing, could be your last but still, you fight in the hope of at least finding Casey. You need to find him. 

By the time you do, all is vanquished. You could cry from joy if part of you didn’t believe it was all a dream. There, you see all your old friends. Some you would have seen just hours ago, others you haven’t seen in many years. You pull the goggles from your face and rest them on your head for a better look. 

“Sorry, I’m late. Did I miss the grand finale?”

They all turn when they hear the new voice and each goes wide-eyed. The turtles look between you and… you! Present you. Future you. Young. Old. The space-time continuum isn’t going to like this one. It’s one thing to meet the son of Cassandra but a future (Y/n)? Wild. Looks like they’ll be getting to know you. Again.

There's no way to return home. Your home is gone. Now that the timeline has changed, the only thing to do is to get comfortable. It'll be difficult. The only comfort you know is terrorised screams and running for your life. Adjusting to the world from which you came is going to be no easy feat and the turtles adjusting to this version of you is… well…

Raphael

The Wounded Warrior

To a fault, it’s always been Raph’s mission to protect you, ever since you first met. It saddens him to know that his future self couldn’t do that for you. From head to toe, you’re practically littered with scars. He doesn’t want to seem rude by staring but he can’t help it. He’s ridden with guilt for events that haven’t even happened. Events that won’t happen now thanks to them but that doesn’t change the fact that they’ve still happened to you. He notices how you avoid mirrors, how you avoid reflective surfaces altogether.

His fingers absentmindedly glide beneath his right eye. To an extent, he can understand what you’re going through. His experience doesn’t dare compare to what nightmares you’ve endured but it’s the ownership of a wound from said experiences. The memory associated with it and being reminded of those horrors every time you so much as look at yourself. It’s tiring. You look so tired; worn, broken, and beat.

Raphael frowns at himself. It would be hypocritical of him to preach tribute to your valour when he struggles to acknowledge his own. He could try all he wants to make you feel better but you’d likely call him out on the irony. That doesn’t stop Casey Jr and his brothers from psyching you both up when they recount stories from your ventures. It lumps the two of you into a corner but a corner you share nonetheless. As the others share their tales, he looks down at you, noting the way you fidget and avoid the praise. When he pulls you in for a side hug, you look up at him and he flashes a coy smile, making you do the same. There’s not much he can do for your physical scars but he can be there to share in the mild awkwardness of being glorified at least. 

Leonardo

The Tortured Trooper

He tries many times to get a laugh out of you, just as he would with the (Y/n) he’s grown to cherish but no dice. Nothing he does works and it’s such a harrowing disparity. He himself has had a life-changing revelation because of all that’s happened but he couldn’t imagine what 20 years of that could do to a person. Well, he doesn’t need to imagine it. The result is right in front of him and translated through your future self. When he isn’t trying to put on some show for your amusement, he watches you. He notices how you stare off into dead space. Your eyes pale and glass over and he doesn’t need to think hard about where you disappear off to. 

One night, he’s unable to sleep, pondering ways to get you out of your funk. His thinking would get cut short, however, when he hears a shrill cry come from your quarters. Sword in hand, he bolts for your room, expecting to find a threat but it’s just you. You’re hunched over, shaking and struggling for air, drenched in sweat. He carefully drops his sword and crawls out in front of you, trying to get you to calm down. You latch onto him with a deathly grip as if your life depended on it. 

"I saw you die b-before coming here,” you sob out in broken breaths.

These are rare moments for Leo but it’s the kind of time where he doesn’t know what to say. No quip, no bad joke, no charming motivation. Nothing. All he can think to do is hold you and let you cry into his shoulder. It’s not much but if he can at least be there for these dark hours, that’s enough.

Donatello

The Hateful Hero

He's so used to fighting your present self's hug attempts that your chosen isolation throws him off course. Any attempt to even breathe in your direction is met with a raised weapon and a second-nature standoffishness. The laser-focused glare in your eyes for the short second you’re ready for battle is enough to give Donnie chills. He knows you’ve been through a lot but himself and everyone else included are your friends, aren’t they? They’re the one group of people guaranteed that you’re safe around.

Hypothesis: you’re so used to fighting for your life, that your body doesn’t know how to readjust to a more peaceful setting. As peaceful as you can get in this place, anyway. Your fight or flight response must be fried, constantly geared in combat mode. He tries to make the lair as hospitable as possible, filling it with things he knows his version of you likes. This only enrages you further and he has to believe that his initial theory may have been slightly off. When he tries to get an answer as to why, you just sit back in your corner and scowl off.

“How do I know this won’t all go away, too?” you ask bitterly.

Donnie stares down at you and slowly joins your side with no response. He dislikes questions he can’t answer with his usual certainty but he doubts any reassurance could put you at ease right now. It’s clear to him now. You’re scared to get close in case you lose it all again. He can’t guarantee that another doomsday won’t arise but he can say that they’ll be ready, at least. Until you’re soothed of your worries, he’ll let that be known every day if he has to.

Michelangelo

The Sullen Soldier

Mikey has always valued togetherness with his family and friends. He’s always cherished the joy that comes with unity, the memories that you make together. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking to see you shy away from the entire group. The only person who can get more than a few words out of you is Casey Jr but that’s understandable given all of what you’ve been through together. What happened to his fun-loving (Y/n) to turn you into this husk of a person? In hindsight, he and his brothers only caught a glimpse of the disastrous future from whence you came and that’ll be enough to last him a lifetime.

That makes this all the more terrible in his eyes. The world has been saved, the threat vanquished, and everyone is happy except for you - the one person who, outside of his family, means the most to him. He knows that deep down inside that gloomy shell you want to be a part of the household. You just need a gentle push in the right direction. 

What’s the one thing that fixes everything? Pizza! That’ll do the trick for sure! It may not necessarily fix everything but it’ll get a smile out of you. That’s all he wants. You take that first bite and he sits at the ready. Even a little smirk would be good enough. Your lips move and then they start wobbling. Before he knows it, they’re scrunched up and silent tears run down your cheeks. He assumes he’s done more damage than good but, then, you smile up at him sadly with watery eyes and quietly thank him. Mikey can feel tears of his own blur his vision as he joins you. He’ll know the world is right when you can spend time together without crying over each other.

Bonus:

The Knowledgable Knight

You don’t even recognise the person you’re looking at despite it being you. This young dear, so bright-eyed and so unknowing to the terrors you carry with you. A version of you long bypassed from the two decades of war. They have so many questions they wish to ask - you can tell - but they hold back in fear of seeming insensitive. You almost find it funny given who they are.

When there is a moment alone, you only have one thing to say, “Life is precious, so lead yours reasonably and to the fullest, okay?” 

They smile sadly and nod in understanding. They don’t need to know all of what you’ve gone through to know that life shouldn’t be taken advantage of. It’s a lesson to learn from yourself and, funny enough, yourself.

“And one other thing,” you continue, playfulness hinted with the light smirk on your face. “For the love of God, just tell him how you feel already. You never know if you might end up losing your chance.”

Your younger self goes wide-eyed and there’s practically steam coming off their face but they give you their promise with a raised thumb. You do the same and wish them all the best. Even if you’ve had a life of lost opportunities and lost love, that doesn’t mean the same needs to be true for you again. You watch them run off and glance around the room. Whilst you hold the pain of a future no longer to be, you can take solace in the fact that it won’t be repeated. The apocalypse can’t lay its wretched hands on anyone else. You sit down and let your weary bones rest, well and truly for the first time in years. A long breath washes out of you and, finally, you feel a sense of ease. 

Maybe there is such a thing as second chances.

____________________

Hey! Hey, you! Yeah, you. Got a little message for ya!

There's no telling where life is going to go, what challenges it'll throw your way. We may be left with scars, or feeling hopeless. Sometimes our pain comes back to haunt us, or we lash out. Just know that it gets easier. We are all heroes of our own battles. We've lived to tell the tale and we are strong. Don't ever forget that. Keep your head held high and keep your loved ones close, whether that be family, friends, pets, or four awesome turtles <3

[chokchokk]

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 | park seonghwa x fem!reader x choi san

part one of gangster!mafia!series "𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞-𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞"

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Picking your own poison, if poison was given to you in form of bankrolls by venomous men with high demands.

In which Park Seonghwa had a plan and Choi San has ideas.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : noir, smut, angst | korean mafia/geondal!au | ceo/jaebeol!au

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 18.2k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : entitled rich people, workplace harassment, alcoholism, softdom ceo!seonghwa (headman park), half-drunk satoori-using dom mafiaboss!san (mr. choi), both are called by their names at some point, sub-leaning bratty switch servant!femreader, use of (pet-)names (missy, baby, princess), groping, thigh-riding, light choking, light hair-pulling, non-penetrative sex, voyeur!seonghwa, sex in the elevator, counts as mirror sex right, biting kink, manhandling!san, edging, breeding, cum-eating (m), cunnilingus; reader hates the rich except for when they are sexy, implied but not severe age gap, writer does not have daddy kink but mafiaboss!san does, gunshots and death, use of korean proverbs

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : this with the next part will be the origin story for reader, specifically the series synopsis’ first half :) originally, this has been a request, so please read this, if you desire to have a bit more insight to what the series actually is + translations of certain terms (mostly character dynamics) in this chapter !!

tl;dr: since it's all based around korean mafia/gangster/etc, there will be korean culture scattered between the lines. it is all translated, hopefully in an understandable way!!! (please hmu if there are difficulties) i let out honorifics/romanisation, except for "chaebol" since it's an actual word :) that being said, reader's ethnicity is not specified and won't be relevant to the series in any way !! 

smut comes after the second border, and uh,,, i had to shorten that shit (pls dont ask me where) but uh. you’re getting 8k words of smut so buckle up LMAO !!! i hope you enjoy as much as i did writing it !!! thank you for likes, reblogs and feedback xoxo (also this is NOT beta-read so pls dont hesitate to tell me about... like.... errors, tags and shit)

[ now playing : money ▸ pink floyd | listen to the playlist ]

It's getting repetitive. They are drinking their ninth bottle of expensive whiskey, smoking their third or fourth disgustingly pricey cigar— what the fuck, is this seriously what the upper men of your nation are doing at some stupid chairman’s dinner party?

“Missy!”

“Me, sir?”

No wonder the economy's fucking shit.

“Yeah, you, missy, give that gent over there one of our divine Denmarks!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give him a kiss too, while you’re at it! What do you think? He’s still got it, no?”

Said ‘gent’, some old, scummy clown— winks at you, his gray eyelashes fluttering towards your direction.

“Yes, sir."

God, how bad you wish you had snuck your phone in to take a picture of these red, drunken, senseless faces, but you're a dutiful servant, abiding by the rules at all times, however difficult it may be. You’re holding in your puke professionally, not even doing something as to grit your teeth, just softly letting your jaw play along to your friendly smile.

“Does your willy even still work that way, old friend?", a cranky, yet humorous voice pitches in.

Agreeing to your supervisor’s offer to earn “big money” may have been a bad idea, but a good choice. Jongho said he’d seen you at your work, took special note of you— even though you weren’t sure where exactly he had observed you, since it’s only been a month of actually working as a servant in the lower tiers of the building— and wanted to give you a chance to swim with the big sharks. “I think you’re best suited for the job,” is what he said to make you giggle and think about your initial rejection of his proposition, “you have a talent for serving.”

Something you didn’t know you had, something you didn’t know someone would see in you ever in your life, “talent.” Sure, maybe you let yourself be persuaded a bit too fast, but it felt very touching that somebody saw you and saw potential, for whatever occasion it may be for. You don’t necessarily want to screw the rules of the hierarchical pyramid or what it was that kept you from being in the proximity of the chairman, but you really need the extra cash right now.

"What does a girl from the mountains look for in being a servant in the city?", had been the question you were asked by Lady Kim who gave you the leftovers of her restaurant at the end of the day, when you had just started with the training– poor, barely standing on your own feet. 

You remember how you explained to her that the buddhist monks who raised and send you here surrounded themselves with wells to remind everyone that water always returned, and you assumed it would work the same with wealth. You also remember how hard she tried to stay kind to you, showing you her sincerest sympathy by telling you that "the chaebol are no joke!" (at least not a joke, an innocent girl like you could laugh about, she later explained) and giving you an extra portion of her home-made dumplings to suit you up.

Her sharp, yet compassionate voice rings in your ears, as you reapply your red lipstick on the way to your target guest. Oh, Lady Kim, what a graceful woman– she put her all into her work for her restaurant to succeed, but had always made a place to share what she had for those who needed it. Such a lovable woman, she must have been well-liked by all around her.

You get it now, the way you had been so naive back then. Floating on the philosophical happy-go-lucky psyche of the city’s promise of prosperity, trying to live the Korean dream strangely enough as someone who was so sarcastically out of touch with it. If you had been in her position, you wouldn’t have been able to be as nice, no, would have warned yourself with a finger pointed upwards as if you were teaching a little kid about strangers, or how your monks said, ‘tigers in the woods’.

“After that cigar, his dick will turn to dust!”

Maybe things would have looked different, if you hadn’t taken that fund from the school’s superintendent, who slid you that card on your table with a smirk on his face. Oh dear, do you remember how excited you had been? You ran through the streets in your worn-out shoes with that plastic sheet in your hand, on your way to tell that the money on it was such a ridiculously high number that you could split— but Lady Kim had got to know it first, the ridiculousness of the rich, with the demolition of her restaurant-building.

“He’s got no cum in his nutsacks ‘no more anyway!”

No warning, no compensation, just everything crushed to pieces to make place for the big corporations; the fancy neon-signs she'd invested in, the ambition of her enthusiastic dreams, your only source of tender charity, shattered to a wreck. You have never seen her since, and can only laugh about how the fancy food of the chaebol—and you definitely know who they are now, those tasteless men gawking at you in the moment—doesn’t even look half as good as her low-cost black bean noodles you could more than afford now. 

The present day-you is less dreamy, but just as lost, forced to work off a debt you hadn’t been informed about when you lived off the favorable “fund”-money. No, Lady Kim, this is all a joke, you would tell her today. A really fucking bad one.

So, making room for another ha-ha in your life, you pulled your eyes up innocently, returning Jongho’s specious smiles. “Is it illegal to collect pocket-money from the rich?” It’s not like you had any doubts at that point, but 'they'll buy you out of prison if you’re good enough' was all you needed anyway to put your uniform on tightly at home.

"Can't even shoot his cum in missy to save his blood!"

Your more experienced co-workers are watching you work with a condescending frown, feeling both jealous you're getting all the men's attention, but also maliciously delighted you're being challenged as the new-coming servant who's obviously of erotic interest to these richlings. They want you to get a "taste of life" for you may be the most goody-goody fawning bitch they have ever seen; just a young birdbrain who has nothing to bring to the table except her body. Young thing won’t hold up, doesn't know who she's working with— though they are quite right about that part, you must admit, you frankly didn’t look up whose money you’re taking right now— she doesn’t know who the fuck she is.

"What? Did his son leave the company, too?"

It’s flattering to know that the other pretty servants look at you and only see some candy-coated muppet, but fairly, your ever-frozen smile on your face doesn’t give them much to work with. You’re simply an annoyance to their routine, and if you could, you would like to comfort them by saying none of the money you’re getting will stay in your hands– they’d be so happy to hear that you’re really worth nothing– but you must stay focused.

“Idiot, he’s only got a daughter!”

So yes, that being said, you’re glad nobody ever asks you about you. Everyone just assumes, judges from what they see, and if what they see is an opportunistic bimbo-girl chasing money, then so be it, right?

"You know, the one he married off to the governor?”

Right. Because you too have not a single second to think nor talk about your past. The present is scarce and the future is fragile, you know it the best. And you owe it to your old men to make the best out of their efforts, don't you? The air in this room may not be the one you inhaled in the mountains, but you still have to use it, breathe, be alive, despite how moldy and spoiled it simmers in your throat.

"Real mad! Anything to avoid that fee, huh, missy? Got no semen and no glory! You really want to give him that cigar?”

So, that taste of life? Fucking bitter, just like how that name 'missy' seeps and sweats on your tongue. You can’t loathe your co-workers for this reason, they're basically in the same wooden, shaky boat as you, but these asswipes here are floating on a fucking yacht. Of course they don't follow some type of code of human decency for you, they don't give two shits about the lowlifes, the poor. They watch them like a spectacle, and because they don't regard you as a human-being but rather a toy, they play with you on strings that are, on the other hand, binding together a big, fat bankroll.

Ka-Ching.

Eyes on the price, Y/N, eyes on the price. You may not own a lot, that's been more than established, but if there is something you have, it's dutifulness, commitment, and proficiency. It will remain difficult to keep inner peace and honor with a job of which "duty" it is to be a deferential, subservient doll, but at least you're alive and well, soon to leave this floor with more money to your name that these fuckers don't know anyway, right? Never let that smile drop, smart girl. You have a talent, just like your supervisor said. Just keep on serving.

“No children-makin' is better for the cheatin'— ha!”, the barren, that fruitless man who’s been made fun of whoops in to stand up for himself, and awaits his tobacco that's being driven to him by your cart.

You open up the wooden chest in which the cheroots, so unnecessarily gold-plated, sit and ridicule you with their rare existence. There are just thousands of dollars sitting in your hand right now, and as you fetch the thick roll with wary fingers, you think, fucking hell, this could feed so many people, and they're just smoking it away like it's nothing, assholes.

The other servants frown at you spitefully during the time you bow down. You're sensually placing the brown cylindrical object into his mouth, a match lighting held to his face to light it up. In addition to the experience, you hold one long stare with his washy eyes, because you assume it will ignite him.

And, oh, how excited he gets.

"Thank you, sir," you chuckle and flutter with your eyelashes, pursing up your lips like you’re an innocent little girl getting a piece of candy behind her parents’ back.

“Just mad! Missy's young enough to be your grandchild, fella!”

You’re aware of exactly what your dear co-workers are thinking, but being ordered to light their cigs and then ogled at is not "baby-treatment” or whatever they’re muttering under their breath, it's your subtle strategy to have that bankroll be slid between your thighs.

"Hey now, I still can get it on! Don't you think so too, missy?"

Dumb Y/N, only has money on her mind. Allows herself to be called "missy", like a dumb fucking slut. 

Hm, kind of has a ring to it, don't you think?

"Yes, sir."

Let them all think you're a dummy. Let them believe, believe each other's words in whatever they fucking want. You're almost too certain it's the secret reason Jongho offered you a place here anyway; "suited for the job", because he deems you dense enough to not understand any of the nonsense these twelve men are babbling, "big money", because he knows you will do anything for it. 

You’ll still take the talent, but if he really thinks the rest, then oh, sucks to be him.

Yes, you haven’t looked up the names of who the men here are for the same reasons they're not using yours, but the second you’re out of this whiny, weak testosterone-drowned room, you're going to write the most thorough blackmail, because you can not listen to their cheating, money-laundering, corrupted bullshit anymore. Getting involved with the handshakers is the last thing you should do if you want to live a silent, carefree life, and you know this too well, but they're not going to believe it was you anyway. They wouldn’t dream of their missy to do such a competent, smart thing. You even know what you're going to write under the letter so they have something to think about in their cells: 'birds listen to the words of day, mice to the words at night'— walls have ears, too.

Ah, the soft, sometimes very cryptic voice of your favorite old monk. Always there to teach you new things, remind you of how to live your life cheerfully. You still believe he would have rather kept you in the mountains and not drop you on a wild voyage into the unknown urban life, but your old man had his reincarnation coming. You should visit his grave again, it's been a while, hasn't it? Wouldn't he be so proud to see you? To see how much his little Y/N has grown and learnt, using his proverbs to restore justice? Well, for what you still can collect of your late mentor, he would probably make big eyes and use his whole body to keep your monetary gift away from him. "Teacher," you would ask, "don't you at least want to save?", and his answer would remain the same;

"Peace comes free."

You feel warm at the distant memory of the bald-headed man warming himself in his orange gown, teaching you about love, harmony and kindness, but that sweet veil of untainted innocence has long dropped from your eyes.

In front of you, you see tycoons continuing having a blast being their shitty selves, and as golden teeth blend your sight, they are entertaining each other by staring at your legs that are covered by your sheer black stockings, whispering their insight of how you'd look like under it, but the mini-skirt only leaves so much for imagination.

"Sweet missy!"

How could you not want to spit into their face? They have bought the war. They have bought the chaos. And why? Just because they can. It doesn't cost you anything to restore some peace, maybe that’s the thing your old man got right.

"Yes, sir?”

“Do you have any Cubans left, sweet missy?”

“A Cuban, coming right up, sir.”

“Hopefully someone’s gonna come after the party tonight!”

Are you humiliated? As someone who lived among the wisest, clearest heads, and was considered just as smart by them to be wished a ‘more fortunate life’ — No.

You couldn’t care less about their perversions. Especially now, when they seemingly don’t care enough to know your name you've introduced yourself with. You are here for one reason, and it's not to prove your worth to the world, it's to secure your place in it, get that parasitic debt off your shoulders.

And if anything, as long you are staying truthful to yourself, there’s nothing that could take away your spirit. That’s what you want to believe, at least. When you’re out of debt and continue with this job, you could spend every day downtown like the other servants, but for you, it's all going to the savings for the family you're going to feed with not one worry in life on the clear land in the mountains, not under a sky that's polluted by light even when the sun has set.

The clock has announced night long time ago. Outside the windows, there shines and roams a loud, restless city under a starless, foggy black blanket, inhabited by people like you who live day by day to make their living, like small flies forgathered in a hive of exhausting labor, buzzing their life away.

It’s what you think every time you peek down the glass room: Seoul has never looked so small. Across and around the ever-flowing Han-River, the metropole is the home of millions who are looking up with their heads far back their necks to the point right here, where you stand, at the center or peak of all the wealth gathered together, inside the highest building standing tall amidst of the tumult, on the 114th floor, towering over the world in a luxurious dining room decorated by exotic animals, marbled statues and most importantly the filthy glimmer of something they call ‘class’.

“Missy,” the chairman calls out for you, raising his hand, right after he’s made another infidelity joke and showed his luxurious wedding ring to the audience.

“Yes, sir?”, you call out, wearing your pristine servant-smile with your hands folded nicely in front of your stomach, voice not tainted by your disgust as to even one note, despite the other servants looking at you with hateful expressions. They wish you the worst; the worst treatment, the worst performance, anything to get you out of this place. 

Maybe they're driven by the same instincts and avarice that makes you hate the rich,  with them just thinking you're taking away their money, but it's free territory here with these predators; you just make for great prey.

It’s a challenge to all of the people involved and the contestants can only win. Will it be another pick-up line? You're going to pick on that with ease. Another joke about your age? That one is never going to get old. There, bring it on, you think, and feel proud of your confident spirit, ready to run with whatever they throw and stash it into your wallet.

“You see those youngsters back there? Get 'em some more ice."

“Yes, sir.”

“Chaps don't know how to drink the good stuff yet, what a waste! Next time, buy 'em the cheap soju from the mart! The ones for 5,000 Won, missy, you know those?”

“Yes, sir.” Your whole face flashes a smile, bowing to accept the task of refilling some ice, dragging your cart across the room, as male laughter rings in your ears. It's as if they don't realize they also drink cheap liquor, but you suppose that's forgettable when they are flushing the fanciest of meats down with it.

"Be careful, missy!"

Are you being too mild by saying you want to ram the green glass-bottles into their heads?

"They bite!”

Maybe choke them with their own money bills?

Yes, “Yes, sir.”

It's a fun exercise to fantasize about how to hurt them, so you thought you would be busy enough to ignore the chairman's warning, but as you are on your long way to the end of the even longer glass table to push your cart towards the men he is referring to, there's a growing feeling inside your guts that oh, the chairman may be ... 

Huh, right for the first time. The quizzical lump expands warmly as much as it is cold, with goosebumps running down your spine, your hands feeling hotter than ever over the metal cart. Your whole body is trying to signal you that something is off on the other side of the table, but you don’t know whether to ignore it or run.

The annoying, empty-minded, impertinent elders, who have been belly-laughing at the chairman's joke a second ago stop with their chatting and only exhale huffs, and prolong them nervously, that’s off. The servants gulping, loosening their crossed arms– that’s off, too. 

“So, uhh… Where was the, uh– food from?”

“Oh, lad, good topic, yes– the delicious food…”

It seems that everyone in the room is trying to fill in the silence with the fakest of laughter, so the chairman can move on from the topic, but you're well over your way there, uninformed to what you're going to be hit with once you halt.

Tycoons like them usually don't need back-checking. You know how to deal with ill-willed imbeciles that only use their estate as a weapon. Their bodies and brains have passed prime an eternity ago. Left behind are only their numbed minds that seek shelter in lust, ecstasy and aphrodisia because nothing else excites them anymore. They’re what you probably would have been if you hadn’t spent your teens brewing tea and listening to the leaves rustle, not experiencing all euphoria and more at a too early age– they’re washed out, just swimming in money they haven't worked a day for, are lazy, weary sloths.

However, opposed to the cloudiness in their class that's only getting more foggier through the many years of monopoly, these two men that are waiting in front of you, and you understand why your lungs are pinging now, they are potent.

Money is power, but twist it around and there is them, with that; a certain force that the rich ooze out by just acting and looking a certain way, and oh, Y/N, how they are, how they are looking at you right now, best believe you have to hold onto your strength like it's a small purse.

'Youngsters', he said— 'they bite', he said.

They have been rarely reacting to the chairman’s words, notwithstanding being the ones to be the most respectful in this meeting for their young age, just looking at each other with unamused eyes. Even the director who is older than the chairman lets out his best holler every time, but these two have not laughed once at his jokes, not the slightest chuckle has left their mouths to flatter or satisfy the chairman.

Interesting.

Both black-haired, the one you get to first has his mane gelled back, a cigarette hanging out his scarred mouth, as you approach his seat with your cart walking carefully practiced steps. His white shirt is opened up to where chains, most importantly a silver cross, hang from his collarbones to his chest that’s covered with scars and scratches you can’t quite identify how they got there. This man looks gigantic, muscular, dangerous. Shoulders terrifyingly broad popping out his black vest, he sits on his seat with widened legs, thighs flattened in his also black pants, fastened by a leather belt, and with his white sleeves pulled back to his elbows, his slightly tanned forearms only appear more huge after the rather average-looking wristwatch catches your eye, just when you stop with your cart in front of him.

“That old geezer just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?”, he chuckles, the Gyeongsang-provincial dialect rolling so naturally off his tongue. Everyone else in the room has been faking their speech to cosplay a charm they didn’t possess, but even the slight lisp and lull from the drunkenness are not hiding how deeply masculine and sincere this man’s voice sounds. It’s a mixture of the sarcasm you've gotten used to by now, but also a brashness that the older men lack, and you’re a bit embarrassed to say it’s working you up a bit. "Empty carts rattle loudest, I say."

A wintry breeze goes through your breast and you feel your eyebrows flinch. You haven't heard that grandmotherly expression in so long, that it does feel somehow refreshing to reconcile with it, but maybe the whisk you sense shouldn’t feel as comforting given the way the man is looking up to you brazenly with a bit of atrocity in his appearance. He is far away from the serene sketch you drew to save the vision as you left the village, he is what you felt when you took your first train, asphyxiated by the big masses of people who you would never see again— an unhomely, yet intimate feeling of... adventure.

He glances through you smoking his cigarette with no hands attached, and it moves at the corner of his lip as he talks. Wait, cigarette? Missy, did you forget to bring him a cigar?

"Let's see when he runs out of words."

“It’s alright, sir,” you answer, suppressing a slight chuckle because yes, you too have been wishing the chairman would finally shut the fuck up, but haven't expected anyone to say it out loud that boldly. You watch the male in front of you take out the slim roll from his mouth with his thick fingers that are covered with silver rings that all look different and not matching each other, blowing out the smoke whilst maintaining eye contact with you. “If you require, I can bring you a cigar, sir," you say, but he waves his hand to brush off your offer.

“Ah, they give me bad breath.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please," the man progresses instantaneously, scratching over the vertical scar at his lip-corner with his thumb, his ciggy continues to burn, "Do be so kind and give brother his ice," then smiles, "he needs to preserve his cold head.”

“You are one to talk about keeping mouths shut,” the ‘brother’ answers, voice velvety and adequate despite dissing the man that’s sunken unmannerly into his seat, while he, on the other hand, is sitting up straight, his black suit buttoned up, tie set cleanly under his ironed pearl-white collars, elegantly decorated by a golden pin. A Greek "π" is chiseled into it, and you recognize it so well for you’ve seen it written all over the tall buildings you drove by on your way here. His hair is combed evenly to the sides and the more you look at him, he’s just— wow, flawless, prestigious, expensive. Everything about him is crystal clear; his rich voice, his unblemished skin, his eyes, oh god, you just noticed those eyes, how does such a shameful man have such pure eyes?

Orbs— and they're not innocent as much as you can't say they're not guilty— are looking at you with a defiance that is suffocating, as if you ought to do everything perfectly, not miss a single twitch of his eyebrows to understand whether he's enjoying or disapproving of the situation.

Well, is he enjoying you or disapproving of the way you're listening to his partner's order to refill his ice?

Huh. No fucking idea. He probably doesn't, but you must do it still— must still serve.

It feels irrationally sheep-headed, but hey, being a sheep is your job, is it not? Being in this herd is keeping you alive, and even in this situation, where you are following the orders of the blackest of sheep, no, wolves that can't be covered by any fluffy wool— you must mow your best.

"Ohh, brother, it's been a while since I heard you talk! Feels lonely droppin' all the good sayings by myself."

You’re serving Choi San and CEO of PARA-conglomerate, headman Park Seonghwa.

Sat right across the chairman, the percentage this couple holds of his company-share is more than most of the attending seniors combined, which makes them stand at the top of the guest-list. You couldn’t have missed their names, even if you’ve made the attempt to, and the other information you’re getting is just your co-workers whispering hurried words to each other, and it seems to you that you may be more in need of them than ever.

You already eavesdropped on them a little, and to be honest, you didn’t need any real confirmation that everyone in this room was unlawful and corrupt, but it is good to know you really don’t have to feel guilty stashing those bankrolls into your purse.

The man that is licking the tail of his scar at his lip, rolling his neck, clicking with his mouth and tapping his fingers onto the table, he is rumored to be the boss of the Choi-Clan, the infamous ‘Mad Dog of Namhae’, whose face had been unknown. The chairman has made a drunken joke about allegedly trying to sell him off to the government— “everybody act like you don’t know, okay?”— and nobody had taken him seriously, but once the supposed mafiaboss had entered the room, an hour later than everyone else, and sat down comfortably like nothing was strange about his heavy breath and slightly purple knuckles, nobody dared to say something else.

If you’d heard beforehand that you would be meeting a CEO and a mafiaboss today, you don’t know if you would have acted any differently. Thinking, here comes the chairman, his jesters, the mafia-guy, the chaebol; ah, all the motherfuckers aligned, let’s get to work, shall we? 

But this does challenge you a bit, indeed. If they just weren’t so young and intimidatingly good-looking, fuck, you could have treated them in the same cookie-cutter way you’d been at perfectly.

Maybe a bit of change-up won’t hurt, you were starting to get a bit too irritated anyway.

"Control yourself."

“You wanna see him dead too, brother,” the smoking male sneers— you’ll call him ‘Mr. Choi’ for now— pointing at his companion to accuse him of being a yawner, his cigarette stuck between his fingers.

Headman Park smirks with a short twitch of his lips that makes you think you just imagined it, but none of his extremities has moved since you came here: Every single action he takes seems so... calculated, thought through, measured, planned out. He is the only one to have brought a briefcase to the dinner, and looks a little bit out of place with his sober expressions which seem to you as if he was observing the whole room in its possible entirety, not leaving out a corner in his sight uncovered.

"Want," he parrots, face dropped to a neutral visage, highlighting the only word that seems to be bothering the CEO regarding his vis-à-vis' statement, eyes darting down  to Mr. Choi having his fingertips pointed towards him.

"Don't you become pushy with the words now, brother," the mafiaboss teases him, and tugs his sleeves up to his elbows again, eyeing you up and down while you're passing him with your cart. You discern his interest in the pockets of your skirt, or what is there underneath, instantly, but before you can think that the man may be just the same as the others, he cracks his knuckles. “Old geezer might die on his own at this point, look at how he's smoking his raisin-lungs away."

"Poetic."

So much for hearing government and company secrets, here are these two joking about the chairman’s death. You need the chairman a little bit longer if you want to earn money, but the idea of him dying soon isn’t too bothersome.

"You gotta get used to my Korean way of speaking, brother! Then we can communicate correctly!”

With your ears sharpened, but your face presenting unconcerned, you devote yourself to headman Park to refill his bucket, ice cubes jangling down the iron jar, whilst Mr. Choi stretches his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow towards his elder who isn't hearing him out.

“Thank you,” headman Park says, very briefly and precisely. The tong you put in the bucket for him to use almost tips, and you don’t know whether he does it on purpose for he’s been frozen still all during the dinner, but with his reflexes, he prevents it from falling before you can, but if that wasn't surprising enough, he grazes your skin while returning.

Soft, uncalloused; not a single ounce of labor roughed up these hands, it seems. They tickled you featherly, and right now, you are looking for some type of confirmation in those black spheres of his to know that you're allowed to exhale and react to his touch, because you gasped slightly and have held your breath ever since.

Nothing. You are the first one to look— no, shy away from his stare, getting your hands in front of your abdomen again, your fingers searching for each other, fiddling around by themselves without your knowledge. 

Mr. Choi lets his wrist-watched hand fall between his lap, neck tilted slightly to the back, licking over his canine tooth with a grin, and it appears to you that he's either noticed his associate's small gesture or how headman Park is still staring at you. “You wanna do something, don’t you, brother?”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Mr. Choi shakes his head to irritate headman Park and make him explain himself.

“This is not business.”

Headman Park glances down his whiskey, droplets of water have formed around the brim of the cold glass. It is untouched. 

"I see you aren’t enjoying the whiskey, would you like something else to drink, sir?", you ask, trying to finish your job and get away from here before you get ideas that don’t include money between your thighs.

"The Fillico, please," the male answers, not having glanced away from your eyes once to inspect your cart, where the black, long bottle, donning a crown and wings adorned with Swarovski-crystals, awaits you to be grabbed.

"A glass of cold Fillico Black King!", you exclaim, your surprise of the particularity that anyone would drink water at the chairman's dinner can’t be hidden, and then hum, "Coming right up, sir."

“You’re really something, brother,” Mr. Choi wheezes, taking the last pull of his cigarette, watching you fill up a new glass for his unrelated brother with the finest mineral that can be bought to-date, pricing around 6 Billion Won, or 4500 US Dollars per bottle. “Wouldn’t you say it’s difficult to not be smokin’ or drinkin’ in this business, Y/N?”

Sure, whatever ‘business’ a man like him is talking about. “Yes, sir." Wait, hold on, did Mr. Choi just say your name? 

“You don’t look too impressed,” the male grins, seeing how you’ve narrowed your eyes in confusion.

"Pardon me, I was just– how do you know my name, sir?”

Mr. Choi shrugs as if to say ‘I dunno’ and presses his cigarette out on the table. It sizzles out, like your head is also slowly deteriorating. He throws the bud into the CEO's ice-bucket— headman Park is not even minorly irritated by it— and then, with his ringed fingers, goes through his hair, setting it loose behind his head. He’s picking on you, and you surely feel picked out, that's all you can think. It's so unusual to be hearing your name, not because it hasn't been said during the dinner, but because—

"Y/N Y/L/N, a pretty name for a pretty servant like you, huh?"

Your heart somehow flutters. A stalwart man like him taking your name into his mouth is nothing you hear on the daily. Deep, manly. It's not flattering, no, it sounds wrong, feels so dangerous for a guy like him to be taking something so personal and turning it into his possession, like you're slowly going to lose yourself in the words he speaks in a lax manner. Your name is precious to you, and it just drops off his tongue like it's candy. Where on earth does a man like him get your full name from?

"Sir," you insist, dipping your fingertip under your fingernail, fidgeting.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya prefer that stupid name ‘missy’,” Mr. Choi chuckles and fetches headman Park’s full glass of whiskey, his dialect draping out his mouth.

“Or do you secretly enjoy it," he grins, and with his eyebrows raised, Mr. Choi drinks up his acquaintance's booze in one big gulp, letting the glass fall down on the table with a thump, breathing out, "missy?”

People drink whiskey neatly, you know that. The guests have been doing it all evening, but that's for two ounces. Headman Park had a glass full of the oak-colored sherry liquid with an uncommonly high alcohol percentage placed in front of him. A taunt from the chairman maybe, to subtly scorn them about their apparent boyhoodish inexperience, but Mr. Choi makes it look so adept: The strong alcohol flows down his throat smooth and speedy, even though he did misplace the rim by an inch.

There's whiskey dripping down his chin as he glances over to his side, smirking at his neighbor who's blinking frozen, as well as the other guests, who are seemingly just as irritated that the mafiaboss got you as flustered as you look like.

You’re left with your mouth slightly open, shotting down a glass of whiskey shouldn't have looked as barbarous as Mr. Choi made it appear. Like a striking attack, baring his claws, he growls out the herby aftertaste. "'Scuse me, 'got really thirsty there."

The mafiaboss goes over his lips with his tongue, watching your hand play with the seam of your skirt, where he knows a handkerchief is buried in your pocket.

“Aw, shit, I got wet,” he wails over-dramatically, looking down on himself and then again locking his eyes into yours.

“Wanna clean me up, baby?”

“Pardon?”

Much to your continued bafflement, Mr. Choi smiles, and as he sees you taking a second to confirm what he said, he continues talking to you like you’re a hooker.

“Don't like that one, Y/N?” Again, with the name! Where does he get the name?!

“Sir, how—“

“You have introduced yourself to us,” headman Park finally reveals in the high Seoul tongue, perchance by pity, and you inhale, a bit embarrassed that you didn’t come to think of it earlier. What is happening to you? Is it because you’re finally away from those sleazes, that you’re being so light-headed? Lack of training? Sexual attraction? God, that’s a rookie’s mistake, Y/N, think about them as targets, not objectives. The objective is to not end up in a bed with them, remember? That’s like, rule number one. Even though nobody told you about the Mafia while you were at training, that’s a valid argument.

Don't let your guard down, you’re in a room with the men of men, no maybe the men. The most influential men you could be meeting in Seoul right now, aside from how little is known about them.

Whether he's a real chaebol or not, PARA-CEO Park Seonghwa is definitely the nephew of good ol’ chairman over there, just leeching off his money even if today is the first time the man is visiting his distant uncle who is definitely a bit sour about the fact he took so long to connect with him. Money has its sources and sometimes, most of the time, it’s nepotism. There you go, the explanation of his wealth and why the male is so well-mannered sitting on his seat. He’s woven into the conglomerate-family, been made CEO to keep him that way and all in all, you could care less about him, if he just wasn’t the only person that was kind of nice to you. Just thinking about his eyes makes you a bit dizzy, but you can get that fixed by turning your eyes to the mafiaboss.

Mafia and chaebol don't usually associate, for reasons that are rather obvious. Mafia’s rule the underworld with the overworld’s laws, and the chaebol rule over what laws the overworld decides on, digging their hands into the government like it’s soot, planting and pulling crops wherever they can profit from it. Money.

It’s sickening every time you think about it. How many people in this room could pay for your whole life? No, how many can’t pay for your whole life and beyond? You can count them with one hand and they’re all wearing the same clothes as you. 

Money knows where it belongs; that’s a phrase you made up the day you were told about the crippling debt by the letter and the bank declining your card. It sounds similar to your monks' sayings of water's ever-flowing life, but if water returns, money drifts. It wanders across the citizens, but follows a direction it's always bound to end up. Just like today, with you getting bankrolls to graze the inner space of your legs, only to know it’s going to end up in the same fingers that gave it to you.

So, where do headman Park and Mr. Choi get a say in this? Do they get a say in this?

“I did introduce myself, how could I forget? I’m sorry, sir,” you admit and let out a laugh that is half intended to sound as nervous as it did, and half regrettably filled with authentic uneasiness.

Old chairman, what does he know? Have those teeth really ever sunk into flesh? You can’t play with your fate here, but by hook or crook they intrigue you so much. You haven’t expected guests that aren't ass-kissers of the chairman, and apparently your talent only goes so far. You have no idea what to do with them to satisfy them except letting out your real thoughts and you can’t do that, definitely not in front of the man.

But you feel so connected to them. The caution everyone has, it confuses you just as much you're amazed by it, and you want that, you want that kind of safety. Every guest here has money, but not every guest has their authority.

“It’s alright, everybody makes mistakes, baby,” Mr. Choi smirks and musters you again, rubbing the liquid away from the corner of his lip with his thumb and kissing the remaining alcohol away, savoring every droplet of whiskey, but also savoring you by keeping his thumb leaned into his opened mouth, eyes looking sultrily at you, you might as well just—

“Mistakes, San. Beware of them,” headman Park falls in and his companion finally sways his eyes away from you, hand backing down. “Talkative drunkard.“

“Brother,” Mr. Choi sighs and grabs the glass from his neighbor that's filled with ice cubes to murmur, “I’m not that drunk," swinging it around with concise flicks of his wrist to enunciate his words.

With the couple bantering, you think you can calm down. Maybe you were overreacting. Bootlicking some birdbrains is a way easier life than to follow these two.

"Hey, baby?”, but there's another call of the bird of prey.

“Yes, sir?”, you answer, fingers letting go of your skirt that has thrashed your skin by how you abused it. You don’t even know when you started to react to the name 'baby', but truth be told it’s better than ‘missy’ by miles. Being over here is better than being over there by miles, that is unchangeable.

“Could you get me clean? This is kinda sticky."

With two fingers, he grabs the collar of his shirt and flails it softly, ice clinking in his glass, as he shows you his indeed quite syrupy breast.

"Yes, sir."

You nod towards the crevice that is the space where his muscles meet, and before your eyes can get lost in the plump thews, you collect yourself so you can do what you were asked for; getting your hands on his body.

“Please.”

“Ahh, I liked you more when you were quiet, brother! I don’t wanna call you a party-pooper, but c'mon! It’s your plan, and I’m just— doin’ my part.”

Mr. Choi twists his upper body a bit so he’s still able to hold the empty glass behind your back, though it feels more caging in than it should, when you lean forwards to softly tap his skin with your handkerchief. His arm hovers next to your hip and his upper body is extended wide around you.

“What do you say, baby?”, the male asks, and you harrumph to take your mind elsewhere from how rock-hard the mafiaboss feels under your hand, how his cologne smells so rich and inviting, and how— “Wanna be bitten?”

“Pardon?”, you ask, not understanding the context of Mr. Choi’s question, but without fail grasping the intentions of it.

The male grins, and you’re unsure as to how he got his hand on the bottle of whiskey from your tray as quickly as he did, but it’s there, in the hand that’s across your hip, and from then on, everything you do seems risky. His bicep is curled around your thigh so he can fill himself another glass, and if you take a step back, your ass will be pushed against his arm, but if you step forward, you’ll land on top of him; a straining dilemma that only inflames your guts the more you think about it.

“San,” headman Park grumbles quietly, seeing you struggle to stand on your feet.

“Agh, come on, brother, 's all going well! Live a little for me, will ya? Watch me and follow,” Mr. Choi nags with a juvenile pout and takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, making your imaginations reality by pushing you with his forearm with no forewarning. You trip closer to him and his arms raise, as you have to find safety on his shoulders to not fall into his crotch.

“Oops, ‘scuse me, baby,” he grins, feline eyes glancing up to you, your bust in his view. The other men are grumbling, fussy, yammering— if they knew, they would have done that with you a long time ago!— and in your head, you don't know whether you should be doing this at the chairman's dinner and not somewhere in a stripclub or just, god, anywhere else.

“It’s okay, sir,” is what you answer, and the short silence would be the perfect opportunity to scuffle back to your original stance, but you saw his ever-growing, throbbing bulge in his black suit-pants and it is staring you down.

Everything about him is so big…

“Really, baby?”, Mr. Choi asks, eyebrows pushed together, lips formed into a pout, feigning an expression of worry.

“Yes, sir,” you say, the big question of 'what is the goal here?' unnerving you, but with the quick, harsh movement of his leg against the back of your knee, you're—

“Sir!”

Sat on his thigh, your butt is bouncing on the hard flesh, fingers dug into his shoulders deeper due to the shock, ribcage moving up and down as you’re breathing fast and anxiously. At this point, you’ve gathered the attention of many who are seemingly more excited about the situation than you are, silencing all around, while the chairman continues to crack drunk jokes on the other side.

Mr. Choi chuckles at your nervousness and puts his glass down. “Aww, look at you, baby,” he coos, his rough, calloused fingers trailing between the inner space of your thighs that’s pushed into his leg. “Need a little break?”

As you sit there— securing yourself on the table, feeling his hand sit between your legs, you become lighter with each passing second, tingles being sent down your abdomen. Could Mr. Choi please stop smirking like that? It’s going to make you lose your mind, lose every thought of what you were trying to achieve at this table tonight.

“The chairman doesn’t allow breaks, sir,” you murmur, trying to cling onto the last sense of service you have, “I have to stay here.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper for the CEO in front of you to become curious, but loud enough for the mafiaboss to scoff and massage his hand deeper into your flesh.

“Sir, I really—“, you try to protest, but Mr. Choi uses his other finger to signal you to come closer to his face. You do as you’re told, his warm breath hitting your ear after you lean backwards.

“Baby,” he cackles, and his lips touch your earlobe, the smell of the smoke fading out his mouth.

“I practically own that wimp,” and Mr. Choi lets out a chuckle before his voice lowers an octave, “Let me own you, too.”

His tongue grazes over your sensitive skin as if he was a snake trying to convince you of eating the strange fruit, and you shudder forwards in surprise, his growl still vibrating in your ears.

You should get yourself together— yeah, that sounds like a good idea, if it just wasn't for the fact that this is exactly how you've been presenting yourself the whole evening. You're cornered, and not only by him, but your actions and it's, oh, old man, it's something. It's something that broadens the playground that was set out in front of you, something that gives you more to play, no, more to be played with.

The other guests are gawking already, forgetting about their prejudices when it comes to the 'youngsters', just happy to be seeing their missy in action.

The mafiaboss sighs, breaking his whispering and speaking louder than before. “But if you cherish so much about that old geezer, he’ll be taken care of, no? Maybe even better than before, or am I wrong here, brother?”

He clicks with his mouth— is it a habit?— and looks at headman Park, who rolls his eyes, as if they’re sharing some secret you’re not a part of. But before you can fall into further confusion, your legs tighten around Mr. Choi’s wristwatch, as his thumb strokes the surface under your skirt one time, right across your cunt which has been heating up since the first time you saw the reflection of yourself in his silver cross. A pant leaves your mouth and you have to grind your ass over so you can somehow clench your legs together.

“You like that?”, Mr. Choi sneers, chuckling into your ear, as he continues to move his thick finger against your clit. "Of course you do. Let me hear more of those cute sounds, baby.”

You grab his bicep, heat crawling up your abdomen against his forearm, your crotch feeling more and more buzzed as the male works his fingertip into you. Nobody says anything, just murmuring insignificant sentences to keep up the chatty mood.

Headman Park in the meanwhile, crosses his arms, catching the attention of the mafiaboss.

“Brother, can’t you see I’m doing this for you? Enjoy yourself.”

Mr. Choi flashes an eye-smile and keeps groping your cunt, you melting more and more into his lap and under the heated gazes of the crowd. Your servant-colleagues don’t know what to do, or no, maybe they knew exactly that this would happen and think you deserve all of this shame, just in general not helping you escape the touch of the mafiaboss.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying her more than anything,” headman Park says, looking indifferent, but his words don’t cross out the possibility that inside his pants, his cock isn’t growing too, how his arms are crossed, clenched around each other.

“Come on, baby,” Mr. Choi growls into your ear, “give that fucking bore a show, won’t you?”

You’re split open. He’s strong, oh gosh, so strong, taking not more than one push to grab you by your thigh and spread your legs, make you slip on his crotch, as he closes his knees together to support you from down under.

“San,” headman Park warns, but his mouth stays slightly open, tongue pressed against the surface of his upper teeth, suppressing a grin.

You flatten your back against Mr. Choi’s torso as an attempt to hide your face behind his neck, and breathe heavily against his freckled skin, the cold exterior of his pearly accessory grazes your chin.

“What?”, the male asks, taking his glass, his arm slithering under your armpit and his chin resting on your shoulder as he sips from it, not to forget the hand that is still pushed into the now moist fabric between your legs, moving in circular motion.

Headman Park doesn’t answer and folds his hands together, placing his elbows on the table, fingers touching his lower lip.

“Geez, brother, you should feel this cunt right now,” the mafiaboss wheezes, almost hiccuping from his excitement, “so fucking hot, you won’t believe.”

“Make her louder.”

Even Mr. Choi was surprised to hear that come out of the reserved CEO's mouth, and as he chuckles and takes the last sip from his whiskey, he puts down his glass once in for all to accept headman Park’s order.

With a slight lean forward, his free hand wraps around your neck and you gasp for air. Mr. Choi’s legs are spread so when you have to tuck in your pelvis, you can feel his bulge under your cunt. At this point, you don’t care for the piercing gazes anymore, and the chairman might as well give you a nice tip for the sight of you grinding your wet pussy into his biggest investor’s clothed cock. You’re such a master profiteer, Y/N, Jongho was right.

“Fuck, missy,” Mr. Choi grunts and he’s so frustrated he can’t take off more of your clothes, but it doesn’t prevent him from following the order when headman Park mutters, “grab her breasts.”

It is one shameless show.

You becoming needy and whiny on Choi San’s lap, the mafiaboss grinning, as CEO Park Seonghwa’s eyes are unmoving from your sullen, aroused expressions— it has persuaded the audience to want their own slice of fun, but even with hands wrapped around their no-use cocks, everybody in the room has their eyes sealed on the young servant whose only job was to refill some ice.

Mr. Choi can feel it; what a slut you are on top of him, how eagerly you’re grinding your cunt over his bulge, and how jealous the others are watching— and this includes all the blokes that are watching with cigars in their mouths, but also the servants that would have gladly taken your seat and not rub their hands over old, moist, wrinkly skin.

“Sir,” you whimper, as Mr. Choi knobs your breasts, his tough hands cupping each tit, just like headman Park commanded him.

Fuck, how he wishes to be able to see your face as well as well as headman Park does, but the sobby whines might as well do.

“So noisy on my cock,” Mr. Choi snarls, “you’re practically begging for attention, missy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” you hiss and the mafiaboss inhales sharply, gasping, his cock jumping, very turned on by your sudden spunky tone. Bingo.

“Did you hear that, brother?”, he whales, tempting the headman to interact with him more as the main viewer of his performance, but the man to his friend is only raising an eyebrow. “Baby's got some zest in her. You like that, don’t you?”

Mr. Choi continues to coo headman Park into defeat, “You like ‘em feisty, brother. I know you, chief execution officer, sir. You wanna ram your cock into this little missy's pretty mouth, just admit it.”

Little missy's pretty mouth. "Say that again, shitbag," you hiss, but Mr. Choi grins and pries into your bust, working folds into your freshly-ironed shirt. "Listen, brother," he breathes, "It gets your cock fucking going, doesn't it?"

The mafiaboss chuckles and adds, so only you can hear it, "Definitely gets my cock going, baby."

Headman Park scans the room, and you can see how he shakes his head, and looks at Mr. Choi with a slight distaste. “You may leave soon.” 

“Really?”, Mr. Choi grins, beaming, grabbing your hips forcefully in the joy of it, and while the CEO’s words leave you misled, you sigh into the pressure of being pressed down deep into his muscled thigh, your cunt pulsating through his flesh.

“Change of plans.”

“Alright," he murmurs, just as offended as you are by his lack of reactions, but quickly catching up on his lust to hear, see, feel you more. "But not before I make this baby come."

“Punster,” headman Park jeers and it does occur to you that you’re hearing more of his soft voice than before, but when he looks at his wristwatch, you suppose you’re not doing well enough for him. Look at me, you rich-ass prude, you think and whine, being moved across Mr. Choi’s thigh by his own hands. Your clit feels hot, like it is seriously going to burn and fall off, but you, fuck, feel so good; the sounds just keep leaving your mouth, your high approaching very soon.

“How long were you thinking, brother?”, Mr. Choi asks and is nibbling at your neck, as he rams you over his thigh, fighting with the pace you're breathing wispy and digging your nails more and more into the glass-table until your fingertips turn white.

"Five.”

“Five? Make it ten.”

“You only last ten?”

“You can be such a bully, brother,” Mr. Choi fleers, and you have no fucking idea what they’re talking about, since you are feeling your orgasm coming in less than a minute, stars appearing in front of your eyes. “Make it ten.”

The male takes note of how you're bucking in your pelvis and uses his canine teeth to make your neck flame on, his hand placed roughly around your throat, as you become more sensitive to every move. "Sir," you whisper, a knot forming in your stomach.

Your clit is begging you for mercy at this point, demanding you to get the clothes off your legs so your slick has some way to escape, but you're drenching Mr. Choi's suit-pants in your wetness with stuttered heaving, ready to moan loudly in any second now if you could just find that one fucking spot—

"Are you gonna cum, baby? Right in front of everyone?", he murmurs against your neck and you nod repeatedly, raving your clothed clit on his thick, pillowy muscle, desperately chasing your high. "Come on," he snickers, "Show them what kind of slut missy is, huh? Such a good fucking slut for us, aren't you?"

"Yesyesyes," you whine, not caring for anything than your release, and Mr. Choi is being so kind as to continue breathing heavily into your ear to make you melt into bliss, but nothing gets you on more than the gentle smile that headman Park is sending your way, head slightly tilted to the back— is he nodding? Is he finally approving? Oh, fuck, you think, and you're doing the best job darting your hips non-stop to continue feeling your cunt be stroked by Mr. Choi's flesh, pursuing the CEO's praising acknowledgment. "Good fucking slut on my lap," the mafiaboss cackles, "come for daddy."

"You fucking weirdo," you falter, not wanting to call him "I'm never gonna call you—

Mmmuh!" Mr. Choi grabs you by your hair and tugs it harshly, making your back arch and your head rotate to his side. In the open mouth, his tongue plunges into your throat, the taste of woody herbs and bitter alcohol are flooding your tastebuds. Smearing all of your lipstick, his mouth is pressed against yours like he's sealing yours shut. You convulse your lower body in surprise of the sudden act and holy shit, get that one spot over your clit that's also stroking your gaping entrance, your body releasing all of its heat into one blaring, roaring zap, with your eyes rolling back your head, your stirred voice screaming, "FUCK!"

There is a gasp heard through the dining hall and you're not sure whether it was the chairman, a servant, or headman Park in front of you, but as you are spasming on Mr. Choi's thigh and your back arches to his chest, you feel like the world is expanding on you, peeping, intrusive onlookers cramming out their money to thank you for the show they got, white trickling through the linen of their underwear. 

Coming down from your high, weakened and all the while more aroused by the mafiaboss whispering the words "good girl" into your ear, you try to open your eyelids to catch headman Park putting on some black leather-gloves he got from his briefcase, muttering something under his breath to the mafiaboss.

“Go."

What the fuck?

Mr. Choi hooks his arm under your legs while he re-applies his lips to yours, and lifts you up like the pretty princess you are to most of the gawkers that don't stop watching, when he stands up.

Everybody has their eyes on the kiss the mafiaboss and servant missy are sharing, but headman Park doesn’t even look at you, when his partner starts carrying you to the elevator that's waiting for you at the wall about in the middle of the dining table, and just retrieves his open briefcase from the floor. Has he had enough of you already?

“Where are we—“, you breathe, but Mr. Choi kisses you silent, tongue forcing its entry, preventing you from figuring out what's happening, after the mafiaboss puts you down in front of the door and pushes you against the frame roughly. Cheering and hooting encourages him to continue rubbing his thumb over your skin as the other ringed fingers are holding your thigh, and you're pressed against his leg, virtually fenced in by Mr. Choi while he pushes the button for the lift to come.

His eyes are squinting to the side while he works his lips against you, in a way confirming that all of the guests (except the CEO) are begrudgingly anticipating the next actions of the mafiaboss, not caring how the headman is slowly pushing his seat away from the table to get more leg-space, which you seem to be the only person noticing it.

The golden door opens with a bell dinging the elevator’s arrival, and Mr. Choi grabs you by your ass, leading the way inside it. You can't see it correctly with your eyes closed, can only feel his big arms push into your frame, but he even makes for a show-like exit, burlesquely saluting the audience with two fingers, clicking with his mouth. It must really be a habit, you think, and giggle into the kiss.

The men attempt to throw bankrolls into your space and some succeed, some don't, but while you're glad your plan worked out, you aren't too sure what you've just done with, or for the mafiaboss.

Your heated kiss continues and because you want to feel him, you unbutton his shirt that doesn’t need that much working, three buttons being pushed open by your jellylike hands. Before you can unclothe him though, Mr. Choi pushes his arm against the mirror next to your head, stopping you to take a look at his wristwatch. He strokes his hair to the back with the other hand, revealing some of his meaty abs, and once he’s reached the backside of his head, he slides his fingers down his neck and around his Adam's apple to scratch it, announcing, “Ten minutes on the clock. Shit, brother's dick must be fucking exploding in his pants right now."

“Sir?”, you ask, overwhelmed by the words that are not making sense in your head, but also distracted by his hand that’s around your tie.

“Given he really could've finished in five but,” he yanks you towards his face. “I wanted to have you a bit more for myself, missy.”

He smiles, very arrogantly like the patronizing fuck he is, like he knows how strong he is, what a dominating aura he possesses, but at this point, in between the mirrors and on this black, marbled floor, you are not at the chairman’s dinner anymore, aren’t a servant anymore– you aren’t bound to any authority, are you?

“If you fucking call me ‘missy’ again, I’ll bite your fucking dick off.”

Except for the moment that you’re talking to him, a mafiaboss, whose breast is marked by— and you can see it very clearly now for it fits perfectly into yours— hands that have shared the same, if not a similar experience with you.

“How’d you know I was into biting, baby?”

And holy fuck, his back looks even crazier.

“God, sir,” you breathe out in awe and a little bit of fear. You can count the lines of red scratches on his back and as you finally let his shirt fall from his shoulders, the reflection of his muscles, how they relax under your touch. You become starstruck. Everything about him is so scarring, but fuck, how it attracts you, the wildness, the savagery— there’s something so free about him.

"What, baby? You like what you're seeing? How naughty..."

Ten minutes aren’t a lot, but Mr. Choi makes his best attempt to hurry over the trivial parts of fucking you. He steps closer, your ass hitting the handrail, legs crossing together, and your buttons pop in one rip, as his two hands rupture your blouse open. He lets his shirt drop to the floor, all the while his lips clash against the nook of your neck, making you sigh under the luminous lights of the elevator and grab his neck. You’re getting hazy, horny; damn, it’s been so long you’ve had a good fuck. Satisfactory sex is another luxury you were postponing for later.

With his lips sewn on your shoulder, kissing and forcing his tongue against a spot he deems especially tasty, the half-naked male unzips your skirt to finally reveal the black pantyhose that looks soaked in your slick. After he chuckles at the sight of it, Mr. Choi licks over his lips and cups your jaw with his hand, drawing a trail of insatiable kisses across your skin.

“Still wanna bite my dick off?”, he asks with a sly smirk, breathy, having caught your aroused look locked on his silver chains, his jacked upper body inviting you to get your mouth in there until it’s molded around your teeth.

“Come on, baby,” the male provokes you, “You think I’m gonna fuck you just like this? Think I’m gonna ram myself inside your cute fucking cunt ‘cause I’m such a big scary fucking man?”

You inhale sharply. “N- no, I…”, you breathe out, letting your tongue run over your teeth.

“Aw, baby, am I making you shy?”, Mr. Choi hoots, “I didn’t think you were a shy one. You were pretty noisy on my thigh for your cunt, weren’t you? Getting all the sounds out for brother to hear them… You really served a show there, baby.”

Your mouth only lets out stammered gibberish– you have never learnt how to talk dirty, but Mr. Choi uses your opened lips to ram his tongue into it again anyway, and you're almost proud to say you've gotten used to it.

He breathes rashly through his nose, and he tastes less of bourbon but more of dulcet desire, mixed in with the red of your lipstick sitting on his lip. Your knee strokes his erection while he gets his hands behind your back to get your bra off, lips clashing and raving against each other. “Letting your body talk for you?”, Mr. Choi husks, panting at having his overstrained cock touched. He relieves you from the pressure around the bust and continues to ramble. "I knew I could have a lot of fun with you the second I laid my eyes on you.” You pant and reunite your lips with his. "Little missy, such a whore for the rich."

He’s overconfident he’s seeing right through you, it infuriates you. Mr. Choi massages his hands into your breasts, the cold rings grazing sharply into your warm flesh, and as your knee is still between his crotch, you huff. You can be a whore for the rich when you’re earning money, but right now, you’re doing things for your own pleasure.

“Are you going to have a lot of fun with me?”, you sing-song in a high-pitched female voice to the mafiaboss that’s immediately taken aback, and you know the word 'missy' is on top of his tongue again, when you interrupt him with a quick jab of your knee into his groin. "Shit-eating fat-cat."

Mr. Choi grunts, head tilting down. His feline eyes meet your foxy ones, and while you weren't preparing for a staredown, the mafiaboss smirks and bites his lip. 

He has a lot to say, you can see it. There’s something glimmering under the lust-drunken layer behind his eyes, and it’s deep, goes deeper, but for some reason, the mafiaboss, who just so despicably couldn’t hold his mouth, doesn’t let out the words that’s crossing his mind.

“Sir–” 

Wrong deduction.

Mr. Choi scowls in laughter, and you guess he meant to joke with you, but he means to play with you much more, when he, once again, lifts you up, by your waist this time, and balances you on the handrail.

Resting his forearm on your thighs to stabilize you, Mr. Choi digs in his pocket to fetch his cigarette box, looking at himself through the mirror and shaking some strands out of his face. "Shit-eating fat-cat," he repeats with a lisp, pulling out one of the slim rolls with the corner of his mouth, and he continues to chuckle, as he glances at you through his eyelashes, "you should've said that to the old geezer when you had the chance to, baby."

"The chairman?"

No answer. Mr. Choi lights his cigarette with a zippo, and keeps it lit in his mouth, as he, with no forewarning, tears open your pantyhose from your crotch with both of his hands, spreading your legs wide. You have to get your hands around his head to be able to keep yourself on the handrail.

“Why do you look so scared? Think I’m gonna fuck you?”, he lisps. “I’m just taking a good look, baby. What a pretty cunt you got there, baby.”

You gulp. Mr. Choi slides his index finger across your heated folds through the fabric and your cunt clenches together, wanting to be filled up. “Sir,” you sigh, and the mafiaboss pulls in smoke from his cig, raising an eyebrow.

“What, baby? ‘You need something?”, he asks, “You’re not a fucking servant anymore, or do you need to be ordered around, missy?”

You try to look angry, but Mr. Choi only pouts and presses his finger through your panties, soaking them in your slick that’s gathered at your entrance. “Desperate to please the money-man? So wet for him…”

“Fuck you,” you mewl, but Mr. Choi knows what he’s doing when he thumbs your clit and exhales smoke into your face, hiding his face for a short second which gives you confidence. “I need you… to fuck me.”

“What did you say, baby? I couldn’t hear.”

“Please, sir, just… fuck me, please…”

“Louder.”

“God! Just fuck me! Didn’t you say we have ten minutes? Make them fucking count!”

“There we go, baby. My slutty little missy. Oh, baby, you’re growing on me, brother’s gonna hate that.” 

You huff and Mr. Choi slides your panties off your legs, taking a short glimpse at his wristwatch. “Damn, ten’s really a short time.”

How many minutes have passed? Ten already? You know you said it, but you mentioned it only because it made sense, if you’re honest, you have no clue what the time is worth for. Aren't these the men who have time for gold?

The biting smell of tobacco enters your nose, making you cough out loud. Is smoking even allowed in the elevator? Wait, wait, wait, no, maybe you should worry about other things, for example what you're going to do when those ten minutes are over, when all of this is over. They clearly have some type of plan and thing they are carrying out right now, but you don’t know how much you’re invited in there. 

Mr. Choi finishes his quick break, inhaling one last puff and keeping his cig between his lips again, and his hands unbuckle his belt in silence, while you contemplate.

Clanking, ruttling, and steps begin to thump behind the door— have any of you two even pressed a button? The mafiaboss looks concentrated, fixed on your cunt, taking out his throbbing, panging cock out his underwear, stroking it a few times to god, fuck, finally get to touch it after having been dry-humped hot.

Squelching, huffing, and voices echo through the floor— is that the chairman you hear? You can only yelp, when Mr. Choi drags off your panties and slathering his thick fingers across your folds in one, then penetrating with another forceful movement.

"Fuck!", you hiss out, grabbing the handrail next to your hips, trying to balance yourself on it still. The mafiaboss snickers into your ear, and tours through your cunt, all the while it appears that all hell is breaking loose outside.

BANG!

"Sir, what—!"

"Shhh, baby," Mr. Choi hushes you, and takes out his cig with the fingers that are now glistening with your wetness, placing it on top of his lips vertically to the scar that is accompanying his smug smirk.

BANG!

"You got nothin' to worry 'bout, baby," he lulls, "we're just eatin' the pheasant and the egg here," and exhales smoke into your face out his mouth-hole, which distracts you from the third, fourth—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another proverb, pheasant and the egg— 'two birds with one stone'. Mr. Choi unfolds his hand as if he was counting the minutes, or the shots— wait, yes, shots! Fuck, those are gun-shots, right? You've never heard something so loud ever in your life, where does someone get guns from in South Korea? What even would they need guns for? Why would they use them? What the fuck is happening outside?!

"Oh, fuck!", you moan out, before fear and realization can crawl up your scalp and take away your lusting for the male, Mr. Choi has jerked his hip up, his cock gliding into you smoothly as if your cunt was made for him, the length and girth perfectly curling inside. Your back arches, at least as far as you can arch it, and he grins bemusedly at your jolted reaction.

BANG!

With every blast that follows, Mr. Choi is thrusting into you, first slowly, but then adding more speed and vigor as he goes, or as the blasting goes, making you shakily watch yourself be wrecked by the broad man through the reflection on the other side, your legs dangling with his rough movement.

You don't know how he's fucking you through your tightness, because with each ducking of his hips it feels like your inner walls are expanding more and ungodly more, as if he was piercing you in half.

Small puffs of smoke leave Mr. Choi's mouth each time he pants out raspy "oh baby"s and loud claps of him slapping your ass overtone the screaming, scrambling noises outside, as you two work your lower bodies against and into each other, growing more passionate, throbbing feverishly.

"Fuck, baby," Mr. Choi hisses, cigarette tilting in his mouth, as his face frowns together. "So fucking good for daddy, aren't you? So fucking tight and wet, such a good fucking girl—"

The screams outside are dying down, but the mafiaboss and you are getting louder, breathier, lustier; with your head falling backwards, hitting the mirror, the twisting feeling of fear and the ecstasy to be bouncing on Mr. Choi's big cock mix up like one hellish drink, boiling and churning inside of you.

Smashing both his hands on each of you ass-cheeks to dig his fingers into them and get more stability to ram into you so fast, and oh boy, it's so fucking fast, you're going to spiral— Mr. Choi sputters, "Are you gonna come? Are you going to come for daddy, baby? Greedy baby gonna take daddy's huge fucking load?"

The male is unraveling, his once low, stable voice turning into a whiny, hoarse, cracked mess just like you, practically urging, begging you to finally take the name ‘daddy’ into your mouth.

"Come on baby, say it for me, huh? Feels good to be my slut?", he disentangles, "Be a good slut for daddy, baby."

"I'm not gonna call you— that, fuckhead!", you moan, though your insides are curdling together to finally be released, the knot tightening with each drop of sweat that is forming on your boiling face.

"Really? Think you can afford to misbehave, baby?", Mr. Choi snickers and spits his cig on the floor, your ass being handled at an insane speed, his cock slipping in and out of you with rough ease. He takes it upon himself to dig his teeth into the nook of your neck, biting you heftily, your pulse knocking against your throat, as you feel his cock run in and out of your cunt. Your head goes light and dazed, but before you can gasp out your high from being fucked, bitten, sent to bliss, the male sinks you deep into his cock fully, it does not give you the last thrust you would need to—

"Fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, needing to tremble, but unable to move because his hands are restricting you from any movement, and you continue to bring out a string of weak "pleasepleaseplease" that bounces back from the mafiaboss, who is raising an eyebrow, waiting for the magic word to be spoken out of your wet lips. Tears have formed at the corner of your eye and he thumbs it away, grinning coyly.

"Fuck you, I'mnotgonna fucking, ugh—!", you sob, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aww, you wanna hate daddy so bad, don’t you?”

“Fuuuck you!” Whines leave your mouth, wanting to cum, wanting to move, wanting for Mr. Choi to continue fucking into you and not wipe away your tears.

“Just say you love me, baby,” he heaves and returns his hand to your hip.

Thrusting into you once with a clap against your groin, to make your cunt clench around him, and then twice with the last blood-curdling BANG! from outside, his cock is deep inside you. He feels you tighten, pulsate, craving to be released, but Mr. Choi will not move again to your liking until you finally let go of yourself, which riles you up with no hope.

"F— Fuuuck, okay!", you scream out, annoyed, angry, wanting to fucking cum; "Daddy!", you sob and Mr. Choi smirks, instantly getting to work to toast the adieu of your pride. Thumb on your clit, he circles around your sensitive bud to double the tension you feel through all of your body, while you gutter, "fuck me, daddy, please, make me cum, please, daddy, please—"

He laughs, no, howls— elated, animated, drunk, and then, with his strong, buff fucking arms, pounds you into his cock like a punching bag, your ass hitting his pelvis so many times until you have to use his gelled hair as a last resort to hold yourself up and not push yourself from the handrail with your head against the mirror, but he holds you, holds you steadily in his grip.

"Good god, good fucking missy, such a good fucking slut for me, cum all over my cock–   all over my fucking cock, baby," Mr. Choi grunts, and the string that was keeping you balanced snaps, your orgasm hitting you like that makes your insides tighten around the mafiaboss and his throbbing girth, your whole body being flushed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure which you drink up whole. His cockhead rubs against your sweetspot, you riding out the high while seeing nothing but bliss.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, and your fingers grip into the thick skin of his back, and with Mr. Choi's hips not stopping to hit your pelvis, there are additional, injuring, deep red marks on there with every thrust. You’re scratching him like a beast wanting to tear up its prey, but the beast is fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. His cock does not stop grazing against your deepest spot, tears rolling down your heated cheek, and your mouth is unable to get out the words you want it to when you get the feeling that he's going to cum soon.

"O- out," you warn him, but the mafiaboss makes a disappointed face, “I– I really can’t afford a child, p-please pull out–!”

He draws his eyebrows in, scoffs and looks you deep in the eyes, his muscular body tucked in, murmuring, rambling out his whiskey-painted throat, “Is that really your only problem, baby? That you don’t have enough money?” His forehead leans against yours and your eyelids flutter open– you are being a mitt around his dick– and he pouts in pity, his iron cross hanging from his chest, as he talks to you.

Mr. Choi gets his hand flat on your lower belly and presses down on it, feeling himself bulge inside you. He moves his hips slowly, his cockhead dragging across your sweetspot, while he gutters, “you’d look so sexy as a mother, don’t you think, baby? With the tummy and all.”

“S- sir, please I–”

"Come on, do you think I don’t have enough money to pay for a fucking kid? God, how fucking annoying– I’m not that kind of man, baby,” Mr Choi growls, his voice vibrating against your cheek, as he charges his forehead deeper against yours, “I still got some honor.”

You shake your head, unsure whether there are pills for after in the pharmacies, or whether the mafiaboss will really be there to be with you as he promises, but Mr. Choi continues to beg in his low breathy, guttery voice. “Baby,” he rumbles, pressing even harder on your abdomen, your ass being pushed into the handrail that you’re sure it’s going to leave one red straight mark, and his cock is almost exploding from the edge, “Let me, no, let daddy cum into your tight cunt, baby, please.”

God, he wants you. He wants you so bad, doesn’t he?

"Y- you should see yourself," you chuckle, stroking over Mr. Choi's gelled hair, and his head tilts up a little bit as your fingers get tangled in his black locks, the white of his eyes making him look like a wild dog waiting for its treat. "F-fucking do it, you fucking slut."

"Fuck, baby," he laughs, out of breath, "You’re really a price."

Mr. Choi hammers his hips into you, until the stars in front of you all look like wishes falling from the sky. Both of you feel it, how his cock just feels so right, fits in like your cunt is a fucking glove which is full and getting even fuller.

"God, fuck," Mr. Choi grunts from the bottom of his throat, his hot cum lading into you, and it's like your lower body is melting with it, becoming heavier with every drop he's unloading inside.

"Take all of my fucking cum," he husks and your faces clash together for one finishing wild kiss. Mr. Choi sucks on your lower lip, as he fucks his ejaculation deeper and deeper into your hole with slow thrusts, until he bucks up his pelvis the last time and moans out a raspy, “perfect fucking missy with a perfect fucking cunt..."

Ding!

For a man that uses his mouth so sparingly, his tongue surely works wonders.

"Sir, are you—"

Headman Park has entered the elevator without a word, pulling off his leather gloves, and with Mr. Choi stepping away, he has all the place he requires to get on his knees and throw your leg over his shoulder, his wet and warm muscle delving into your throbbing cunt. You've been bereaved of the time to inspect what was behind or around him when the door closed, but maybe that's irrelevant anyways. What is relevant, is how impatient, but also how careful the CEO remains, and how he still tries his best to slowly sift his tongue into your folds, feeling every inch of your wetness. He’s been dying to do this.

"Fuck, sir!"

"Please," the CEO chuckles, hastily pulling the black leathery from his hands to put it back in his briefcase that he's been carrying, but he doesn't miss your cunt once, purling over your clit and glancing at you. "Call me Seonghwa, princess."

You could cum right here and there, just at the sight of this pretty man looking up to you, who has laid out his first name and put it into yours, scream it out loud until everyone hears what a princess you've been made of.

Princess. You knew his eyes were different, but you didn’t know they saw the world differently too. Oh, how you wish you could see more of his world.

"Aww, what? That's why you're still a foreigner in our country, brother! 'Can't be dropping our titles," Mr. Choi huffs and lights himself a second cigarette, filling the elevator with smoke and tobacco. How his breath really doesn't smell is questionable to you.

Just like you, the CEO, or how you're allowed to call him now— Seonghwa, ignores his partner's words, laps over your clit with his tongue, gently easing into your cunt with his clean fingers, and your soft sighs are like a reward for him, for whatever he's done outside.

"Respect, brother, 's all about respect..."

You tighten your thighs around Seonghwa's neck. The charcoal-haired has closed his eyes, sighing into the taste of you, and you are flawlessly overlooking the loud mafiaboss, just completely concentrating on the commitment the CEO is eating you out with. His head fits magically between your legs, he works his fingers so flawlessly into you, this must be fate— and if it's not, you're going to make it your future in any which way possible. You're falling. No, flying; never coming down.

"Seonghwa," you whine, and your hand glides over the hooked male's forehead, his hair feeling smooth under your touch as he presses his tongue slowly— in circular motion— against your clit to keep you on the high, but not in a way that would make you trip over.

"Mmf," the mafiaboss in front of you huffs, clearly attracted, enticed by the way you've exhaled the other male’s first name, scratching his temple with the fingers that are holding his cigarette.

"Whether you wanna call me San or 'daddy', baby," the scarred male, no, San, the fucker grins, "I'm gonna be hearing both either way."

"Fuck—", you moan out, having to take a breath because of how Seonghwa has curled his fingers into you with his tongue ready to shovel anything into his mouth that comes out, "you, fuckhead!"

The CEO is giggling a bit, finding your tone very amusing— and he tries to tell you this by looking up and slanting his eyes a friendly way, no, a way that you've never even conjured up the fantasy to perceive him, the cold-faced Park Seonghwa who hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol tonight. What pureness in a man...

"I liked 'fat-cat' better,” San snickers and goes through his hair that definitely needs combing, turning around and looking at himself through the mirror, though his eyes squint towards Seonghwa's reflection on the other side, now again lost in your cunt, taking off his jacket and folding it in half behind his back.

"Brother, you're eating my cum, by the way," the mafiaboss jabs, puffing out smoke while he's decidedly getting hard again in his trousers. San really can't hide his emotions on his face, can he? His lips are pursed, eyebrows slightly pulled in— how obvious. The man is jealous and doesn't want to admit it, you're sure of it.

"Shut up," you hiss, having become a bit comfortable with teasing the frustrated, outwitted mafiaboss. Ten minutes were definitely too little for him, but you've already rid his thigh, let him cum inside, and Seonghwa is simply too good with his tongue right now.

"Fuuuck," you whisper, and feel every drowsy twirl of his finger inside you, but it's slow, so slow, Seonghwa is swerving around every sponginess inside you, savoring the contraction of your inner space, and how your muscles tighten, when he licks over your clit, he enjoys this; enjoys you.

And so it continues, Park Seonghwa exploring every detail of your cunt as if he's a sommelier tasting the rarest of fluids, appreciating every drop that lands on his tongue, his fingers making sure that they don't go to waste.

"Shit," San comments, "I should've eaten her out, too."

The CEO is not cocky about it, about the way you are grabbing into his hair and squirming, how he has to slightly lift you up so you don't fall from your position. And then, when Seonghwa thinks your taste has perfectly coated his palate, speeds up.

"Fuck, sir," and the title slips out of you, like a habit you can't change for good when you feel so small. The CEO between your legs doesn't mind it though, at least doesn't say anything on it and just lets his fingers hit your sweet spot until there is a distinctive "Seonghwa" leaving sighed out your lips.

"I'm going to—", you announce, but the male has been long aware of it, preparing himself more access by bending his upper body to angle himself across your cunt, giving his partner a better view on how you glisten in arousal.

San in front of you is standing frozen, with his cigarette slowly burning out in his mouth, and you recompense the lack of his cock in your cunt by moaning louder, so your voice can vibrate around his erection. He grins and gets a tongue to his canine tooth, naked upper body still glowing in sweat, muscles shining, cock twitching every time he hears you breathe, and breathe more intensely, "make me cum, Seonghwa, please!"

"I knew you would taste delicious," Seonghwa murmurs, silently, rather for himself, and this must be how he sounds when he's drunk, because he is so high on your taste, "but this is ambrosial, princess."

You curl up your pelvis, and Seonghwa holds you by your hips, as his tongue picks up in speed, drawing out every word he hasn't spoken tonight on your labia, stamping them into your clit, all the while his fingers row in more and every last drop.

"C- coming~", you purr, and your eyes close down, your hands deep in Seonghwa's scalp, exhaling the weight of your worries, that flushes down into the man who seems to have none in his life, and he breathes into your hot cunt through his nose, not letting go of it until he's made sure that your hips tremble around his head. "P- please, f- fuck, fuck, feels so good—"

Pumping the remaining come into you, Seonghwa licks up your cunt and kisses your clit until you go completely flaccid, your arms giving in, but Seonghwa catches you by your hand, kissing your thigh with his swollen pink lips.

With your body relaxed, your ass feels a bite sore, having been prodded into the iron rail for so long. You grab into Seonghwa's hand and try to push yourself up, but ultimately fail at getting yourself into a more comfortable position.

"San, hold her."

"Huh?", he asks, "'Need something more snuggly, baby? Or what did you call her again, brother?"

"Princess," the CEO answers immediately and you have to suppress a girly giggle, as Seonghwa turns his head around, lips still pressed against your thigh. He presumably sends San an admonitory look to hurry up, and gets up from his knees.

The mafiaboss shrugs, not offended by being ordered around. He puts out the cigarette against the mirror and cracks his neck by rolling his head around, his thick neck dousing into your sight as he does so. He's so intimidating, you think, but he's on his way to coast those monster-arms behind your back, hands down to each of your hamstrings to, "up you go," pick you up like real royalty. The giggle escapes your mouth but you don't feel the slightest embarrassed nor do you have a reason to be. You are sunken deep into San’s cushiony arms— his muscles make for a great seat, and hovering, air hitting your hot cunt, as your legs spread for the CEO in front of you when you fall into the elbows. You yelp, but the giggles just keep coming, making San in the mirror in front of you wink at you, cackling, "you like that, princess?"

Seonghwa smiles, satisfied by your enjoyment of this position and approaches you once more. "I have yet to kiss you, Y/N," he says with his sweet voice, and his gentle hands find your chin and waist, your eyes blossoming open for him to stare into.

Even San shuts up now, and you suppose he is too taking part in the beauty that is the embrace of you and Seonghwa; two sets of lips, crazing each other, meeting for one flowery affair, breathing out small vapors of life. You can taste yourself, which means that Seonghwa is fully consumed by your aroma.

God, you think again, your cunt tingling at how Seonghwa tugs at his tie, pulling it side to side as he kisses you— the golden 'π'-pin clanks shrill to the floor— everything about Seonghwa is so...

Clean?

You are inhaling the mellow smell of his satiny skin, and the CEO unbuttons his shirt with proficient, skilfull flicks of his fingers. He is so handsome, handsomely pretty, and even when it’s drenched in your fluids, his skin shines on its own, like Seonghwa has a light shining within. Once you can see his bare chest and get lost on the smooth surface, your eyes dive down, admiring his slim, yet very muscular physique.

Seonghwa gets his tie and drags off his shirt by tugging at one sleeve with his hand, the white fabric revealing the rest of body with one clean pull that matches one of the curtains.

"W-", and you have to jump back with your head to get the full spectacle that's presented in front of you, exhaling in awe— "Wow.."

"Not so blank, our brother, is he?", San chuckles from behind of you and lowers his head to press his chin against your temple, surveying the same sight.

Two colossal, monstrous dragons, red and black, are colliding, looped, entangled all around Seonghwa's right arm, fighting for dominance on his skin. The raven hydra has its jaw wide open where Seonghwa looks to his shoulder with a rather shy smile once he sees your reaction, baring its teeth towards his heart, while the crimson dragon ends at the CEO's wrist, sitting on top of his pulse.

"Would you believe me it was brother's idea, baby?"

"As if," Seonghwa murmurs, folding his shirt into a square.

San chuckles again, re-shuffling himself and pressing your back close to his stomach, granting the back of your head to rest at his collarbone. "I asked her if she would believe, brother."

You watch the delicate lines, the elegant strokes of tint meeting on his skin, but while your first impression made you believe they carried a certain viciousness with their svelte bodies, the second sight presents you a different image of two forces maneuvering into each other as a reminder that they both co-exist as supreme. It's not one another they're reviling against, it's the bearer of the both who is threatened by their fangs. Their existence is a warning reminder, but also a sign of pride.

"I believe it's... beautiful."

“Aw, you’re so sweet, baby.”

You haven't seen many tattoos in your life, none in the mountains, and even in the city the only observable tattoos were those of the sleazy guys in alleys that wait when you're done with your job to gape at your uniform. They got tigers and other animals roaring on their bodies to hide the fact they don't have the fighting skills to keep up, but for Seonghwa, a CEO, to have this amount of ink under his skin is a commitment and to imagine he’s hiding that under his ironed shirt and black jacket, no, that you are seeing it right now, it’s… You’re overwrought, steamed up, aflame.

"Wanna touch it, baby?", San asks, and you nod eagerly. Seonghwa chuckles, “Go for it.”

You let your fingertip ghost over the dragons' scales, tailing their curvature. Goosebumps form on Seonghwa's arm and his hand finds its way to your head, stroking your cheek, as you meet the red beast's eyes.

The mafiaboss whispers, almost sentimentally, "No blood or tears."

Another expression, which proves to you that the tattoo was undoubtedly his idea, but you see it, the romance that is spoken from the male's skin, regardless of the little insight you have on both of them. Loyalty, reverence, creed, a belief and a duty, and before you know it, you want Seonghwa to enwrap you with his arms and never let you go, which he does.

His slender hand cloaks the left side of your head, and he pulls himself into a kiss, while he unbuckles his belt with his other hand.

You don't know how much you understand of this situation, no, you don't know how much you want to understand of this situation.

You've been on your own. That's all you ever had after you left home: Your body and soul, the windstorms of the mountains pushing you from the back to keep going, and you've lived your best life living for yourself that way, in bliss, in ignorance— in peace, but what is peace in a place where you can't move by yourself? In a world that’s maimed by the rich, and sure, it may be that you’ve chosen your path, but you were never walking a road that was yours, always trailing behind something.

Nameless, that’s what you thought you would need to be.

Your monks wanted to be called their title like everyone else, it would have been disrespectful to ask Lady Kim for hers which you now regret, and not even as a secret did your old man tell you his name, but you— you, Y/N, you have a name and you want to scream it, live it as loud as you can, hear it echo back with a volume that feels stronger when it rings back.

You could have settled on being acknowledged by your supervisor to earn some good money, but this is what you’re here for, aren’t you? Why you trusted your gut to stick to the scary men? Why you walked to them with confident steps, even when a nervous knot was forming together inside you? Did you go as what, an act of defiance? One of independence? To prove yourself that you were still standing on your own feet?

"Speaking of, brother..."

Yes, with no shame.

"You really enjoyed yourself back there, didn’t you?”, San asks. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

Seonghwa is kissing you down your breast, observing closely how you breathlessly react to his tongue twirling around your nipple.

"You left me no other chance," the older male hums, coating your circular buds with his saliva, bringing out your heavenly sighs every chance he gets, stroking himself to the sounds of your pleasure.

"Well, I would have made sure you still fucked her, brother."

“Sure,” Seonghwa lisps and positions his cockhead at your entrance. 

You try to grab San's shoulder behind you, as the male pushes himself inside, and your torso rotates to the side with your eyebrows pulling together, your cunt being spread apart.  “F-fuck,” you exhale, and Seonghwa kisses the corner of your lip to soothe you. Your cunt squelches around his cock and your hips roll by themselves, wanting to take more of his length.

"Shit, look at her go," the mafiaboss woos, "Fuck yourself out, brother."

"Think you’ll miss this?", Seonghwa snickers and it must be the first question he has asked today. “Y- yeah, you will!”, you snap, feeling eager to be acknowledged for how good your cunt wraps around his throbbing heat. 

“Oh, princess,” the CEO laughs, and your stomach drops because of how pretty his laughter sounds, and he caresses your cheek, only making your confusion and desire to finally uncover what the two men have obviously been keeping from you grow bigger. You don’t want to say it abruptly, but you three are naked, in a confined space, skins pressed against each other, so you believe you’re worth some type of explanation– or are you not?

“C- can you tell me what’s going to happen?”, you whine, and Seonghwa moves his hips, grabbing you by your waist to get his whole length. “Are you, fuck, going to leave me?”

“I dunno, brother, you call it,�� San mutters. “It was your plan.”

“D- don’t!”

“It’s barely my plan anymore,” Seonghwa breathes, bucking his pelvis in, his cockhead being sucked in by your sensitive cunt.

“Don’t leave me!”

“You needed a distraction, brother, I got you one.”

“No,” Seonghwa chuckles, but in his heat, he kisses you and glances up at San while his tongue brushes against your lip. “But I’ll admit she saved us some jail-time, San.”

They continue talking over your pleas, and though you would have loved to ask a second time how the night was going to end, your brain has started to give into the pleasure once San folds your legs together, holding you by your hamstrings, giving Seonghwa an easier angle to fuck you senseless. 

“F- fu-huuck,” you breathe out, and your eyes are disappearing behind your molten, droopy eyelids, with Seonghwa cumming for the second time on your abdomen and cleaning it up with his handkerchief, and you don’t even know when it was, that San crammed out his cock   again, but you can definitely feel the difference of his girth, when he re-enters your used cunt, your legs shakily landing on the floor. They feel wobbly, your thighs having gone loose, and the mafiaboss has to hold you by your arms behind your back to support you.

“Can’t take it anymore, baby?”, San whispers into your ear, and his voice is low, very low, you don’t know how much time has passed since you could make out any of his words, but it feels like you’re back here, in the elevator, and Seonghwa is putting on his belt again.

“I c- can!”, you manage to whine out, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to return to your small apartment, not wanting these two to be gone from your life. “I can!”, you repeat yourself, when San lets out a mockful cackle. “You’re not going to fucking leave me here, San!”

“Who said anything about leaving you here, baby?”, he asks you, and he does mean his confusion, but the sarcastic undertone makes you desperate grow desperate. San frowns. “What did I tell you, baby?”

“You aren’t telling me shit, San!”, you sob, and his cock running through you prevents you from finding a braver voice, his two hands find your wrists to bind them together in his grip. “Aren’t you such a smartie,” he growls into your ear, hot air hitting your dissolving ear.

“Brother,” San calls out, and the addressed man is busy opening up his briefcase, getting on his knee. “I’m still waiting on you, y’know.”

“If you had stuck to the plan, th–” Seonghwa murmurs, but the mafiaboss falls into his word. “Then we would have fuckin’ send the bitch to prison and someone else would have him killed him, but there! You know I didn’t come with the fucking patience for that, brother! Geezer was getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killed?

“And don’t you talk back now,” San warns, “It was you who killed all of ‘em, so you figure out how you’re going to carry that one out.”

Killed?

“You already know how I’m going to carry this out.” Seonghwa smirks. “But you’re stopping me, San.”

“Augh, brother, you’re too sober for your own sake!” San’s cock is too deep in your cunt and your body is too much in his control for you to stop moaning like a bitch, but in your head, you’re puzzling together tonight’s happenings.

Expensive whiskey. Ice cubes. Ten minutes, gunshots, black leather gloves– “killed.”

Oh, Y/N.

“What did you do with the chairman, Seonghwa?”, you moan out, feeling how the mafiaboss is ramming himself into you at a sloppy, greedy pace, prolonging how much he can be inside you before he comes again, and you don’t know whether his heavy breathing can cover up the silence that it takes for the CEO to react to your question.

Seonghwa is still kneeled on the floor, when he rotates his head, smiling, his eyebrows pushed up. “What do you think I did?” His second question of the day.

“I- I,” you stutter, but San shakes his head, and interrupts you with his voice still loose from the alcohol, “you really don’t know how to keep up a good mood, brother!”, grabbing you by your chin and yanking your head up. “Lemme make my baby cum first!”

You can’t see Seonghwa anymore. You can barely see anything anymore, you’re counting your fifth or sixth orgasm of the night, cunt growing hotter with each time San thrusts into it, and with your breath being cut off, you slowly feel your arms lose their responsibility, tingling up from where your wrists are crossed behind your back. His cockhead is flaying against your g-spot and your thighs tremble at how used you’re being, eyes falling in, throat feeling tied up.

“S- San,” you manage to cough out, back arching for your final cry of pleasure, and San grins, letting go of your wrists, which makes you immediately fall to the front, finding safety against the mirror with both of your hands. He smacks his hands against your ass and lunges into you until your whole breast is pushed against the cold wall. 

“Come on, baby, come for me,” San roars, and you wail, tired, exhausted, feeling the orgasm drown you like another wave in the ocean of bliss you’ve been swimming in, whining out, “coming, coming for you, San!”

The mafiaboss presses himself against your back, his silver cross being imprinted into your neck, as he unloads himself, his last drops of hot cum overflowing out of you. “Fucking slut… So fucking good…”

He kisses your jaw repeatedly and looks at how tiredly closed your eyes are in the mirror, cooing “aww, baby.” San strokes away a strand of hair and gets himself off your body, pulling out. “You look like you need some sleep, baby.”

You are trying to catch your breath, grabbing the handrail to hold yourself up, as it sounds like San is putting on his shirt again. They’re gonna fucking leave you here, aren’t they? Leave you here in the elevator with the– with the fucking bankrolls on the floor of the fucking men you fucking– Oh god… Keep breathing, Y/N. Keep on breathing.

“I mean all I’m saying… you know… lobsters and crabs are friends, pal.”

What the fuck is he on again…

“You’re making this hard on yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything, just sayin’ that she just grew on me, that’s all.”

Your legs tremble, as you try straightening them to stand up and see what the two are scheming again, but as you turn your body around, ass against the handrail again, you hear a very unfamiliar clicking in front of your forehead area which is not coming out of San’s mouth.

“You’ve grown soft. That’s what you did.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, brother.”

“Pathetic.”

You see a hole, and it also doesn’t take you long to see Seonghwa ready to pull the trigger, the mafiaboss leaning into the corner of the elevator, arms crossed, looking at you with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

The night is over.

“A- are you going to– oh my g-god, are you going to kill me…?”

“Yes, princess.”

Your heart is going to burst, you could puke out so many words right now, but you don’t know what to do. You don’t want to die, not when you felt so fucking alive– you– fuck, you should feel sorry that your coworkers that they didn’t deserve to go the same way as the asswipes did, because you’ve long realised that the bangs were their skulls being crushed by the bullets, but at the same time you couldn’t care any fucking less about them right now. You just have to survive, that was the only thing that mattered since the very beginning. This is about your life. Your precious fucking life.

“Ah…”

Your body is too weak to hyperventilate, but your brain is working overtime. Do you run? Attack them? No…

Seonghwa hasn’t moved an inch away from your face, and you take it upon yourself to raise your hand and slowly push the cold, black gun to the side, so you can look him in his eyes, but he forces it back there.

“Please don’t kill me… I can do so much for you! I– I,” you stutter, trying to gather all the knowledge your monks have taught you. “I– I’ll do anything! You– you saw me, didn’t you? I have– I’ve been told I have a talent for serving! I– I can do anything, please, I beg you, just…”

You fall to your knees, and they burn on the glassy floor, your hands folded in front of your abdomen. 

“Just please, let me live…”

You’re not greedy. You’ve only taken what you were given, and tonight, you’ve been given so much. Too much? No, it couldn’t be…

“Brother.”

There are tears flowing down your eyes, and you feel so sorry for yourself. You miss your old monk, and hope that you may be reincarnated to a butterfly that he can admire, just so that he can look at you with his adoring eyes again. So someone can want the best for you once in your life–

“Brother?”

So anyone can finally love you for once in your life.

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[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

supercharged playlist

“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm so looking forward to hearing what you thought🥰

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[starswguru]

❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile or someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with it ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together at you. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

[cozygold]

Mystery of Lilia's ring

Lilia x Reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, fem reader, general lilia, book 7 spoiler

Pt. I Pt. II

Lilia wears a wedding ring under his gloves. However when asked he doges the question or makes up some silly excuse

Malleus is aware that he had wife. Lilia confirmed it a while ago but did not elborate further

It was only during the Malleus overblot incident that Diasnomia family found out about her and who she was

(it takes place after Malleus have put everyone to sleep Silver/Sebek/Yuu watch Lilia dream play in front of them like movie)

Lilia woke up in unknown place. His whole body was burning with pain, he barely had the strenght to open his eyes

Everything was blurry but he could make out soothing humming and chopping of knife against a wooden board. It made him relax his muscles a little before the noise stopped. At the same time he realized

'Wait...it sounds like.. a human language?!'

He shot up sitting up on the bed before tumbling back down from the anguish

"My,my don't strain yourself like that, dear"

His eyes widden in horror when he felt hot breath right next to his ear along with voice that he heard ealier. He quickly reached to his waist trying to grab his weapon. But it wasn't there

"Sorry, love I had a feeling you might try that so i had to take your toy away so my head will stay on my shoulders"

He whipped his head around and saw a human woman. Now standing good few feet away from him. She was wearing a dark cloak and a long dress. Both looked pretty torn down and dirty

"What do you want, human? Even without my weapon i can take you down easily"

His eyes started intensly at her. A sight simillar to a wounded animal

"Haha, you would be right if you weren't in a state you're currently in. I barely saved that leg of yours. I'm medic that specilizes in humans, you see~"

She took few steps closer to him. Smile never leaving her face

"I'm (y/n)(y/l), i'm a traveling medic. I manged to save you from that abush that you got yourself into earlier"

Lilia squinted his eyes, trying to recall what happend. He remembers how fast his heart was beating, the metal that tore through his flesh...

Green fire, and a figure with what looked like horns

"Meleanor?! What the hell was she doing there?! Speak human!"

"Oh, i'm sure she's safe and sound in her castle"

"What?! Don't try to make fool out of me. I know what i saw. This green fire and the horns must have belonged to her"

"Oh no it was just me"

She deadpaned looking blankly at him. They stared at each other in awkward. Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose

"Care to explain yourself?"

(y/n) giggled and puffed her chest proudly

"It looks like two twigs on my head and some plant colored fire was enough to send the fools running. I honestly suprised you fell for it too"

She tilted her head to the side, looking smugly at him. Lilia felt his cheeks warm up. How could he had fallen for such simple trick?

"Hmph!"

He quickly turned around on the bed facing the wall and hiding his red face

Meanwhile Sebek, Silver and Yuu watched as the dream played in front of them

"Who is this woman?! How dare she mock Master Lilia!"

"Shh, Sebek that might be her. Father's wife..."

"Nonsense! He never even mentioned having a wife. Let alone a human"

"Never directly. But i once overheard Lord Malleus try to speak about her with him. After confirmation Father quickly changed the subject"

Silver scratched his chin, deep in thought

"as much i feel like inviding Father's privacy, this might be our only chance to really get to know her"

Back to the dream

"Awww, come on General! You gotta i eat! I didnt work so hard to save you just for you to die out of starvation"

Lilia scrunched up his face, turning away from the spoon being held to him. He spent about 4 days in the human's cottage refusing to eat, still not being able to stand up from the bed.

He didnt trust her one bit. She has no reason to do it so. What kind of motive drives her? Trying to gain his trust to poison him? Is she secretly a twisted woman trying to make him in some sort of fae pet for her amusement?

He has to get out as soon as possible

"I have no intention of taking anything from you, woman"

His tone harsh as it always been, red eyes glaring at her

She sighed, pulled out a chair and slumped down on it, setting the bowl of soup on the table. (eye color) eyes looked up blankly at the ceiling

It was her first time taking in a fae patient. She did as much reaserch as she could on them during such short amout of time. She knew that they could survive longer without food than humans. They also recovered faster

But his state was quite serious. Regular man would have probably passed by now. Used to enduring injuries in battle he's probably not even aware of it.

She Has to make him trust her. Just enough for him to her treat him

"You never told me your name. I just know you by 'general' "

She finally broke the tense silence, turning her head in his direction. He still refused to meet her eyes

"There is no need for you know it"

"Huhhh, no fair, i already told you mine"

Her attempt at teasing him got ignored making the room go quiet once again

"I never wanted this war. And i know you didnt either"

She dropped the teasing letting her tone get more grim

"Tch, don't act like you know me or what i want"

It was clear from his body language that this conversation was getting on his nerves, yet she continued to press further. It was now or never

"I know that my people caused you unimaginable pain. No matter what either side has to gain from its not worth all the suffering.

Fae, human, merfolk, beastman...i was taught to treasure all lives. I swore that i will save as many as i can as a medic. Just like you swore to protect your people as a general"

Lilia despite still being sceptical for first time seemed to not ignore her

"My parents were medic as well. They made me what i am today, taught me how to treat people. My whole village fell victim to this conflict"

Her voice shaked, eyes starting to get watery. She took a deep breath to remain composed before speaking futher

"I will not ask for your pity or gratitude towards me. Just please let me treat you. We already lost enough"

She bowed her head to him, her voice pleading almost like she was begging for her own life. Lilia let out a heavy sigh

"Rise your head, human. I do not want to be subjected to such a pitful sight any longer"

Few stray tears streaming down her cheek, her eyes looked up him hopefully

"I will eat your soup so cease your whining"

A bright smile adorned her features. She clasped her hands together letting out a joyful laugh

"Thank you sooo much! Don't be afraid to say if you don't like it i will adjust it to your taste next time! Please enjoy it!"

She handed him a bowl and a spoon

"I will be in the kitchen mixing up some healing herbs for you!"

"Sevens, quit talking my ear off! J-just go do what you're supposed to do"

"Right! Please call me if you need anything"

She skipped towards the door and just about when she was about to leave the room she heard her patient speak up

"Hey..."

"Hmmm?~"

She turned around, tilting her head curiosly

"Its Lilia Vanrouge. My name"

Suprise washed over her features for a moment before her lips spread into a thoothy grin

"Nice to meet you, Lilia"

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

Between the bars (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

AUTHORS NOTE 📝 : yall im so proud of this one i think its my best one yet would you want a part two bc i would be interested please comment and o worked Really really hard on this one especially a little longer than normal got a little carried away.

WARNINGS: pining, my post concussion writing, suggestive but no lemon, hardcore making out, fluff and slight angst w/ coryo family, tried my best for snow to be in character, were basically Lucy gray

My hands wrapped around the cold metal bars of the monkey house where I was enclosed in. I couldn’t sleep no, not a wink so I decided to watch over my district parter. It was cold at night, they didn’t give us any blankets. It’s barbaric the way they treat us, just because we’re district doesn’t mean we’re not human. And just since most of us are going to our death you’d think that we’d be entitled to a least a little dignity.

you’d think….

Suddenly I hear footsteps and peer out the bars of the monkey cage into the empty zoo. Well…..not empty anymore. There approaching me is the one person who has treated me fairly since coming here. He handles me like I was a true lady of the capital.

Coriolanus snow walked up to the bars where I was.

“hello y/n….I’ve brought you something” he hands me an intricate compact “it was my mothers I thought it would remind you of me in the arena and…….��� He pauses and looks around though no one is there “there’s poison in it. I know, but only in self defense in that arena your going to things you’re not proud of”

I nod “I understand” I say knowing I’ll have to use it at some point “it’s beautiful…thank you” I run my fingers over the delicate and fancy design.

he smiles. That smile that stupid smirk. When I first met Coriolanus I had to admit I was struck by how attractive he was. Paired with holding out a rose for me to take from his hand and saying that he would take care of me….well it’s enough to have any girl blushing like a fool. I tried my best to keep it together but I knew some of the blush was showing on my face when he held out the rose. Whenever I look at him I get butterflies in my stomach. Little did I know at the time he felt almost the exact same way about me and my appearance when he first saw me. But it was my spirit at the reaping and going foreward that truly made him fall for her. In fact the was one of the things that prompted him to arrive with the rose at the train station. When I was reaped I didn’t cry or scream or anything but….well I sung. I’ve always been a performer at heart and though my song was very short it showed that they couldn’t break my spirit.

now he leans down and brings his face close to mine. Closer than ever before.

“Coryo, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again…but I wanted to thank you, you’ve treated me well like an equal and that’s rare. If I die in that arena it won’t be your fault-“

“I’m going you out of there y/n. You’re not just a tribute to me. You’re going to survive”he shocks even himself by saying it. He had never spoken about his feelings to y/n. Not even to Tigris. But with the games tomorrow there was no chance other than now. He was enchanted by her beauty and her charm when they first met, her realness. And though it was hard to admit her survival in that arena now meant much more to him than just getting the plinthe prize. He cared about her. Love was a feeling that was all too foreign to the young Coriolanus snow. He had only ever possibly experimented with a girl or two and that was nothing special just a fling. He was an orphan he never knew love from his parents all he had was Tigris, the grandma’m and now y/n.

I let my fingers slip in between the the bars that separated us and caress the side of his soft cheek. Letting myself give in to the temptation that has plagued me ever since we met. His eyes lock onto mine and me gaze at each other for a while lost in our own thoughts. as I stroke his cheek he leans into my touch so heavily as though he has never felt real love in his life. My other hand goes to cup his other cheek from the side so I’m holding his head in my hands now. He looks up at me and I slide one of my hands down to his neck. He was so clearly touch starved, I could see the desperation and hunger in his eyes.

and we’re both wondering the same thing. is this it? Is this the last time l’ll ever see them?

“Y/n l/n” he breathed like it was a desperate plea.

“coryo…”

and then he leans in close and we are in between the bars. He kisses me at first gently, soft and pure like driven snow. I can smell the roses on him a sweet scent that fills my lungs and takes me away. And we both forget about everything. The arena, the tributes, the fact I might be facing my death tomorrow. Because all I can feel is his lips upon mine. His lips are warm and soft, unlike the cold crisp air around us. We’re almost gasping for air. The kiss turns hot and heavy. More rough as it goes on. Like he was holding back before, now he had given up the fight with control. I gasp as I feel his hand snake around to the back off my head and pulling impossibly closer to him in the kiss. When I gasp he takes advantage of that and and deepens the kiss even further if possible. It was never a fight for dominance he took control. A small groan of pleasure escapes Coriolanus’s lips. I hum in response showing that I’m enjoying it as much as he is. Eventually we break and put our foreheads together.

And there stands Coriolanus snow one of the finest men in the capital, panting uniform messed up, and face as red as a beet. All because of the tribute y/n l/n from district 12. She had more than just affect on him. That was an understatement

not that she was any better…

Our foreheads touching both of us panting for our lives, tomato faced. I gaze once again into those beautiful blue irises that remind me of crystals

“Coryo…I won’t let you down in that arena I’ll survive for us…you’ve given me something to fight for” I breathe out

”and you’ve given me someone to root for. I’ll be waiting for you y/n” he almost whispers the last sentence