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mr-cha-n · 7 months ago

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Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning

Word Count: 18.2k

Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.

Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike.

And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.

But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.

That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.

He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."

Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.

He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.

"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."

She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."

Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.

The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor.

Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.

"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"

They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.

The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect.

And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."

Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.

"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."

Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.

"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."

"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."

You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."

Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.

"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'

But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.

"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"

You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"

Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.

As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."

You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."

There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.

Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."

Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."

You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.

"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."

By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.

He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.

But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.

The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live.

But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.

The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.

Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.

Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.

"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.

Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."

Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"

"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."

Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."

Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"

"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."

"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."

Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."

Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.

He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.

By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.

He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.

With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.

Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.

A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.

It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?

He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'

Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.

When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.

"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.

Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"

You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."

Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.

But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."

Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?

"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"

"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."

Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.

You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.

And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.

“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”

Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.

Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.

One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.

You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."

He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."

You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."

The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.

"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.

You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.

For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.

"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”

You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”

You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.

"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."

Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.

"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."

You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.

When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”

You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."

"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.

It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.

The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.

By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.

Enter: you.

Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."

Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"

"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."

And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.

"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."

You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."

Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.

“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."

Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.

He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”

By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."

The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.

As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.

He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.

When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”

Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.

As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."

He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.

“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”

The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.

And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.

For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.

Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.

One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"

"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.

The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.

Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?

Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.

So, Mingyu brings it up.

Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client.

Except.

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse.

It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?

Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"

You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."

Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."

Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"

“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”

Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”

You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"

Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?

“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”

You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”

He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.

You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”

Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.

“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."

You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”

Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."

You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"

“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.

You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.

He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.

You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.

“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”

Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”

You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.

“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”

His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”

Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”

The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”

The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?

His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.

Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.

You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.

“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”

And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.

The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.

You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.

"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"

His brain practically short-circuits at that.

You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.

The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.

You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”

He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”

“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.

Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.

The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.

You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”

His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.

You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”

Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”

You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”

As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”

His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.

He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.

He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.

“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.

He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.

On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.

So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.

“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.

“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”

“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.

The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.

By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.

“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”

You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”

There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”

And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.

It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.

“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”

Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”

Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.

“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."

“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."

Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil. Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”

Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”

The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.

The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.

Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.

“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”

Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.

Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”

Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”

Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”

Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”

“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”

“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”

Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”

“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”

Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”

“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”

“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”

Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.

So, he knocks.

And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.

“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"

He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”

“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”

You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.

“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.

"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.

You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.

“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.

You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.

You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.

“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”

“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”

You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."

Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”

He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”

As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.

By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.

After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.

He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.

And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.

You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”

Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.

The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.

He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.

“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.

Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”

Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.

“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.

“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”

You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”

“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”

You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”

You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”

He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."

He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.

"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.

You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."

Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into. "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."

For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.

It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.

Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.

You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.

“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”

His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.

“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”

He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.

“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”

Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."

You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”

And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."

For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.

You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.

“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.

“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.

You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”

You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.

“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”

He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”

You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”

The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.

“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.

“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.

The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.

Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.

“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.

He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.

When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.

“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”

“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.

But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”

Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”

He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.

Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.

You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.

He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.

“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."

You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.

“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."

It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.

You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.

And then—he takes a breath.

"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.

Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.

Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.

And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.

Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.

When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.

He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.

"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."

You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.

And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.

You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.

Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.

“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.

"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"

You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.

Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.

He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.

“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."

Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."

"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.

And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.

Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss.

And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.

Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."

This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time.

And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).

He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets.

The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken.

Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.

Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”

Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."

As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut

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holylulusworld · 2 months ago

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How to cure a grump (10)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, fluff, mentions of being cruel to animals (no description), idiots in love, fluff

How to cure a grump (9)

How to cure a grump masterlist

“Y/N? What’s wrong baby?” Your mother watches you throw your coat and boots on. You’re choking on tears, ignoring your mother’s worried voice as you rush out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

Not an hour ago you woke, sore, but smiling when you woke in Bucky’s arms. He didn’t leave. Bucky spent the night holding you in his arms, feeling content. Or so you thought.

Now he’s just another mistake you made. Another man who tried to take advantage of you only to regret he got too close to you.

“What?” Your mother drops everything to storm upstairs. “JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!” She yells at the top of her lungs. “What did you do to my daughter?”

“Ma’am…Mrs. Y/L/N…uh—this is a misunderstanding,” he nervously replies while shuffling from one foot to the other. “She got it all wrong.”

“Barnes, listen,” she pokes his chest with her index finger, “I ignored this whole fake-dating stunt you pulled. I even tried to give you a fair chance to be a better man after you fired my daughter before Christmas.”

Bucky inhales sharply. All this time, he believed your mother didn’t know you lied. Now she’s furious, and he feels like a scolded boy when she repeatedly calls him a jerk.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I didn’t want to hurt Y/N. She just…fuck…crap,” he huffs. “I called my friend Steve, and she only heard half of the conversation. I like your daughter… very much.”

He sheepishly looks at your mother, hoping to earn her trust.

“I let you celebrate Christmas with us knowing you’re all alone and a jerk. But—” She narrows her eyes and twists one of his nipples through his shirt, “if you believe you can sleep with my Y/N and tug your tail because you realize this is getting real, I’m going to castrate you!”

Bucky winces while rubbing his hurt nipple. “Ma’am, what’s with the whole castrating thing all the time? Is this a family thing?”

“It’s tradition in this sleepy little town that the women unite to castrate wrongdoers,” she replies, a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, go out there and find my girl! If she gets hurt, you’re dog food.”

“Yes….uh…give me a minute to put some pants on,” Bucky says. He looks down at his body because he’s still in a shirt and his boxer briefs. Well, and socks. The Christmas socks you got for him on your shopping tour.

“No,” she quips and crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll go right now, and I don’t care if you’re only in your underwear.”

“It’s freezing,” he argues. “Let me at least put on my boots.”

“Go, get your boots, and then, you will make things up to my daughter. If not, you know what will happen.”

“You will castrate me,” Bucky hurriedly says. “I got it.”

Your mother chuckles when he wants to run downstairs. “I still got it in me.” She clucks. “I scared the shit out of him.” She looks Bucky dead in the eye. “Get some pants and then, you can go and make things up to my Munchkin.”

Bucky stumbles back inside the guest room. He grabs a pair of pants, throwing them on before rushing downstairs, almost slipping on the staircase.

“Y/N?” Bucky calls your name as if he could magically summon you by saying it. “Doll, I’m sorry. Listen…” He walks faster, trying to figure out where to go. “Y/N?” He curses himself for not talking to you first.

Bucky walks left and right, aimlessly roaming the streets of your hometown. He stops in his tracks, remembering the places you went over the last few days.

“I know,” he says before walking toward the place where you found Alpine. “Y/N, are you here?” He calls your name, walking faster when a noise catches his attention. “Doll? Doll! I’m fucking sorry…you heard the wrong part of my conversation with—”

He gasps, watching you wrap another kitten in your scarf. “Steve already called me,” you murmur while placing the kitten into a box you found next to the dumpster. “He called you an idiot but asked me to not give up on you.”

“Steve is…” Bucky huffs. “I’ll have a serious conversation with my friend when we are back home, but, uh…he’s not wrong.”

“He said you were worried it was the wrong moment to tell me you love me,” you say as you pick the box up to hand it to Bucky. “I couldn’t sleep, thinking about the kitten in the dumpster. I feared there are more.”

He nods and follows you around the backstreet. You listen closely, stopping now and then to look inside abandoned bags, boxes, and dumpsters.

“Wait, I heard something,” he says. “Over there.” He pushes the box into your arms to crouch down and fish a trembling kitten and its mother out from under another dumpster. “There you are, mommy and baby.”

“Oh no. What if there are more?” You sniffle. “No…it’s so cold. What if we lost some already?”

“We won’t lose a single kitten.” He carefully places the cat and its kitten inside the box. “Never.” Bucky gently runs his hands up and down your arms. “I’m sorry for…everything.”

“You’re an idiot,” you reply, smirking. “You’re lucky that you are pretty or else I’d…”

He grins. “Let me guess, castrate me.”

“Exactly,” you agree, looking at the cats in the box. The mother meows loudly while looking left and right. Suddenly, the cat jumps out of the box, dashing toward another dumpster. Bucky follows the cat, opening the dumpster to help the cat jump inside.

“Here are more,” he calls for you. “Why didn’t we find them yesterday?” Bucky watches the cat grab another kitten by its neck. He grabs the cat to place them back inside the box. “That makes four kittens, including Alpine.”

“We need to find them all!” You try not to think about the tumult going on in your mind. Last night, you slept with your former boss, and you are scared it was another mistake.

“We will find them all,” Bucky simply replies. He hands you the box with the cats to look in every nook, every dumpster and box.

Bucky doesn’t give up. For almost an hour he searches for more kittens until he finally finds the last one, a little orange cat, hiding in a soaked box.

You watch Bucky place the last kitten inside the box. “Do you think this is the last one?”

He points at the cats in the box. “The mother is calm now, look. They were meowing loudly the whole time. We should bring them back to your mom’s house. It’s too cold for them.”

“OH, my goodness,” your mother coos. “So many kittens.” She smiles widely and immediately snatches the box out of your hands. “My sweet darlings. Who kicked you out onto the streets?”

“The mother is wearing a collar, but there’s no address or something,” Bucky murmurs, still walking on eggshells around your mother. “Uh—do you think we can keep the white one? She already likes me.”

“They are still small and need their mother. Bring the kitten to me. I’ll take care of all of them while you,” she points between the two of you, “make up.”

Part 11

#How to cure a grump (10)#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #x reader #ceo bucky barnes #business au

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subbmissivesuccubus · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 5 - Dottore X Reader - Humiliation

Day 5 – Dottore X Fem Reader – Humiliation

Disclaimer: Very intense humiliation and free use themes. No sex or penetration in this one, just plain humiliation. Thought I’d spice these up once in awhile <3

It was a cold night out as you followed Dottore to a local tavern. The Doctor had a pep in his step, this particular version of him whisking you away from your chores to act as his aid. Whatever that means. “Keep up.” He said, looking back at you and giving a particularly harsh tug to your leash, making you choke and almost trip while walking. “Y-Yes Sir.” You responded meekly, the metal of your collar digging into your skin. With a smirk, the man continued onwards and you made sure to match with his pace so you were right behind him.

When Dottore offered to cure your illness and only asked that you work as his assistant, you couldn’t believe your ears. The offer was too good to be true and you were worried there was a catch but the man kept his word and helped you, making you the healthiest you’ve ever been. No more sleepless nights in pain, no more constant headaches, no more fevers every other day- you could finally live your life.

And of course, you had to keep your end of the bargain as well. Most of your duties involved checking up on his clones and seeing what they’ve been upto, making sure his subjects were well fed and taken care of, recording down notes of his recent experiments, keeping his pen full of ink and replacing his notebooks when needed-

Letting him bend you over the table and fuck his stress out, offering your body to his many clones to have their way with, put a collar on you and drag you along everywhere like a dog and not caring about people staring-

You know. The usual assistant stuff.

Tonight, Dottore (the original one? Atleast, he was the one who first gave you the offer) had a meeting with the owner of the tavern. An exchange of goods of sorts. The tavern head was experimenting with his wine and agreed to help Dottore in spiking it with some kind of potion, Dottore planning to use the drunkards of the bar as his unwilling experimental group.

He opened the door, the bell of top jingling to signal that they had entered. The man behind the bar greeted them, instantly recognising Dottore and his eyebrows shot up when he saw you trail behind him, leash and all. “Welcome, Doctor.” The man said, “Glad you could make it.”

“How could I not?” Dottore asked, sitting on the chair opposite the counter. He hadn’t ordered you to sit, so you continued to stand behind him. “I’ll have a bottle of your finest red wine, my good man.”

“Coming right up.” The bartender said, “And for the Missus?”

Dottore looked at you, his eyes hidden behind his mask but you were confident they were twinkling in mischief, “Can you put some milk in a dog bowl?”

Blood instantly rushed to your face, Dottore’s comments catching the attention of the many regulars in the bar, all of them immediately looking at you. The bartender barked out a laugh, “Lucky for you, I just bought a new dog bowl. A glass of wine and milk, coming up.”

“On your knees.” Dottore ordered, tugging tightly at your leash. You quickly obeyed, kneeling down next to the man and sitting on your heels. More murmurs echoed through the bar as people’s attention was all of you. You in your cute white shirt, turquoise corset and adorable blue booty shorts with knee high boots. It was quite revealing but Dottore liked it on you and so, you wore it.

“Cute little girl you got there.” The bartender said, placing a glass of beautiful red wine on the table in front of the Doctor and a dog bowl filled with milk next to it, “What do you think about lending her to me for a while?”

“Oh, are we talking business already?” Dottore asks, grabbing the bowl before carefully placing it on the floor in front of you, not needing to command you. You should know what to do. With a gulp, body trembling as you tried your best to ignore all the people staring at you, you placed your hands on either side of the bowl before bending down and drinking the milk. You heard Dottore laugh along with the gasps of the people around you, almost choking on your milk as you felt the familiar sensation of a heel pressing gently onto your head. Dottore’s heeled boot was on you, the man stepping on your head as he made sure to keep you bent over.

“If that’s what you want to start with.” The bartender responded, “Not the first time I’ve made dealings with the Fatui. As long as the deal is fair, I’ll do anythin’ ya want.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dottore said as he picked up his glass, taking a sip of the drink before continuing, in a softer tone so the onlookers couldn’t hear him, “But you know exactly what I want from you.”

“That I do.” The man responded, “But it won’t be cheap.”

“I didn’t expect it to be.”

“So, spiking my bottles for a whole month will cost you twenty million mora.” The man said, leaning against the counter so only Dottore could hear him, “and it will cost ya extra if you want me to make that purple powder myself.”

Dottore chucked, “I’ll be proving you with the powder and I’ll pay you ten million.”

“Nah. Twenty million.”

“Ten million and I’ll throw in a few Fatui to act as your bodyguards.” Dottore negotiated, “Doing this will put a target on your back, you know.”

The bartender paused, gnawing at his lower lip before saying: “Ten million, bodyguards and…I get to fuck this pretty puppy of yours.”

You jumped as he said that, close enough to hear their conversations. The milk was empty and you were just waiting for Dottore to get his boot off of your head, but he just pressed it down harder.

“No one fucks her but me.” Dottore said, his tone indicating his annoyance even if the mask covered his eyes.

“Damn, well, then I guess we’re back to square-“

“Eleven Million, bodyguards and I’ll let you watch while I fuck her.”

You shivered, a rush of heat and shame washing through you. “Now why would I just wanna watch?” the bartender said, looking at Dottore like he was foolish.

“Not just you. Everyone in the bar.” The Doctor responded, “They’re already interested in her- why not make a profit? Only those who buy drinks can stay behind and watch. What do you say?”

Your body shivered some more and you could feel your pussy clench underneath your shorts, the action no doubt visible to some of the patrons who grinned widely at the scene. The man behind the bar took a second before a smile formed on his face, a twinkle in his eye as he brought his hand out for Dottore to take, both of them shaking on it.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with ya!”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine~”

~~~

You shivered and mewled at the lewd stared directed your way, some of the patrons already hard in their pants and nothing had really happened yet. Sure, the Doctor had stripped you of your corset and was groping at your tits, your mounds shifting in his touch, but that was all he had done. Sitting in the middle of the bar, perched on top of Dottore’s lap with your legs spread wide open, you tried your best to ignore the large group of men that were now surrounding the two of you in a circle, beyond excited to see what was going to happen.

They got filled in on the situation and a few people left, mostly women and men who were taken but majority of the men stayed behind, refusing to miss this chance. They sat comfortably around you, eyes wide, taking in every second. The door of the tavern was locked and the bartender was pocketing money, his business booming tonight.

“Look at how hungrily they’re looking at you, pet~” Dottore cooed in your ear as he found your nipples under the shirt, his long fingers starting to run circles over them, “You’re making them so horny~”

You didn’t respond, letting out a yelp as the Fatui pinched your buds, squeezing them tightly between thumb and forefinger before pulling them harshly. The men cheered at your sweet cries, their voices louder at the way your breasts bounced back once Dottore let go. He cupped your tits from below and started to jiggle them, the fat of your tits bouncing for everyone’s viewing pleasure. It was so humiliating- so shameless- so hot.

“Unbutton your shirt.” The man ordered as he continued to jiggle your tits, “flash all of these old perverts.”

Knowing better than to argue, you started doing just that. Eyes around you widened and cocks swelled in pants as you revealed your naked chest, not wearing a bra underneath. With a gulp, you shrugged the shirt off of your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the greedy crowd.

“Oh fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Such good fucking tits!”

You mewled at the lewd words thrown your way, your pussy drenching your panties as you shamelessly bared your naked tits to the group of strangers. There were more than ten men leering at you, perhaps close to twenty, all of whom were staring at you with nothing but lust in their eyes. You were briefly distracted as Dottore once again cupped your breasts before jumping them up and down again, this time, the ripple of your flesh all the more delicious. You noticed that a few men were starting to palm themselves over their pants, eyes watering from how they weren’t blinking.

“Your nipples are hard~” The Doctor said, licking at your earlobe before his fingers flicked your sensitive buds, “Are you enjoying this?”

“S’ cold…” you said as an excuse, whining as his gloved hands started to twirl your nipples in circles. Your breasts were so sensitive to his touch- even the lightest of sensations make you feel like your body is burning up. “Oh yeah?” Dottore asked, clearly not convinced as his palms grabbed your breasts, palming them lewdly, “So your pussy won’t be dripping for me?”

“N-No-“

“Hmmm, should we check then? What do you think boys?” Dottore asked, addressing the crowd, “Should I take off these shorts and check if her cunny is drenched?”

A loud cheer echoed through the room, all of the men shouting a deafening yes making your ears turn red. You felt so vulnerable- so bare- so humiliated as everyone celebrated getting to see your pussy. This wasn’t the first time Dottore has showed you off to others, being fucked in front of the Fatui warriors a fairly common occurrence, but this was different. These were random strangers who had nothing to do with the organisation and were just here in the right place at the right time.

“You heard them.” The Doctor said, nuzzling at your neck before giving it a kiss, his hands letting go of your breasts to instead slide down the curve of your hips and towards the hem of your shorts, “Let’s get you naked, pretty puppy~”

“Pussy! Show us that pussy!”

“Tear those slutty shorts off!”

“Spread those legs wide! I wanna see that asshole!”

You gasped as the dirty words thrown your way, lifting your hips up so your master could slide your shorts down. Everyone hooted as your bare legs got revealed, your black thong doing very little to hide your pussy. One of the men grabbed at your discarded shorts and held it up, hooting like he just won a prize. Deciding to leave your boots on, Dottore grabbed you by the back of your knees before pulling up, making you yelp as your position got slightly changed. You couldn’t help but slap your hands over your eyes as you saw the men move closer to you, some of them so close that you could feel their breath on your cunt. With your body slightly lower and your knees almost pressing your shoulders, Dottore held you wide open for everyone to ogle at. Your thong was wedged between your pussy lips, your puffy cunt practically swallowing the thin fabric and your asshole almost completely visible.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” the Doctor asked, his voice like honey as he took in the scene. It was truly a power trip to watch all these men be so obviously horny for his darling but they couldn’t touch you- couldn’t taste you- couldn’t fuck you. “Take pictures, Gentlemen. It will last longer.”

“Wait- Seriously?”

“Holy fuck! Where’s my Kamera?!”

“Jerk off material for life!”

“Ah-ah! Only if you refill your drinks!”

You looked up at Dottore from your position, peeking between your fingers as the commotion around you increased, everyone buying drinks and scrambling to get their Kamera’s. “I should use you more often.” Dottore said as he looked down at you, “I can convince a lot of perverts to do a lot of bad things just so they can have a taste of your pussy- why didn’t I think of that before?”

He clicked his tongue, annoyed with himself, his mask starting to reflect the flashes of the Kamera’s. Your body twitched every time the shutter went off, the slick from your pussy glistening in the light, something the audience took note of. They moved in closer, their Kamera’s taking countless pictures of you- of your tits, your pussy and your ass. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what they would do with said pictures but knowing Dottore, if they ever got circulated, he’d find a way to monetise it for himself.

“Come on, pet.” He said, his hand sliding between your legs and giving your pussy a few pats, the impact wet and filthy, “Do you want them to see more?”

“Wh-huh?”

“Beg for it.” He explained, “Say: ‘Everyone, please take a good long look at my wet, nasty cunny~’”

“B-But-“ you sputtered, blood rushing to your face so fast it made you feel dizzy, “That’s so- I-“

Dottore raised his hand and gave your pussy a sharp slap, making you yelp out in pain. “Did you say something?” he asked, daring you to protest.

“E-Everyone!” You said, tears in your eyes from the pain and from the humiliation, your ears ringing and your heart hammering so loudly in your chest, you wondered if they could hear it, “P-Please take a g-good long look at m-my w-w-wet, nasty c-cunny!”

“Fuck yeah!!” The crowd cheered, some of them getting your words on video. You were so focused on Dottore and his touch that you failed to notice just how riled up the audience was. Most of them had their cocks out and more than half of them were jerking off, their pleasure filled expressions hidden behind their Kamera’s. You gulped down the saliva in your mouth, your body having been trained well enough that you’d drool when there were hard dicks around- cocks that were eager to fuck you. The slick sound of the strangers sliding their hand up and down their members echoed through the air, their dirty panting somehow turning you on more than their dirty words.

“Let’s show them this pussy, hmm? This pussy that belongs to me~” Dottore growled before his fingers clutched at the hem of your thong and pulled so harshly, he ripped the thin fabric to shreds. Drinks were poured and cheers erupted as the blue haired man tossed aside the remains of your underwear, leaving you truly and completely naked. You gasped, tossing your head back against him as the flashes and clicks of the Kamera increased, your brain getting overstimulated. You felt Dottore’s fingers on your cunt, his gloved hand going up and down your pussy lips, collecting the slick before giving it a nice pat pat pat. The sticky sound of your cunt was barely audible over everything else, especially of the men who started to jerk off with more vigour.

“Take a good look, Gentlemen.” Dottore said, his fingers suddenly spreading your pussy lips apart, showing off every nook and cranny of your cunt, ignoring your cry, “the most perfect pussy in the World~”

#subby writes #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dottore smut #dottore x reader #dottore #fatui harbingers #il dottore #il dottore x reader

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the-kr8tor · 8 months ago

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Layover

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: A trip home brings something unexpected. A second chance perhaps?

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothes), cw food mentions, cw suggestive, ex! Hobie, second chance love, lovestruck! Hobie, Fluff.

A/N: Happy octobie!!

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Buy me a ☕?

When you ran through the airport while clutching your luggage you expected disgruntled passengers from all walks of life. And when you reached the counter expecting to be checked in like usual, you didn't anticipate for your flight to be delayed because of the snow storm raging outside. You just thought that the plane could handle it, you were very wrong. With the bottoms of your jeans drenched from wading through skin biting snow, and with your luggage checked in without having the foresight to grab a pair of fresh pants beforehand; you stand in line for the complementary cup of tea that probably tastes like sink water.

Everything has gone off the rails that you started to anticipate anything, from the earth swallowing you whole to a flock of birds suddenly entering the airport and attacking and pecking at your head— but never in a million years you’d see your ex standing in the middle of the rushing crowd looking disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Oh,” your breath gets stuck in your throat as the bright fluorescent lights above dim in your vision, and spotlights replace it— pointing directly at him while the crowd parts for him.

In slow motion, he turns his head and you see the recognition in his eyes just as he locks eyes with you through the haze of brief unfamiliarity. His lips curl into a smirk just like how you remembered it. His piercings glow as if the sun has come out just for him, melting the ice and snow outside. His hazel eyes roam over your discombobulated expression, you must look like a fish out of water right now.

“Miss?” The vendor’s voice behind you wakes you up from your foggy thoughts. “Your order?”

“Uh…” turning around, you try to gather your words, but it seems that Hobie has taken it all from your lips. “I—”

“Earl grey, two sugars and a splash of milk.” His voice sounds close, ever closer as he sidles up next to you. When you gaze upon him, he's already looking at you with those eyes you loved. Still love. “Did I get it right?”

“Fucking hell.” You murmur, and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah, she still drinks it.” He nudges your shoulder, and you're frozen on the spot. You don't care enough to notice the barista making your drink lightning quick. “I'll take the same thing, no milk.”

“S-still lactose intolerant?” You try to sound confident even though you can feel his warmth through his jacket, it still has the same patches you lovingly sewn on it.

“I don't think they found a cure for that yet.”

“Yeah, I don't think so too.” You say in a small voice, basking in his presence. As if you two didn't amicably break up two years ago, as if you still don't long for him— or don't love him anymore. Well, you still do, but you're trying (and failing) very hard to convince him and yourself otherwise.

He grabs both of your drinks effortlessly in one hand, while the other takes you by your sleeve to pull you aside so that other people could order. Once you're parked into a corner and leaning on a pillar, (all the while not straying your eyes away from him) he gives you your drink, ringed fingers grazing your own.

“Hi, Hobie.” You finally smile, eyes twinkling from the bright lights.

“Hello, love.” His voice is low enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for other people to hear how lovestruck he is.

Your eyes are practically ogling him, he's in plaid, a long sleeve button down that you remember buying for him on a whim. Under the long sleeve is his old band shirt, the same one that you painstakingly silk printed with him and his band for hours in his houseboat. His leather jacket looks the same, save for a few new patches and stitches he mended, it practically didn't change in those two years.

He still wears all the things that remind him of you.

“You look good,” good is an understatement. He looks fucking fantastic. His hair is much longer now, and his skin still lacks worry lines as if he didn't age. There are a few more piercings than you remember, but the most glaring one is the one on his lip. It shines whenever he turns his head, and you wonder how many new piercings he may be hiding. “I see you still haven't thrown out that shirt.”

Hobie looks down, chuckling when he remembers what he's wearing. “You made this one.”

You scrunch up your nose that fades into fondness despite your thudding heart. The image of you and him sitting on the floor of his houseboat while eating take out makes you miss that life. It would be nice to hug him before bed, to tend to his wounds, to kiss him every time he goes out. To just be with him— you miss that life.

You've forgotten to take a sip from your cup, so you do to act normal. The drink warms you up just right, but with your eagerness to look somewhat normal in front of your ex, you choke on your tea.

“Oh shit,” Hobie, without thinking, like it's the most natural thing ever and still acting on instinct, pats your back. “You alright?” He chuckles at the ridiculous situation. He never thought flying back home from a gig would cause a chain reaction of him holding you again in a crowded airport. He smiles at the thought.

“You're laughing!” You cough out. All your stiffness fades away once you hear his laugh, you missed it so much. You missed him. “I'm choking here and you're laughing.” You have tears in your eyes, whether that's from choking on nothing or it's because of your longing. Either way, you must look horrible.

His palm continues to pat, and his smile never wavered, completely endeared by you. Completely in awe of you just by standing in front of him. He missed you.

“‘m not laughin’” You give him a stern look, cheeks practically in flames. “‘m not!” He briefly takes his hand off of you to grab at his water bottle peeking in between his bag zipper that's filled with numerous stickers. “‘ere, drink.”

You take the bottle from his hand as you continue to cough. He opens the lid for you before you could wheeze, and you down it immediately. Again, you've completely forgotten about your *own drink in your other hand.

“There,” he tamps down his chuckles as he sees water dribble from your chin. “Better?”

You groan, coughing out a few more times before you hand the bottle back to him. The fact that it once touched his lips flew over your head, but once the bottle was back in his hand, it hits you like a snowplow. Your stomach flips, and you panic, drinking from your hot tea again.

“Fuckin' hell, careful.” He chortles at your side eye. “Alright, choke on it, 'm ‘ere for a reason.”

You stop drinking, back leaning on the pillar, chest heaving. “Why are you here? You don't like flying.”

“I had to this time.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“What are you, airport security?” He jokes, shoulder leaning on the wall beside him, leg crossed over the other casually. That does things to you, making your palms sweaty. “Business actually, we had a gig ‘ere in Cardiff.”

You grin, “the band's here?”

“Nah, those lucky bastards took the earlier flight.” He says as he looks over to where he was standing before he walked over to you.

You furrow your brows, “oh, you're with someone?” Your heart deflated right in your chest. Is it wrong for you to feel this way when it's been two years since you last kissed him?

A ghost of a smirk briefly appears on his lips. “Nah, just me. I took a later flight so I could visit some places. Be a fuckin' tourist for once y’know?”

Your heart inflates back to life again. “That's nice, it's not everyday you get to actually fly and conquer your fears.”

He chuckles, “I wasn't that afraid.”

“You didn't want to go on that Germany trip with me because of it.” His smile wavers, and something passes by behind his eyes.

“Sorry.” You did not expect that. Today is just full of surprises isn't it? “You know I couldn't—”

“I know, Hobie.” You grab his arm without thinking, palm cradling his elbow. You give him enough time to move away, but he doesn't. “I know what I was getting into by dating a vigilante.” You whisper the last word.

“That was before anyway, now I have someone lookin' over the city while ‘m gone.” He softly smiles, eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips briefly. “‘m still grateful for you puttin’ up with my shit.”

“I think I deserve a medal for it actually.” You joke, moving to poke his side oh so casually.

“I don't know if they sell that in the shops ‘ere.”

You chortle, “you'd get me one?”

“Shit, I'd have it engraved with your name and everythin’”

The two of you continue to giggle and indulge in each other's presence. The PA system continues to echo out in the background, hundreds of shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors, and children busying themselves with their gameboys beeping above the murmured conversations of their parents. Every sound is muffled, his laugh is the only thing that you can hear, and his face is the only thing you could see under the harsh lights.

It's just you and him in the crowded place.

“Let's sit down, yeah? Our planes ain't goin’ anywhere.” He pats your shoulder, palm lingering for only a moment. Since the entire airport is packed with stranded passengers, all the seats are taken no matter how uncomfortable it is. Looking around, he bites the bottom of his lip when he doesn't see any benches or chairs left.

Your heart feels like escaping from your chest. “We can sit over there, near the window.” You point with your chin at a space big enough for the two of you.

“Good eye.” Hobie gives you his drink, and you furrow your brow in question until he bends his knees to grab your luggage and his bag. “C’mon then.”

With a small smile, you follow behind him as he carries the bags effortlessly. After weaving through the crowd, you two finally make it to the large window that displays the tarmac where planes are waiting around in the plush snow.

He sets your bag next to his own in the corner, sitting down on the carpet that is probably older than the two of you combined. Patting his side, you chuckle, cheeks warm but you still sit beside him. You're so close to him that your knees kiss his own, and you're only a hair width away from his lips when you turn to look at him.

His lips part, and you see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he swallows thickly. Your eyes glance at his lips, and you quickly look away, moving to the side even though there's not much space between you and the wall beside you.

Hobie clears his throat, smile hidden as he casually turns his head away from you. “Why are you ‘ere then?”

“Business.” You hand him his warm drink, and again, your fingers brush along his own. This time, you let your touch linger upon his own for a brief second more.

“I thought you're out ‘ere to wade through the snow.” He takes a sip from his cup, eyes flicking down towards the bottoms of your jeans where it's darker and wet from the snow.

“What?” You look down, and you immediately want to slap yourself for the blunder. “I-I forgot to grab a pair of pants before I checked in my luggage. I–it's very silly of me.”

Hobie chuckles lowly, finger absentmindedly playing with the cardboard cup sleeve. After two years, he can't believe you still have the ability to fluster him. “Tell you what, borrow my trousers, you could get sick from the cold.”

“I'm fine, Hobie. Besides, my flight's about to begin boarding any minute now.” A second after you said it, the PA system announces that your flight is delayed. Again.

Hobie laughs, “comedic timing. Just take my trouser, love.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, laughing with him a moment later once you've recovered. You decide to tease him. “I hope you don't mean the one you're wearing right now.”

Smirking, Hobie leans closer to you, whispering in your ear. “Even though we're at an airport, that won't count as bein’ in the mile high club, lovie.”

Maybe your flight getting canceled isn't so bad after all.

“Damn, I thought it would count!”

Hobie moves away, grinning from ear to ear. “Just take my bloody trousers. I don't want a repeat of that one winter we had back home.”

“That was one time, I learned my lesson. And fine, I'll wear your pants, I've worn worse.”

“Rude.” He says with a soft smile, “it's in my bag, the biggest zipper.”

You gesture towards the bags next to you, “You want me to rummage through your things?”

“Why not? You've already seen my knickers. And me in just my knickers.”

“That's not it, Hobie.” You say like you're winded after getting the image of him in that one pair of knickers in your mind. Thanks, Hobie.

“Too much crossin’ the boundaries then? Hand it to me.” He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, the same reason why you had to ask him if he's sure about you rummaging through his things. You don't want him to feel uncomfortable too.

“Kind of, I'll be wearing your pants anyway so we crossed that boundary a few minutes ago.”

“What is it then?” He knits his brows, concern etched on his expression.

“It's just that— it's your stuff, maybe there's something in there that you don't want me to see.”

“Love,” he says softly, “you've seen everythin' there is to see. Nothin' changed much, ‘m not carryin’ somethin' that will make me embarrassed.” When you still don't look too sure, he twists in his seat to loom over you, you get a full display of his chest as he pulls at his bag to put it over your lap. He smells just like how you remembered. For a second there your heart stopped at the sight of him above you. “Go rummage through my shit, yeah?”

You bite your lip with a shake of your head. “I will scream if I hear something vibrating.”

Hobie's booming laughter echoes throughout the airport, rising above the PA system.

Grinning, you open the bag, there's a few shirts on top that you recognize, and a couple of jeans. But when you see something red and blue with the familiar spider logo, you clamp the zipper shut.

“You brought your suit?” You look at him, bewildered.

“Why not? You never know when a mutant lizard would appear.” He takes a swig from his cooling tea, acting nonchalant but clearly amused by your reaction.

“What if security sees it?” You whisper.

He copies your tone. “They did.” Your eyes widen. “They thought it was a costume, love.” Winking, he smiles teasingly at you.

“That makes a lot of sense actually.”

—

You look at yourself in the murky airport bathroom mirror, hands tying the strings on Hobie's pants. Its red checkered pattern catches the eye, and its soft material reminds you of his pajamas. It might be his pajamas actually. You remember all the cold nights in the houseboat cuddled next to him, with the boat rocking softly as you whisper about your day in his ear. You wish you were there right now.

You push open the creaking door, and you see Hobie waiting for you, standing nonchalantly on a pillar with yours and his bag strewn near his feet. Once he hears the door, his head perks up, and a smile appears when he sees you in his clothes.

“Lookin' bloody fit, eh?”

“Stop, I'm already embarrassed enough. I feel like a kid in kindergarten who just had an accident.”

“Well, did you?”

You make a face at him. “No, the hell?”

Hobie shrugs, “I won't judge you if you did.”

You push him lightly, palm pressed on his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” Looking over the space you and Hobie were sitting at, you find that it's already occupied. “We lost our seats.”

Hobie follows your gaze. “That's alright, I heard a few blokes talkin' ‘bout rentin’ a car. We could try our luck there.”

“Impromptu road trip?”

“D’you want to stay ‘ere till tomorrow?”

“No,” you sigh, “let's go.”

Hobie takes each of your bags and his own while making sure he walks in the same pace as you so he doesn't go further away and lose you in the crowd. You don't argue about carrying your own bags since you know you'll lose and he'll charm you with that smile you love. It's better not to faint in the middle of a packed airport.

You're arm to arm with him, and your instincts tell you to hold on to his arm like you used to do. You wish you could still do it, just hold him lest he gets lost in the crowd or go further away from you. He doesn't, he won't, and you know that despite the two year gap of being away from him.

You have a lot of things to tell him, and he has a lot of thoughts about you. For now, he walks close to you, wishing, hoping that the divide between the two of you will crumble the moment you hold onto him like how he remembers.

A passenger bumps into you, and you collide on Hobie's side with a quiet yelp.

He reaches for you, thumb pressing on the small of your back in an attempt to keep your balance without dropping the bags. “You alright? What a wanker.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, eyes roaming around his concerned face. “I'm okay.” He looks marvelous basking under the light.

“You sure? You look a bit peckish, love.” He guides you towards the nearest food stall, all the while avoiding people from colliding into you.

You can't tell him that you're suddenly clammy because you're absolutely awestruck and still very much in love with him. So you lie. “I can't get anything past your senses, huh?”

He chuckles, trying to ignore your quickening heartbeat in his ears. “You want a sandwich?”

You give him a lopsided smile as he drops you off to the side of the sandwich stall. “Sure, Hobie.”

“What kind?” He leaves the bags near your feet, a smile never leaving his pierced lips. “The usual?”

“You still remember that?”

“I remembered your tea order, of course I remember your usual.” He casually says, hand hidden in his pockets, hoping that you can't sense his sudden bashfulness.

“It's not aunt Janet's chippy but it'll do.” You grin as the memory of you two having afternoon dates at your local chip shop passes by your mind.

“Don't tempt me, or I'll start swingin’ in this storm to get us some.”

“That's physically impossible, Hobie.” You unconsciously mirror his movements.

“Yeah, if you're not Spider-Man.” He shrugs with a smug look as he walks backwards to order your snack.

He'll be the death of me one day. You think as your eyes never leave his form.

—

You finish your sandwich right on time when Hobie comes back from the car rental counter. His annoyed expression tells you that it did not go well.

“What happened?” You swallow, throwing away the paper packaging at a trash can. Hobie leans on the glass wall right next to you, hands in his pockets. You narrow your eyes at his suspicions posture, “you're fucking with me aren't you? You have the keys in your pockets, right?” He tilts his head towards you with a tight-lipped smile. Your teasing grin falters. “Right?”

“Nah, not this time, love. Sorry.”

You sigh, wincing, hope snuffed out. “Really?” He nods, you really hoped that you would get to go on a road trip with him again. “Damn, I thought you were joking.”

“They're not lettin’ any cars out because of the ice. Slippery road and all that.” He huffs, and then flicks his eyes at you. “How was the sandwich?”

“Pretty okay,” you turn your head to him, body drifting closer. The window is cold under your head. “The bread should've been toasted better though.” Rummaging through your pockets, you find your wallet to pay him back. “How much do I owe you?”

“A hundred quid.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“Fuck off.” You scoff out with a giggle.

He finds your laughter contagious, grinning he shakes his head. “Nah, it wasn't much, keep it.”

“I gotta pay you back, Hobie.” You insist.

“You already did with the tea, love.”

You laugh some more. “That one was free!”

The PA system interrupts and calls on your flight again, and as you predicted, it's delayed. You barely notice the announcement with him looking at you softly.

“Everythin’ is free if you think ‘bout it.” He pokes your bicep playfully as you roll your eyes with a grin. “I think that was your flight, lovie.”

“Yeah, I expected it this time— wait, when's your flight? Did they announce it already?”

“It's cancelled,” he says casually. “Is it that bad though? I got to see you because of it.” His tone is tender, with a hint of apprehension under his voice.

“Too bad on the impromptu road trip though.” You scooch closer to him. In the busy airport where every person rushes in and out, you and Hobie are in your own world where it's just you and him. “I would've loved to stop by the chip shop with you.”

“We could still do that,” Hobie whispers, eyes downturned as he wraps his pinky around your own. He gives you space to move away or flinch, but you don't. Instead, in a twist of events, you pull him closer with just your pinky, toe to toe with him, holding him just like how he remembered. “I'll take that as a yes then?”

“Ask me,” your free hand rises to his chest, palm right on his heart, feeling how his heartbeat hastens. You lock eyes with him, smiling gently as you see his pupils dilate with just you in his vision. “Please ask me.”

“I saw you a few minutes before we met at the tea stand. And I followed you like a bloody creep thinkin’ that I was hallucinatin’ or some shit—” you stop his rambling with your hand cupping his cheek. He leans against your touch, eyes closing for a moment. Your heart leaped in your chest when he did. “Breakin’ up was a bad idea.” He says as he opens his eyes, hand holding the back of yours, feeling his calloused hand around your own. “Go to Janet's chippy with me, we'll get your usual. And I'll get mine and I'll give you the first bite like always.”

“Like our first real date.” You almost couldn't get the words out with the lump in your throat.

Hobie nods with a lopsided smile, eyes glimmering in the light. “Say yes, please.”

“Yes.” Your lips wobble. “And you're fucking right, breaking up was a very bad and stupid idea on our part.” A tear escapes that he promptly wipes away carefully.

Hobie exhales like it's the first time he lets go of a breath. His forehead meets yours, and you hold him, giggling, pecking the tip of his nose.

“I missed that.” He leans away, cradling your face in his hands. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea.”

“I have a faint idea.”

You chortle, eyes tearing up again. “You wanna argue who missed who the most?”

“Anythin' to hear you talk, love.” As he tilts his head to kiss you, he inhales and brushes his lips on yours. He feels complete.

Before you could seal the deal, the PA system echoed again. This time though, they announce that your flight is canceled. You hear simultaneous groans across the airport, except from you and Hobie.

You laugh against his lips, making him chuckle. Leaving a chaste kiss before moving away, you silently promise to give him a proper one once you and Hobie are out of the rushing crowd.

Moving away, you kiss his knuckles as you take his bag away. He understands the memo, carrying your luggage as you continue to walk away.

“Where are you goin'? We can't rent a car to drive back home.” Hobie calls after you, matching your pace almost immediately.

“I booked a hotel just in case something like this happens.” You swear you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

“Just like this?” He points to himself with a knowing smile.

“You know what I mean, Hobie.” You say with a lilt in your tone. “Either you sleep in a cot and wake up with an aching back, or you sleep in the same room with me.” You flick your eyes at Hobie, who's absolutely dumbstruck, that's quickly replaced with a huge grin, his eyes crinkle at the corners as you nudge him playfully.

“I prefer sleepin’ in the same bed with you if you'd ask me to.” He switches your bag on his other hand, carrying it all in one hand effortlessly so he could reach for your hand.

“Well, this is me asking.” You squeeze his hand thrice, walking towards the airport's hotel with a skip in your step. You're glad that your flight was canceled.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

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sh4nksslvt · 22 days ago

Note

Hi, darling, can you write about Marco X Reader? Raeder is a magnificent doctor on an island. Capable of curing many illnesses. The Navy has tried to recruit her many times, but she refuses. She loves reading. She can lose track of time in a book if she's interested. She has a little student who helps her.

One day, a pineapple head arrives at the office. Hello, welcome, little brother pineapple, the girl greets him. While sorting her teacher's letters, an invitation from the Navy falls out. My teacher has the order ready for the next 6 months. Jumping down to pick up the order. She's in the library downstairs.

The young woman was lost in thought, reading while occasionally taking notes. The tray of food next to her was already cold.

Later The girl ran downstairs with tears in her eyes and her cheek red from the blow she had received. Teacher, the bad man from the navy came again. I told him you weren't there, but he hit me. Running to the young woman's glasses, the woman gave her affection and stroked her cheek. A bubble healed her wound. She gave her to Marco to hold in his arms. Watch your brother, Pineapple. Until he returns, he's not allowed to go up. Hey, the girl looked at them, "Yes," she said, smiling as she hugged him.

The marine tried to take the woman, even forcing her. Marco was worried about his beloved. He even tried to leave, but the little girl wouldn't let go. After a while, the marine left, covered in rashes. The girl started to laugh. The young woman sat down and looked at Marco. Thank you for being patient and not leaving. The woman began to bandage the wound on her neck, since her healing skills were of no use.

not much, but hope u like it!

Feathers Beneath the Willow Tree

A renowned doctor on a peaceful island catches Marco’s attention—but so do the Marines, who are getting desperate.

Marco the phoenix x fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, oc, hurt/comfort a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe and akward word count: 1.5k

masterlist | ko-fi

If you asked anyone on Ceres Island where hope lived, they'd point you to the ivy-draped cottage at the edge of town—the one with the lantern always glowing softly by the door and the scent of herbs curling through the air. That was your home, your clinic, and your sanctuary.

And lately, it had also become a small, unofficial fortress.

You were known as one of the most brilliant healers on the Grand Line. Rumors said you’d cured diseases that even top Marine doctors had declared terminal. The Navy had tried to recruit you multiple times—sweet offers, stern demands, even veiled threats. Each time, you’d refused. You didn’t want war, titles, or medals. You wanted peace, books, and to make sick people better.

And then there was Kiri.

Your tiny assistant and student, Kiri, was ten and as ferocious as she was adorable. She’d been left on your doorstep at three, feverish and half-starved. You saved her life. Now, she followed you like a shadow, copying your handwriting and dressing her teddy bear’s imaginary wounds.

It was Kiri who opened the door the morning he arrived.

The bell above the clinic door jingled. A tall man with golden-blond hair stepped in, ducking his head slightly as if not to disturb the space. His blue eyes swept the cozy room, warm with dried herbs and soft lantern light.

Kiri turned with a wide grin.

“Oh! hello, welcome, Marco-san!” Kiri said cheerfully, her small hands busy sorting through the latest stack of letters. She was sitting on the front counter, feet swinging, a pencil behind her ear. “Sensei has the orders ready for the next six months.”

Marco chuckled, his bright blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “You remembered my name-yoi”

“Of course. You’re the phoenix,” Kiri said proudly. “You helped with the burns in the east village last month. I like your hair.”

Marco rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Thanks-yoi, little one.”

As she jumped down to fetch the herb bundles prepared for the Whitebeard Pirates, a folded letter slipped out of the stack and floated to the ground. Marco’s sharp eyes caught the official red seal before Kiri picked it up and stuffed it back in the pile. “Just another Marine invitation,” she said, almost rolling her eyes. “Sensei always ignores them.”

“She’s in the library downstairs,” she added, already heading toward the back of the building. “You can wait here, or—"

“I’ll find her,” Marco said gently.

The underground library was carved into the hill the cottage sat on, lined with carved wooden shelves, low lighting, and a quiet that only places full of knowledge seem to possess.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, a thick tome open in your lap. Notes in your neat script littered the floor around you. The tray of food Kiri had left an hour ago sat beside you, untouched and long gone cold.

You didn’t even look up when Marco leaned against the doorframe.

“You really don’t hear the world when you read, huh?”

Your head jerked up. “Marco.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt-yoi”

You stretched your stiff neck, pushing your glasses up. “No interruption. I just... got carried away again.”

“Looks like it,” he said, moving to sit nearby. “Kiri said you had my order ready?”

“I do,” you said, gesturing toward a carefully packed crate in the corner. “Antitoxins, burn salves, and enough anti-fever tinctures to last you till your next brawl.”

“Perfect,” he said, then added gently, “She also said the Marines keep sending you letters.”

You blinked, tensing slightly. “She shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“She’s worried-yoi. So am I.”

You sighed, brushing a hand through your hair. “It’s not your concern.”

“Maybe not. But I’m making it mine anyway-yoi.”

The peaceful air shattered several hours later.

Kiri came running into the library, her small frame trembling, tears streaming down her face. Her cheek was bright red from a slap.

“Sensei!” she sobbed. “The bad man from the Marines came again! I told him you weren’t here—but he hit me!”

You shot up, furious and afraid all at once, grabbing her face with both hands. “Let me see, sweetie.”

A small healing bubble formed between your palms and hovered over her wound, pulsing once before fading, taking the pain with it. Kiri hiccupped, her tears slowing.

You pulled her into your arms, lips pressed to her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

She clung to you tightly. Marco stepped forward, fists clenched.

“Watch her,” you said, placing Kiri gently in his arms. “Don’t let her go upstairs. Don’t let him get near her.”

Kiri looked up at Marco, sniffling. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Yeah,” Marco said, voice low but steady. “I’ve got you-yoi.”

Kiri wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “Okay…”

Marco looked down at the child now in his arms, her head buried in his shoulder. She didn’t cry again, but he felt the small tremors in her body. Carefully, his arms wrapped around her, warm and protective.

“I’ve got her,” he finally said, watching you with concern. “Just come back safe-yoi.”

You turned and stormed up the stairs, your sandals striking the stone like thunder.

Marco sat on a worn couch in the quiet underground library, Kiri curled up against him like a kitten. Her hand was tightly clutching his shirt. She didn’t speak for a long time.

He looked around the room filled with ancient books and dusty scrolls—places where your mind clearly lived more than your body. But there were signs of warmth too: sketches from Kiri on the wall, half-finished notes on potion experiments, a teacup still warm on the table.

Kiri broke the silence.

“Sensei reads too much,” she mumbled. “She skips meals and forgets to sleep.”

Marco smiled faintly. “Sounds familiar-yoi. Pops is the same with sake.”

“She’s always helping people,” Kiri mumbled. “But she won’t let anyone help her.”

Marco hummed. “Guess it’s good she has you, huh?”

Kiri smiled, but her voice was still small. “I think she needs someone strong... who’ll stay.”

“She has that-yoi” Marco said quietly, tightening his hold just a little.

Kiri blinked. Then, with all the authority of a child who decided something was law, she declared, “You’re not allowed to leave. Not until she’s okay. And not even then, if I say so.”

He stared at her, startled, then burst into a soft laugh. “Is that so-yoi?”

She nodded with a tiny smile, satisfied. “You’re warm,” she added, curling closer.

Marco let his phoenix energy gently wrap around her like a second blanket, golden flames harmless and comforting. Kiri let out a content sigh and finally closed her eyes.

The Marine was tall, square-jawed, with a crisp white coat and the kind of entitlement that made your skin crawl.

“You’re coming with me,” he barked. “The Navy is done asking nicely.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m not leaving this island. I’ve told you that every time.”

He stepped forward, grabbing your arm tightly. “That’s not your decision anymore.”

Before you could react, his grip tightened—just in time for his hand to erupt in red, itchy hives.

He let out a howl and reeled back, swiping at his burning skin. “What the hell?!”

You narrowed your eyes, voice cold. “You don’t touch me. You don’t touch my child. Ever.”

“Your child?” he spat, eyes narrowing.

“She’s mine,” you said. “In all the ways that matter.”

The Marine hesitated, then sneered, “What you're doing is treason!”

“Treason?” you hissed. “You don’t want my help. You want to own me!”

A sudden pulse of energy shot from your hand, wrapping the man in an invisible net of irritation—his skin broke out in deep, nasty rashes. He screamed, stumbling back toward the door.

“I’ve prepared stronger formulas,” you said coolly. “Leave now, or I’ll test them on you.”

The Marine fled, cursing as he went.

You came back down an hour later, victorious. The man had left, skin covered in painful rashes from your specialty concoction, humiliated and warning others not to cross you.

Marco looked up as you descended slowly, your posture tired but proud. Kiri was fast asleep against him.

“She didn’t want to let go-yoi” he said softly, nodding at the child.

You smiled wearily. “I wouldn’t either.”

You lowered yourself beside them with a hiss of discomfort. Marco noticed the bruise forming in your arm.

“Bruise again?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

You nodded. “My powers don’t work on me. Never have.”

He reached for the first-aid kit without being asked.

As he carefully began to bandage your bruise, you glanced at him.

“Thank you,” you said. “...for not leaving, and for being patient.”

He met your gaze, steady and sincere.

“I wasn’t going to-yoi. Not then, not now.”

You closed your eyes as the bandage settled against your skin, Kiri’s soft breathing the only sound in the room for a while.

And in the quiet, surrounded by books, healing, and warmth, something unspoken passed between you and Marco—a beginning neither of you had planned, but both silently agreed to continue.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #idk what im doing #idk man #fluff #slight angst #first division marco #marco x reader #marco the pheonix #marco one piece #first division #whitebeard crew

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smuttykdrama · 1 year ago

Text

[Sub!Masochistic!Test subject!Hyunsu x Dom!Sadistic!Scientist!Fem!Reader / Sweet Home Season 2]

PART ONE AS REQUESTED!

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal sex, Sub!Hyunsu, Dom!Reader, Masochism, Sadism, Extremely fucked up reader, Female reader, Knife play, Name calling, Face slapping, Bondage, Blood. PURE FILTH BE WARNED LOL. Only read if you're 18 and above!!

Plot: Based on my idea in my previous post. Mad scientist reader meets Cha Hyunsu. All hell breaks loose when you decide you want him in other ways besides being your test subject.

Story under the cut. 🤭

"Yah, Cha Hyunsu."

He hesitantly looked up at you, nervously kneeling before you, chains shackled around him, binding him at your feet. Hyunsu's entire body shivered, alerting you of his coldness. You knew that he was freezing, having been confined completely naked. Fuck, he must be really embarrassed. Cute.

"Y-yes?"

He mumbled quietly, his puppy like eyes staring back at you. You'd been a scientist ever since your Dad introduced you to the wonders of the world, and this whole apocalypse thing really did excite you. And having an incredibly handsome and nude half human at your mercy was just the cream on the cake. The others wouldn't mind if you did a little experimenting on your own, right?

"Wanna get out of here?"

Hyunsu's head snapped up at the mention of escaping. He nodded, but still was wary. He at first had wanted to help to find a cure...but knowing now the reality of this place...he wasn't so keen to stay. You raised your eyebrows, smirking and with your hand, you lifted his chin up with your finger.

"Hmm? You're a pretty one, aren't you? Tell me. How far would you go for me to help you? I certainly can help you escape...for a price."

Hyunsu sighed; you scientists were all the same after all - conniving and sinister. Of course there'd be a price...but what? He didn't like the twinkle in your eye...or did he?

"What do you want?"

He murmured shyly, standing up slowly, trying not to trip back onto the floor from exhaustion. Your mouth creased up into a crooked smile as you thought of all the possibilities.

"Hyunsu. Nothings free in this world. But what i want isn't money. I want...you."

"W-what?"

Hyunsu thought he didn't hear you correctly. You wanted him? Why? He's just a pathetic monster, a test subject. Did you want ro experiment on him more? Subject him to torture?

"No."

He stated, afraid of what you were offering. What if you wanted to make him your lab rat as well? But...something about the way you seductively stroked his chest made Hyunsu uneasy. It wasn't as simple as that, was it?

"Oh baby. You don't have a choice, anyway. I'll use you. I'll use you until you feel like crying."

You inched closer to the man, making him step back hesitantly.

"You know what I mean, right, Hyunsu? My options are limited here, and the men aren't exactly like you. They...don't even come close to you."

Your cold finger running down his chest and abdomen made Hyunsu shiver; in a good and bad way. Wait, was he actually turned on by this? He knew exactly what you meant. Without hesitation, you stated,

"Cha Hyunsu. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to fuck you and use you until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Hyunsu couldn't believe what he's hearing. His mind went blank and his body seized up, unable to think clearly or stop you. All he could see was your eyes gleaming maliciously at him, lips pulled up into the most terrifying grin he'd ever seen, teeth bared in a grimace. He trembled at your touch, his body begging him to take this all further, to give in to his desires. But he didn't say anything. Not a word.

"Hyunsu."

Hyunsu snapped out of his trance once you repeated his name. The look in your eyes was no longer playful, but full of venomous determination. He gulped, his eyes watering from both fear and lustful frustration. You leaned forward, whispering huskily against his ear.

"I'm going to have you, and you're going to let me."

You pressed your lips to his jaw, sucking lightly while rubbing your thumb across his bottom lip. The action sent shivers down his spine, causing him to shudder. You bit hard, pulling away from him. He whimpered.

"Lay on the ground. Now."

His body quaked with anticipation at the mere order, obeying your wishes and complying immediately. You kneeled beside him, straddling his hips to make things easier. His breathing became erratic, shallow pants and quick breathes. He tried to keep it together, but his cock started growing, aching for attention.

"(Y-Y/N)..."

Hyunsu whined, his hips desperately bucking up into you. Without another word, you peeled your shorts and panties off in a second, positioning yourself.

"Let's see how long you can last first. Don't cum, or I'll punish you."

With those words, you pushed onto him, moaning as you felt the hot, wet friction between your two bodies. He gasped at the sudden intrusion, hands clutching the concrete floor beneath him. You grunted as the feeling overwhelmed you, feeling your body tighten up with passion as he gripped your hips tightly.

"Oh god..(Y/N)..."

You smirked, slapping Hyunsu's face.

"Quiet. So a monster can get it up? Interesting...I bet your monster wants to fuck me right now, isn't that right, Cha Hyunsu?"

Hyunsu nodded. Truth be told, ever since he arrived here, the other scientists were cold and cruel towards him. But you...you were warm and kind. Your fascination with him grew to be much more than just being interested in his abilities. Rocking back and fourth on his cock, you gripped his wrists and held them back above his head. With one hand, you held Hyunsu's arms back, and with the other...you got out a knife from your back pocket. Hyunsu's face dropped.

"Good boy, Hyunsu. Now, shall we put your healing abilities to the test? Scream, and I won't let you cum. Scream, and I'll make you suffer."

Hyunsu shook his head frantically, but the only sound he made was a small whimper. You chuckled darkly, leaning down to kiss Hyunsu forcefully on the lips, biting the side of his lip harshly. He yelped, trying to pull away, but found himself unable to when you bit too deep. It healed within seconds.

"H-hurt me..."

Hyunsu begged, eyes clouded over with lust, staring at the knife. You rolled your eyes. A sick freak. You could've easily used the knife to kill him...but this is too fun, watching him squirm under your control. You took the knife, slashing it roughly across Hyunsu's chest, eliciting another gasp from the half human as he watched blood start dripping down his pale skin. It healed again, quicker this time. Not that it was any less painful. Your eyes widened in fascination as you fucked him harder.

"Amazing..."

"W-what?"

"I like you, Cha Hyunsu. You can be my fucktoy, painslut and test subject...In fact...I don't think you'll ever leave at all."

Hyunsu screamed.

#kdrama imagine #kdrama x reader #sweet home #cha hyunsu #hyunsu x reader #kdrama #song kang #sweet home imagine #sweet home x reader #cha hyunsoo #hyunsu smut #sweet home smut #smut #x reader smut #hyunsoo x reader #song kang x reader #dom!reader #sub!character #sub hyunsu

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rmoonstoner · 2 years ago

Text

Kinktober 2023

***

Theme:

4 - Incubus Sex (Monster fucker)

***

Warnings:

18+, darkish setting (surviving zombie apocalypse), angst, fluff, smut, vampires (oppressive dominate species and blood drinking is mentioned a lot), a monster with a hero complex (Stephen coming to save you), monster fucker smut, sex with monster style Stephen, oral (sucking tentacles), tentacle sex, p in v sex, cream pie, oral, size kink, vibrating tentacles, anal play, double penetration, come shower

***

Pairing:

Doctor Stephen Strange x Fem!Mystic!Reader

(Past relationship mentioned)

Watcher/Eldritch Being Doctor Stephen Strange Supreme x Fem!Mystic!Reader

(Current relationship)

***

Please note:

Writing this made me both cry and very horny. I love writing about evil monster men that get redemption and now act like soft and gentle golden retrievers.

I did not have a proofreader.

***

Summary:

Your husband died a long time ago, during the outbreak. There was never a cure found, but a vaccine was made with Doctor Morbius's blood. Unfortunately, instead of a world of humans being eaten by zombies, it's now a world of humans being eaten by vampires. You're one of the few uninfected left, and a terrible fate is heading your way.

Until a familiar looking man comes to make a bargain with you, offering you salvation, but at the cost of leaving your universe forever.

***

Surviving this horrible hellscape was tough, but you managed to do it just fine, all by yourself, without your husband's help. Zombies had rolled through, covering half of the earth in just under a month. The great Doctor Morbius had discovered a vaccine to stop the spread of the virus, but that still meant people would be turning into monsters. Instead of zombies, they'd be vampires. Still, it was better than turning into a mindless decomposing corpse, so what did your people have to lose?

It had been years since that incident, and you had been lucky enough to avoid being bitten by a zombie, and contracting the virus. You were also lucky enough that you didn't turn into a vampire when you got the vaccine, but it did seem to stop allowing you to age. Apparently your blood was unique, and you wouldn't have been able to turn into a zombie either, if bitten.

You made a lot of money by selling your blood weekly at the local blood bank, and soon the vampiric citizens of New York were paying you top dollar for your blood. You were also an avid pot smoker, and that contributed to the price that your blood was worth.

But still, you missed your husband dearly, wishing he never died during the pandemic. You dreamt of him almost every night and when you didn't, you dreamt of your own death in so many horrifying and gruesome ways.

You grew tired as the weeks passed into months, and then into years. The people buying your blood started asking you to come in twice a week, to deal with the high demand, then three. You knew if you didn't, you'd be hunted down and forced to do it against your will. It was bad enough that the vampires kept harassing you to breed with other uninfected humans, just so they could have more livestock.

You sat at home, watching television and seeing a commercial about the company that marketed your blood. They advertised it like it was various soft drink brands, with yours being a luxury item like fine alcohol once was. You scowled and leaned back against your bed. You felt so fucking tired recently. You just wanted to hide away and not be bothered by anyone anymore.

You wanted your husband back so fucking badly.

You didn't want to be used as food any more, and since you stopped ageing, that was just going to be your life now.

Forever.

Eventually, you knew they'd stop being so nice in asking you to pick a partner and reproduce. You almost would have rather died when the zombies showed up. You sighed and laid down, closing your eyes and trying to think of a plan to get away.

***

A man dressed in an expensive suit greeted you with a wide smile and twinkling blue eyes. His hair was combed and gold back, just the way you liked it, and his goatee was freshly trimmed, allowing you to see his full and luscious lips.

It was your husband.

"Hello again, my dear. I am pleased you've come for another visit." He said smoothly as he produced a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He made them float all around you, with them morphing into glowing butterflies and bubbles.

"Hello, Stephen… I… I can't remember why I came here." You said softly, almost remembering that you were dreaming, when he chuckled. Stephen spread his arms out and engulfed you in an embrace. He felt warm and safe The next moment, he was dancing with you in a large empty ballroom. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered sweetly.

"Does it really matter? We both know what's going to happen."

He spun you around and the scenery changed to a backdrop of stars. The floor was gone, leaving you both alone in the vastness of space as you kept dancing with him. It didn't feel scary, far from it. Your heart was pounding, stomach full of butterflies as he gazed into your eyes.

Gods, you missed this.

You missed him.

"No, I guess it does not." You murmured back. He drew you close and stuck his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply as his hands smoothed up your sides.

"It does not. What matters, is that you're here, safe, with me." He husked and nipped your ear lobe. You moaned as he kissed down your neck to your shoulder.

"Yes. I'm safe. With you." You softly replied as his kisses became needy and his hands got more adventurous. You felt him grab at your ass and push you up close to him so you could feel his desire for you. You whined at the hardness of his body while you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply.

He groaned, his free hand gliding up your back and into your hair. Stephen gripped your locks and pulled your head back as he placed open mouthed kisses and licks to your skin. Stephen hummed and dragged his teeth along your most sensitive areas, effectively turning your legs to jelly and making it hard to stand. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing your face into his shoulder and groaned as he started to suck on your skin.

You could hear a deep rumbling noise coming from him, a gentle sounding growl as his hand moved from your ass and he pushed you backwards. You landed on something soft as kept his mouth on you, moving down your chest.

"This dress needs to go." He rumbled, and in an instant your dress was gone. He took his time with you, sucking purple marks into your skin at every sensitive spot you had along the way. You gripped his hair, whimpering and squirming for him as he gave each breast a good squeeze and a tantalizing lick to both nipples.

He moved down, bringing a hand to your wet pussy and slid a finger along your seam. You keened for him and lifted your hips, trying to encourage him to put it inside.

"Stephen… More, please?"

"I'll give you more, baby, but first, I need you to wake up and answer the door." He murmured softly and kissed your head.

"What? Why?"

"Because the real thing is so much better, don't you think? Now, wake up!"

***

You heard knocking at your door, and you huffed and rolled out of bed. It was still early, around 3:00am. Who the fuck would be bugging you at this hour? You really hoped it wasn't the security guard, coming to ask you if you had any spare bags of blood in your freezer again. You sighed and got up, going to answer the door, and finding no one there.

"What the fuck? Stop with your stupid games, and just come in already." You snapped and waited a moment as air rushed past you and towards the curtains in the living room. You closed and locked the door. After, you turned towards your freezer and grabbed a pack of blood.

"For fuck's sake, Carl. You don't have to do the super speed ghostly bullshit. I used to be married to the spookiest man alive, so cut the crap. If you wanted a bag of blood, you could have just asked-" You stopped talking when you turned around to see a tall dark figure looking out your window.

That did not look like Carl at all.

Carl was a short, round man with the best sense of humor. He looked and acted exactly like Danny Devito. It was really a shame he was a vampire.

But this guy…

This guy was not Carl.

This guy was over six foot tall, and was quite slender. Most of him was covered by a long black cloak with a very pointy collar. It threw you off, because it reminded you of your long dead love.

"Thank you for inviting me in." His voice was raspy, and you placed the bag of blood onto your counter as you processed the sound of his voice. He sounded strikingly familiar, but people had been known to fuck around and tease you for your past.

Fucking vampires.

"Look, buddy. I don't know who you think you are, but this is private property. I don't take kindly to pranks." You said firmly as you grabbed a knife and held it calmly. The man turned to look at you, his yellow eyes twinkling as he chuckled softly.

"Knives aren't going to hurt me. Not ones made of Earthen Steel, anyways." He said as he took a slow step towards you. You found the knife was no longer in your hand, and now back in the block again. In its place was your favorite flower.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your body trembling in fear. You hadn't seen actual magic in a long time, and it frightened you.

"I'm here to remove you from this world." He continued with a sly smile. His voice was sounding more and more like Stephen's, and the simple magic trick was hitting you hard in the chest, like a knife.

"Okay, that's a fucking threat, isn't it?" Your voice cracked as if you tried not to cry.

"No, it's not. I'm not here to kill you, darling. I'm here to liberate you. No harm shall come to you, if you come with me. I want to keep you safe." He calmly replied as he lifted his hand in the air, showing off the strappy leather and cloth of his bracers, and flicked his wrist. The bag of blood in front of you floated up into the air, and to the open freezer, then the door shut with a gentle thud. For some reason, the tone in his voice was calming you down fairly quickly.

"What? What does that even mean?" You asked.

"Silly girl. I feel great sadness within you. You miss your husband dearly, and wish he didn't die. You also wish to join him, but know he'd never want you to end your life to be with him. You wish to leave this world behind, but you don't want to die, correct?" His baritone voice was silky smooth, and you could feel your body react to it. Your skin was heating up at the way he was looking at you, hunger clearly evident in his amber eyes. It was still too dark to see his face very well.

"How… How did you know that?" Your voice cracked again, and he stepped into the light of the kitchen. You gasped when you recognized his face, your chest tightening as you tried to stay calm.

It was your husband, but that was impossible. He died a long time ago, and you missed him so much.

"I've been watching you, my dear. I've seen what you've been through, and managed to do here. While at first, I thought it was a noble sacrifice. You, willing to make such a commitment for your people to keep them alive, but your people quickly took you for granted and started asking too much of you. They have forgotten who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone, except Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, and he is dead." You remarked as a tear rolled down your face.

"Oh, I know. I've seen your entire life. The past, present, and all the future possibilities. I was very shocked to find you were linked to my variant. How very fitting, though, that one of me should hoarde such a beautiful and powerful magical energy source." He said and he leaned against the counter, flashing that signature trademark smirk your husband always wore.

"But you're not my husband, are you?" You asked, but he chuckled and changed the subject.

"That big pharmaceutical company that sells your blood… I am concerned for your well being. They want to breed you against your will, and feed off of your children the moment they come out of you. I find that disgusting." The pale man leaned lazily around your apartment and frowned. He turned back to you and pressed his hands against the counter. He didn't have any scars on his hands like your husband did. He quickly conjured up some documents and slid them towards you, and you looked down at them.

They were papers that showed the blood bank was going to acquire you as an object, with you losing your independence and autonomy. You would lose the right to choose what you did with your life. Even the plans for the next fifty years were clearly laid out a schedule for you to remain constantly pregnant with various sperm donors. You grimaced and shoved the papers off the counter in disgust.

"That's no life for a beautiful immortal such as yourself. I can offer you so much more. Something better, something brighter. A chance to do more with your life, instead of being a glorified cow. I won't ask for much in return, except to feed from you once a month, and for you to assist me while I watch over the Multiverse." The doctor explained as he conjured up a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"That sounds too good to be true. I have a hard time trusting vampires. Let alone ones that look exactly like my dead husband."

"I'm not the same kind of vampire, my dear." He laughed as he shrugged off his cloak and it wandered off to look out the window. It was different than the one you were used to seeing on him, which now belonged to Spider-Man.

"But you're… I watched you die, Stephen. Before they came out with the vampire vaccine." You pointed out. Again he snickered and poured some wine in both glasses.

"I am a variant of your dead doctor. I am an Eldritch being, not a vampire. I've absorbed so much magic, that my body has changed. I'm more like… A demonic God now, but I'm not evil." The doctor handed you a glass and he sat down on one of the barstools you had.

"How's that anything like a vampire?" You asked

"Do you know what an incubus is?"

"Yes… Wait… Oh my God."

"Ah, there we go. It's finally sinking in, isn't it?"

"So, you feed off of sex?"

"Yes, but also no. I need to eat, and I don't eat food much these days. What I do enjoy consuming, is raw energy or magic, which you are just dripping with, my dear. I can smell you all the way across the Multiverse."

"So… Does that mean… I have to…"

"Nothing. You just let me drain some of your magic, and I don't even have to touch you."

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I'm really confused."

"What's there to be confused about? You let me feed off your magic, and I take you away from this universe where they want much worse out of you. If not, you can stay here. It is your choice."

"But you mentioned you are like an incubus?"

"Oh, yes. That. If you allowed me to make love to you, I'd be sharing my powers with you, without the adverse effects that I suffer. But, I'm not going to ask that of you, since that might be cruel, given your-"

"Okay. Fine. Deal. Take me away. I don't want to be here any more. This place sucks, and you're hot." Uou said, and he looked very surprised.

"What?"

"You heard me, old man. Take me away, and you can incu my pussy as much as you want. I don't care that you're not my Stephen."

The doctor's face melted into a wicked smile and he raised his glass in a toast. You grabbed the other glass and tinked it against his, then had a sip of the wine. The liquid didn't taste at all like wine, so you coughed as you set the glass down.

"What was that? That wasn't red wine!"

You were panicking, because it tasted exactly like antifreeze with blood in it.

"No. It wasn't. It is my blood." He said calmly, his smirk growing wider. Your eyes went wide, and you made a disgusted face.

"Ugh, why? I'm not a fucking vampire. Blood doesn't taste good to me. Why does it taste like antifreeze?"

"Haha. My dear, I'm an abomination of nature and magic that exists outside of time and space. I shouldn't exist at all, yet I do. I exist, and I watch over all universes. In all of my years of witnessing millions of realities grow and perish, I have never once seen someone that should be up with me in the Watcher's area. Not even any of my variants. You don't belong down here, and you don't belong in any other universe."

"Okay, but that's not explaining exactly why you just tried to pass your blood off as wine."

"I need you to have some of my essence in you, otherwise the process will be painful. If you won't drink the blood, we have other ways to make the transfer."

"You've done this before?"

"Yes, but also, no." He said in that annoyingly self assured tone of his. Apparently this Stephen was much the same as yours once was.

"I'm starting to hate that phrase." You muttered and he chuckled as he stood up and conjured up a viewing orb, showing a woman with red hair.

The orb cycled through hundreds of ways that she died, with over half of them being accompanied by a younger looking and cleanly shaven version of Strange. You covered your mouth at the horrible ways she perished, and you felt tears forming when you saw his sorrowful reaction each time.

You knew the woman in question. Your Stephen had once been engaged to the one in this world, but they broke up swiftly after his accident. You had replaced her as the love of his life, until the day he died from being bitten by Christine. This variant of Stephen could sense your sorrow, and he placed a hand to your shoulder.

"I tried to save her, many times. I wasn't as wise back then, as I am now."

"Then you did end up saving her?"

"No. I destroyed my world for her, and when I did save her, she rejected the horrible creature I had become. I frightened her so much, she died again, and the look on her face told me I needed to stop. So, I did. I stopped. I became a Watcher, and I learned many new skills. I got over her, moved on, then I finally figured out how I can stop a Nexus event quite easily, without tearing a reality apart and corrupting it." He explained as he showed you on the orb what he really looked like. You crouched down and looked at his demonic form, sighing as you felt your heart ache for him.

"You're the only person I've ever done this to. I am hoping this time, you'll be better prepared, and there will be less complications down the line."

"This time?"

"Yes. Fear not, for I won't make the same mistakes I did last time. I've figured out that it's just easier to remove a person from a universe altogether, before their Nexus event can occur to kill them, instead of trying to stop the event by any other means. Then, I just simply don't return them to that universe. They will exist outside of their time and space."

"... You've done this before, and I died? But I'm… I am supposed to be immortal."

"You weren't the first go around. I figured changing your fate, and having Doctor Morbius be able to get his vaccine out would work much better. You see, I am able to twist time in any universe. I can look into the future, but when I do, I actually live through it, before deciding to go back. It's a standard feature on most Doctor Stranges."

"So is being frustratingly cryptic. How did I die?"

"The first time? My dear… I've seen thousands of possible futures for you."

"Ugh, tell me the first time that you actually had to interfere."

"Oh, well, I'd rather not. It was really quite gruesome. That's why I showed you the paperwork. That's exactly what happened to you. In fact, they are due in just a few hours to come and collect you. I turned the clock back, and now I am here to take you away. This world doesn't have anyone capable of coming to find you once I remove you from it."

You sat there quietly and fidgeted with your hands as you glanced at the door and then back at him. You thought back to the many dreams you kept having, and how they all involved your death, or this man. Most recently, they had become very dark and debauched fantasies of him fucking you in various ways, and less about you dying. When given the choice of being stuck here as a glorified farm animal, or going with another variant of your dearly departed husband to see the wonders of the Multiverse, you definitely were choosing the doctor.

Besides, even after seeing what he looked like in the orb compared to how his form was now… Both were very tempting. It was even more tempting he was a variant of your dead lover. You felt your face grow hotter as you thought about those very sexual dreams. Yes, that would be a much better future for you.

"Take me now. I trust you." You finally said while reaching out to grab his hand. His face softened, eye turning that soft baby blue you missed, and he gave you a warm smile, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"Good. Do you need to bring anything?"

"No."

***

The place he brought you to was very Strange, pun intended. It was a building in the middle of what looked to be a cluster of bright twinkling lights in outer space.

"That looks like home, the Sanctum Sanctorum…" You said softly, and Stephen placed a hand to your lower back

"It is. I've replicated it perfectly to be my home, with much needed improvements." He whispered into your ear as his hand moved just slightly lower.

"It's way more beautiful than the one I've seen "

"Ah, yes, well… Better materials do go a long way. I've used a lot of rare metals and wood from across the Multiverse. Let me show you the inside."

***

He showed off the entire place, and as the tour progressed, you started to feel off. It wasn't in a bad way, but you found that you felt hot.

Down there.

He was just as much of a talker as your husband was, full of both useful and useless facts. You noticed the artifacts he had were very much different then the ones your Stephen had in his Sanctum, and he enjoyed telling you about any item you pointed at. He was nice about it, much nicer than your husband was. This one kept checking to see if you knew what things were, before offering the information up. He finally brought you to a large room that looked like an old English pub inside, and he sat you down at the bar, with him going behind it.

"I'm sure you'd like some real alcohol, now. I can assure you I have the finest you'll ever find anywhere." He declared happily while grabbing a fancy bottle of Kree Whiskey in one hand, and very elegant looking Asgardian Wine in the other.

"Sure. I want a slushed Bellini with raspberries in it."

He stared at you for a long moment, then slowly put both bottles down.

"You want prosecco?"

"Uh, well, no. I mostly just want a fancy, tangy peach and raspberry slushie, with booze in it."

"Ah, so may I put a different kind of alcohol in it?"

"Sure, why not? Give me something strong." You said firmly, and he went about making you a drink the old fashioned way, without magic.

"So, tell me more about this deal." You asked. He handed you the drink and you took it, smelling it and taking a sip. It tasted exactly how Stephen used to make them and you felt a pang of guilt as you sat here with some copy of your spouse.

"I need an assistant. Not a secretary type, but a partner to help me with overseeing and managing the Multiverse. My friend can only do so much by himself, and he's not allowed to interfere with any of the worlds he watches, but I am, and so are any I bring up here." He casually explained while pouring himself some of the wine.

"There are others here?"

"Just you, me, and Uatu. Uatu has his own area. You'll know him when you see him. Really big bald head, hates my jokes…" Stephen chuckled. The sound was like music to your ears.

"Tell me about you being an Incubus. I remember those dreams. Was that actually you, or was it my brain processing the world around me, because I miss my husband?"

"Oh, that was me."

"Go on."

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid. I can feed in various ways. I can drain the life force from someone and leave a husk behind. I could straight up devour the entire being, leaving nothing left, or… Or I could use the pleasures of the flesh, and not harm the person I am feeding off of." He sounded quite honest, and that's when you realized you had already been having sex with this man, but in your dreams.

Those overly vivid and realistic dreams that left your panties soaked when you woke up.

A sinful throb beat between your thighs at the thought, and you gave him a playful grin as you reached out and placed your hand on his.

"Oh… Well I don't think I want to be a husk, or eaten. You know, unless my pussy is the one being drained and eaten." You said in a sultry voice. His eyes flashed a dark amber.

"I'd rather fill you up after I eat you."

"Don't threaten me with a good time." You drank the rest of the Bellini and made a pleased sigh.

"My dear, I don't make threats anymore. I just do it."

"Then stop talking already, and show me what you can do."

Stephen grinned wickedly and snapped his fingers. Everything was replaced by a nicer looking version of your old bedroom that you used to share with Stephen in the Sanctum. You gasped as he pushed you down to the bed and kissed you passionately.

You moaned into his mouth as your tongues danced, and his hands tore your clothes away from your body, almost violently. His hands grabbed at your hips as he chuckled and banished his clothing away. Stephen was nudging himself between your legs, when you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Wait…"

"Have you changed your mind?" He asked, a look of hurt flashing through his eyes.

"No… But I want to see you for what you really are when we do this." You said and his face fell into surprise.

"I don't think you'd like that very much." He finally said, his mouth turning into a doubtful frown.

"I saw you in the orb. You don't scare me."

"I only showed you the tamest part of my true form." He muttered bitterly. You reached up and grabbed his face, bringing him down so you were nose to nose.

"I loved my husband with all of my heart. I was devastated when he died. I know you are not him, but I still feel that same connection of love in your presence, like he never left me…" You begged him as you kissed his lips gently.

"But-"

"Please, Stephen?" Again you begged, kissing his cheek and along his neck. He groaned and reared back to look at you.

"Alright. I will show you. I'll understand if you wish to leave. I can put you somewhere nice that I know you'll like and-"

"Stephen. Shut the fuck up and show me what you look like."

He huffed and nodded while his skin darkened slowly. Bit by bit, it became a deep ashy purple, with a sheen of glittery red on it. His eyes went back to being that slitted, dark sunset orange, and he started to grow several multicolored eyes on his forehead and the side of his face. Large horns protruded from his head, and his cloak melted into his back, becoming large leathery wings.

But the most striking thing about him, were all the fucking tentacles.

"You hate it, don't you?" He asked, his voice laced with shame.

"You're beautiful." You breathed back and smiled brightly at him.

"What? No, that's not… I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. That's amazing… Are they… Dangerous?" You asked as you sat up and reached out to grab one of his tentacles. The one you tried to touch, recoiled away from you.

"Sometimes, if I need them to be."

"May I… May I touch it? Please?"

"If that is what you want." He sounded very unsure as the appendage unfurled and rested on your palm. You stared at it and reached up to touch it with your other hand.

It was soft, and not at all slimey, like you thought it would be. Your fingers gently ran over the length of what you could reach. The skin there felt a bit rough, but the underside with the suckers was soft, and very much felt like…

"Oh… Careful now. If you keep that up, I won't be able to stop myself."

You felt your face heat right up at the statement. You looked at his main two eyes as you stroked around each sucker, watching him twitch and grunt. You grinned at him, and decided to see what he would do if you licked it. The impulse was too much to hold on to, and you leaned forward, eyes still locked with his, and gave the girthy appendage a long lick. Stephen groaned, all of his eyes closing halfway as he watched you suck the tip into your mouth.

"Fuck…"

You swirled your tongue around the tip, feeling every little circle, dip, curve, and edge. He groaned and leaned forward, caging you in with both hands as he rested his forehead against yours.

"I've never… No one has touched me like this before…" He growled, his voice beginning to warp and sound more like the deep echoing of Eldritch voices you used to hear when your husband cast spells. Your heart fluttered, and your pussy throbbed from the nostalgia.

You took him deeper into your mouth, tongue rolling over his skin as you reached out and grabbed another tentacle. He curled that one around your wrist as you gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing forth another deep moan from him. Your hand left the one at your mouth, going to grab yet another, but this time you placed it between your legs.

He almost wanted to ask what you were doing, when you leaned back and pulled on him. He moved with you, hovering over your body as you spread your legs for him. Stephen hummed as he looked down, another deep rumbling noise emanating from him while he watched you rub him against your wet entrance.

"You're so wet…"

Stephen twitched, but he didn't dare prod you with it. The tentacles that weren't on your body were coiling in anticipation as you took the one in your mouth out with a loud slurp. You gave him a sultry look and placed the wet appendage to your breast.

"Don't be scared, Stephen. I am not as fragile as you'd think." You said, and pressed him against your breast, squeezing softly to encourage him to move it by himself. Your hand pushed the tip of his other tentacle to your clit and you rubbed it in circles. He let out multiple groans and purring noises.

"It's hard not to be, my dear. I could snap you in half with just a thought."

"You sound like my husband." You teased him in a breathy whisper, hands still trying to encourage him to touch you.

"I am your husband…" He groaned and before you could register what he had said, or the meaning behind it, he brought a few more tentacles down to touch you experimentally. You felt two of them curl around your ankles, slowly spreading them farther apart as the one on your breast squeezed and wrapped the tip around your nipple.

"Ohhh… Stephen… Just like that." You murmured softly as one of the suckers melded over your nipple, perfectly covering it, before it started to pulse. Another one curled around your other breast, giving it the same attention and working them in a good rhythm. You whined and pushed your hips up while rubbing him against your clit. More tentacles crept out, one wrapping around your other wrist, snaking its way up your arm and cupping your chin. Stephen leaned down, almost close enough to kiss.

"You're so soft… And warm…" Stephen hummed as he coiled more and more of his tentacles up and around your limbs and torso. He brought a large hand to your back, pulling you closer as he looked into your eyes.

He saw how they shined for him, even half lidded as he slowly pushed into your pussy. Your breathing quickened as he pushed deeper and deeper, slowly pushing the thicker parts in, while the tip slipped back out to curl over your clit. You keened and he kissed you, groaning into your mouth as he slithered all over you.

"Stephen…" You breathed his name, causing him to grunt as a tentacle slowly snaked up your leg and cupped your ass. You felt more, pulling and tugging at your cheeks, with one going to catch the slick that dripped from your pussy, before probing your backdoor.

"Sweet girl… Fuck… How are you this wet?"

"Because of you, Stephen. Because it's you." You murmured back as you felt him move, sliding his thick muscle in more, stretching you wider as another one slipped inside to find your gspot. It felt amazing, feeling two of them writhe inside of you.

"May I… May I put one in your ass?" He growled while rubbing your tight ring of muscle.

"Please." You answered softly. Your hands came up to his face again, fingers gliding up to his horns. He let out another deep sounding growl and shut his eyes.

You felt your asshole slowly being dipped into, then with a sudden sensation of liquid being applied, he pushed in easily. Your head went back as you gasped and panted, feeling three tentacles wiggling inside of you.

"Fuck… You're something else, you know that right? Anyone else would be terrified right now…"

"Th-that's what my h-husband used to saaay- Oh fuck! W-when he used sex magic on meee..." You sassed back as you licked his cheek.

"Shit… What… What sort of things did he used to do to you?" Stephen asked, his mind already spinning a million images as to what his variant did to you.

"Sensory intensifying spells, lubricating spells, g-ghostly touches, mag-gic vibratory aids…" You started to list some things off, and when you mentioned the last one, you suddenly felt intense vibrations coming from each one of his limbs.

"Oh… Gods… Fuck… That feels so g-good!" Your breath came out rushed as he pushed in deeper with all three of them. The way he throbbed and pulsed was amazing, like a designer toy made just to make you come. You felt so full, and it was glorious.

"So pretty… So divine… How could such a beautiful angel like you, let a monster like me do this to you…? You dirty little thing… Fuck…" Stephen husked and slowly put more pressure on each of your sweet spots. You yelped and thrashed, feeling your pussy clench the closer you got to your release.

"I bet you let him double team you with himself, yeah?" He asked, his voice rough and deep as he started to thrust his tentacles in and out of you.

"Y-yes!" You whined back, feeling yourself get to the edge, but not quite able to jump off yet.

"Did you let him fuck you raw, and come inside you?" He asked, and again you whined.

So close…

"Fuck, yeah…"

"How about the multiple arms spell?" He asked as a tentacle slowly wrapped around your throat.

"Yeah… That was always a favorite of mine…" You sighed when he rubbed your cheek. That sigh quickly turned into a debauched moan as he jerked your body flush against his and started to fuck into you faster, the tentacles rubbing you just right.

"Fuck… You feel so wet… Your walls are clenching so tightly around me. I want to see you come." Stephen licked his lips as he turned the vibrations up.

You howled and felt your nerves snap, and you shook violently in his grasp as you came hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he grunted in pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm. Stephen rumbled and leaned in, forehead pressed to yours as he watched you writhe and moan. The tentacles in your cunt slowed in their movements, and he slowly pulled them from your dripping hole. You stared at him as he brought them up to his mouth, his very long tongue coming out to lick your juices off of them.

"Fuck, that's hot…" You breathed as you tried to catch your breath. He glanced at you and grinned.

"Naughty girl…" Stephen hummed and slowly moved your legs, bringing your feet up high into the air as he positioned himself between them. You glanced down and gasped, eyes going wide like saucers when you saw just how big his cock was.

"Do you like what you see?" His voice was raspy as he made that purring sound. You shivered and stared at his dick. It was dark red, the bulbous head almost a royal purple as it oozed precome. He had thick veins running all over it, and it looked like he was ribbed!

"Do you think it'll fit? I can make it smaller, more the size you're used to." Stephen asked in that teasing tone you missed so much.

How dare he think you couldn't handle that monster of a cock after he just had two thick tentacles in there!

"I can take it."

"Are you certain? I'll ruin you for anyone else."

"I don't want anyone else. I want you. Now please, Stephen, shut your big mouth and fuck me already!"

"So much confidence… That's hot…" Stephen remarked as he brought you closer, resting the large head of cock on your seam. He gently rubbed you, teasing you as he spread your lips with the tips of his tentacles. With a grunt and a gentle push, he nudged the head of his cock into you. You gasped, feeling him push inside, his girth stretching you far more than his tentacles had.

"Shit… Sssooo… So b-big…" Your voice cracked as he shoved in deeper while he carefully watched your reaction. You began to pant and squirm, fingers digging in harder into the meat of his shoulders

"I can stop if-"

"No! Don't stop!"

You struggled to breathe as he pulled you closer, pushing his throbbing member in as deeply as he could. You whined as you felt his hips kiss yours, his cock bottoming out and pulsing. You felt his heavy balls resting flush against your ass.

"You're doing so well, my little minx. You've taken every last inch of me. Can you feel me deep inside of you? Can feel it throbbing, just for you?" He waited for a moment, allowing you to adjust and get used to his size as he cupped your face and kissed your forehead.

"Oh… Gods, y-yes… You feel so good…"

"As do you…" Stephen murmured back, then started whispering a spell into your ear. You felt pleasure tingle all over your body, nerves sparking with fire. Your eyes rolled back, back arching as he began to move his hips.

"Gods be damned… You feel absolutely heavenly…" Stephen growled as his tentacles squeezed and slithered all over your body. He sighed as he sped up, his hips slapping away at yours as he fucked you hard.

"St-stephen!" You called his name and tugged him closer to kiss him. He groaned and stuck his long tongue into your mouth, it sliding around and down your throat. You made small grunting noises as you breathed through your nose, the sensations overwhelming you, and you came.

He pinned you to the bed and pressed you down, his hips fucking up into your tight cavern over and over, sending your senses into overdrive as he pulled another orgasm from your body so quickly after the last. You would have screamed if he wasn't tongue fucking your mouth.

Your nipples suddenly surged with pleasure, and then the suckers on your clit started to send harsh vibrations to it. You gurgled and shook, feeling him draw yet another orgasm from your body. You felt his cock pulse and throb along with every tentacle he had wrapped around you. The one in your ass was purposely pushing against the thin wall between it and his cock, making your eyes roll back as you drooled excessively.

'I'm going to fill you so full…'

You heard his voice in your mind, and all you could do was take his harsh thrusts as he moved in and out of your holes.

You felt his cock throb, and a moment later, he was growling as you felt him spurt the first rope into you. You moaned, feeling more and more fill your womb directly, his come forcing its way out from the side of his cock, and dripping down your ass cheeks.

His come was so warm, and it sent tingles of pleasure through you as you felt the tentacle in your ass begin to fill you like his cock did. You felt warm and sticky, all the other limbs releasing gobs of come all over you. You felt him draw his tongue from your mouth, and he watched as you twitched and thrashed from overstimulation.

His hips slowed down, and then he finally stopped moving altogether, just resting inside of you as he rolled over with you in his arms. You laid on his chest, panting and huffing as his wings slowly wrapped around you, covering you in a warm embrace.

"Stephen..?" You gently asked as you stroked his chest.

"Yes?"

"I missed this so much…" You softly murmured. You felt him kiss the top of your head.

"And I missed you more." He replied as he stroked your shoulder and back with a few tentacles. He had one hand on your ass, the other holding your left hand, his thumb slowly stroking the wedding band that your husband had given to you. You hadn't taken it off since he died.

"Stephen..?" You asked again.

"Yeah?"

"Did you absorb my husband?" You suddenly asked. You felt him still and his hand gripped yours a bit tighter. You heard him swallow, and he took a deep breath.

"Would you be upset if I said yes?" His voice trembled as did his hands. You looked down and noticed the one you were holding had deep dark lines etched into skin.

"No." You sighed happily and nuzzled your face into his chest.

"Then yes."

"Okay. I thought so. I love you." You cooed and kissed his shoulder. He sighed back and held you a bit tighter.

"I love you, too, my dear. Thank you for waiting for me."

"Thank you for coming back to me."

***

@jumpdingus @ashreblogsnow

Tags:

#doctor strange smut #doctor stephen strange smut #doctor strange supreme smut #eldritch monster #incubus strange #watcher strange #stephen strange smut #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x fem!reader #doctor stephen strange x you #doctor stephen strange x fem!reader #doctor stephen strange x female reader #monster fucker #doctor strange #18+ fanfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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a-pretty-nerd · 3 years ago

Text

Choose Me

Viktor x afab!fem!reader

Chapter 6

Summary: Betrayal is never easy.

Warnings: Arguing, ANGST being ignored, physical fighting, emotional damage!

Chapter 5

A/N: This one's gonna hurt guys, I'm sorry.

It was torturous to continue on as of everything was normal. As if you were unbothered by your surroundings. Saving face for not only the public but your father as well. Hiding everything from him as usual. Thoughts swirled around in your head like storm clouds occasionally roaring with thunder. The painful reminders of reality. Forbidden lover doomed to die young and leave you behind with a child you are ill-equipped to raise.

This can't be real, can it? This can't be happening. Another flash of thunder as you remembered the attic. The plans your father hatched with the wretched man he called a doctor. A sniveling horror would be a more appropriate discretion. You wanted so badly to tell Viktor. To tell him everything. To confess the reasons for your disassociation and wondering thoughts. They flipped wildly between the dreamy concept of what your child would look like and what your mother would say to you from beyond the grave.

Gruesome and delightful as they were, they were often interrupted. Mostly by your father who carried on none the wiser. You were growing bolder with the old man. Not caring to hide your escape to the lab more frequently as time ran by. Hope blossomed once more in the form of the hexcore. Another brilliant discovering of Viktor's. Jayce mentioned his hope that it might lead to a cure for Viktor.

"Hextech that evolves." Viktor described with a twinkle in his eye. The glowing thing turned methodically before you. It sent a shiver down your spine. Was it safe to be exposed to such a new discovering in your condition? You smiled at Viktor, hopeful and begging for the right moment to declare your love and devotion for him. This new discovery made your dream feel real. Just a step or two away.

"Hey! Old man, Y/L/N, may not be so useless after all!" Jayce laughed as the palm of his hand gently patted at Viktor's back. Your lover chuckled. Your brows slowly scrunched together as you struggled to process his dialogue.

"What?" You asked softly. Viktor's heart sank.

"I mean, our best bet to fund the hexcore is your father, Y/N." Jayce looked at you expecting you to understand. To realize the situation and understand. But Jayce was ignorant.

"What? No. No you can't do that." You spoke bluntly. Confusion written across your face. "He can't have hextech technology." The two men starred at you with equally confused expressions.

"We need the money. As scummy as he is, we at least have the knowledge that the technology will be going to use in the field where it can really help people!" Jayce defended as he approached you.

"Viktor, you promised me you wouldn't let him have it!" You called to him. Viktor's eyes darted away from you to look down at his feet. Riddled with guilt he gave a defeated sigh.

"Jayce is right, Y/N."

"If it's money you need, I will give you whatever you need to fund this. I will do anything, just... just don't give it to him. You can't!"

"And why not? Viktor and I are free to do as we please with our work. As much as you like to meddle in our lab, Y/N, you have no right to any of hextech property. Do I make myself clear?" Jayce took long steps towards you as he spoke. Getting in your face as his expression went dark. Never had Jayce spoken to you like this before. You suddenly realized as your eyes darted between him and Viktor, that Jayce was acting protectively. Making it brutally clear his intention to save Viktor's life at any cost. You shook your head from side to side, panic setting in. Starting with your feet as you inched away from Jayce.

"Well, yes- of course I know that." You spoke sheepishly. Jayce pursued you as he spoke. "But you don't understand- my father, he can't have hextech-"

"That's not for you to decide." Jayce growled. Viktor avoided your gaze. You watched the tired man lean forward into himself as his hand came up to hide his tired eyes.

"Viktor please, money is no object I'll give you whatever you need. You know I'd do anything for you." He did not respond. He ignored you. You didn't understand. Confusion and panic seeping into your flesh as you tried to get hid attention. The man you loved more than anything in this world. "Viktor, please, I lo-"

"I think it's time you leave, Y/N." Jayce's large hand wrapped around your arm in a painfully tight grasp. Using more strength than necessary, he pushed you closer to the door. Upset and frightened you shouted.

"Don't touch me!" At first you swung useless bats of your first against his shoulders and chest. He pushed forward, his grip growing painful. "Let go of me!" You screamed before landing a harsh punch to his soft cheek. He let out a surprised grunt as he stumbled before shoving you by your shoulder.

"Y/N!" Viktor shouted with a gasp. You both paused to look at him. Your pleading eyes catching his. Within them you saw a man absorbed with fear and longing. Jayce's grip loosened. "I think it would be best if you left now." He spoke softly. He said it sweetly, not a trace of anger, but it still tore a piece of your heart. He did not move to make sure you were alright or to ask Jayce to stop. You didn't understand. Had you not cared for him enough to warrant his concern?

"But- But-"

"Just go." He told you with a sad expression. You shook your head, tears piling up behind your eyes. Suddenly you were shaken by the sound of thunder cracking overhead. Your eyes darted out the window to watch as grey clouds sparked with lightening.

"The hextech..." you whispered.

"What?" Jayce's first balled up the sleeve of your shirt. You shook your head.

"The hextech, the hex gems. He doesn't have them already, right?" You asked Jayce with a wide eyed expression.

"The payment was made this morning. His men already collected hextech-"

"No. No no no no no. This can't be happening." Your eyes darted around the room as you slipped from Jayce's grasp. You backed up till you reached the lab door. "Not tonight. Not so soon." You muttered.

"What the hell are you talking about now? Whats wrong with you?" Jayce barked. You looked at him, or rather, through him. Your panic reached it's peak. Rather than crumbling, it propelled you again.

"I won't let him. I can't let him!" You turned and pushed past the lab door. Flying down the hall. Jayce and Viktor turned to one another, confused and exhausted. They shrugged and shook their head. Their attention easily leaving you behind.

Viktor breaking his promise was enough to break your heart. But this was more important. You couldn't let your father bring your mother back from the dead. Not now. Not ever.

#viktor x reader smut #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor smut #Viktor is a bastard

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oro-e-diamanti · 4 years ago

Text

The one with the matchmaking

My masterlist

Description | Victoria is desperate to set you and Thomas up... Might there be a spark already?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas

Word Count | 2663

Taglist (add yourself here!) | @mywritingonlyfans @damianodavide @lizstans @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @shaunthesheesh @damianodavidhands @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @solasullabarca @foryourllove @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @ginny-lily @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00

***

There had been an unspoken thing between you and Thomas from the first day you met. It was one of those right person, wrong time scenarios. Both of you were happily taken by other people, loving your partners, and leading healthy relationships. It simply hadn't been meant to be and both of you had gladly accepted it. Nothing had ever happened, despite the others insisting there must have, neither of you was like that. So you stayed friends with him, the same way you stayed friends with Victoria, Damiano, and Ethan and it didn't take long for the five of you to grow into a loving group, a chosen family. That was until both you and Thomas happened to have broken up with your respective partners within the same week. It was safe to say that it didn't take long for the meddling to start.

***

"I just think they'd make such a good couple!" Victoria said, pushing the empty beer bottles around on the table in annoyance. "They're basically made for each other."

"Leave it, Vic," Ethan said. The dark of the bar was hiding his features and the fact he was slightly rolling his eyes. "They both literally just got out of relationships, I don't think they're interested."

"But they both ended them so it's not like they've been broken up with," she insisted. "I'm sure they'll get over it quickly enough."

"Yeah I agree with Vic," Damiano added. "It's not like either of them seems all that heartbroken."

"Exactly, which is why we need to act now!"

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Ethan sighed. "Just let them figure it out on their own."

"But they're idiots! They'll never figure it out!"

Damiano couldn't help laugh out loud. He knew his friend was onto something, both Thomas and Y/n tended to be hilariously oblivious when it came to things like these.

"Maybe they just need a little push," he agreed.

"Fine." A deep sigh escaped Ethan. "But don't say I didn't warn you if it doesn't work out."

***

The moment you stepped into the vintage second-hand store you decided it was heaven on earth. It didn't take long for you to sweep through the place like a whirlwind, picking up pieces left and right, leaving Victoria and Thomas standing at the entrance still. You didn't care, this was one of your favourite places and you were not going to be held back because those two were slow. You tried on a dress that looked like an absolute mess on you and you quickly took a picture to laugh at later with the others, before trying on some trousers that you really took a liking to. You were still in them, trying to figure out if you had also grabbed a top that would match when someone knocked on the wood of the changing room. Confused and not certain if the noise was directed at you, you pulled back the curtain to come face to face with Thomas. He noticed you were in your bra before you did.

You raised your eyebrows, overly amused at how he was nervously looking around to figure out if anyone else would be able to see her, but no one seemed to be around. As he turned back, he tried not to let his gaze fall into her chest again, but failed miserably. You laughed heartily, "It's fine, stop blushing, Thomas."

He grinned, more relaxed not that he knew you didn't mind. He shouldn't, this being far from the first time he'd seen you like this.

"Vic told me to give you this dress to try on."

You looked at the piece of fabric he handed you, a gorgeous, velvety black, knee-high dress with a dangerous slit and a plunging neckline. It wasn't something you would have chosen yourself, but you trusted Vic's judgment. The curtain was quickly closed again, removing the trousers you had already decided on and slipped on the dress. It fell in a much nicer way than you had anticipated, easily smoothing itself over your curves and settling perfectly in place. The mirror agreed with your sentiment - you looked gorgeous. Okay, so this dress would do with a bit more makeup and without a bra, but it was a no-brainer that you were going to buy it.

You ripped open the curtain, now facing both of your friends. As soon as Vic saw you, she seemed as smitten with it as you were. Thomas looked stunned in his own way but stayed quiet.

"Fuck, I knew that was your dress!" Victoria shouted, obviously proud of herself for picking it out.

"Where am I ever going to wear this?" You asked, spinning to muster your reflection once again.

"When I take you out tomorrow night," Vic grinned. "There's a gorgeous new restaurant in town but it's fancy fancy, so this will do just fine."

You couldn't help but squint your eyes at her through the mirror. Her suggestion sounded just fine, but the way her eyes flickered made you feel like there was something more to the story.

***

"Wait, so how will you going out with her to dinner help, exactly?"

"Oh, Damiano, stop being so dumb. Obviously, I won't go."

"I don't get it."

"I'll have some sort of last-minute emergency, and since both of you will be out of the house, Thomas will have to step in."

Ethan sighed, shaking his head at his friend's plan.

"Why do you have to meddle so much, Vic?"

"Because those two don't get it. But once they see each other all dressed up, romantic dinner, candles, good wine, it'll click."

"Whatever you say."

***

"Oh my god, Y/n, I'm so sorry!" Victoria burst into your room, Chili cradled in her arms and an apologetic look on her face. "I know we said we'd go to that fancy restaurant tonight, but Chili's been coughing and the vet told me to come in immediately."

You side-eyed the little white dog, looking as happy as can be, but there was no reason for you not to trust Victoria. Right? You briefly petted Chili's head.

"Don't worry about it, we can always go some other time."

"No!" Her outburst surprised you. "I mean, it's so difficult to get a reservation there and you should wear your dress out. Damiano and Ethan are out, but I'm pretty sure Thomas is free, please ask him, he'd probably love to go with you!"

You wanted to scold Victoria, tell her this wasn't happening, tell her you'd be fine just staying home, but she didn't give you a chance to do any of it. Instead, she left your room, immediately shouting for her bandmate. It was the reason you found yourself at a candlelit dinner with the blond man mere hours later.

"You look amazing, by the way," Thomas said. Well, he actually kind of mumbled it into his pasta rather than proudly state it. You felt like blushing.

"So do you, love. But you know I love you in a suit."

Your eyes met, just for a moment, before both of you found yourselves awkwardly staring back at your plates again. You didn't know why you were behaving like this, or why he was, you could only attribute it to the fact that this felt like an overly romantic date and the waiter had referred to you as his girlfriend multiple times already. Neither of you had corrected him. You hadn't minded the single rose that had been placed between you on the table, accompanied by a little wink and a smile by the waiter.

"You know, you make a lousy boyfriend, not even bringing me flowers for our date, " you teased, watching as a shy smile appeared on Thomas' face, his eyes travelling down the table for a second before looking at you again with more than a twinkle.

"I did take you to the nicest restaurant in town, surely that gets me some points?"

The giggle bubbled over your lips easily. Everything came easy with Thomas. He made the troubles disappear with one look, one touch of a hand, a single word, a gesture, his existence. He was your own personal cure to everything.

***

"No, I'm telling you, it worked," Victoria excitedly gasped and she gathered in the kitchen with Damiano and Ethan, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. "You should have seen them when they came back!"

"Did you actually wait up for them?" Ethan asked, slightly disbelieving, slightly amused.

"Well, they didn't know obviously! I just cracked my bedroom door open a bit. But they were all giggly and happy and they hugged when they said goodnight!"

"Vic, we all hug all the time," Damiano threw in.

"Not the way they did. I'm serious, this is working and you'll see soon enough!"

"So what's the next idea then?"

"I'm... I'm not quite sure," she admitted. "But I'll figure it out and it'll be perfect."

***

The thunderstorm hadn't been predicted by any of the weather channels. You found yourself standing in front of the patio doors with Thomas, watching the heavy rain disturb the surface or the pool, trees swaying in the wind, a flash of light illuminating the garden in regular intervals. It had only been the two of you home when it had started, everyone else out to meet friends or sitting in a bar with a drink in their hand. You had been having a lazy day, unwilling to leave the house at all, while Thomas had slept for so long no one had bothered trying to wake him so he could join in on plans.

"Do you want to compare our favourite records?"

You had been so focused on the happenings outside of the glass that you almost flinched in surprise at his question. Still, a slight smile, the right kind of look, and you were nodding enthusiastically. Hasting up the stairs, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and the shirt you usually slept in, you went through the little collection you had brought to the summer house, already hearing the first notes of Led Zeppelin's Black Dog echoing downstairs. With a smile on your face, you grabbed a few records and bolted back down to Thomas.

"I still prefer Led Zeppelin III," you giggled, only to be greeted with Thomas' shocked face. "Anything that has Immigrant Song on it is a hit, really."

"Blasphemy! Nothing tops IV, and you clearly have no taste."

"You clearly have no taste considering you think anything Led Zeppelin has put out is better than Fleetwood Mac's Rumours." You barely waited for the first song of Thomas' album of choice to finish playing before interrupting it with the sound of Second Hand News.

It didn't take long for the conversation to get heated. Still, you kept playing your record in the background, effortlessly dodging his effort to change it, even though the whole thing had been his idea in the first place. He was still complaining, explaining, talking to a wall basically, as you danced around the living room, as the music flowed through you, singing along, thunder only happens when it's raining, as the weather outside did its worst.

"I just think it's much too sad, most of it," Thomas finally concluded.

"Doesn't that just make it so beautiful though?"

"No, it just makes me sad," he pouted.

"Maybe you just never listened to it the way you should. In the arms of someone you love."

A heartbeat passed as both of you looked at each other, but then your smile returned and you motioned for him to get on the sofa with you, lying on your side as he slowly but surely moved in front of you. Your arms wrapped around him, spooning him, making you feel safer than you ever have as Songbird played in quiet tones.

Your nose buried itself in his hair, letting his smell fill your every pore, taking over your whole being as you pressed into him, singing along in nothing but a whisper.

"And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before."

***

"Guys, guys, guys, look at that!" Victoria called out to her friends as they quietly made their way into the house. "I knew it would be such a good idea to leave them alone in the house!"

"Vic, it's not like you made a thunderstorm come along, I'm pretty sure this was not your doing for once," Damiano whispered.

"Doesn't matter! Look at them spooning! We're on the right way, guys!"

"We're not on any way," Ethan threw in. "You keep trying to meddle and the two of them are going their own ways."

"They just need another push. I just gotta think of something."

***

"Hey, they let you feed the goats here!" Victoria squealed as everyone around her let out a groan. The zoo was bustling with people, the five friends surrounded by families, and Vic easily fell in line with the children's excitement.

"Vic, I really really don't like goats," you complained. "I'd rather not get their attention because I got food in my hands."

"Fine. How about you go see the owls over there with... Thomas, and I go feed some adorable goats with Ethan and Damiano?"

The both of you allowed yourselves to be pushed away easily, chuckles on your faces as you walked away from the rest of the group, dodging running toddlers as you went.

"So, this is a set-up, huh?" Thomas grinned next to you as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Oh, as if Victoria has been doing anything these past weeks without hidden intentions." You let yourself mold into Thomas' side, leaning in closer until your bodies were touching as much as physically possible. "She's not half as subtle about this as she thinks. I'm sure she's watching right now."

You didn't turn around, but you felt her eyes on the pair of you, watching your every move and trying to figure out what was going on between the two of you.

"Do you wanna give her a show?" You playfully pinched his site, looking at him from the corner of your eyes just to see a smile appear on his face that was surely mirroring yours. "Make out a little bit?"

"Wouldn't that give it away?" He stopped walking, now wrapping both of his arms around you as you leaned on his chest, looking up at him.

"I'm sure she'd still think it's just a first step in the right direction."

Not waiting for his response, your hand reached up to his face, slowly stroking along the soft skin of his cheek, thumb running over his lower lip as his smile grew, then reaching around, tangling them into his hair and pulling him down to you. His lips met yours in a sigh, warm and lovely, a tingling feeling spreading through you immediately, pressing yourself into him. You could feel his thumb stroking your back ever so slightly as he held you. He wanted more, slowly moving his lips, trying to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. Close enough to still feel his breath on you, close enough that whispering would be enough.

"Now, we don't want Vic to figure it all out immediately," you grinned before putting more distance between the two of you. He groaned, making you giggle, before taking your hand and pulling you along.

"How much longer are you planning to keep this up?" Thomas asked, shaking his head, but still amused. "We've been together for two weeks."

"Pretty sure she already bought tickets for the cinema for me and her for Wednesday... which she'll inexplicably have no time for so you'll have to come along, obviously. I can give you a hickey in the dark theater, she'll freak."

Thomas laughed out loud, pressing a single kiss to the top of your head.

"Fine. One more date, that's it?"

"One more date."

#maneskin fiction #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi fiction #thomas raggi x you #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi fluff #maneskin fluff #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #mywriting #fluff

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soukokuwu · 5 years ago

Note

i live for aku angst. could you please write a scenario where he develops feelings for a fem reader during the dark era, but watches as her & dazai fall in love together? he wouldn’t be able to do anything since he’s dazai’s subordinate. but imagine them having a significant friend (ish) relationship, so when she disappears along with dazai he gets left utterly heartbroken and alone, wishing he would have said something to her when she was still with him. thank you! i love your writing

➥ genre: angst

➥ pairing: akutagawa x crush!reader, dazai x reader

➥ synopsis: akutagawa watches as you fall in love... but not with him.

➥ word count: 2k

➥ a/n: and i live for angst 😼 i really really loved this idea & i really hope you’re still here — tried a certain theme for this, hopefully you like it!! and tysm kind anony ^.^

Black and blue

You came out of the blue.

In the form of medicine for his wounds, and a cure for his aches. You were his superior, but you were unlike a certain other superior he knew. You radiated warmth and comfort — something Akutagawa didn’t know he craved. And yet you managed to instil that feeling in him within a matter of seconds.

“Dazai did this to you again?”

What was that he heard in your voice? Was it pain? Disapproval? Sadness, maybe? He was too detached from any emotion to be able to tell. Everything he knew, he learned from Dazai himself. All he wanted was the man’s approval. That was all he worked for. But you ignited a conflict in Akutagawa that he didn’t bargain for. One that he didn’t know would lead to fireworks instead of just a single spark.

“Yes,” was all he said. Was there any other way to respond? This was the first time you spoke to him, was he supposed to continue the conversation? A part of him wanted to. This was the only time a superior has shown any sort of care to him after all. So why couldn’t he get anything out?

You pressed your lips into a firm line, and he couldn’t help but notice how soft and pink they looked. You didn’t wear a lot of makeup, and his opinion was that you didn’t need it anyway. You already looked... pleasing enough to the eyes. Was that how people described someone they found... good-looking?

Endless questions darted across Akutagawa’s mind that day. But none were answered. Because how could they be, when the one questioning didn’t have the guts to say a thing in the first place?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Akutagawa knew.

He knew you didn’t mean to. But you did it anyway. He knew why, too. Because he let you. And just like that, his walls came down. No, they didn’t crumble — he wouldn’t let them fall that easily, but still you were the only one who could take the bricks out piece by piece until the barrier was almost nonexistent.

It was like demolishing a house and rebuilding it again — just better, stronger. You painted over his grey with your red. It was your favourite color, and fitting enough; it was the color of his feelings for you.

Since that day you were always there for him. You had your own tasks, sure, but you always looked out for him when you could. And he found that days when you were especially busy were the days he felt most blue. Akutagawa found it strange though — why did you care? What did you have to gain?

And he found the answer one night, a conversation with you by the bay. You had invited him to take a walk with you, to get some proper fresh air and let off steam. But Akutagawa had read way too much into it, that he knew. Why else would he feel disappointed that there wasn’t so much as any physical contact with you? He merely stayed at a distance as he always did, and you never tried.

One fruit bore out of that night though. He learned more about you than he thought he would. You were much like him; joining the mafia because you had nowhere else, you accepted an invitation from a senior in the mafia, wanting to prove that you weren’t worthless, that you could produce something of value to someone. No wonder you looked out for him. You saw a part of yourself in him, didn’t you? You knew how lonely it felt. That night, Akutagawa felt something he never thought he would — a sense of belonging.

The longer you spoke to him that night, the larger that feeling grew. And somehow he looked at you in a way he didn’t before. It confused him, disgusted him. No, correction — he disgusted himself. Not his affection for you. Why did he feel like pursuing this; you? That night, he denied himself the chance to let you in on his feelings.

A useless kid like him doesn’t deserve you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a black sheep. But you were the golden girl.

Should he be surprised then? As he watched the way his mentor interacted with you, should he be worried? No, did he even have the right to be? But then he saw him smile at you, a smile he’d only seen formed when he was around that other guy — Oda Sakunosuke. You were... another exception? Yet again, many questions raced through his head. But one thing he knew for sure — he was turning into the green-eyed monster.

He started to notice how you reacted to Dazai. He hated how you always seemed so mesmerised whenever he walked by. He hated how your eyes twinkled whenever you talked to him — where’s that sparkle in your eye when you talked to Akutagawa? He hated how one day you just showed up with Dazai’s coat wrapped around your shoulders. He hated how much he was affected by it. It really wasn’t unexpected — next to Dazai, who would take a second look at him anyway? He wished he could be him. Then maybe you’d... He shook his head. No, maybe not even then.

What he hated the most? He couldn’t even hate the guy. He yearned for Dazai’s respect; approval, and that never changed. But then the upset dissolved into an understanding. Something in his head clicked. You belonged with Dazai. He knew next to nothing about your relationship and how it worked. But what Akutagawa did know? Dazai was a revered member of the Port Mafia, one likely to take Mori’s place as the big boss in the future. He couldn’t even lay a hit on him with Rashomon. Dazai wasn’t a formidable fighter like Chuuya either, and still he managed to beat Akutagawa into the ground. That man... was exceptional. You deserved that. You deserved the best.

That’s what Dazai was. He was the black that would take no other hue, and fittingly so he was the Port Mafia’s great white hope.

“Devour space? That sounds cool,” you had commented one day while bandaging up the cut on his wrist, one inflicted on by Dazai himself. He noticed how you didn’t comment on his barbarism as you usually would, and the usual concern in your tone never appeared. As it never did ever since the first day he saw you talk to Dazai.

“I still can’t do it.”

“If you try to imagine you’re protecting me, could you?”

You see, Akutagawa knew it was just a joke to you. And yet? His heart started pounding so fast, so loud in his chest the moment he heard it. It was a tiring dance — feeling so happy about a tiny comment and then feeling a heartache after realising your smiles, even then, were never as sweet as the ones you flashed at Dazai.

Did Dazai even love you? Or was he playing some sort of game as he usually does with women? He hated how he was praying for the latter. Hated how he wished that things would crumble for the two of you so that he could be the one to help you pick up the pieces — to be the one. Akutagawa sighed, knowing he could never get inside his head. Anyone who tried would fall into a cognitive prison. But even these selfish thoughts couldn’t last long, because Akutagawa got his answer later that day when he overheard his mentor talking to his friend.

“Odasaku, how vulnerable can humans get?”

Akutagawa is shocked at the depth of the conversation. He didn’t know Dazai was capable of talking about... emotions. He didn’t think he had any. The other man mentioned something about it being to a big extent, Akutagawa let it slip past his ears. He was more interested in what Dazai had to say.

“It’s weird. It’s like finally being seen after having lived in perpetual darkness. The light she holds, it’s small... but is it wrong of me to hope that it will grow with time?”

Was that... hope he heard in his mentor’s voice? ‘With time’? That meant the future... for all his suicidal thoughts, because of you, was Dazai really considering living? Akutagawa sighed in exasperation as he quietly walked away from the spot he eavesdropped from. He would never understand Dazai.

He never did. Especially not when the same Dazai who spoke so fondly of you was the same Dazai who shot three bullets at Akutagawa for killing the enemy. You were a saviour in more than one way. Your words echoed in his mind, and his shield came out of his will to protect you, an imaginary you. That’s why Dazai didn’t manage to shoot him dead this time. Because of you.

“Oh? See? You can do it. How many times have I told you? Cutting open unfortunate hostages isn’t the only thing you’re good for. You should be able to use your powers for defense too.”

“I’ve never been able to successfully do that before this.”

“But you just did. Isn’t that great?”

Akutagawa wanted so badly to argue back in an act of rebellion, to yell out that it was only because of you that he was able to do it. But the words got stuck in his throat. And Dazai’s threat embedded themselves in his brain. He always wondered if Dazai knew his subordinate harboured feelings for his partner. But Akutagawa already knew the answer. Nothing escapes that man. But he’s sure that he doesn’t view him as a threat, not even as competition, no.

To Dazai, it was probably just another reason to hate him; another reason to justify why he was in Dazai’s black books.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was a complete bolt from the blue.

Akutagawa remembered the day he realised he had lost two important people in his life. He thought that watching as you fell in love with Dazai was the most horrible emotion he could feel. He was wrong. Losing the two of you, not even being able to see either of you, not knowing where either of you vanished to — nothing could top that agony.

The day Oda died, the two of you disappeared along with him.

You took down his walls, painted the insides red, furnished it and made it vibrant again and then suddenly you were gone. You left him in the dark. You invaded his solitary space — slowly, ironically without any violence, and yet the moment you left, it was anything but peaceful for Akutagawa. No, you and Dazai left him even lonelier than before. You graced him with your presence and healed him, only to break him down even more than he already was before he met you.

Everything he heard about love after you left just seemed like everyone viewed the world through rose-coloured glasses. Nothing he found could describe the anguish he felt over losing you; or the regret he held for not telling you how he felt — the remorse that he knew wouldn’t change a thing, and yet wished he did anyway.

Because who knew when he would ever see you again, if he would? What if he never did? Yet ironically, your memory is always there — you’re sitting at the edge of his periphery, taunting him with your smile, tempting him to go and find you. And Akutagawa thinks of it everyday; what it would be like to find you, to hold you, to tell you everything he should have when you were still there.

However, a part of him nags at him not to. After all, the grass is always greener on the other side — maybe because Akutagawa isn’t there. And as an image of you flashed in his mind yet again, he scoffed at himself.

Beautiful. That’s the word he was looking for that first day you touched his soul.

You’re beautiful.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

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jae-canikeepyou · 5 years ago

Text

| temporary | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst?? idek what else to describe what i wrote (nonstop) but yeah idk you judge :D

a/n: i don’t want this to flop just because it’s sad hours.. jk! there’s 7.1k words down there but hey, angst could be good, but i don’t think this is well written because the structure writing’s meh. so aNywHo i hope what’s below could touch your heart? pls lmk! enjoy reading! ~j

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you hate this.

you hate the smell of some random sharp chemical scent stinging your nose, the bland flavours of each meal, the repeated uniform gowns put onto you like you were attending school again. well you were supposed to be until medical records showed you were sick. not dying but based on several incompatible matches and rejected cases to cure your condition, you knew the trail you stood on was heading there.

it was dreadful, knowing that the weeks turned to months— waiting sucked big time especially when you continuously had to cross out days without a specific date to look forward to.

“don’t worry y/n. this is all temporary.” was the only sentence your brother told you.

you hoped all this would be a hurdle to jump over, like another race to finish. running along the track line had its perks. you get to challenge yourself at the endurance you have while the time ticked and caused a rush of exciting adrenaline. the audience were cheering too. the downfall?

you were tired.

to the point you wanted to stop this illness so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. the track drawn out for you was neverending.

here’s the good part though,

jaehyun was with you all since the day you arrived, and cheering for you too— like your own personal health companion. the encounter with him was amusing now that you recalled it.

( three months ago )

you sat comfortably on the bed, still adjusting to the new yet familiar setting. “change into this gown, and i’ll assist you to the doctor once you’re done.” nurse kim, better known as jisoo, patted your shoulder before she tended to others in need.

“thank you.” you mouthed, throat still sore from crying because you didn’t want to be back in the hospital. though you really felt fatigue consuming you and energy was vacuumed out of your system, you forced yourself to change anyway.

not until your peripheral spotted a young man opposite from you stared at your body that was half way to exposing. he knew you were about to react, so he rushed to cover your mouth and managed to muffle out a scream trying to escape your lungs. “shhh! please don’t!” he pleaded and gosh how melodic his voice was for a baritone.

thank heavens this man was ethereal, or else you would’ve smacked him with your fists like any other stranger intrusion. he finally let go of you knowing you’ve calmed down. “hi? i’m sorry if i came off as perverted but i mean no harm! i’m friendly!”

“well hello friendly.” your sarcasm on point. “what are you doing in my side of the i.c.u.? there’s a curtain surrounding my corner and how did you get in here without my knowledge? i should be able to notice you either way.” you hugged your torso.

he crossed his arms at the tone of your voice. ”it’s jaehyun. my name’s jaehyun.” he corrected and sat at the end corner of the bed. “that’s kinda hard for me explain.”

“what’s hard to explain-”

“it’s like how it is to a math solution.” he said, his body adjacent to the window. “go on and change. i won’t look.”

you rolled your eyes and kicked him off of the bed. “ugh you’re a pain. i’ll be more assured if you’re out of here.” you took off your clothes and into the new fabric and observed his back figure. he had toned muscles denting slightly under his denim pajamas and white home slippers. he didn’t leave, just kept his word by not peeping at you.

the bed creaked softly alerting him of your finished action. “ah, you’re done!” he exclaimed and turned around in interest.

“what business do you have here if i may ask?” you went to the extent of covering yourself with another pillow.

jaehyun hummed as he rubbed his chin, dimples hollowing and prominent stubbs pricked his fingers. “i’m looking for something i left. it’s a keychain.”

“couldn’t you just go to the lost and found section?” you asked, shooing him away while you scrolled down your phone. again he didn’t leave. “how long are you staying?”

a sly grin crept his face. he leaned closer to you as if he were to kiss you. “as long as you want me to-”

“gross!” you slapped him but he read your actions, stopping your from pursuing. “just find the damn item and leave!”

“fine sheesh.” he shrugged and began searching it under the bed, crawling around to see if it was there.

boredom soon came and you tried to clear your mind from what just happened. you went to the camera icon to take a picture of him to show to your best friend. the viewfinder captured his fluffy hair, side profile with his dimples stapled to his cheeks. his lips were pursed and brows were scrunched. as you sent it, you laid back inclined to the bed, waiting for him to say ‘eureka!’ or ‘found it!’.

but he said neither.

your phone dinged soon enough that your eyes widened.

[09:03] yuna: did you see a cockroach crawling again? if yes then you’re a bad photographer 😆

you let out a long “ha?” and jaehyun looked up to see your face as sour as it could get. “what’s wrong?” he asked and sat next to you as if you both were close already. his face turned blank when his eyes looked at the phone, and he knew you saw his change of expression.

“this is what i mean it’s hard to explain.”

there was a long silence and then it hit you. it wasn’t sheer panic bubbling your lungs or fear overpowering your mind. more of a fascinated shock of a revelation. “y-you you’re—”

jaehyun smiled embarrassingly, scratching the nape of his neck. “yeah.. i’m a—”

“a ghost.” “an angel.”

“what? no! i’m not a ghost!” he shifted on the bed, furthering away from you at the comment. “ghosts haunts people. angels protects people.” his hand gestures explaining his current identity was hilarious.

the phone was on low power mode so when it dimmed, you tapped on the screen, the picture you took show no one but the floor and the bed’s corner. and you haven’t laughed in a while, this jaehyun was entertaining when he defended. “pretty sure that’s not how i encountered you earlier. you scared me.” you raised a teasing brow.

“it really wasn’t my intention.”

the sigh he let out made you laugh more, his surrendering whine would stay in your head forever. “were your wings removed, jaehyun?” you asked. “can other people see you? or am i the only one who can see you? oh wait. this is a million dollar question.” you brought your hands together and he definitely wasn’t amused. “are you even alive?”

he flicked your forehead and you swore there was a red mark on it. “yes. yes—well only children— yes. and.. no.“ he said softly, the latter expressed in sorrow and his shoulders slouched low. “i woke up at the rooftop of the hospital one day because of this soft blanket hugging my back, they were my wings. i knew i wasn’t alive anymore. so when i came to accept it days after, i wanted to try out flying around the city and jumped off the hospital grounds and i fell instead of flying.”

“pfft! what you get from trying out something you ain’t familiar with, fallen angel.” you covered your mouth in realisation but jaehyun wasn’t agreeing with your assumption. “literally you are?”

“i’m not that type of angel. maybe i have some unfinished business, i don’t know. but i’d like to think i’m an angel!”

you hummed, convinced enough at this event. “ah maybe because you left your keychain? that’s counted as unfinished.”

another strong flick numbed your forehead. “no? we can’t bring stuff to heaven.” he gurgled at your innocence. “you’re going to help me find the solution to gain my earthly memories and my unfinished business so i can go to the other side.” jaehyun held your hands, the grip strong yet soft all at the same time.

“why me?” you exchanged looks from him and the view outside. “i’m no expert in this field.”

jaehyun’s eyes twinkled; not in awe but in desperation. “you are the only person who can help me. i can’t rely on children because.. they’re children and they’re so young.”

well that’s common sense, y/n.

“i’ll help.” not knowing why you agreed, but your heart just ache for this beautiful man. he couldn’t remember how he passed, he seemed desperate too, and needed someone to talk to. maybe you could fill in that role before the time came for him.

“thank you!” he had his fists clenched, twirling around as he yelled out the window. “i haven’t gotten your name yet.” his hands fell faintly onto yours, almost a tingly feeling.

“y/n.” you took his hand for a shake, holding onto it dearly. “i’m y/n, nice to meet yo-”

suddenly, his lips kissed the area where he flicked you. “well my dear y/n..” he smiled. “..consider this contract signed. there are conditions, but we can discuss that later.”

life in the hospital starting today wouldn’t be too boring. he stood beside the bed with the most starstriking smile you’ve ever seen, celebrating his awaited desire. you befriended jaehyun and he wasn’t a patient or part of the medical staff. he looked at you with bliss; the sun illuminated from behind him and that really confirmed it..

no, he wasn’t a ghost. he was indeed a spirit.

or angel. he’ll probably prefer that way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

your brother became more protective than he usually was. straight to the hospital for you was added to his tight schedule and even then he was able to find time to care for you despite that. if you were to talk about the best big brother in the world, he was definitely the first place even in another life.

“guess who’s here.” taeyong cooed and pulled the curtains as he entered your area in the i.c.u. he found it strange when you didn’t greet him with your handshake nor a smile.

he sighed quite heavily at the bowl prepared for you, it turned cold and he placed his bags on the chair beside you. “hey kiddo, you have to eat something, yea?” he brushed your strands away to see your welling eyes looking at the distance outside. the window was the only thing separating you and the world.

most of all, your social life.

taeyong looked back to the day at campus two years ago; he remembered how he rushed to the university clinic after his lecture, stumbling as his legs gave in seeing you with the same pained expression. he should be used to the sight, but each time you end up in a place he never wanted you to be in, it was like seeing it for the first time.

he also remembered how his eyes trailed to your arms that rubbed your mid back. the nurses calming you with words of encouragement that you’d be fine. you didn’t like how you caused him so much worry, maybe one more push he’d be exploding into flames because you weren’t getting any better.. or probably he’d lose some hair because of the stress.

“i.. don’t want to eat.” you weakly pushed the tray on the mini table above your thighs. “i’m sick of this place and i’m sick of being sick. i just wanna go home.”

he knew that certain voice you have which made his heart sunk, but he knew you too well that you missed his cooking. “i know, but it’s short-lived, your condition is curable and you staying here is temporary.”

uh-huh.. that word again.

“and i made you these.” the cushion of the bed lowered due to his weight, making you shift to him. “fried corndogs. added a little twist to it with johnny’s help with the sauce. eat it before nurse jisoo arrives.”

at the corners of your eyes, jaehyun’s lips puckered at the sight of food. this caused you to save a box for him. you gave him a wink and set that aside. you could feel his figure arching to sit next to you as he began eating his share.

“you’re more afraid of her than i am.” you teased taeyong, finally smiling. “get her number already or else i’ll tell her how you’ve been crushing on her since forever.”

“forever’s an exaggeration, sis.” taeyong picked the stick and handed it to you. “it’s only been three months.”

“and three months means your cowardice is really preventing you from doing that.” the crunch from the dish made him tickle you in all vulnerable places and you rolled your eyes remembering the warning of your body’s strength exertion.

jaehyun nodded in agreement, licking the mustard that stained his fingers. “yeah, that’s a coward right there. can i give him lessons?” he stated, and you nearly choked in giggles.

taeyong then checked his watch, pecking you a kiss which got you forming questions at the back of your head. “oh the time.”

you gently placed the devoured stick into the box and dove in other sticks for seconds— or thirds. “you’re leaving? you just got here.”

he gave a wink and tugged the curtains. “not yet. i’m doing what you suggested me to do.” he gestured his palms, indicating that he would attempt to actually get her number. “she’s gonna be off duty in five. later honey.”

focused on the meal, you waved at him as you continued eating. jaehyun scooted closer to you. both enjoyed the meal and he hummed a song; something he would do when his palate craved food from the world. “i still find it unbelievable that taeyong couldn’t see me.” he giggled while the crisp sound of the batter synchronised with yours.

“you mean how you’re finally able to eat actual food each time he comes here.” your voice almost bursting into laughs of mockery, but held them in since jaehyun has been helping you as well. he nudged you gently and ever so sweetly, a toast cheer from your meals.

“yeah, but it’s because we have connection y/n, i’m able to eat solid food. so thank you.”

being locked in an all white room prevented you from going outside, that was fine since jaehyun was there with you, you wouldn’t be that bored. the pact you created with him was so simple that you could memorise it in a second. his requests were you both would be together everyday, cater to each other’s needs, eat and watch some series he missed out or discontinued.

and in the three months being with him, days were getting better. he actually knocked down the walls of your thoughts of hopelessness, encouraged you during your sad hours and hyped you up when you have some rehabilitation sessions. medical staffs were shocked that for someone whose condition was clearly on the verge, the will to live was written all over you.

jaehyun appreciated the ideas you’ve given him; memories or events that he might’ve forgotten, or any category he used to love like sports / music. he mentioned he knew how his family looked like, but not their names nor his home address. so he couldn’t visit them. though there was little progress and countless of bickers regarding the matter, you both were getting somewhere on each ends. and in the midst of it, you had each other as support.

“does your family or ancestors have some kind of gift?” he sunk down with you at the inclined bed rest. “while taeyong might not have it, you do?”

“maybe, but i’m not sure. we don’t talk about these things.. of the unknown, ghosts and spirits and-” your jaw dropped when he bit the remaining half of the corn dog from the stick you held. “jaehyun!”

“how many times do i have to tell you i’m a guardian angel?” he immediately rebutted your clumsy referral while chewing deliciously. “specifically yours, so don’t deny my role for you.”

your heart skipped beats. the claim he just did was heartwarming, and it was the first he said anything nice since your introductions months prior. “w-who said you’re my a-angel?” you batted your lashes.

jaehyun pointed at himself and disappeared to somewhere you do not know where he’d go considering he wasn’t familiar within the city. at night it was always like this, at 8pm sharp, he’d leave without saying goodbye, leaving you alone. then he would return the next day, greeting you with the same smile. maybe being an angel had its curfew too?

but as the sun rose the following morning and the colours merged into the prettiest pair the city ever witnessed, jaehyun anticipated the minute he sees your eyes slowly opening then adjusting to the light of the day. your calm beauty had him awestruck. he never felt this way before, more so, it was the first since he became a spirit.

come on come on come on, he stared at the hand of the clock, just one more second—

“hey.” he froze once he heard you and hesitated to turn around. “this is a new look on you.”

jaehyun shyly did so anyway, ears red that his planned surprise for you ended up failing. “do you like it?”

the long hums of your morning voice was more nerve-wrecking than waiting for the time to reach its end. “like? i love it! you look fresh!” you complemented him in all honesty.

until today, he wore the same denim pj’s and lets not question whether he does change. what struck you was that he wore a simple white tshirt with denim jeans, pairing them with a brown suede ankle boots. that wasn’t the key point of his fashion today.

rather, he topped his attire with costumed angel set; a halo and wings. when a proud smirk appeared, it got to you that he was really handsome. “sweet. oh i got you breakfast.” he tossed two sandwiches, carefully wrapped yet your nose could smell its delish filling.

“thanks.” you accepted them. “i didn’t know angels have their allowances.”

“we don’t. i used your cash.” jaehyun said, playing with the change coins. he flinched for cover, your hands in attempt to hit him.

you pinched his cheeks with the support of his hollowed dimples. “i told you to tell me if you’re going shopping with my money! is the costume included too?”

“i was supposed to but it seemed like you were having a nice dream!” he poked your forehead and there was no chance to fight back because for one, it was part of the contract. “and i’m sure it’s a nice one..” he trailed off, pointing at the small drools on your pillow.

his dimples started to show and you couldn’t resist its existence. “be thankful you’re really cute. anyway, did you ask children to do it for you again?”

jaehyun scratched the nape of his neck. “yes, and i treated them in return. who are you texting?” he hovered over you.

your lips straightened to a flat line. “i’m talking with jinho. he said he’s coming but you know men, they sometimes break promises. he’s probably not going to come again today.”

jaehyun didn’t know why his heart squeezed, if it was for how you were treated unfairly or if it was just him. he wasn’t in the position to feel this way towards you. yet because it was you— someone he spent three months with— he thought maybe it was normal to have such feelings. he visits you every single day, cared for you, be with you when your boyfriend not once ever did.

the thing was, did he have the right to keep these unexplainable bubbles of emotions in his gut? it wasn’t like you belonged with him anyway. just why did jaehyun hate it when your lips utter jinho’s name when he never acted like your beloved?

“why are you still with him when he doesn’t show affection for you?” jaehyun pat your head in comfort.

“maybe because i love him.” you typed on the screen to message him, yet stopped a while when he said those words. he was right, if jinho truly loved you, he’d be here already. so you stayed silent instead and divert the conversation. “oh this can help your memory! about love! did you perhaps have a girl-”

*zing!* sharp stings pierced and came to jaehyun’s temples like arrows.

he held the pain in as he didn’t want to worry you. “i’m gonna head out for a bit, y’know fresh air.” he swallowed his own saliva, hoping you didn’t hear it. he didn’t mean to be rude and disappear at you like that. his chest squeezed again at the thought of you with someone else.

he didn’t know what love felt like until now.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it was unexpected.

jaehyun never imagined he would fall for you so soon, or ever thought of you nothing more than a friend who’d help him go to the other side. if he had to describe the relationship you both have, that’d merely be a boss-client kind of thing. yet he still knew that there was a connection despite him not being human anymore. there were frequent playful nudges and he waited half a year to be able to communicate with people. you were special.

special in a way that you treated him like he was alive again. you didn’t care about whether people would give you stares as your silhouette seemed like you were talking to yourself or someone they couldn’t see in the naked eye, or how nurse jisoo and taeyong would ask why you didn’t eat all of your meal only to save the other half for him. he was spoiled by you, where it was supposed to be the way around. sometimes he wondered if he was the right angel to look after you. in the end, it was him who initiated the contract and you complied without hesitations.

as if he were to watch a movie— except he wasn’t— pictures flashed before his vision, from a blurred quality to a clearer one. it was short, yet it was not enough to tell him what they were. maybe it was a memory, but he couldn’t put the scenes together.

he rubbed his eyes and felt the light gust of wind from children running through him with a ball in their hands.

then another fragment came to his sight, the sting of his temples ache like ones in the room. bright lights from the memory have blinded his eyes before it was replaced by the sun’s rays.

what the heck? he thought.

—

jaehyun kicked the stones that were separated from the cracked concrete ground. the way the stones rolled was identical to his churning stomach. he wondered how you were doing and later smiled to himself when he saw you waving at him from your window.

his palms were brought out to wave back except your lips didn’t utter his name. it was jinho, who happened to behind him; holding flowers.

of course.

he forgot about it for while; you have a boyfriend.

by this time he started to question if angels or spirits actually do have feelings; romantically. televisions never specified this fact. taeyong appeared in his field of view, who successfully asked jisoo out on a date. since when did hospitals served as a love spot? clearly his mood changed, but seeing you noticing him and waved at him, he decided to apologise for cutting you off earlier.

and he wished he shouldn’t have entered the i.c.u, from the door entrance the curtains were slid to the bedside. you were embraced in his arms, held onto dearly. he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. a bouquet of flowers wrapped around your fingers. not wanting to intrude or ruin the moment, he turned around to give you space. it was your personal life after all.

he thought that maybe if he were alive, would things turn out differently if he met you? he would probably treated you better if ever.

jaehyun leaned against the door frame of the i.c.u. the human him would tell him he was definitely heartbroken witnessing that. he was supposed to be happy for you; you were improving mentally, recovering physically even if it was slow. your boyfriend finally visited you.

speaking of the said person, he felt jinho’s figure leaving the room, brushing past and through him. so he looked back at you, who was staring at him with a weak smile.

were you okay?

then tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes.

yeah, you definitely weren’t okay.

“y/n?” jaehyun called out and approached your bed, being the curtains to a close and sitting beside you afterwards. “what’s wrong? why did jinho leave so soon?” he pointed.

your face went pale and though ordinary people would know it was due to the illness, jaehyun knew it was about something else. he held your hands, pulling you gently for a hug. it was still funny if you think about it; how you could hug an angel physically. “we called quits. it was mutual though, don’t be too shocked.” you fixed your chin onto his shoulder and felt him tense at the revelation.

“why? you wanted him to come over and he did. you should be happy.” jaehyun stared into your swollen eyes, cupping your jaw to wipe the fallen tears away. “he gave you flowers, hugged you.. what’s lacking?”

“that wasn’t a normal hug.. it was a parting one. jinho told me he couldn’t take it.” you began, leaning more into his touch. “he doesn’t like that he’s incapable of helping me get through all this. seeing me suffering was too much for his heart.”

jaehyun’s fists balled and you could see them shaking. his eyes turned darker the more you explained. “so he was thinking of himself more than he thought of you?” his tone raised and you flinch at the volume. “where’s the mutual in that, y/n? you agreed to his selfishness even if you’re hurting so much?”

“it is mutual jae.” you sniffed, sitting up properly to expound further. “for the past three months i’ve been wanting him to come here because i wanted to break up with him. i wanted to tell him that he should get used to..” your voice trembling and jaehyun held you close. “..that he should get used to not having me around anymore. i fell out of love. so if there’s anyone who’s selfish, it’s me.”

“what.. are you saying?..” he asked softly. “it sounds like you’re giving up.” referring to your existence around the people you love. “are you giving everything up? all we did to improve your condition?”

a sob escaped your lips and you covered your face because you couldn’t look at him in the eye as you answer. you didn’t like to appear weak to him than you already were. “jaehyun, when you disappeared, the doctors came and said there was no kidney donor. it’s finalised. they’ve contacted local and overseas hospitals and none were of my match. i’m getting sicker each day and i really appreciate the motivation you’ve given me and there’s nothing left in my soul to fight any longer.”

“no no no no. please me tell me you’re not serious, y/n.” he begged. “tell me that you’re going to rethink about it and have the will to live. tell me that what we both signed up for will not go in vain. we worked hard together. we helped each other, we went through thick and thin. tell me that your decision is not permanent.”

“and what? you’re going to tell me my condition’s temporary too? if yes then you’re just like taeyong and nurse kim jisoo.” you laid back down and stared at the window.

jaehyun was about to speak when you started to sniff again. “everything that’s happening to me is always temporary.. nothing ever stays.. no one ever stays.. taeyong’s visits are limited, my personal nurse is always busy.. and what hurts me the most is that our time together is temporary too. soon enough you’ll go to the other side.. you’re only the friend i have now.”

“hey..” he cooed and now laying down beside you, wrapping you in his arms as you sunk more onto his chest. “..don’t say that. i-i’m still here.” even if he said that, jaehyun knew that that was false; that day would actually come, he just didn’t know when.

you turned to face him and hugged him tightly, sleep starting to get to your system. “when i met you, you became more of a boyfriend than jinho ever did.”

he caressed your back and you could feel the vibrations from his soft laughs. “look, i’m sure jinho did his best to be your boyfriend. and if i was your boyfriend.. well you’re talking about a guy who hasn’t gotten a single clue of who he is nor have his memories returned. my unfinished business is still a blank page. it may look temporary now but i guarantee you, i know you’ll have that new transplant, it’ll be-”

“that will never come.. i’m dying, jaehyun.”

jaehyun hummed in disagreement. he was fuming but he tried his best not to show it, that will contradict with his role of being your guardian angel. “tsk, say anything further i’m really gonna flick your forehead.”

you chuckled since it reminded you about the first day. “i mean, if i don’t make it, that would mean i get to be with you. it’s not temporary anymore, right?”

he bursted in scoffs of disbelief and you could tell he was playing around at the same time. “what? do you wanna be with me so much?” he questioned, flicking your forehead. “i wouldn’t mind having a side kick though.”

“i’m kidding, but truth to be told, you’re the best angel anyone could ask for.” you fixed the crooked halo headband for him. “no wonder children loves angels.”

“you’re acknowledging i’m an angel now, huh?” he messed your hair. “if children loves angels, what about you?”

*zing!* jaehyun shut his eyes closed. an unclear image of him locking his phone; its wallpaper of him and his parents.

tsk why am i feeling this again—

“i’ll say yes if that’s what you want to hear.” you challenged. jaehyun squinted his eyes open, to you it was pretty obvious it was what he wanted to hear.

jaehyun pinched your cheeks to awake you from reality, once again setting the memory aside. “we can’t date. i don’t want to be a rebound.” he stuck out his tongue, making you mirror the same. “you’re human, i’m an angel.”

“technically a ghost but i’ll take it as a self-proclaimed angel.” you shrugged, a curve appearing at the corners of your lips. “anyway, should we continue watching-”

the curtains separated which made you and jaehyun jolt in shock. “y/n!”

taeyong’s voice echoed the room, glad that most patients were asleep and he threw himself onto the bed. jaehyun got up, letting your brother hug you. “they were wrong!” he cried in tears of joy.

“they messed up your records. your condition was identical with another patient’s!”

you saw jaehyun giving him a look you think would pass as a meme. “what is he saying?” he asked.

“what are you saying?” you blinked several times at his shaking hands and hoarse hiccups.

“you have a donor!” he exclaimed.

jaehyun’s smile grew and as he walked towards you, he held your hands to squeeze them in congratulatory. “well, what did i say y/n? told you it’ll come.”

the pain on his temples faded it always did, but it was something he experienced quite often in the past days. he couldn’t figure what it was.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

almost everyone in the room observed how anxious you were, the fiddles of your fingers and the constant biting of your lips that they could bleed any moment now. you were moved to a new room and jaehyun poked your cheek to gain your attention and to snap out of your daydream. a satisfied grin plastered on his face when your eyes locked into his.

you thought maybe the heavens probably heard his words. last week, he did say the transplant would come, and it did. soon later, you would be having an operation; a new kidney to function. you waited for this for so long that just thinking about it, you’d probably cry again.

seeing jaehyun stare into the panorama of the city before him had your chest tightening. it wasn’t good nor bad..maybe you were just nervous that the reality of all this was actually happening. he was glowing compared to most days; and it’s not due to the sun adding extra illumination to his figure. it was like the first day, his greeting was awkward but it became something you’d never forget.

the medical staff left after briefing you, injecting anaesthesia so you could meet your slumber. taeyong messaged he would try to arrive as soon as he could, and you were assured by the time the operation’s done. now the room was silent, all you could hear was jaehyun’s shoes clicking on the marbled floor. his hands grabbing yours to comfort you.

“scared?” he asked with faint dimples trying to boast. you nodded. “you shouldn’t be. you’ve waited for this for so long. everything’s gonna turn out fine for you. and i’m here, guarding you as usual.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he responded by holding your waist, sinking in deeper into the embrace. “i’m not scared now. i don’t know how different it’d be if i hadn’t met you- well, you introduced yourself first before i did, so..”

your eyelids suddenly began to drop, the drug soon kicking in. “y/n, when you come out of that room, only half of the contract’s completed. there’s still mine to go.” he said, laying you gently on the bed.

“i know. it’s just everything seems to happen so fast.” you admitted sadness, because that always was in your head since the news broke to you.

“do you have any questions before you sleep?” jaehyun propped his elbow onto the side table, fascinated how you were still trying to keep yourself awake just to converse with him. “about me. because who knows if you would remember me once you’re conscious again.”

“why would i forget my angel?” you giggled, eyes closing. “hm.. i was going to ask you this but you ditched me haha.”

“oops. sorry about that.” embarrassed, jaehyun rubbed his chin just recalling that day.

“i wanna know if you knew how love felt like. do you remember?”

*zing!* red lights circled around in a container orbit, its center rotating as if it was signalling.

jaehyun was stunned and out of words for a while. the same feeling came flushing to him as you both talked about love before. of course he knew what love was. you made him remember. love was like sailing on a boat at the open ocean before stumbling upon something so beautiful that you couldn’t take your eyes off of. “yeah i do. why?”

although you felt that you’re close to drifting to dreamland, an urge in you wanted to tell him why. “because you asked me if i ‘love’ you.”

*zing!* the clock striked 8. it doubled and tripled in vision, moving in a static way.

jaehyun felt dizzy and nauseous. please just stop..

holding the stinging pain in and ignoring it, he leaned closer. “do you now?” he asked, a sly smile creeping his mouth. “if you’re to ask me, i do love *zing* you.” he heard you manage to let out a giggle. “i love to enlighten you when you’re down. i love talking with you and stealing your food. basically just everything about you.”

“hm, same. like platonic love.” your hands find your hold his.

“mhm. platonic.. lo-” he paused due to the continuous throbbing, and gave you a little squeeze despite the hurt he had been feeling recently. hesaw how you didn’t reply, your breaths heaving softly and calmly. his smile broke out as this always happened whenever you held onto him.

what he couldn’t say out loud was that what he felt for you the entire time wasn’t a platonic love.

he really loves you like you’re his.

—

heavy pain awoke you from unconsciousness. you tried to open your eyes without letting the light blinding them. the first person you saw was taeyong and jisoo, their bodies almost covering your pan of view. your eyes craved to see jaehyun, your chest drummed fast when you couldn’t.

taeyong looked worried, brushing the strands from your face. “are you okay? do you feel any pain?” his palms caressed your face.

you didn’t answer, yet the tears wanting to fall have met its end. jisoo quickly left to find the surgeon and taeyong followed to fill in paperwork. where was jaehyun? why wasn’t he here with you? he always appear before you as soon as your eyes flutter open. you were so used to seeing his face and that you were assured he’d be there.

more than two hours have passed and jaehyun still hasn’t shown himself. so far into the day, you’ve eaten porridge, changed a new set of clothes, had a few conversations with taeyong and jisoo, and watched the series alone. even then you waited for him to come. now you were left alone briefly again. you tried to sit up or incline the bed.

“if you needed help, call my name. did you forget me already?” jaehyun’s body assisted yours by acting as a support. “you shouldn’t move too much, y/n.”

jaehyun felt his torso like he was hugged by a koala. “i thought you’re gone. i didn’t see you when i woke up..” your voice soft and hoarse.

“i was here the whole time, behind jisoo and taeyong.” he said, puzzled by how late you noticed him.

“stay with me for a while.” you requested, and he followed. “i love how you’re always here.”

again, sharp stings hit his temples. fragments of past memories came flushing to him. they were still monotone, but this time they were clear enough to see what they were trying to portray. was it how he passed? there were people pumping his chest, people holding his hands dearly.

even without seeing his face, you could feel jaehyun was uncomfortable. he didn’t know why the pain was frequent. “is something bothering you, jaehyun?” you pulled away, and you were shocked to see him switching from solid to translucent; like he was flickering. “hey, why are you-” you reached out for him, but your hands failed to hold his. they passed through him like he was gas. you couldn’t feel him anymore.

“y/n..” jaehyun gave a painful look, something you’ve never seen before. “i think i’m fading.”

you arched your brows and lips parted at that certain sentence you thought you’d hear in the far future. “why? our contract is not done yet.” you replied, still attempting to at least touch him again. “we have yet to find your unfinished business.”

jaehyun knew what this meant. he knew what was happening. he felt stupid for not telling you sooner. “maybe it’s already revealed, i just haven’t acknowledged it.” he saw his limbs flickering then fading, taking turns of the two. he was worried, but he somehow felt safe.

it was hard to understand what he was trying to say. each word that came out of his lips were shooting your heart like daggers. you clenched your clothes by the buttons of your pajamas, tears forming then falling. “w-what do you mean? are you leave-” you quivered though you didn’t want to show it. “how long have you known?..” the reality of it now seeping into you.

“i’ve known and realised it for a week now.” he said, forcing his lips to smile, to appear unaffected. “whenever the word ‘love’-” he groaned at the pain again, bending down slowly. “..’love’ is mentioned, i feel this rush of mixed pain and happiness. i think it’s related to what i have left here on earth.”

“i knew you were acting strange, but i thought it was nothing because you’d looked fine.” you asked, trying to get off the bed to go to him. you wanted him to explain further because none of what he said was processing in your brain right now. “you seemed fine..”

“the reason why you could see me was because you’re the person who will make me remember what love is.” he held your face, and all you felt was a tingling feeling from his touch. “when i was alive.. i was a stubborn boy who only cared about himself. i never had a relationship, never appreciated the love my parents given me.”

“if you remember all this.. did your memory show you how you.. died?” you looked at him and he gave a smile, almost a parting one.

“yeah.. it was the first hint.. i was late for my basketball championship match. i was texting my parents to come to the game while crossing the street.” jaehyun chuckled, a bitter one and people could tell if they actually heard him. “i saw i was rushed to the ambulance, the sirens alerting everyone.. i was wheeled into the e.r.. i guess you know what happened next.”

then he broke down, arms bringing to his face. “..i couldn’t tell mom and dad i love them..” jaehyun weakly came forward, pulling you into his embrace. it was confusing that he could touch you, but you couldn’t. no matter how much you wanted to give him comfort like he use to do with you. he held onto you, as if he didn’t want to let you go.

“why didn’t you tell me what you’ve been feeling? why tell me now, jaehyun?” you tried to cup his face but to no avail they still went through it. you’re practically begging him to give you reasons why he had to hide it from you.

the shakiness his pupils did have shown he was scared. “i didn’t want you to feel sad about me. that’ll only destroy the joy from the news you received.”

your palms dropped to your thighs, breaths hitching and let out uncontrollable muted gasps. “i am sad now! i’m sad that you’re leaving me-”

his touch calmed you. “i never really got to say this because all we ever did was to support each other but.. i really, deeply, from the bottom of my heart.. thank you, y/n. you taught me how to love again, in the little things and..”

“jaehyun..” you sighed heavily and eventually cried with him, heart tugging your strings until they snapped.

“..and maybe that’s my unfinished business.” his smile was definitely forced.

and you did the same. “i’m glad i was able to help.. i’m glad you’re able to find what love is. but if you could love a person again, i’m sure they’re very lucky.”

hearing him let out hurtful laugh and sniffs became often as you told those words. “you are lucky you’re loved by an angel. i told you i love you, right?” his arms went through your body, then his entire body moved back like he was magnetised to something he waited for.

it was time.

you felt the same kiss on the forehead for the final time.

he saw how you wailed, craving for his embrace, like a child looking for a mother’s touch. what ached him was that you couldn’t see him anymore. the cries became louder, taeyong ran to you, thinking you were still hurt from the operation. he was an angel, he should be strong for you but all he felt was

hurt.

he shouldn’t have left your side at night. he should’ve stuck with you like glue. he wanted to spend longer time with you.

what hurt him the most was he should’ve known that three months was temporary.

your eyes caught sight of the man you stayed with you. because of him, you got to find out a lot about yourself when you were vulnerable, things that had to be dug deep in order to find that hidden gem. in the past minute you couldn’t see him. but now he was floating in the air, glowing more than usual. you smiled painfully because he still wore that stupid halo and wings, and the letters you’ve written that you hoped he wouldn’t see but he actually did.

taeyong and jisoo’s words of comfort did nothing on you, as you saw your angel jaehyun drifting further away from you. you reached out for him and he did so too and,

he smiled for the final time, tears visible and they rolled down his cheeks. “i love you, y/n. so so much.”

you cried harder and clenched onto taeyong, not caring whether it hurt him or not. your brother gave a confused look, shocked to see how much your frail body exert such sorrow.

“me too.” you wanted to tell him, yet it wasn’t close to a whisper.

you hate this.

you hate that the only person you’ve just grown to love departed from the tip of your wavering fingers.

you hate the word temporary.

#jung jaehyun #nct 127 #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun imagines #jung yoonoh #nct #nct scenarios #jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun au #nct jaehyun #jaehyun angst #nct imagines

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Note

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

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maxineswritingcenter · 5 years ago

Text

Code Red - Dean x fem!reader

@rileynicole1967: hi! i was wondering if you could do a deanxreader fic where she’s fairly new to hunting and wants to be great like the boys so she asks them to train her and she’s getting to be amazing but she wakes up in the bunker one night, to the red lights, knowing something is wrong but can’t find the boys because they’re trying to set her up to the ultimate test and she has to prove she has hunter instincts and skills?

If (Y/N) would have been told a year ago that she would be hunting monsters and ghosts she would have thought they were crazy. But here she was, cleaning her knives and guns on her bed, counting her silver bullets.

(Y/N) came from a line of hunters, but the business had died out when her mom got out after her dad passed unexpectedly. She knew the basics: salt the doors and windows, whispering Cristo under her breath to weed out any demons in a crowd, keeping an iron bracelet on her wrist. But besides that, hunting wasn't something that she knew a whole lot about. When she found out about hunting, she knew she couldn't stop herself, mom knew that too.

(Y/N) started with small time haunts, nothing a salt and burn couldn't fix. Earned a little cash doing it too. But one hunt, she got in over her head and if it wasn't for the Winchesters she would have been ghoul food. A good night's sleep and some bandages later, they were in a diner talking. One thing led to another, and there she was. The training was hard, that was certain. Sam drilled her for hours on end about how to tell what monster was what based on the murders that happened in the town. Dean taught her how to fight, and honestly, he was a hard ass when he had his teaching cap on. He wouldn’t let her rest until she could at least get him back. But then on the days when the hunt went well, Dean would take her out to a diner from town to celebrate. It wasn’t sappy, but he made sure to let her know she was doing a good job. One night was particularly special.

“Holy crap!” Dean laughed as the ketchup bottom Sam had been shaking exploded in his hand. Sam grumbled and excused himself, his cheeks a little pink from Dean and (Y/N)’s laughter. And once that laughter died down, they went back to eating, at least, she did. Dean kind of looked at her for a while, a slight twinkle in his eye.

“Hey.” His voice made (Y/N)’s eyes leave the fries she was munching on.

“Hmm?”

“I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing a great job, you’re catching on quick.” He praised. She smiled and swallowed before answering.

“Thanks, that really means a lot.” Her cheeks tinged pink.

"I mean it, you've really become one of us. I know you'll be smart about things to come." His last sentence seemed pretty ominous. But it was probably nothing.

He continued, “It’s hard to find someone like you.” His voice was a little softer. Before she could ask more, Sam had come back with large wet spot on his shirt.

It would be crazy to think that... It was even crazy to believe that Dean... maybe felt differently than Sam about her. That there were feelings? No way. Dean was a closed off shell, he was... broken, still trying to put the pieces back together but not the right way. Instead taking the time to let things cure, it was slapped together with craft glue. It would do the trick, sure, but not if it was rushed, not if it was too much. (Y/N) knew that from experience. She finished her pistol by putting it back together and putting everything back into her duffel bag before heading to bed.

(Y/N) hadn’t been sleeping long before the blinking red emergency lights flashing against her eye lids woke her up.

“What the...” She grumbled, squinting her eyes to look around. The realization hit her like a brick. She jumped out of bed, heart pounding and reached for her duffel of weapons only to realize they weren’t there.

What was she doing to do? She couldn’t hear Dean or Sam. It was too quiet in the bunker, there had to be something wrong. Loud crashing made her spin around quickly, staring out the door into the scarlet hallway.

“Son of a bitch.”

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

And that’s part 1! I hope you guys enjoy. I got a burst of energy to write today, let’s see if I can make it last and put some more stuff out today.

read part 2 here!

General tag:

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@tranzfred

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@tloveswriting

@samros95

@calaofnoldor

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #maxineswritingcenter #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader

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ba-responds · 5 years ago

Text

Catharsis (Villain!Deku x Fem!Reader) Chapter One

A/n: Here’s chapter one! 10 pages with over 3K words. I got a bit carried away with this one. It may be a little all over the place, but eh. Enjoy!

This story will contain dark themes! Please read the warning!

Summary: An unexpected death of a loved one can lead to a sudden influx of emotions. Those same emotions can become repressed, as denial and disbelief comes into play. In this time, one would seek a means of catharsis, a release from those strong, repressed emotions. But what would you do if that means of catharsis, the same release you sought so hard for, becomes addicting? To the extent, that you feel you can not live without it? What if it can’t live without you? **WARNING: This story MAY contain; bullying, suicide, depression, torture, manipulation, mentions of sexual assault, and MORE! You have been warned.

Masterlist

Prologue II Chpt 1 II Check Masterlist for next chapters!

Chapter One: Broken Ribs and Grieving Baskets

You first met Izuku because of his mother, Inko Midoriya. You were around seven years old when you moved to the Shizuoka prefecture, more precisely Musutafu, near tears as your parents moved boxes into the new house you’d be living in. The house was a plain looking two story townhouse, in which one side is connected to another home. A moving van sat out front, the bright coloring on the side spelling out the name of the moving company, but you didn’t care to even attempt at reading it. You sat pouting on the curb behind your parents parked car, refusing to help with the moving.

You missed your old home. You didn’t want to leave it yet.

You felt hoodwinked.

Your parents told you that you would be moving to a new house and going to a different school long before the moving process started, but the reality of it didn’t hit your kid mind, until everything was packed, and your mother was telling you to say goodbye to the old house. Hell, you gladly helped pack everything you could from the old house with no issue, and even bragged to your classmates about moving, but as soon as it was time to actually leave, the waterworks started.

“I don’t wanna say goodbye!” you had cried suddenly, grabbing onto your father’s leg, tears streaming down your chubby cheeks. You dad patted your back soothingly, as he sighed lightly, probably expecting this to happen sooner or later. He knelt down to your height, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

“We have to, we’re going to the new house,” he muttered softly, bringing your head to rest against his shoulder. “This house will miss you, just like you’ll miss it, but you have to say goodbye.”

“No!” you wailed, stomping your little foot on the ground, before hugging your dad closer. You mom, who bend down yo your height as well, whispered encouraging words into your ear for a few minutes, before they finally dragged you away to the awaiting car.

And now, here you sat, on the dirty curb outside your new home, clutching a small toy popper. Flipping the toy inside out, you quickly set it on the ground and waited for it to pop up. After a few seconds, it did, flying a few feet into the air, before gravity took ahold of it once again. It rolled a few feet away from you, making you stand up to get it. Squatting down, you repeated the process of flipping the toy inside out, letting it pop, then chasing after the small toy.

It was a quick and simple process that easily caught your full attention, forgetting for a few minutes why you were sad earlier.

Flip.

POP.

Grab.

Flip.

POP.

Grab.

Flip.

POP.

Grab.

Flip.

POP.

...And down the gutter it went.

You stood still, eyes trained on the shallow gutter your toy just went into. You could see the bright color of the toy, but you knew that you would never be able to reach it. You took in a deep breath, tears already gathered behind your eyes. Just as you were about to let out a wail of pure anguish at losing your toy, a voice cut you off.

“Oh, here sweetie. Let me get it,” the gentle voice cooed from beside you. You turned your tear-filled gaze to the woman beside you. She was young looking, maybe a bit younger than your own parents, with short dark green hair. She gave you a bright smile, before kneeling down beside you, her gaze turning to the grates of the gutter before you.

“T-Thank you,” you mumbled, wiping your arms across your face before looking back at her, wanting to see her get your toy.

She held a hand out, making small movements like she was pulling the object towards her hand from a far. You watched in amazement as your popper rose out of the gutter, and eventually into her hand.

“Your quirk is like mines!” You breathed out, eyes twinkling as if you just met a hero. She seemed surprised at your sudden burst of awe. You watched as she smiled shyly, her face tilting down slightly in embarrassment.

You leapt up, staggering a few steps back before holding a hand out towards the small toy still in her hand. Your arm lit up in your favorite color, the color seeming to run through your veins underneath your skin, creeping farther up until the colors were dancing across your neck and starting to seep onto your face. Concentrating, you willed the toy closer towards you, only for it to make it about half a foot, before plopping to the ground as the color faded from your skin.

With a large beaming smile, you turned your gaze from the toy towards the older woman, waiting for the praise she was sure to give you.

And you were correct. She gave a small gasp, before clapping lightly, amusement clear in her eyes.

“Wow! What a great quirk!” She praised, picking the toy back up and holding it out to you. Still beaming, you graciously took it from her, clutching it towards your chest as warmth spread through your body at the compliment. You muttered a bashful ‘thank you’ as you watched the woman stand up, her slender fingers smoothing out the dark gray skirt she had on.

“Well, I have to go pick up my son from school. How about I bring him back this way so that you could meet him?” She questioned, giving you a gentle pat on the head. You nodded ecstatically at the thought of making a new friend in this new place. She giggled before stepping away with a wave and a promise of being back in a few. You waved back, slightly disappointed that you couldn’t show off the little control you had over your quirk, before jogging to your new home to wait.

You sat contently on the curb behind your parents car once again; this time deciding to fiddle with the popper in your hand instead of letting it fly and pop around again. You could hear your parents joke around behind you as they gathered the last of the boxes to carry inside.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” You called, not bothering to look back. You head your dad mutter something along the lines of “Hi hungry, I’m dad” before your mom answered you.

“We’ll head out to get something to eat in an hour, let us bring these last few boxes inside and rest a bit.”

You nodded silently, your attention now locked on the popper once again as it pinched the delicate skin of your finger, causing you to hiss.

Ten minutes passed of you boredly picking at the pavement.

And it was a long ten minutes.

Looking up and down the block again to hopefully find something to cure your boredom, you nearly jumped up at the sight of the woman from before. She was heading your way, this time with a small boy holding her hand. The boy looked just like her, with dark curly green hair, wearing a light blue sweater over a white collared shirt, dark pants and bright red shoes.

A new friend!

You stared at him as they came closer, before shooting up when they were about 10 feet away. He stared at you too, watching in confusement as you held out your hand. His mom pushed him forward slightly, encouraging him to meet you.

“Hi,”

“...Hi,”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

But that was all in the past.

The care-free past that you shared with the boy.

And now here you were. Sobbing pathetically in your bed.

Chest heaving, you struggled to keep in your pitiful cries. It felt as if you had been crying continuously for years; your eyes burned, and cheeks felt sore with the constant, furious rubbing to clear away the tears. You cleared your throat softly, wincing at the stinging from it being sore. Eyeing your bedside table, you tried to remember where you last had the bag of cough drops, concluding that you should have a few inside the drawer to the table. Sucking in as big of a breathe you could manage with your broken ribs, you heaved yourself up from your propped-up position on your bed.

A wave of exhaustion passed you, the lack of sleep you’ve gotten over the past two weeks, catching up to you again. With a shaky breath, one arm went instinctively around your torso to stabilize yourself as you reached into the bedside table’s drawer. Your fingers found the small white-wrapped cough drop, immediately fiddling with it to get the pesky wrapper off. Popping the sweet medicine into your mouth, you turned your gaze to your phone, clicking it on to check the time.

It was still early in the day, barely past six in the morning. You guessed that you may have gotten a good two hours worth of sleep the night before; your racing mind and the seemingly never-ending pain from your broken rib hindering the process of falling asleep.

Despite that, you decided to get up earlier than usual, to ensure that there would be plenty of time to slowly get ready for school, knowing that your freshly broken rib would slow the speed of your usual morning routine dramatically. Despite the fact that your rib was broken over a week ago, it still felt as bad, if not worse, than it did the day it happened.

Not bothering to attempt the wipe the dried tears on your cheeks, you slowly stood up from your comfortable bed. Taking small breaths as to not irritate your ribs, you carefully made your way out of your room, and to the nearest bathroom.

You winced as the floorboards gave off a slight creak, pausing in your steps, hoping that your parents wouldn’t wake up due to the small noise. When there was no indication that that has happened, you continued to the bathroom, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you. Making your way over to the medicine cabinet, you pulled down the pain medicine that was prescribed to you from the doctors. Taking the recommended 2 pills, you set the rest on the counter, hoping that you would remember to bring it with you to school.

With slight hesitation, you looked up into the mirror in front of you, taking in you battered form. The bruises Katsuki gave you had faded for the most part, but the healing cuts remained.

“Bakugo- He doesn’t deserve to be called by his first name--Not anymore” You thought to yourself bitterly, feeling your throat clenched in anger. Tears of frustration crept into your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. “He doesn’t deserve my tears.”

Turning away from the mirror, you stepped closer to the bathtub, taking a deep breath as you prepared yourself to slowly lower your body into the filling tub of hot water and epsom salt. Biting your tongue, since you couldn’t bite your lip because it was still healing, you gently lowered yourself into the water; your jaw dropping open as waves of pain coursed through your body because of your broken rib, your arms shaking as they barely held your weight. Finally sitting down, you let out shallow, and shaky breaths as you mentally pleaded for the pain to go away

After a minute, the pain finally lessened into a dull throbbing, which was good enough for you at the moment. Stretching your legs as far as you could, you rolled your shoulders, trying to let your muscles relax as you began doing the deep breathing exercises the doctors recommended. Closing your eyes, you focused on how good the hot water felt, letting the tension in your body slowly go away as much as it could. Resting your head back, you felt a brief wave of restlessness take over, you eyes becoming half lidded as you glanced around the bathroom. With the comforting heat of the bathwater, and the little amount of sleep you had gotten over the last week, you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness, not having the energy not to fall asleep.

Unruly green hair, and beautiful green eyes.

Freckled cheeks, and a bright smile.

Ordinary perfection.

Deep seas, and filled lungs.

Bloated bodies, and police sirens.

The death of a beautiful soul.

Waking up with a start, you gasped for breath as you clutched your side, pain shooting throughout your body from the sudden movement. Tears welling up behind your eyes once again, as you quickly wrapped a hand around your mouth, muffling the onslaught of sobs that burst forward.

“Why? Why would you do that, Izu?” You couldn’t help but wonder, tightening the one-armed grip you had around the front of your torso. Your body burned with pain, and the deep sobs that racked your body didn’t help in the slightest.

Why?

“It hurts.”

The walk to and from school is the hardest for you. Every time you left your home and got to the end of the block, it would seem as if a fresh wave of emotions overtook you as you had to force yourself to go straight, and not turn with the intent to meet Izuku a few blocks down. Your heart would ache, and chest would tighten as you would walk alone.

Entering the school only the second time since... the incident, you walked with your head downcast, attempting to avoid all the pitied stares, and sympathetic whispers. Of course, after being away from school for a little over a week, your presence would cause a slight stir in your homeroom, not to mention the addition of the bruises and cuts on your face.

Upon entering, most conversations seemed to hush, but a few continued. You refused to look anyone in the eyes, and quietly made your way down the aisle and to your seat. However, before you could reach your seat, a colorful sight was caught in the corner of your eye. Taking a quick glance, you realized what they were.

Flowers.

Dozens of them.

All of them colorful, beautiful, and not missing a single petal as if they were never actually touched.

All covering the seat and table of one specific desk. The one diagonal to the left of yours.

Izuku’s.

Your fist clenched, along with your heart. A flicker of fire seemed to ignite in your chest as you quickly took your seat, squeezing your eyes closed as you tried to regulate your breathing,

“All those flowers. All of those fucking flowers. All from students and staff. The same fucking students and staff that stood by and did nothing when Izuku was bullied. The same ones that did nothing, but torment him further. Just for being quirkless. The same ones that pushed him into it. The same ones that are the reason for what he did.”

Your chest hurt. The pain was worse than ever before.

You sat alone during lunch, opting to sit outside, leaning against the same wall that Bakugo threw you into only days before. Your lunchbox sat untouched beside you as you stared blankly down at your phone; not particularly looking at anything, but staring at it none-the-less so it would seem like you were busy.

Instead, your mind was a war zone of emotions and thoughts. There was so many things you wanted to do, but you knew you couldn’t.

Well, more like shouldn’t.

You wanted revenge. You wanted to make all the students hurt inside like you were. No, you wanted them to hurt inside much worse...like what Mama Midoriya must be feeling. The pain of loss; the pain of regret; the pain of feeling as if you should’ve done more.

The pain of guilt.

You wanted to scream; You wanted to cry; You wanted for this pain inside to stop.

But it wouldn’t.

The ringing of the class bell snapped you out of your dark thoughts, causing you to let out a soft sigh. Grabbing ahold of wall behind you, you carefully stood up, wincing once again as you broken rib stung with a searing pain. After standing up and gathering your bearings, you snatched up your still full lunch box, unzipping it and dumping it into the trash nearby; just the thought of eating seemed to make your stomach churn.

As the last class of the day came to a finish, you silently packed your belongings into your bookbag; not noticing the way your classmates seemed to look at you in worry. Soon after, a body stepped in front of your desk, the room suddenly quiet. Looking up, you noticed a brown, short haired girl standing nervously in front of you, as most of the class seemed to wait with bated breaths.

“U-Um, (L/n), w-we, the class, wanted to g-give you this. W-we know that this is a hard time f-for you, losing someone so close to you, s-so we hoped this will at least make you feel a little bit better,” she stuttered out loud for the class to hear, pulling out a small basket, that held a small assortment of cookies, books, fruits, and other things. You felt your heart begin to pound harshly in your chest, as you stared at the grieving basket held in her hands. Your fingers twitched before your fist clenched, as you snapped your eyes up to her fast, finally meeting her gaze. Taking a deep breath, you narrowed your eyes, making her blink slightly in shock.

“So, you’re telling me that you want me to accept this basket, this fucked up excuse of a grieving basket, as an apology from the class for years of torment? For years of fucking bullying? For all the shit in the past you’ve put us through? A fucking basket?” You growled out, standing abruptly, causing your chair to fly backwards. From underneath your uniform, a faint glow could be seen, as your quirk began to activate, the glow coming from all across your body, as the thin lines of color had began to grow brighter.

“Not to mention, none of you even had the guts to actually apologize for the hell you put us through. I’m not even the one who deserves the fucking apology, its Inko Midoriya, whose son’s body the police pulled from the fucking ocean.”

By now, some of the empty desk and chairs began to levitate a few feet off the floor. The girl in front of you, stared with wide, guilty eyes, tears close to falling. She took a measly step back, her mouth opening, but no words coming out. Tears were falling freely from your eyes, your chest heaving, the pain from your rib momentarily forgotten, as rage seemed to overtake your body.

“IT WAS HER SON WHO TIED WEIGHTS TO HIS LEGS AND THREW HIMSELF INTO THE OCEAN. IT’S HER WHO HASN’T BEEN ABLE TO LIVE WITH HERSELF SINCE. IT IS HER WHO HAS TO LIVE INSIDE THAT HOME ALONE NOW. ALL BECAUSE SOME STUPID FUCKING KIDS WOULDN’T LEAVE HER SON ALONE; WHO MADE THIS SEEM LIKE HIS ONLY OPTION. SO FUCK YOUR DAMN BASKET, AND FUCK EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU MURDERS. I HOPE YOU ALL ROT IN HELL”

With your last words, you shoved the girl away, as the desk and chairs under your control slammed into the walls around you, some of them clipping the sides of your classmates, who all let out a small scream of panic. Snatching you bookbag, you stormed towards the door, your telekinetic quirk shoving away anything in your way, people included. As you reached the door, the figure standing to the side of it caught your attention. You glared in hatred at Bakugo, baring your teeth.

“Especially, you.” You hissed.

Despite pushing all of you hatred, anger, sadness and frustration onto Bakugo and the rest of the class, you knew the truth behind your feelings.

You blamed yourself.

It's your fault.

Why couldn’t you just be there for him?

Why didn’t you see his pain?

Why didn’t you do more?

There seems to be one question that lingers in your head that could sum up all that has happened in the past.

Just, why?

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya imagine #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #villain!deku

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bnhaworld · 6 years ago

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One Last Petal // Denki Kaminari x Fem!Reader (Hanahaki AU)

Hanahaki: Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear. (Fanlore.org)

Note: I used to version of Hanahaki where you lose all feelings when it is surgically removed, not just romantic feelings.

Word Count: 5.8k+

In which Denki comes down with Hanahaki.

Your hands first fell into Denki’s at the ripe age of eight. You met him in school, and almost instantly, you both became attached to each other at the hip. You grew up side-by-side, each of you growing slowly into the body of a teenager. Each year only brought you closer to him. As you each matured, so did you friendship.

He always knew exactly what to say to you, and exactly what made you giggle and snicker with that musical laugh he loved to watch bubble passed your mouth. Of course, your relationship was purely platonic. There was no reason behind why your heart sped up when he scooped you up in his arms or when he held you against his chest while tears spilled down your cheeks in a sloppy way.

As you both rolled into different high schools, he began talking to you about other girls. He was constantly going back and forth, going on dates with girls left and right. At first, it bothered you immensely that he was indecisive and bouncing between girls like he was at a buffet choosing what to eat. After some time, though, you came to find that it wasn’t a big deal. He was simply going through a phase. Soon enough, he’d get over it and your friendship would re-blossom. Right?

One night, he showed up outside your front door, with bright eyes and darkened cheeks, a huge smile spanning across his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back as he scooped you up in his arms and gave you a swift twirl before placing you back before him. His eyes were near twinkling as he let out a sigh, holding his head between in his hands.

“I feel like I’ve met the one, (Y/N)..” He murmured softly, shutting his eyes as though he were trying to relive his passed moments. You felt your stomach churn at his words. Maybe the food you had eaten earlier was simply poking around. You had no reason to be worried, right?

You sat on the stairs before your house, motioning for Denki to plop down beside you. He placed a hand on his forehead and dropped beside you, his head falling onto your shoulder like a puzzle piece that was just meant to be there. Your cheeks darkened slightly, but it was something you chalked up to the warm winds softly flowing passed you. There, you asked him who he had met.

He went on to describe someone who sounded like they were practically the opposite of you. He spoke in such an animated fashion, his hands flying around the air as he accentuated his words with such fervent energy, his cheeks never once being alleviated from the gentle dusting of blush. The whole time, you listened carefully, your eyes sparkling as you watched the way his face lit up like a lovesick puppy. He spoke about her like it was the first time he had ever experienced being near a pretty girl.

Something was different about this time, though. There was something more present in the way he spoke about the way her hair perfectly framed her face and the way he described the sound of her laugh. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, though. You only felt as though you were going to throw up at any time.

“Denki, you’re making me sick with all that mushy grossness.” You pretended to gag, holding your shirt in your hands. He looked a bit disappointed at your reaction. He scooped your hands into his and gazed into your eyes, his golden orbs shimmering directly at you. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you averted your gaze near instantly.

“I’m serious, (Y/N). I really like her.” He spoke in a grave tone. It was one of the very few times you had ever heard such a serious tone in his voice, that you found your heart fall onto the sidewalk beside you.

“I’m sure she’ll like you back, Denki. Just talk to her, yeah?” You smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn’t see passed your facade. His seriousness fell beside your heart and was promptly replaced with a gracious grin.

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m great!” He pulled his sleeves back and pretended to flex, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You broke out into a fit of laughter that he soon joined, his arm clutching onto yours as he tried to steady himself and calm his growing laughter.

Your laugh died down slowly as you stared at him, taking in the sound of his melodic laugh and how his open smile reached his gorgeous, sparkling orbs. Looking into his eyes, you wondered if he had plucked the very stars in the sky and placed them between the swirls of his sun-colored eyes. You knew the feeling bubbling up in your heart ache as you watched him settle down from his pure fit. You instantly heaved your eyes away from him and focused them along the falling sun in the horizon. With a final dreamy sigh, he placed his head back onto the space on your shoulder meant just for him. He watched the sun with you, silence wafting through the air. To him, the air was normal. But to you, you felt your shoulders caving in and your eyes growing dull.

Once the sun had quietly been whisked away, Denki stood up and prepared his leave. It was the moon’s shift, and it was his signal to head home for the night. He gave you one last squeeze before parting away from you and disappearing into the darkness of the streets.

You pressed a pair of hands on your forehead, staring down at the gray concrete lining the ground, willing an answer to carve itself out before you. After a few minutes, you decided your answer wouldn’t present itself. You headed inside.

You shared brief moments with Denki. It seemed as though your time with him was lessening ever since he had brought up this new girl in his life. Most of his time with you was spent with you squeezing in a pair of words between his endless rambles about this girl you had yet to meet.

He described the way she grabbed his shoulder whenever he made her laugh, and the way her eyes lit up when he came around. As you thought about the way she acted, you only found yourself realizing you acted the same way with him. His speech seemed to go on for hopeless hours, with you holding on to every word. Why wouldn’t he see you that way?

You quickly shook your head, as though urging the thought to make like a butterfly and find its way through the air and away from your mind.

As you listened to him talk, you found yourself recalling the many years you had spent beside him, supporting him with everything you had and him doing the same for you. He had never once allowed a tear to slip past his hands as he constantly was there to wipe them away. Denki never let you be in pain. There were countless times where he’d defend you and protect you from the things that brought you pain. As you watched him talk, now, you were sure that you had to set your feelings aside and make sure he was happy.

“Hey Denki?” You spoke up. Almost instantly, his puppy dog eyes turned toward you, the excited smile that spanned across his lips never quite losing its joy. “I’m happy you found someone you love.”

His cheeks turned red, but it only seemed to fuel his glee. He looked down at his lap, smiling down as though thinking of a fond memory.

“I’m happy too.”

Eventually, the sun dismissed itself from the seen, taking your personal source of light away with it. You waved at Denki’s retreating form, taking in the newly formed bounce to his every step. You couldn’t help but grow a smile on your own.

You were happy for him. You truly were. Despite the fact that you wanted to be the reason behind that smile you were so blessed to take part in, you knew better than to hold back the way your best friend felt. After all, he was your best friend before he was anything else.

The sound of his yelling was what woke you up the following morning. You groggily fixed yourself up as much as you felt like and headed downstairs, yawning the whole way down.

You opened the door, ready to greet Denki. You nearly toppled over as he tossed himself around you and began giggling like a mad lunatic. You felt a tad uneasy, feeling as though you knew where this laughter was coming from.

“She said she’ll go on a date with me!” He beamed happily at you. Your eyes widened as you stared at him. Your heart suddenly felt as though thousands of hands were pulling down, your stomach becoming a mosh pit for all sorts of pain and doubts.

“Th-That’s great, Denki..” You murmured, peering off to the side.

He opened his mouth to speak, and almost instantly, he began to hunch over. You swiftly rushed over to him, holding onto him and patting his back as he struggled to choke out the strange lump climbing its way out of his throat. His hand was above his mouth, the skin around his mouth growing pale and white. In one final gag, he spat out what had been choking him.

A small bundle of wet, pink petals appeared in the palm of his hand. He lifted the other hand to wipe away the saliva dripping from his panting lips. He stared down at the petals, scrunching up his face like a confused baby discovering something for the first time. He quickly rubbed the petals off on his jeans, the petals falling apart between his fingers until they calmly floated to the floor.

“That was fucking weird.” He murmured softly, lifting up his hands to get a quick glance at the pink stain on his palm. He shoved said hand into the slit of his pocket and returned his excited glance to you.

Something about the short experience felt vaguely familiar. Everything in you screamed that this was much more severe than just a few stray petals somehow exiting Denki through his mouth. You ignored the feeling and chose to join Denki in his excessive celebration of his achievement.

He left after describing the movie and restaurant he intended to take her to. You stopped listening after a few words, your focus entirely hooked onto the petals slowly being whisked away by the gentle breeze. He was taking her to the theatre tonight. You bid him a quick hug of luck before he disappeared.

You found yourself wandering toward you computer mindlessly, your brain looping the image of Denki hacking out a slew of pastel flower petals.

You popped open Google and searched up the symptom. Your result appeared behind the screen. Pixels upon pixels describing a disease in which you could lose everything just for loving someone who didn’t love you back. Your eyes nervously flicked back and forth between the words. Any other explanation was physically impossible- there was no way he didn’t suffer from the Hanahaki disease. Wordlessly, you shut off your computer and headed away for the night, the same video constantly replaying in your head.

The week after his date, Denki came over once more, moist petals peeking out of his pockets, and a few stray ones scattered across his attire. His head was drooping, and the space beneath his eyes were grimly outlined in a plum-like shade. His cheeks were reddened and tears never seemed to quit parting from his broken-looking optics. He looked as though all the life of his love had been drained away in such a violent fashion that he was suffering from an emotional whiplash.

You rushed toward him as quick as your quivering legs would take you, and you wrapped your arms around him, gulping down to dilute the guilt building in your heart. You knew his experience wasn’t on you, but you couldn’t help but take part in his wailing pain.

He gripped at the back of your shirt, lowering his head to bury it in your shoulder. With each gut-wrenching sob, his grip on your shirt would tighten, every release warranting a quick loosening before his inhalation would quickly make his fists clenched around the fabric once more.

Just as his breathing seem to relax, he began to hack and twitch over your shoulder. You clutched on to him, already aware of the petals falling behind you. Once the last, ripped petal floated onto the ground, he pulled away, lowering his eyes.

“She doesn’t love me.” He murmured softly, sniffling quietly. “I went to the doctor. These damned petals..”

He dunked his hands into his pockets and retrieved the entire pile of petals, tossing them to the ground with anger and stomping his foot against them, a broken grunt slipping passed his trembling lips with every step against the floor. All you could do was watch. You wanted to avert your eyes, but you couldn’t. Especially not since you knew what he was going to tell you.

“I’m gonna get surgery next month, (Y/N).” A sad smile settled on his lips. “They’re removing the flowers from.. from my lungs. It’s hanahaki. It has me.”

Your eyes softened as he stepped toward you once more. You didn’t have a single word to tell him. You only knew it was your turn to burying your face in the comfort of his shoulder, sobs slipping passed your lips as he gently stroked your hair. His own tears were falling onto your locks, but it was the least of you worries.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), I’ll be okay!” He pulled away, hands never breaking away from your shoulders. “I’m still gonna care about you.”

You stared up at him. You wanted to believe him, to trust his words, but it felt like he was reassuring himself rather than offering you support for your growing fear. He silently pulled you back into him, his breaths becoming more steady as he thought about all he would lose.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and ruffled your hair before leaving. Your stomach bubbled and your cheeks brightened at the action, but you ignored the way your breath seemed to leave your throat.

“You’ll always be my best friend.”

The words replayed in your mind. It was with that small action, and the sudden news that you made you realize that the feeling you had been avoiding all this time was now blatantly there.

You gripped at you knees, suddenly feeling the air rush out of you. As you were coughing and inhaling any oxygen that could slip passed the thing blocking off your air, you felt yourself panic. You didn’t want to admit it. You had spent years happily avoiding it, years being able to distract yourself with the attention of other people.

There was no longer a doubt in your mind as you coughed out a single, yellow petal into the palm of your hand, its ends sticking to your skin. You felt tears begin to drip down your cheek.

You were in love with your best friend. And Denki didn’t love you back.

The day of the surgery came. You had spent all those weeks tossing petals into trash cans and burying them wherever you could. The longer you spent with Denki, enjoying his last moments of happiness, the more golden petals you croaked out.

Denki’s family allowed you to be there. His entire family was well aware of your friendship. Though they never admit it, they were sure that the feelings that were tearing him apart were for you. When they found out it wasn’t they could only offer their wordless comfort. You had grown incredibly close to his family and vice versa. It was only natural that after years of time at his home, his family would come to love you.

You sat in the waiting room, impatiently bouncing your legs and fiddling with your fingers. The surgery would take 3 hours but for every excruciating moment, you found yourself saying goodbye to the endless stream of memories that you had shared with the bright boy.

You were going to miss his captivating smile, and the allure of his mesmerizing yellow eyes. You were going to miss the warmth of his arms and the comforting words that so easily were formed in your presence. Your mind wandered to the final kiss he had given you a month earlier.

Almost instantly, you began to cough and shake, hands gripped onto the rail of the seat as you bent over.

Several petals slapped onto the ground, a few ripping apart as they brushed passed your teeth. You stared down at the petals. You had been completely unaffected by the petals. You were so used to the few moments where the sparkling bits of sunflower would fall from you.

But in front of you, was Denki’s family.

His family was staring at you, eyes widened. His mother’s eyes began to water at its corners as she stared at the petals on the ground. She looked as though she wanted to apologize to you, but the words could not form themselves on her lips.

It was evident who your petals were falling for, by the golden pattern that decorated each petal that fell from you. You turned away from each person, unable to look each in the eye. Once you looked back, Denki’s mother had placed herself before you and quietly pulled you into her arms, shaking as she gently stroked your back.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I’m so sorry..” She repeated the words over and over again. She was in mourning over her son, and now she had to deal with watching you break apart, as well. You quietly hugged her back, letting out a near silent sob. The air was the thick with the gravity of the situation.

Eventually, you had fallen asleep. You weren’t quite sure when you had come to fall asleep, your heavy head leaning on Denki’s mother. You slowly lifted up your head, eyes wide as the the doctor you recognized to be Denki’s surgeon slowly came out of the room. You gently, yet quickly tugged her arm, giving her a chaste shake. She immediately awoke.

Denki was okay. He was still under anesthetics, and it seemed as though the procedure went well. He would be out in the morning.

Without his feelings.

You chose to ignore such a feeble thought. Right now, you wanted to focus on Denki and the fact that he had come out well and alive.

You looked up at the blonde woman, pleading with your eyes that you could be the first to see him. She reluctantly obliged, motioning for you to go ahead of her. With a rushed thanks, you swiftly entered the room.

Almost instantly, your eyes landed on Denki. His eyes were open, stray lines wrinkling the crescent slanted beneath his gray orbs. His hair seemed flat, as though someone had placed a darkening filter over his usually ecstatic hair. His skin seemed paler, especially around his arms which looked like twigs compared to their usual volume. A permanent straight line was in place of where is usually large smile would be. He looked at you with a bored expression, eyes occasionally flicking toward the monitor surveying his heart beat.

You happily sat beside him, scooping his hand in yours. It was cold to the touch, the skin dry and uneven. Your brows knitted together at the strange sensation but with a calming breath, you resumed your personal glee at seeing him being alive and well.

“Hey Denki!” You beamed at him, secretly hoping that your faux happiness was strong enough to convince him to smile right back at you.

He slowly drew his hand away from you and placed it on his own chest, his gaze growing focused on the white wall.

“Hi.” His voice sounded dull, and devoid. He wouldn’t look at you. It even seemed as though his very voice was meant for anyone but you. You winced without a word.

“How.. do you feel?” You asked shyly, trying you best to make conversation. His eyes moved once more, this time toward the IV bag rhythmically letting droplets sift through the syringe and into Denki’s wrists. He shrugged, eyes following the drops from where they began to where they came into his arm.

You wanted to slap him. You wanted to be angry at him, to be frustrated for him not emanating the very electricity he was born with. Anger felt so much less painful than being sad, and yet, you could only find the tender touch of sadness gripping at your arms and restraining you from even daring to bring any more harm to the poor boy who had suffered in silence for all this time.

“You don’t know?” You asked, gulping away the growing lump in your throat. His broke, gray eyes suddenly flicked towards you, taking note of your entire body before they landed softly on yours.

“I’m okay. I guess. I don’t really feel anything.” He explained in a soft tone. “I’m okay. I think that’s good..”

You only nodded at him, giving his hand a squeeze. You stared at him, waiting for any kind of response. But his hand never even attempted to grab yours back.

Quietly, you bid him farewell and allowed his mother to take your place. You pushed passed her, ignoring her question about your own welfare and finding the fastest way to get home.

You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stand to see him gone. That boy laying solemnly in the hospital bed wasn’t the Denki you loved. He was some random stranger taking his turn in his body and ruining it. His stars were ripped from his eyes and the color you had grown to admire was darkened and near gone from his eyes.

It hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

You went home practically running, petals occasionally slipping out of your throat. By this point, the petals had grown to be nothing but a minor inconvenience. Only the occasional petal would cause you to lurch and hack, but most of the time it was only young sunflower blades that would breeze away from you. You completely ignored the way the petals’ color was fading, a lackluster gray taking place of the color you loved.

Your walking began to slow as you eyed your house. With every step you took, another ounce of determination began to work away at the broken feelings you felt hammering at your heart. You were going to help Denki to feel again, whether it was the last thing you did or not.

“We’re trying the zoo, today, Denki.” You held onto Denki’s hand showing him the next location on the list tucked away in the midst of your notebook. He read the words blankly before looking back at you.

Over the past three months, you had been taking Denki everywhere. You would take him to places you used to be, places you wanted to go to and simply places you’d never been to.

He seemed more active these days. His eyes were beginning to glow a bit, yellow swirls mingling with the gray color you had grown to detest. The black streak in hair now looked more prominent against his brightening locks. You had even gotten him to smile once, though it was at you tripping. It was one of the best moments you’d experienced.

It hurt.

You looked at Denki, watching as he pondered the park you were currently in. It was the same park you had grown up in. The tree in the very center had his name carved in it, with half of yours.. he had given up halfway, his little hands growing red from all the gripping on the kitchen knife he had stolen for the sole purpose of engraving your friendship forever.

The sun was caught midway its descent, its bright light leading a gentle ripple of vivid scenery to stretch across the span of atmosphere. You sat beside the husk of the boy you had grown to love so much, your head placed against his shoulder. You placed your hand on his lap, your palm facing upwards in hopes he’d take ahold of it.

You sat in the silence of the park. It was growing colder in the air, so the park was nearly deserted, save for the couple sharing a moment by the swingset. You couldn’t help but watch them. The way the girl giggled as the boy swooped in to capture her lips with his, her hands coming up to pull him into her.

You instantly glanced at Denki. He seemed to keep his eyes in the same area, the yellow swirls in his eyes becoming more accentuated. Your eyes widened near instantly as a subtle smile stretched across his face. His hands reached for yours, and he placed his hand in yours, tangling his fingers between yours.

You looked up at him, and you felt your heart begin to pump. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse quickened at the simple action. You could practically hear the way your heart pumped in your ears, and your heart began to ache as it tried to keep up with your breathing.

It was a subtle, brief action. It was amazing how crazy you felt yourself become, though, you could easily credit to the lack of affection you had received from his part compared to the constant ardor you displayed for him.

You turned toward the couple for a quick glance, watching as they exited the park hand-in-hand. For a brief moment, you imagined it was Denki.

Your cheeks darkened as you imagined yourself, hand in hand with Denki, subtle sparks causing tingles to move in and out of your fingers. You thought about the way he would laugh at the subtle feeling, and the way your face would scrunch up. Your mind told you he would call you adorable, his once golden eyes shimmering once more with the glee it had. The same shine you had fallen in love with.

The reaction came almost instantly.

You immediately stood from yourself, prying your hand away from Denki and clasping it down on your knees as you keeled over. You felt yourself panic. Before you could try and escape from Denki and the imminent explanation, they came.

The endless stream of gray petals fell to the ground, each once falling on top of the last until they formed a huge pile of petals on the ground. You stared down at the petals, saliva dripping down your chin. Your eyes widened as you stared at the pattern.

There were gray petals mixed along with sparkling, yellow ones. A few even had a mixture of two, the two colors mingling amongst each other in swirls and twirls. Your eyes shot up to Denki once the sudden change in color registered.

His hair shone bright, despite the fact that the moon was out and reflecting off his suddenly golden eyes. His very skin seemed to glow, his arms seeming more full than you could remember. Everything about him suddenly became the most beautiful combination of colors.

Your eyes teared up as you stared at him. You weren’t sure what to make of it. His jaw was tightened, eyes hovering over his hands and touching his face as he made sure he was truly present. He broke his glance away and peered at you, then at the pile of petals slowly being blown away by the subtle night breeze.

“(Y/N).” He murmured, looking away from you. The petals had regained their color with Denki, and it was blatantly true that he still didn’t have it in him to love you in the way you had come to love him.

You couldn’t care less if he still didn’t love you. He was in front of you and in color. You launched yourself toward him, throwing your arms around his neck and nuzzling into him the way you had dreamt so long of doing. He only held you as you cried, soft tears of his own staining your shirt.

“You’re back..!” You whispered softly, running your hands over his hair in disbelief. He only nodded on your shoulder.

“I’m back, (Y/N)..!”

You walked Denki home that night, holding his hand and refusing to let it go for any reason. You stood outside as you heard his family rejoicing at the sight of their boy in color. You smiled softly, walking slowly away from the house.

You looked down at your phone, the words Thank you spanning across your screen. You sent Denki’s mom a smiley face with a million hearts. No amount of words or emoticons would describe the feeling of Denki’s return.

As you walked home, you coughed up a single petal. It was golden in color and seemed to shine and sparkle no matter which angle the light hit it from. You shoved it in your pocket and continued on your path home, happily swinging your arms to an unknown rhythm.

You never coughed up another petal after that day. It was strange, really. You would find yourself coughing here and there, and feeling as though a petal would descend from your lips, but perhaps you were imagining it.

Denki was hanging out with you in any free time he could. Every moment spent with him was electrifying, with laughter bubbling through the air and a lot of unnoticed touches.

You were strolling toward the park, hand-in-hand with Denki as you reached the same park where you had always gone to, growing up. Your intertwined hands were swinging back and forth as you intently listened to Denki ramble about how the students at school reacted to him showing up with color. Your eyes were lit up, and you felt a smile so strong, it hurt your cheeks.

“..It was crazy, (Y/N)! You had to have seen it, I could’ve sworn that even the teachers were crying!” He exclaimed, begging for you to believe him. “Still, it’s crazy..”

He sighed softly as he dragged you over to the tree where your names.. well his name was carved onto.

He slid down the bark of the tree, plopping down on the ground. You cocked your head at him. He immediately started making grabby hands at you, pouting up at you. You giggled and turn away from him, cheeks burning as you plopped down between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He placed his arms around you and his head atop yours, another sigh melodically flowing passed his lips.

“I’m an idiot, (Y/N).” He whispered into your hair.

Your heart was pumping faster than you felt it ever had. You had no idea what had suddenly come over him. The sudden show of affection, and the more interest he showed in you. You found yourself wondering if he truly was back to normal or if somehow, coming back made him addicted to feelings.

“Why do you think that, Denki?” You replied, eyes locked onto the hands holding you against him and the feeling of his steady breathing on your head.

“Because you’re like..” You felt his head move away from you. “.. right here.”

You snickered softly, leaning forward a tad so you could turn around and look it him. You nearly felt your heart jump at him and claim him for itself.

His cheeks were a bright red, and his eyes refused to come anywhere near you. He was trying to look everywhere but you, and yet, you felt him watching you from the corner of his eyes.

You quickly reached over and grabbed him by the face, turning his now squished up face toward you before plopping your hand right back on his knee.

“Yeah? We’re.. friends, Denki. I always planned on being there for you. Why would it be different now?”

He let out a groan of frustration, burying his head into your back. You felt his lips moving as he tried to speak, but his voice came out completely muffled. After letting him speak for a little while, you finally gave in and pulled yourself away.

“I didn’t catch any of that.” You were grinning ear to ear. You were sure that he couldn’t get any cuter than this.

“I said..” He reached back, lightly scratching his back and averting his eyes toward the sky. “(Y/N), you’ve always been there for me. I don’t know how I haven’t seen it until now, but you’re so perfect.” You felt like every breath you took would be your last as your heart began to punch away at your rib cage in a quickening manner. You let out a soft hum, leaning back against him once more so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks warmed.

He only leaned forward, placing his head on your shoulder so your cheek was pressed against his as he began to speak again.

“You were there for me through everything. I didn’t even realize how much you liked me. Like, ever. Now here I am, trying to tell you that I need you, and I can’t even figure out how to put my words together. You literally helped me come back to life and I couldn’t even tell you that I loved you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart nearly halted in place. You had spent years fawning over the sparky boy who usually wouldn’t even give you the time of day, and now here he was, professing his suddenly found love for you.

“What did you say?” You asked, your voice coming out a whole lot quieter than you intended it to be.

He lifted you up, a soft giggle loosening your stuck breath as he turned you toward him. His eyes wandered over your face before they settled onto your eyes, twinkling with even stronger stars than you had ever witnessed him hold.

“I said I love you.” His grin reached his eyes and it was at that moment that he knew.

He pressed his lips against yours in an instant, and it was as if the world was being held still just for the two of you. He was holding you against him. The dream you had spent so many nights lamenting was real, and you were living in it. Every moment his lips moved against yours, you felt another firework burst within your heart, reminding you that that this was very real.

And as your eyes opened and locked onto his in the most natural way, as though your eyes meant for him and him alone. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes bright and full of adoration that you reflected back into his own golden eyes.

With a smile on your face, and warmth in your heart, you leaned in a little closer.

“I love you too, Denki.”

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