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mint-yooxgi · 1 year

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{27} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader - Final

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 14,770

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Mentions of past mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! The final part to book one!! Ahhhhhh!!! I can’t believe how far I've come!! Never did I expect such a simple one shot to turn into this, but here we are!! I really hope you all like this final chapter, I think it sort of rounds things out nicely and ends on a, quite literal, high note. Also, the two songs I highly recommend listening to during this part appear in the latter half of the fic. They are named when they come up, so I don’t want to spoil them here. I do highly recommend listening to at least the second one, as it is quite significant to the story and the characters. Anyways, enough of my ramblings lol, I hope you’ll all look forward to what book two has in store! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Twenty-Six - Mini Masterlist

A yawn escapes your lips as you slowly trudge your way down the hallway the very next day. You can hear the sounds of your slippers sliding against the floor with each step you take, bringing your hands up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Luckily, you managed to sleep much better last night. An ease settling over your mind enough so that you didn’t need to ask any one of them to influence your dreams. You also opted to sleep alone for the evening, stretching out on your bed as you relaxed into your covers..

Looks like that conversation yesterday really did help.

Walking into the kitchen, you freeze right in your tracks.

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times, before a lazy grin is tugging onto your features as you see three males positioned around the counter. All three sporting new hairstyles.

“Well, good morning to me,” you hum, taking in their appearances as they turn to look at you.

Both Seonghwa and San have returned to heads full of black hair. Where San’s is slightly longer in the back, the very ends a silvery blond underneath, Seonghwa has opted to give himself more of an undercut. The best part about the eldest’s cut is that when you get closer, you see a wave like design etched into the sides of his head, seeing as it’s pushed back for the moment. A fact which has you subconsciously stepping into his side to trace the design with your finger as you smile sleepily.

Even Jongho’s new head of fiery red hair suits him quite well, and you cannot help but to nod to yourself in approval of their choices.

“We take it you like the change?” Seonghwa chuckles, a shiver caressing his spine as he feels the tip of your finger ghosting along the side of his head.

“Oh, I more than like it,” you breathe, almost as if caught in a trance as he turns his wide eyed gaze towards you. “I love it.”

Three low rumbles of contentment reach your ears, smiles pulling onto all of their faces.

“Good,” a voice draws your attention to the open entranceway of the kitchen. “We’re glad.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the change in Yeosang’s appearance though. What once were long, bleach blond locks, now sit short, black strands that fall just above his eyes.

“Oh, wow,” you cannot help the gasp that escapes you, forgetting all about Seonghwa for a moment to meet Yeosang halfway in order to brush some of his newly cut hair out of his eyes.

You feel as if you’re caught in a daze, especially when both Yunho and Mingi walk in sporting newly dyed chestnut locks. Mingi’s hair is styled up and out of his face, while Yunho’s rests parted over his forehead.

Your lips part in awe, a small breath escaping you as you take them all in. Though, the final straw for you is when both Wooyoung and Hongjoong both appear before your very eyes.

Wooyoung still sports his skunk dye, the blond simply having been re-bleached for the moment. Hongjoong, on the other hand, sports newly blond locks, cropped short once again.

You place a hand over your heart, feeling it skip a beat beneath your fingers as you attempt to balance yourself on the counter.

“Warn me next time, fucking hell,” you purposely stare at the floor with wide eyes as you lean heavily onto the one arm you have supporting yourself on the counter. “Can’t wait to tell my mom I have eight handsome as fuck men trying to kill me all at once by simultaneously changing their hairstyles on me.”

Eight chuckles sound around the room, the hint of a pleased growl on each of their lips as they look towards you. Seonghwa even goes so far as to place his hand over your own still resting on the counter, offering you a touch of support as you attempt to wrap your head around their new hairstyles for the moment.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest,” Yeosang steps in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“We thought we should clean ourselves up a bit before meeting your parents,” San admits, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he smiles at you.

“Though, we’re still not entirely done getting ready,” Yunho adds, a gentle smile on his lips as he walks over to your opposite side to place a kiss onto the side of your head.

“You guys already look incredible, I fail to see what else you’d have to do,” you take your time trailing your gaze around the room, glancing over each of them in time.

Another round of pleased growls reach your ears.

“Thank you, Darling,” Jongho grins, a subtle blush creeping up his neck as he absolutely revels in your praise.

“We just want to make sure we look our very best for when we meet your parents,” Hongjoong explains, a loving smile pulling at his features as he meets your gaze.

“We also enjoy looking our best for you,” Wooyoung grins, eyes crinkling at the sides with the honesty of his words.

A small heat rises to your cheeks as you avert your gaze bashfully.

In the next moment, you’re clearing your throat lightly. “So, do you all do your own hair, then?”

“We usually style it ourselves, but Hongjoong is usually the one that cuts and dyes it for us,” Mingi tells you, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes as he looks towards their Captain.

At the way your awe filled gaze turns towards Hongjoong, he cannot help but to smile shyly.

“We usually just tell him what we want, and then he works his magic,” Seonghwa grins, noticing how the younger male suddenly becomes bashful beneath your stare.

“That’s incredible,” the way your eyes shine, a hint of pride echoing within your words, has a blush dusting Hongjoong’s features, the tips of his ears turning red as he clears his throat. “You’re incredible."

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to brush off your praise, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Like hell it is,” you continue to stare at him with wide eye, a large smile pulling at your lips. "My sister is going to love you.”

“You think so?” Never have any of the others seen Hongjoong so timid. At least, not like this.

“I know so.” You hum, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa in the next moment. “She’s also big on fashion, so you two will probably instantly get a free pass.”

“Should the rest of us be worried, then?” Yunho jokes, a grin tugging onto his features.

“She can sometimes be more intimidating that my dad, so…” you trail off, raising your own brow teasingly. “But that’s if she and Vasco actually show up.”

Just like you said you would, you did manage to call your mother yesterday. Only, she didn’t let on if your sister and her husband were coming over for dinner, just that she and your father would be home all day.

“We’ll be prepared for anything and everything,” Wooyoung grins, an eager gleam shining within his eyes.

You smile back, a small nod to your head as you meet his gaze from across the counter. Honestly, you cannot wait for your family to meet all of them. There’s a certain eager pride building within you at the mere thought of getting to show them off to your family after so long of being single, that you cannot wait to see their reactions.

You can already picture it now. Your mother will probably give you her signature look where she blinks in disbelief while trying, and failing, to hide her surprise. Your father, on the other hand, will probably freeze in his spot and look like a deer caught in headlights before awkwardly clearing his throat.

You just have to brace yourself for your sister’s squeal of joy and subsequent ‘I told you so’s and ‘I knew it’.

An hour and a half later, after you’ve had a small bite to eat and finished getting ready, you’re heading towards the main foyer. You’ve already discussed just how you’re going to be getting to your parents house, much to their discontent.

It would be a bit alarming if you just suddenly popped up out of the blue on your parent’s front porch, not to mention with eight men, so you’ve all agreed to drive. Needless to say, you were a bit surprised when they told you that they could all drive cars, they just didn’t for convenience sake.

You had nodded at that, more caught up with the fact that they actually agreed to your idea without any push back. Well, San, Wooyoung, and Mingi still all pouted, but understood that they probably shouldn’t freak your parents out, or draw any unnecessary attention to themselves in the neighbourhood the first time they meet your family. Still, you cannot wait to get back in your car.

Driving has always been a way for you to clear your head; the way you can just cruise down the streets with your favourite music playing through your car speakers has always been able to relax you. Honestly, you’re looking forward to it, and besides, you could really use something to help clear your mind right now. Though, you don’t know how much relaxation you’ll find with Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang all in the car with you.

That was one of the conditions you offered to them. Three of them could ride with you up to a certain point before heading back home to finish getting ready.

That, and you don’t think Wooyoung would have bothered to stop himself from joining you, anyways.

Needless to say, there was a big argument about who would be driving with you to start. You can still remember the way San pouted the entire time after the decision was made. A pout which still paints his features, arms crossed over his chest as the four of you walk towards the main entrance of the house.

“Well, I’ll see the rest of you later,” you say, a giddy smile on your features as you wave to them one last time.

For the first time since that night all of those months ago, you step through the front doors.

The exterior of the building is almost exactly as you remember it to be: grand, sleek, and beautiful. The only difference is that instead of those glass doors with the supposed hotel’s logo on them, they are now intricately carved wooden doors with glass windows covering the upper half of them.

You nod, approvingly, and even though it’s subconscious on your part, the three males that follow right behind you cannot help the way their hearts swell with pride at impressing you yet again in this way.

“Shotgun!” Wooyoung cheers, scurrying passed you and to the front passenger’s seat.

You grin, shaking your head, “someone’s eager.”

“We all are, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles, walking over the the passenger’s seat directly behind the driver’s.

“We just love spending time with you, Starlight,” Mingi says, walking over to his designated seat now.

You quirk a brow. “So, how many times have you guys been driving with me without me knowing?”

Wooyoung shoots you a cheeky look from over the top of your car as he pulls open the passenger door.

You tilt your head expectantly, but the other two also remain silent, smiles tugging at their lips.

A sigh before you chuckle, shaking your head all the while. “Guess that answers that.”

Sliding into the front seat, you’re quick to start the car. Honestly, you’re surprised it still runs as smoothly as it does for the moment, considering you haven’t touched it in months.

“Jongho and I made sure to keep up its maintenance,” Mingi’s voice coming from the backseat has you sparing a glance at him from over your shoulder. “Just in case.”

“I didn’t know you guys were mechanics.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brows raising slightly in amusement. “I appreciate it.”

A moment later, you’ve finished connecting your phone to your stereo, your favourite songs playing gently through the speakers.

“Cars, weapons, machines, the house, you name it,” Wooyoung shrugs. “It’s all just another form of maintenance to us.”

Your brows raise even more as you put the car into reverse and finally drive away from your new home.

“You boys never fail to surprise me,” you hum.

“In a good way, I hope,” Yeosang meets your gaze briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You smile. “Always.”

The entire drive to your parents house is spent teasingly bickering with the guys, laughing all the while. Honestly, it’s the perfect way to clear your mind and focus on the conversation you’re sure to have with your mom when you get home. A fact which you could not be more thankful for.

At some point during the drive, Wooyoung had grabbed your one hand in his, seeing as you were driving with only your left on the steering wheel. The cheeky grin he sent you had you shooting him a brief side-eyed look in amusement, hearing Mingi grumbling about how he wanted to hold your hand instead. Hell, even Yeosang had crossed his arms at this, and you could just tell they were mentally complaining to Wooyoung about it the whole time.

Not that the younger minded. After all, he’s the one that got to hold your hand.

No wonder he wanted to sit in the front.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” you comment, turning onto one of the backroads that lead into your parent’s subdivision.

“Aw,” Wooyoung pouts. “Do we really have to go?”

You only quirk your brow in response. You all agreed that they would transport themselves back home before you reached your parents place, just so that your parent’s nosy neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious seeing four people drive up in a car, only for one to get out of it.

“We just don’t want to leave you, Starlight,” Mingi complains, a slight whine to his voice.

“You all agreed to the terms and conditions beforehand,” you spare a glance at Wooyoung. “Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“I don’t think any of us would complain about spending more time with you driving back home, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles.

“I swear, if you guys could attach yourself to me like a symbiote, you would.” You snort, shaking your head.

Wooyoung smirks, his eyes flashing. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Okay,” Yeosang’s eyes widen, his lips tightening into a thin line. “And on that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.”

“No!” Wooyoung whines, his lips pulling downwards dramatically. “I don’t want to!”

“Neither do I, but we promised we’d stick to the plan,” Yeosang replies, shaking his head at the way Wooyoung crosses his arms grumpily over his chest.

“I’ll probably be contacting you guys soon enough,” you chuckle, noticing how Mingi remains quiet for the time being. “Besides, they’ll need you for the directions.”

Another condition of sending them back early after driving with you is so they can get the best route possible. Not that they’d really need you to show them the directions, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

“We’ll see you soon, Dearest,” Yeosang sends you one final tender smile in the reflection of the mirror before he’s reaching out and teleporting the three of them back home.

A puff of laughter escapes you just as you turn into your parent’s subdivision, shaking your head lightly at their antics.

Blinking, you adjust your focus to the houses around you, rounding the corner to turn onto the street your parents live on. After one more turn, you pull into the driveway, a smile on your face.

Finally, you’re home.

Immediately, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you step out of your car after cutting the engine. A warmth begins to spread throughout your body, radiating from the centre of your chest outwards.

You take a deep breath.

Yeah, this’ll be good for you. You can already tell.

Walking up to the front door, a gentle smile rests on your face. In the back of your mind, you wonder if your mother has left the door open.

Much to your content, she did.

The chime of the front door opening greets your ears, and you can faintly hear music coming from the direction of the basement. Your father must be down there either relaxing or doing something else for the moment, then.

“Hello!” You hear your mother’s chipper voice call out from just around the corner of the kitchen. “You’re here early-“

Her voice gets caught in her throat as she rounds the corner to see you standing at the front door having just finished slipping your shoes off for the moment.

A breathless gasp of your name escapes her as she rushes over to you, wrapping you in her embrace. A hug of which you eagerly return, just as tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, I’ve missed you so much!” She coos into your ear. “I had a feeling you were coming to visit soon after your call yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mom,” you breathe out, practically melting into her arms. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, come in! I’m making my homemade pasta sauce for dinner, you should stay!” She begins to lead you into the kitchen.

“If that’s okay,” you smile softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You gaze catches on the baby grand piano right beside the front entranceway, the wood shining beneath the afternoon sun. It’s slight, but your breath hitches.

“Nonsense!” Her voice catches your attention, shifting your gaze to see her standing beside the entrance to the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You’re family, you could never intrude.”

That warmth returns to your chest. “Thanks, mom.”

“Your father is just downstairs for the moment.” She continues as you walk into the kitchen. “He’s working out on the treadmill like he so often likes to do. It was raining a bit earlier, so he couldn’t go on his regular walk.”

“Oh, he must have been devastated,” you joke, hearing your mother chuckle along with you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grins, moving over to the stovetop to stir the sauce for the moment. “Anyways, please, come sit! Tell me all about what you’ve been up to lately. We’ve missed you so much!”

Pulling out one of the chairs at the counter, you’re quick to join your mother, who now stands eagerly on the other side of the kitchen island. She rests a hand on top of the granite, a giddiness to her features that immediately rubs off on you.

For the next forty minutes or so, you give your mother some updates on your life. Just some basics that don’t give much away as to what you’ve been up to with the boys, nor do you explicitly mention them at all. Though, with the way you notice her smiling at you, her eyes darting to the shining necklace you currently wear, you know that she’s putting a few things together.

“Speaking of that mall,” she begins. “I ran into David the other day.”

“Oh, did you now?” You quirk a brow, amusement shining on your features.

“First of all, he was more than happy to look into commissioning a pin of one of the Leaves of Lorien for me.” She says, and recognition flashes in your eyes.

Your mother has always loved The Lord of the Rings almost as much as you, and she’s admitted to wanting a broach like that for quite a while now. You’re just sad you didn’t think of getting one for her sooner.

“He told me a very interesting thing about when you went to pick up that necklace of yours.” A knowing gleam shines within her gaze.

“What did he tell you?” You hum.

“Well, a little birdie told me that when you went to pick up your necklace, which is beautiful, by the way-“ a pointed look.

“Thank you.”

She nods, smiling faintly. “He told me that there were two men who were with you at the time. Two very handsome men.”

“Of course he did,” you sigh.

“Sweetie, you know if you’re seeing somebody, you can tell me,” she meets your gaze. “Don’t feel like you have to hide your relationships from us. We only want the best for you.”

“I know, mom,” you exhale a long breath, chuckling slightly.

“Even if it’s the both of them that are your mystery lovers, as long as they make you happy. That’s the main thing.” She adds.

“You would be okay with that?” You shoot her a knowing look. “Me, being in a relationship with more than one person?”

She pauses for a moment, considering your words. Then, she’s nodding once. Firmly. “I would.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise.

“Like I said, as long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, that’s all that matters to me.” She nods in confirmation, voice firm.

“Thanks, mom,” you smile. “That really does mean a lot to me.”

“Of course, Sweetie,” she smiles back. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about those two mystery lovers of yours.”

At the wink she sends you, you laugh. “Actually, I would really like for you to meet them all.”

“All? So there is more than one?” Your mom quirks a brow knowingly.

“Oh, there’s more than one, alright,” you chuckle.

“Just how many of them are there?” She frowns lightly, tilting her head in confusion at you.

A tight smile tugs onto your features as you let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Sweetie?”

“Uh, well,” you chuckle nervously once more, eyes flitting everywhere around the kitchen but in her direction for the moment. “There’s…“

“Yes?” Your mother leans forward slightly.

You mumble out a response lowly, enough to have your mother’s frown deepening.

“Pardon me?”

A brief pause.

“There’s eight of them.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you as your mother’s eyes nearly bulge right out of her head.

“Sweetie! Eight of them? Holy shit!” Her jaw drops. “That’s- that’s-“ your mother searches for the right word as you smile sheepishly, “incredible!”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by her reaction. “You’re not weirded out?”

“I mean, I was expecting three at the most, but eight? As long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, you can have as many as you want. Though, your father might have a harder time wrapping his head around this.” She chuckles as she nods, grinning widely. That is, until her expression is becoming serious in the next second. “Honey, you didn’t stumble upon a cult accidentally, did you?”

You cannot help it, you burst out laughing. “No, mom. I didn’t stumble upon a cult.”

She simply raises an eyebrow at you in response. However, before either of you can say anything else, your dad rounding the corner of the kitchen catches your attention.

As soon as he sees you, he freezes in his tracks. He blinks once before a large smile is stretching across his features as he meets your gaze. “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit.”

“Surprise!” You chuckle, waving slightly at him.

“It’s great to see you again, Sweetie.” He says, his eyes shining as he looks at you. “I would give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty at the moment.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be around for a while still.” You smile.

“She’s staying for dinner,” your mother chimes in, and immediately, your father’s smile widens.

“That’s wonderful!”

“I promise I won’t leave unexpectedly again,” you tease, hearing how they both chuckle in response.

“Well then, I’m going to go shower, but I promise to be as quick as I can!” With a new spring to his step, he’s hurrying back the way he came and up the stairs to go freshen up.

As soon as your father is out of earshot, your mother is turning to you with a knowing look on her features. “One hour later.”

You laugh along with her, cheeks beginning to hurt already from how much smiling you’ve done so far today.

Yeah, you really needed this. You just knew it would help.

“I can’t wait for your sister to get here, too,” she hums. “Did she mention she has a surprise for you the next time you see her?”

“Yes, she mentioned something,” you nod, mildly surprised your mother hasn’t already spilled the beans in her excitement.

“Oh, so then, when are we going to get to meet these mystery lovers of yours?” A wiggle to her brows. “Soon, I hope.”

“I was hoping you could meet them today, honestly.” You admit, watching your mother’s reaction carefully.

At the way her eyes light up, you know she absolutely adores that idea.

“I’m making pasta, so there’s plenty to go around!” She grins, already moving to the cupboard to pull out two more large cans of tomato sauce to add them to the pot.

“Do you need any help?” You immediately offer, going to push back your chair and stand.

“Not in the slightest!” She tells you, placing the cans onto the counter. “You just sit and relax. Tell me all about these partners of yours before they arrive!” A brief pause. “When will they get here?”

“I’ll message them now, but probably in about an hour or so,” you smile, a glint shining in your eyes.

“Perfect!” She scurries over to the pot, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the can opener next.

Grabbing your phone, you make a show of sending a message to someone for your mother’s sake. Even if you don’t actually send anything.

You drop your void.

So… you begin, your voice resounding through all of their minds and catching their attention. Who wants to come over for dinner?

You mean…? San replies, an eagerness to his voice.

Yes. An affectionate brush of your mind against all of theirs. My mother is very excited to meet all of you.

You swear you can hear Wooyoung cheering happily in your mind as they all brush back.

We’ll be there in an hour, My Love. Hongjoong replies, and you don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling right now.

With Hwa’s driving, make that thirty minutes. Yeosang chuckles.

Man nearly tore the car door open as soon as you reached out to us. At the way Jongho huffs, you can just tell he’s shaking his head in amusement right now.

Well excuse me if I’m excited. Seonghwa retorts.

Hurry up, you’re all taking too long! Wooyoung whines, and you just know he’s already in the car waiting for the others to join him.

We’ll see you shortly, Petal. Yunho chuckles fondly, brushing against your mind once more.

We love you, Starlight. Mingi hums affectionately.

You smile. I love you, too, My Kings.

Not even a moment later, you close your void.

Your mother manages to pull you out of your own thoughts by speaking, a hum to her words.

“I know that look,” there’s an understanding unlike ever before that paints her features as she meets your gaze. “They must be very special if you’re so caught up in your own little world like this after texting them.”

You avert your gaze, somewhat bashfully, to your phone which rests on top of the counter for the moment, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “They are.”

“Good,” she nods, that motherly look of affection dripping from her features. “I’m glad.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” you grin giddily, wiggling slightly in excitement in your seat.

Your mother chuckles happily, “me neither.”

Almost immediately, you begin to launch into short descriptions of each of them. You don’t necessarily realize just how much your eyes light up as you speak of them, but your mother does. A fact of which warms her heart, glad to know that her little girl is all grown up and in love.

Before you know it, your ramblings span over the course of forty minutes, now able to add in little facts about things that you’ve done together with the guys that you couldn’t before. Minus a few details, of course.

“They all sound like real gentlemen,” your mother nods, approvingly.

You sigh, somewhat dreamily, “they really are.”

“I’m so happy for you, Sweetie,” she smiles widely, a gleam in her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” you return her smile, somewhat shyly as you realize you’ve just spent almost an hour gushing about them to her.

Looks like you care even more about them than you thought. That, and the fact that you can finally talk about them to another person, and that person being your mother, is just so freeing. You’re so glad you can finally share your adventures with your family, even if they’re somewhat altered for the moment. Talking about everything most certainly is making you feel better, and brightening your spirits.

“From the sounds of things, they really love you, too.” She hums, stirring the sauce once more.

Your gaze darts to your hand resting on top of the counter. The same hand Wooyoung had been clinging onto in the car for practically the entire ride. “Yeah. They really do.”

“Just know, if they hurt you in any way, I’ll send both Sammy and Wolfie after them!” She mockingly threatens, turning to you with the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand.

“Oh, boy! I don’t think they’d be able to survive that,” you giggle, grinning right along with your mother. “Speaking of, where is that Monkey Boy? I’m surprised he hasn’t strutted down the hallway looking for attention yet.”

“He’s probably up in your old room, on your bed, sleeping,” she says, eyes briefly darting upwards in the direction she’s referring to.

“Of course he is,” you sigh teasingly, shaking your head.

Just as you go to push your chair out to go see him, a knock sounds at the front door.

Your heart skips a beat, nearly feeling it leap into your throat as you realize just what that knock means.

“Oh, is that them?” Your mother giddily scurries towards the front door, smoothing out the front of her shirt all the while.

“Most likely,” you reply, following right behind her and noticing how she also goes to smooth out her hair. “Relax mom, you look as lovely as you always do.”

“Oh, you!” She smiles bashfully, but you can tell that your words have helped assure her for the moment as she watches you walk passed her.

Reaching for the handle, you’re quick to pull open the door.

A smile tugs at your features as you see eight familiar males standing just on the other side. “Hello, boys.”

Opening the door wider, you step back to allow them entrance into your parents home.

“Hello, Dearest,” Yeosang is the first to enter, placing a brief kiss onto your cheek as he steps into the house.

Mingi is the next to step through the threshold, a bottle of red wine held in his hands. As soon as he sees you, a smile lights up his features. “Hi, Starlight.”

Subsequently, as each male enters, they greet you tenderly, either placing a kiss onto your forehead, or your cheek, smiling all the while. What you fail to notice, is how their eyes all light up as soon as they see you, such fond looks of affection shining within their gazes.

Looks of which your mother is quick to catch on to.

She smiles.

Closing the door quickly, you take a step back to observe them all as they stand just inside the foyer. Yunho holds another bottle of red wine, while both San and Seonghwa hold a bottle of white each. Wooyoung appears to be holding a box of chocolates in his hands, while a bouquet of flowers is cradled within Hongjoong’s arms. A book is held in Jongho’s hands.

“Sweetie, you didn’t tell me just how handsome they all are,” your mother teasingly tuts, stepping forward to greet them.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiles bashfully, a blush beginning to dust his cheeks along with Yeosang’s, Mingi’s, and Jongho’s. “I can now see where My Love gets her stunning beauty from.”

“Oh, you’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?” Your mother giggles. “I’m so glad you all could join us for dinner.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Yunho replies graciously.

“Something smells absolutely delicious,” San hums, excitement shining in his eyes.

“You have a lovely home,” Yeosang adds, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you very much,” a certain pride laces your mother’s words as she stands a little straighter.

“Here,” Hongjoong gently addresses your mother formally by your last name. “These are for you.”

“Please,” a certain gleam begins to shine within your mother’s eyes as she takes the bouquet of flowers from Hongjoong’s outstretched hands. The smile that graces her features is nothing short of touched as she sees the type he’s given her. “Call me Kaitlyn.”

The way she addresses all of them has a warmth already spreading throughout their chests. So far, the interaction between them all is going well, and they could not be happier.

“Lillies of the valley?” Her voice is soft, tender as she meets his gaze. “These are my favourite. How did you know?”

Briefly, Hongjoong’s eyes dart over to your figure leaning casually against the wall a little ways away.

“How thoughtful.” She hums. “You must be Hongjoong, then. My daughter says you have a habit of bringing her flowers.”

Again, his gaze briefly darts over to you. The tips of his ears begin to turn red.

“I am.” He nods, somewhat shyly in confirmation.

“She also tells me that you have an eye for design,” a knowing look is sent his way.

“It’s really not much,” he attempts to humbly brush off the praise, the blush spreading down his neck soon after.

“He’s being bashful,” you chuckle, grin tugging at your features.

“In fact, she’s told me a little bit about all of you,” Kaitlyn continues, eyes briefly glancing over all of them with a somewhat fond look shining in her eyes. “Please, do come in.”

Eight affectionate brushes are felt against your void, and you can just tell that it’s them asking you if you’ve really talked to your mother about them. At the subtle way you nod your head in response, they can feel their chests swelling with that familiar happiness even more.

Just then, the sound of footsteps hopping down the stairs reach your ears.

Turning your head, you see your father make it to the second landing of the stairs before lifting his head and stopping in his tracks. His eyes widen significantly before a furrow is pulling to his brow at seeing eight unfamiliar men standing just inside the front entranceway.

You nearly laugh at the sight. Looks like you were right about your father’s reaction.

“Papa!” Your excited voice calling out to him draws his attention.

Not even a moment later, he’s finished walking down the stairs to meet you halfway to wrap you in his embrace.

You bury your head into his chest as he holds you tightly, a large smile on his face.

“How’s my little girl? I’ve missed you,” his voice rumbles out, low and full of rough emotions as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around you.

You giggle. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You fail to see the way your mother gazes on so tenderly at the two of you, but the others do.

Smiles of their own tug subtly onto their features as the intimacy of the moment washes over the room. They can tell that you two haven’t seen one another in a very long time, and the happiness they can sense simply radiating off of the both of you rubs off on them immediately.

After another few seconds, your father is pulling away. His hands rest on your upper arms as he studies your features, a gentle smile tugging at his own. That is, before his gaze is shifting slightly towards the eight males still standing by the door.

“Who…” your father trails off, eyes narrowing the faintest bit in their direction before taking note of the bouquet of flowers now held in your mother’s arms.

“Perfect timing,” you chuckle, stepping away from your father for the moment as a soft smile adorns your lips. “Mom, dad, I’d like you to meet Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Jongho, San, and Wooyoung. My significant others.”

As you say each male’s name, they each give a polite bow of their heads in acknowledgement towards your parents. Of course, you make it a bit simpler by going in order from left to right, too.

Your father’s reaction is immediate: his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, eyes going wide as he looks like a deer in headlights. You swear he’s also stopped breathing for a moment there as his eyes flit over each of the eight males standing before him.

“It’s so lovely to meet the people who have been the cause of our daughter’s happiness over the past few months.” Your mother smiles, clutching the bouquet of flowers a little closer to her chest.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Seonghwa returns her smile wholeheartedly.

“Truly, it is an honour.” San adds, and you watch as they all bow in unison towards your parents.

“Thank you, again, for inviting us into your lovely home,” Wooyoung voices as soon as they straighten, staring deeply into your mother’s, and then your father’s eyes.

“They’ll be joining us for dinner,” your mother leans into your father slightly, and you watch as you see your father nod in understanding.

“Well then, let’s not stand at the door all day,” the way an instant sense of relief fills the room as your father says this has a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The instant your parents turn around and begin walking towards the kitchen, you shoot the eight of them a thumbs up and a wink. Actions of which fill them all with a sense of pride as they slip off their shoes and follow you further into the house.

As soon as you all enter the kitchen, you see your mother stirring the sauce and your father standing just beside the counter.

“I see you’ve brought wine,” he nods, approvingly. “Good lads.”

Mingi is the first to hand his bottle to your father, jumping into an explanation as to why he chose each bottle as they’re placed onto the counter beside him. You can see how your father continues to nod approvingly at the choices Mingi has selected, listening intently to every word he says.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see San subtly inching towards your mother who stands beside the stovetop. A second later, and he’s offering his cooking services to her to help in any way that he can.

She readily agrees, shooting you a look of acknowledgement in the process.

You smile.

Wordlessly, you move over to grab a small vase from the cupboard, seeing as your mother is now conversing with both San and Yunho for the moment while Wooyoung presents the chocolates to your father. You can tell your parents already like them, seeing as how naturally they’ve slipped into conversation with most of them as they stand around the kitchen.

Once you have the vase in your hands, you move to begin arranging the flowers Hongjoong got for your mother for her. Only, he gently takes your place, automatically placing the flowers in the vase once it’s filled with water.

Your mother just about steps in to stop him, stating how she shouldn’t be letting a guest do that work for her. Yet, at Hongjoong’s insistence, she backs off with a small nod and a smile.

Stepping around the counter once more, you stand just behind the chair you had been occupying for the past while. Placing your hands onto the back of the seat, you spare a glance around the room, feeling your heart swell with fondness at the scene surrounding you.

Just as Yeosang comes to stand beside you, you notice Jongho beginning to converse with your father.

“I brought this for you, Sir,” Jongho presents the book in his hands to your father. “I thought since you’re an author, and one of our,” he spares a brief glance in your direction, “favourite things to do is read and share literature together, I would bring you one of my favourite books.”

Your father nods, accepting the book graciously with a small thank you falling from his lips. “Feel free to call me Nick.”

That cover looks very familiar.

You see recognition flash across your father’s face, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“Oh,” a teasing lilt can be heard within Nick’s voice. “Would you like me to sign this for you instead?”

Immediately, all heads are turning towards your father as Jongho stands there with wide eyes, completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Pardon me?” The shock is clear in Jongho’s voice as he stands there, arms still half raised in the air in front of him as he blinks at Nick in surprise.

“I’m assuming she told you,” Nick chuckles, holding up the book slightly in his hand. “This is my pen name.”

You never thought you would see the day were it looked like Jongho would faint from shock, but alas, here he is, standing frozen to his spot. The youngest looks about ready to spontaneously combust, red creeping up his neck as he turns to look at you with a somewhat tight smile on his lips.

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea.”

Your father chuckles, walking over and bonking you lightly on the top of your head with the book. “Are you still on about that thing that happened in high school with Linda?”

“Oh, fuck no,” you nearly scoff. “The fact merely didn’t come up yet.”

“Linda?” Seonghwa quirks a brow at you, and you can tell from the subtle way they all spare glances at your from the corner of their eyes, they’re all curious about what happened.

You share a look with your father.

“Final year of high school, my homeroom found out who my dad was. Linda just so happened to be a big fan of his work.” You explain.

“I still think you should have torn her hair out when you found out, Sweetie,” Kaitlyn supplies, with an air of casualty to her tone.

Hongjoong nearly drops the flower in his hands.

“Mom, you and I both know that would have been a little too violent at the time,” you reply. “Besides, she ended up getting suspended, anyways."

Mingi frowns. “What did she do?”

“Oh, she became friends with me to try and impress my dad,” you recount, a certain gleam shining within your eyes as you spare a glance around at all of them. “Wasn’t subtle about it, either.”

You swear that if your parents weren’t in the room, eight low growls would have resounded in your ears.

“She used you?” Wooyoung frowns, disgust clear on his features.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t really see it coming.”

Yeosang places a gentle hand onto your lower back, yet you can just tell how he feels at the moment. You can feel it in the way his fingers press into your skin.

So, you decide to quickly change the subject. Sort of.

“Speaking of, did you finally figure out the ending to your next novel?” You shift your gaze to your father.

Instantly, his eyes are lighting up. “I did!”

Nick jumps right into explaining his next novel, excitement clear on his features. The way you can see all of them listening intently to what he’s saying warms your heart. You can just tell Jongho is hanging on to every word.

“In fact,” he turns his attention to Jongho, “come with me.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement as you watch your father lead Jongho into his office right down the hallway, Mingi and Yunho following close behind.

“Oh, now look what you did,” your mother chuckles. “You know how much your father loves talking about his books. Those poor boys will be stuck in there for hours.”

“I heard that!” Nick calls out teasingly from inside the office.

“Believe me,” you grin. “I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”

“Well, when you’re done,” your mother casually raises her voice to include your father in this, “show those three around the house. It’s about time we give them all a proper tour.”

“I think I speak for all of us when we say that we would love that,” Hongjoong turns to smile at your mother, seeing how he’s just finished arranging the flowers in the vase and pushed them to the centre of the counter.

“Alright then,” she places the lid over the pot, turning down the heat on the stove to let the sauce simmer. “You three,” she points to San, Yeosang, and Hongjoong, “follow me."

In the blink of an eye, she’s leading the three of them towards the basement, chatting all the while.

You spare a look at both Wooyoung and Seonghwa, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Come with me."

Without another word, you’re leading the two of them upstairs.

Once you reach the top landing, you’re turning to look at the two of them. There’s a subtle quirk of your brow as your gaze shifts from one male to the other, mentally debating on if you actually need to show them around or not. They’ve probably seen it all before, anyways.

Wooyoung’s brow raises, amusement dancing on his features as he looks around. “So, Gorgeous. Are you going to show us around, or not?”

“I just figured you’ve seen it all before,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Surprisingly, we haven’t,” Seonghwa replies, and at the way he curiously looks around, you can tell he’s not lying to you.

“Alright then,” you turn back around. “Follow me.”

It takes you maybe all of five minutes to show them the majority of the upstairs. That is, until you only have one room left.

Anticipation claws at both Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s chest as you lead them into what they know is your room. Only, from what they recall of your memories, it’s completely different than they expect.

At the mild confusion lingering on their faces, you’re quick to speak.

“It’s been four years since that happened,” you begin, something tugging at the back of your mind. “My parents moved here two years ago.”

Recognition flashes on both of their features as they fully take in your room. Until scowls are pulling on both of their faces as they see what resides on your one wall.

“Honestly, I’m surprised my mom hasn’t taken these down,” you chuckle, looking over the few Taemin posters you have hanging on the one side of your room. “That, and I’m surprised someone hasn’t torn them to shreds.”

At the way you turn your pointed gaze towards your bed, the two cannot help but to chuckle.

There, laying on your bed with his front paws crossed over one another, lays Sammy, your parent’s cat. He has a smug look on his features as what appears to be a fuzzy blanket is bunched up on the end of the bed right beside him. His eyes haven’t left you since you’ve entered the room.

You cross your arms over your chest, a scoff escaping you in the next second. “Why am I getting the ‘welcome home, cheater’ treatment?”

The two males standing on either side of you laugh.

“It’s because you are,” Wooyoung chuckles, taking the time to lean against your desk at the side of the room.

You gasp, as if scandalized, “and here I thought what we had was special, Sammy.”

The moment those words escape you, he’s cooing, flipping onto his back and exposing his belly for you to come and give him scratches.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you chuckle, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. As soon as you start to pet his belly, he begins to purr. “Some belly rubs and all is forgiven, huh?”

“He is a simple man, with simple needs,” Seonghwa jokes, turning to study every inch of your room.

“He’s a Monkey, is what he is,” you begin to coo at Sammy, noticing how he stands back to his feet in the next second.

Laying back on your bed, Sammy is quick to crawl up your body, settling comfortably on your chest.

“Just like old times,” you grin, petting the cat happily as the two males watch on with nothing but affection dripping from their eyes. “Though, I’m surprised he didn’t come running to the front door as soon as I got here, or you guys for that matter. Probably having too much fun with his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

You vaguely motion to your scrunched up blanket laying at the end of the bed.

Understanding flashes across both of their features as Sammy jumps off of you and scurries from the room.

You sit up, resting on the edge of the bed. A look of nostalgia crosses your features as you take the time to look around your room.

“I may not have been here for long, but I do have some good memories of this place,” you smile faintly, taking note of your somewhat empty bookshelves scattered throughout the room. “Though, I think the majority of my jewelry is still- yep!”

Opening the topmost drawer on the left of your dresser which sits right in front of you beside your bed, you pull out a small box. Opening the lid, your eyes take in the sight of all of your necklaces tangled in one great pile, rings buried beneath some bracelets.

“I don’t think I’ve touched this stuff in years,” you smile faintly, putting the box on top of your dresser for now. “I really only ever wore a few pieces.”

Your eyes dart to your small jewelry tree on the far right of your dresser.

A gasp escapes you. “No way."

Standing quickly back to your feet, you’re quick to snatch what appears to be a ring hanging from a somewhat thick chain from the tree.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” you hum, gazing fondly at the item held in your hand as it sways slightly.

At the two curious gazes you can feel darting between the object in your hand and your face, you’re quick to grab another small ring off of the tree.

“A girl I used to know once got me two versions of the One Ring as a gift. One was this one,” you hold up the one on the chain, “and the other was this one.” A thinner version of the same ring is held in your fingers. “I always-“ you let out a small sigh through your nose. “I always planned to give this one,” you raise the chain slightly in your hand, “to my significant other, if I ever got one. Though, I don’t think I can split it into eight.”

“Then would you-“ Wooyoung clears his throat. “Would you keep the other one?”

“Yes,” you meet his gaze. “I always thought of it as having matching rings without the added concept of marriage attached to it.”

Seonghwa practically collapses on top of the small shelf you have at the end of your bed.

“Did you-“ he clears his throat. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Oh, sure,” you reply casually, placing the two items back on top of your dresser. “When I was younger, I would joke about it all the time. Though, as I got older, it didn’t really have the same appeal to me.”

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung pushes himself off of your desk in order to slowly begin making his way closer to you. He sits himself beside his brother, the both of them looking at you expectantly.

“To have a piece of paper be the sole reason you can even acknowledge the fact that you’re married to someone just doesn’t appeal to me.” You shake your head. “I don’t know if it’s different for you guys, but if we’re together, we’re together. If you call me your wife, then I’m your wife. I don’t need a piece of paper dictating what I mean to you. I’d still sign it if my significant other wanted me to, but I think it’s more meaningful to acknowledge what we are and determine what that is ourselves, than with a signature on a flimsy sheet of paper.”

“Not to mention if things didn’t work out, then you have to go through the whole trouble of filing for divorce.” You add. “At least without a marriage certificate you can just end things without the hassle. It’s just easier that way, I think.”

“So, if I wanted to start calling you wifey…?” Wooyoung grins cheekily, a wiggle to his brows.

“I won’t stop you,” you grin. “Like I said, there are other means of acknowledging being in a relationship that I prefer. The most important being how we define ourselves. That’s what really matters.”

“Okay, so if what I’m understanding is correct,” Seonghwa nods, a gleam in his eyes as a cheeky grin pulls onto his features. “We’re married now.”

“Woah, slow down there, Mars,” you chuckle, turning your attention back to your jewelry tree for the moment. “Let’s make it through some things first before we actually start talking about that.”

At the way you notice him pouting out of the corner of your eyes, you chuckle.

“I’m not saying ‘no’,” you meet his gaze. “Just not yet.”

The way they both visibly perk up has a smile pulling at your lips.

“Besides, I do have something to give each of you, now,” you grin, pulling two pieces of jewelry off of your tree.

Moving to step in front of them, you face Wooyoung first. A necklace seems to be held in your hands as you smile at him softly.

“May I?” Your voice is gentle as you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine, lips parting slightly as he nods.

Stepping into him, you’re quick to bring the thin chain up and clasp it around his neck. A soft smile rests on your features as you look down at the small replica of a belladonna flower staring back at you. At the way his hand comes up to gently grasp the flower in his fingers, gazing upon such a gem with such awe, you know you’ve chosen right.

“Beautiful, but deadly,” you hum, noticing how Wooyoung’s eyes flash in recognition almost instantly.

A moment later, and you’ve stepped away from Wooyoung in order to place yourself directly in front of Seonghwa. Gently, you raise a hand in front of him, motioning for him to give you one of his own.

A look of complete wonder rests in Seonghwa’s eyes as he places his hand softly in your own. He can feel his heart racing as you begin to slide a silver ring onto one of his fingers, your thumb stroking over the metal as soon as it’s in place.

Sparing a brief glance down, Seonghwa takes in the sight of a small diamond embedded within an etching of a brilliant star.

“Planets tend to outshine even the brightest of stars,” you hum, thumb tracing over the band of the ring once more.

Nothing but awe fills each of their gazes as they continue to stare at you. Their hearts race erratically within their chests, hearts swelling as a warmth floods their veins. This moment is so tender to them, so significant, that nothing could take away the pure, unfiltered joy coursing through their very souls at this point in time.

You are everything to them, and this only just proves it.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all bask in this moment together. You take the time to lean into both of them, placing a tender kiss onto each of their foreheads in tandem, a smile gracing your features soon afterwards.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?” The teasing drawl of your mother’s voice catches your attention from the doorway.

You quirk a brow, “not at all.”

The four of them stand just inside your room, the three males looking around subtly. Again, you can see the distaste flash across their features, even if only briefly, at seeing the Taemin posters hanging on the side of the one wall. A fact of which that has your lips twitching upwards in the corners slightly.

“Looks like we finally caught up with you,” your father grins, stepping into the room with the final three males in tow.

The way Jongho still looks completely starstruck nearly has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Well, I’m sure we can leave these fine gentleman in our daughter’s capable hands for the moment,” your mother begins to usher your father out of your room. “Besides, I need to go check on the sauce.”

Nick’s words of protest die on his lips as both Wooyoung and Seonghwa stand back to their feet.

“We’ll join you,” Seonghwa says, already beginning to follow after your parents with Wooyoung right behind him.

Briefly, you notice the two of them share a glance with the six others who have just entered your room, and you just know they’re speaking with one another in their minds. A fact which is only confirmed when six gazes turn towards you as soon as the others have left.

“Good timing,” you grin, walking back over to your jewelry tree. “I have something to give each of you.”

“You do?” There’s a slight bit of pleasant surprise clinging onto Yunho’s words as they all watch you carefully.

“I do,” you confirm softly with a nod of your head, turning your gaze to meet his own for the moment. “I’ve already given Woo and Hwa theirs, so now it’s time for yours.”

Motioning Yunho closer with your finger, you turn to fully face him as he comes to stand in front of you. A gentle smile rest on your features as you hold your one hand out for him, watching as he places his own in your hold in the next second.

Sliding your touch up, you’re quick to clasp an intricate bracelet around his wrist. Soft blue gems glitter up at him as what appears to be a stem of forget-me-nots wrap around his skin.

“I know it can’t replace what once was lost, but it’s a start,” you squeeze his hand, gazing deeply into his eyes.

At the way his breath hitches, you know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“It’s more than enough,” he whispers lowly, eyes shining as he squeezes back.

Tenderly, you bring his hand up to your lips, placing a gentle kiss against his skin.

Yunho’s heart swells in his chest, a loving smile gracing his features. “Thank you, Petal.”

You nod, squeezing his hand one final time as he steps away. The way you can feel the other’s watching you carefully has your attention on them once more.

Just as Yunho begins to step away from you, you lock gazes with San across the room. With a motion of your head, he’s quick to begin making his way over to you.

“It’s a little on the nose, but I can’t picture it with anyone else.” You hum, turning briefly to grab another chain off of your jewelry tree.

Holding up the chain, an intricate trident pendant swings slightly in the air.

You meet his gaze, noticing how San comes to stand directly in front of you and blocks the others from your sight.

Wordlessly, you mouth ‘My Aquaman’ to him once more, noticing how a pleasant shiver trails up his spine as you move to clasp the chain around his neck. You’re sure a pleased growl would have escaped him, too, were it not for the current situation he finds himself in.

As soon as the clasp in in place, a brilliant smile is shining on his features. Almost immediately, one of his hands comes up to begin toying with the charm affectionately, staring down at it in awe.

Slowly, San begins to back away from you, and you meet gazes with the next male.

“Moonlight,” you smile softly, motioning him forward with one of your fingers.

Mingi steps towards you eagerly, a grin tugging on his features as he watches you grab another piece of jewelry from the tree.

Again, you present your hand, palm facing upwards, to him, and almost instantly, his own is placed in yours. Your fingers settle over his pulse, flipping his wrist as you wrap a leather bound bracelet around it. Once Mingi turns his hand back over, he nearly lets out a gasp in shock.

There, sitting against the back of his wrist, is an intricately carved silver crescent moon, swirl like designs hidden within. The leather straps holding it in place are a dark brown, almost black, tied securely around his wrist curtesy of you.

“Starlight,” his voice is but a breathless whisper on his lips.

“The stars cannot shine without their moon.” You smile faintly, meeting his gaze as you squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back, eyes shining with unshed tears as he steps away from you.

The next male you call over to you is the youngest, of whom is more than happy to make his way over to you as soon as you motion for him to join you.

On the necklace you hold up to him hangs an intricate charm of a book. Although small, the silver cover is carved with vines, a small clasp near the side.

“Open it.” You encourage, allowing the charm to dangle between the both of you.

Wordlessly, Jongho reaches forward, grasping that little silver book in his fingers. The moment he flicks the clasp open, his breath hitches in his throat. There, held within the book, rests a small diamond heart, hidden within the pages of the novel.

He meets your gaze, eyes shining with all the unspoken words he wants to say. Yet, he doesn’t have to, for you already understand.

Stepping forward, you’re quick to secure the chain around his neck.

A bashful smile tugs at his features as a blush begins to creep up his neck. Instantly, his fingers reach up to begin toying with the charm, thumb brushing over the little pendant as he slowly backs away from you.

The next male you turn to begins walking towards you as soon as you meet his gaze. A soft smile rests on both of your features as Yeosang comes to stand before you.

“I’ve had this one since I was small,” you say, turning briefly to pull another necklace from the tree.

Again, you meet his gaze, and you know you don’t even have to say anything else for him to understand how much this single piece of jewelry means to you. How much he means to you.

The treble cleft pendant is small, a diamond shining in the centre of the worked silver. You’ve had it since you started learning to play the piano, and you know that he knows just how significant this piece is to you. To the both of you.

Once the chain is clasped around his neck, you brush your fingers over the pendant lightly. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has a smile tugging at your features once more.

“Thank you, Dearest,” you can hear the emotions within his voice as he meets your gaze, eyes shining with that all too familiar love and fondness he always looks at you with.

A nod of your head is all he receives back, that same look of fondness shining within your eyes as you watch him step away from you for the time being.

Now, for the final male who stands directly in the centre of all of his brothers.

Locking gazes with him, a soft smile pulls at your features. That is, until your eyes are briefly darting around to the other five males standing around him.

“May we have a moment alone?” The words haven’t even finished leaving your lips when the other five are moving to exit your room.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Yeosang sends one final smile your way before closing the door behind him on his way out.

Turning your gaze back to Hongjoong, you notice how he stands, somewhat nervously, by your desk. His hands are clasped in front of his body as he shuffles slightly from foot to foot, the faintest hue of red dusting the tips of his ears.

“At first, I wasn’t sure what to gift you,” you begin, noticing how his eyes briefly dart up to meet your own. “After all, what could I gift the man who has given me everything?”

“Your happiness and love are gifts enough, My Love.” He replies, and you can just hear the sincerity in his tone bleeding through.

You shake your head lightly, that soft smile of yours still pulling onto your features. “It took me a little while, but I cannot picture it with anyone else.”

“My Love?” His breath hitches ever so slightly as he sees you beginning to make your way over to him.

“Close your eyes.”

The moment those words leave your lips, his eyelids are fluttering shut. You can see how anticipation claws at him, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he hears you approaching him.

The sound of a chain rustling reaches his ears, and he cannot help the shiver that caresses his spine as he feels the ghost of your touch grace the sides of his neck. A moment later, and he feels a small weight settle on the skin of his upper chest.

“I have had many ideals about love, Hongjoong, and you have always managed to go above and beyond every single one of them. You all have.” Keeping your voice low, you bring a hand up to gently caress the side of his face. At the way he immediately leans into your touch, you smile. “Open your eyes.”

The first thing that greets Hongjoong’s gaze is your face, looking at him so tenderly as that soft grin tugs at your lips. He can feel his heart racing inside his chest as he notices your eyes glance briefly down towards the necklace you’ve just secured around his neck. Not just any necklace. A chain with the One Ring dangling from it.

Hongjoong’s breath gets caught in his throat, eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration and love as he meets your gaze. “My Love.”

“I’m sure you overheard me talking about this earlier,” you reply, somewhat knowingly.

“I did,” his voice comes out a little strained, choked by his emotions for the time being.

“Then you know how much it means to me, in more than one way.” Your thumb tenderly brushes against his cheek.

“I do.” He breathes, tears finally gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, My Love. This means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Hongjoong,” you smile, meeting his gaze before leaning in and placing a tender kiss onto his forehead. Your next words are a mere whisper against his skin. “I believe you.”

A comfortable silence settles around the both of you as you continue to stare into one another’s eyes. The love you can see shining within his gaze sets your heart racing, a look you’re sure is mirrored in your own.

“Come on,” you grin, grabbing his one hand in your own. “Let’s go back downstairs before my mom starts to think we’re canoodling.”

The way his eyebrows raise in amusement has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Canoodling?” The grin that pulls onto his features is nothing short of devious as his eyes flash.

“Now, don’t be getting any ideas, Captain,” the way you teasingly drawl out that one title of his has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. You lean in slightly, voice low as your breath tickles the shell of his ear, “we still have dinner to get through.”

The faintest of growls escapes his lips, and you can feel the way the grip he has on your hand tightens ever so slightly. Only, before he can so much as respond, you’re pulling away from him. A bright smile paints your features as you let out a faint giggle.

“Come on,” this time, you begin to tug him towards your closed door. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Leading him back out of your room, you’re quick to rejoin everyone downstairs. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way all eight of them all seem to be standing a little straighter, eyes gleaming with a newfound shine as your look around at all of them.

In fact, a few of them seem to be crowded around your mother’s side as San stirs the sauce for her. It looks like he’s even started getting the noodles ready to be cooked as she turns the page of whatever book they seem to be so engrossed in.

That’s when you realize just what they appear to be looking at.

“Oh, and this was when she was four and we had her taking ballet,” your mother points at a picture in the album. “They were dancing Swan Lake that year, it was so cute!”

“I didn’t realize she had taken ballet,” Wooyoung hums, a grin tugging on his features as he spares a glance towards you.

“Mom,” a slight panic to your voice.

“And this was her first birthday with cake all over her hair,” Kaitlyn coos, a knowing smile pulling at her lips as she meets your gaze.

“Mom, please,” your eyes go wide, feeling as Hongjoong quite literally slips through your fingers to go join his brothers peering over your mother’s shoulders.

“I tried to stop her, Sweetie, but you know how your mother gets with your baby photos,” Nick chuckles, crossing his arms lightly over his chest as he leans back against the counter.

You sigh, “unfortunately.”

“Oh!” Your mother squeals as she turns the page once more. “And this is when she dressed as a little lion cub for halloween when she was three!”

“Mother.” You’re torn between being completely mortified, and laughing in disbelief. You shake your head in defeat. “They were bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I think your mother’s just happy to finally be sharing them with the people you care about,” your father hums, nudging you slightly with his elbow as you rest beside him.

“You’re damn right I am!” Kaitlyn grins. “What is a mother’s job if not to embarrass her daughters in front of their significant others?”

“Now I know how Crystal feels,” you chuckle.

“Speaking of your sister, her and Vasco should be here soon.” Nick comments. “They’re a bit excited for today since we can’t do dinner together next week.”

“What’s next week?” You inquire casually.

“Well, I’m taking your mother out for a special dinner,” he replies.

“Right,” you nod, almost subconsciously. “It’s your anniversary next week.”

The words fall so easily from your mouth that you don’t even register them until you feel the stillness settle itself over the room. That’s when the reality of your situation is hitting you.

You can feel eight subtle glances directed towards you for the moment as you freeze in your spot. For a second, you swear you forget to breathe as your eyes zone in on the floor at your feet. With everything going on, the actual date seemed to have slipped your mind.

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, feeling eight gentle caresses against your void in tandem. You brush back.

“Thirty-five years, right, pops?” You turn your head, noticing how your father smiles as he meets your gaze.

“That’s right.” He confirms with a happy nod.

“Alright,” you push yourself off of the counter, meeting your mother’s gaze once more. “Is it tuned?”

Kaitlyn’s brow furrows slightly in confusion before recognition flashes within her eyes. “Actually, it was just tuned Friday.”

You smile faintly, “good.”

You barely make it three steps out of the kitchen before your father is calling your name, a slight confused furrow to his brow.

“How would you like to relive a memory, papa?” You turn to smile at him from over your shoulder, motioning for them all to join you at the front of the house.

At the way you notice the eight of them hesitating, you’re quick to reach out to them with your mind. You all can join us, you know. This one’s for you as much as it will be for them.

The moment your words echo throughout their minds, they’re all quick to join you. Of course, San briefly turns off the stove, shutting the fan off of the cooktop for the moment so as not to interrupt the scene that is about to occur. A fact of which earns him an approving nod from your mother, causing a subtle blush to creep up his neck.

There’s a giddy spring to your father’s step as he moves over to prop open the baby grand piano as you pull out the bench to sit. You see your mother step in beside him, the others surrounding you on either side. Still, you cannot help but allow your fingers to hover above the keys for a moment, hesitating.

The last time you saw a piano, you had been harshly thrown into it, the strings snapping against your skin. Even now, as you look down at the ivory beneath your hands, you cannot keep the memories from coming to mind.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, and you turn your head to see Yeosang smiling softly down at you. There’s an undertone of concern hiding behind his eyes as his thumb tenderly rubs against the skin of your back, and you just know that he’s reminding you of what they’ve been telling you all throughout this past week.

They’re all right here. She cannot hurt you anymore.

Subtly, you nod your head, turning back to the piano in front of you. Again, eight gentle caresses are felt against your mind, soothing you even further as you flex your fingers out before placing them on top of the keys.

Turning your attention to your parents, you see them already gazing at you so fondly. Your father’s one arm is wrapped around your mother’s shoulder, just as her arm is wrapped around his waist.

“It’s been a while since I played this, so you’ll have to excuse any mistakes,” you smile lightly at them. “This one’s for you.”

The opening notes to Elton John’s Your Song begin to fill the house, transposed slightly in order to make the key more comfortable for your range when you begin to sing.

“Sweetie,” your mother’s awe filled voice reaches your ears as both your parents look on at you with awe.

The pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet as you begin to sing. Your voice echoes throughout the open space, comforting them all like a blanket with each note that you hit. A fact which makes their hearts all race in their chest as they register that this is for them, too.

Not even a second later, your father is extending his hand out to your mother in offering, a loving smile pulling at his lips. A hand of which your mother places her own in somewhat shyly.

Pulling her in closer, your parents begin to slow dance to the melody that you create for them with this meaningful song. Each cannot help the way tears gather in the corners of their eyes, reliving very special memories all the while as they get lost in each other’s embrace.

The moment you hit the chorus, you drop your void.

“I hope you don’t mind,” every single tender emotion you’ve ever felt towards all eight of them washes over their very souls at this moment in time.

“I hope you don’t mind,” all the love, happiness, affection, and fondness you have for them floods their sense, and each male cannot help the way their breaths hitch silently in their throats.

“That I put down in words,” you smile, heart swelling in your chest as you think of your eight Kings surrounding you at this very moment. You brush against their minds. “How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”

You only play the first verse and chorus, but you can just tell from the way your parents turn to look at you afterwards that it was more than enough. Especially when you notice your mother quickly bring her hands up to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you, Sweetie,” Nick’s voice is rough, choking slightly on his emotions as he meets your gaze. “That truly meant a lot to us.”

“It’s not every day you get to dance to your wedding song again, just like the first time,” your mother chuckles, eyes shining as she leans into your father’s side.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile at them.

“I don’t think we’re the only ones who enjoyed it,” at the way your mother’s eyes briefly dart behind you, you’re quick to turn around.

Eight tender gazes stare back at you, eyes shining with the emotions they cannot put into words for the moment. Emotions of which wash over you, seeing as you have yet to close your void to them yet. A fact of which makes you smile as you are once more surrounded by that familiar warmth you have come to experience with them, comforted by their love and affection just as you always are.

Again, you tenderly brush against their minds, of which they immediately brush back.

Standing from the bench, you’re quick to step out. A faint smile rests on your features as you move to stand beside Jongho for the moment who currently leans against the railing of the stairs for support.

Just as you go to say something the sound of the front door opening draws your attention. You hear the scraping of nails against the hardwood floor before you feel yourself being tackled to the ground, wet, slobbery kisses being placed all over your face.

“Wes!” You giggle, attempting to catch your breath after getting the air knocked out of you. “Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Wes!” The booming command of your sister’s voice reaches your ears, and immediately, the dog is sliding off of you. “No jumping!”

“It’s okay, he’s just-“ the words die in your throat as you sit up to see your sister being helped through the door by Vasco.

The catch in your breath is noticed by all as your gaze settles in on Crystal’s stomach, swollen and round. The way you can see her smiling at you softly, your mother practically beaming out of the corner of your eyes, has you on your feet in an instant.

“Surprise,” she breathes, watching as you come to stand before her as Vasco gently shuts the front door behind them.

“You- I-“ you blink, fresh tears springing to your eyes as you take in her figure standing before you. You laugh, nothing but pure joy pulling at your features as the first of your tears begin to slide down the side of your cheeks. “You’re pregnant.”

She nods. “I am.”

“I’m going to be an aunt,” you voice, gaze darting between her stomach and her eyes.

“You are,” she confirms, her own voice now slightly rough as her emotions wash down upon her, too. “Again.”

You fall to your knees, hands hesitant in touching her stomach. That is, until you see her smiling down at you, a subtle nod to her head.

Gently, you place your hands on her stomach, fingers trembling all the while.

“I swear to you,” you begin, keeping your tone low as you meet her gaze all the while. “For as long as I shall live, no harm will ever come to this little one.”

You fail to see the way eight males straighten ever so subtly behind you, for they know that those words you have just spoken are true. They will do whatever they can in their power to make sure that you keep your promise, protecting that child as if it were their own. After all, it’s exactly what you would want. It’s exactly what you are going to do.

Your sister places a tender hand on top of your head, humming all the while. “I know.”

Softly, you lean forward to rest your forehead against her stomach, feeling the way your sister places her hands atop your shoulders. She gives you a reassuring squeeze, revelling in this tender moment with you as her sister, the meaning deeper than either of your parents will ever realize.

“Now, are you gonna sit there on the floor all day, or are you going to introduce me to your mystery lovers here?” The teasing drawl of Crystal’s voice manages to catch your attention.

“You caught me,” you sigh, a chuckle falling from your lips as you move to wipe your eyes.

“I knew it!” She jeers, practically pulling you back onto your feet in the next second. “Vasco, didn’t I keep telling you that she was probably hiding more than one mystery lover?”

At the way she turns eagerly to her husband standing beside her, you can just tell that you’ve been the topic of many conversations regarding this.

“You did, Honey,” Vasco chuckles.

“Let’s see,” Crystal hums. “Just how many of there are you.”

You quirk a brow in amusement, watching as she nods her head as she counts off each male.

Her eyes widen significantly. “Eight! There’s eight of you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you huff slightly, a teasing quirk to the corner of your lips.

“Blink twice if she’s paying you,” Crystal leans forward slightly, arms spread as if to hold you back at a moment’s notice.

“Crys!” You complain loudly, shooting her an exasperated look in the next moment.

“I’m just teasing you,” she chuckles, flinging an arm around your shoulders in the next second. “After all, what are big sisters for?”

“And here I was going to play you a song,” you hum, amusedly.

At the way her eyes nearly bug out of her head, she’s quick to begin apologizing. “You can still play me a song! I promise I won’t joke anymore!”

“You just missed her performing for us a few minutes ago,” your father adds, somewhat knowingly.

“Well, now you have to play for us!” Crystal states, matter-of-factly. “It’s not fair of you to deny little Elijah a chance to hear his aunt perform when she’s offering.”

“You’re having a boy?” Your eyes shine as you meet your sister’s gaze.

She nods, and immediately you wrap her in your arms. A hug of which she eagerly returns.

“He’s coming home.” She whispers lowly in your ear, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

A few moments later, you pull away, staring deeply into her eyes. Gently, you bring your hands down to grasp hers in your own, guiding her over to the piano. Carefully, you help her sit in the chair closest to the bench, giving her knee a light squeeze once she’s settled.

Not even a second later, Vasco comes to stand beside her.

For the second time that day, you settle yourself onto the bench, fingers hovering over the ivory. Your heart swells, and you find yourself taking a deep breath in.

With the first chord you play, you immediately begin to sing. The soft tune of Marianas Trench’s Forget Me Not fills the air, and the longer you perform, the more you find yourself glancing at your sister out of the corner of your eyes.

“I’m here to remind you, what’s lost is never gone,” you meet her gaze, and you hear her breath hitch as you do so.

You blink, facing forward once more.

“I’m not ready for what’s to come,” again you brush against those eight strings within your mind, letting them know that this song is for you as much as it is for her.

“But I wanted you to know, I still need you, my friend,” you smile faintly, hearing her breath hitch once more as understanding flashes within her gaze. “From the line to amend, to the cradle again.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your parents holding onto one another as they watch this scene unfold before their very eyes. Tears line their vision, one already making its way down the side of your mother’s cheek.

“If memories are shadows, we’d best not waste the light.” Too many painful memories threaten to consume you, reminding you of all of your darkest times. Yet, beneath all that darkness, there is still hope. A golden hue that shines through with all the good memories you have, with all of them.

“I know you’re not quite here, but you’re not quite gone,” you will always hold onto your memories, even the bad ones. A sentiment that you know your sister shares as the first of her tears begin to trail down her face. “Sometimes the night gets darkest before the dawn.”

The only sound that can be heard throughout the house is you, the piano accompanying you accentuating your voice and the notes that you play. The song encompasses everything you wish to say to your sister and her unborn child, but also to yourself and your Eight Kings. You know the future is uncertain, and you know the road will be difficult, but you’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.

“Life’s too short but the end is so long.” The final notes trickle out, softly ringing through the air as you still your hands over the keys once more.

The sound of your sister sniffling draws your attention to her and you turn your head to see her practically clinging onto Vasco for dear life. Her lower lip wobbles, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes frantically before meeting your gaze.

Everything she wants to say to you, you can see in her eyes. The gratitude, the understanding, but most of all, the love you can see shining within her gaze as she looks at you comes through clearly. A fact of which that has you smiling softly, the subtlest of nods to your head in acknowledgment as warmth floods your chest.

Eight tender caresses brush against your mind, and you let them in.

A content hum escapes your lips as their emotions wash over you for the moment. Shamelessly, all eight of them share with you exactly how you have just made them feel, for watching you, hearing you perform for them like this, means more to them than you’ll ever know. The fact that you have trusted them with such an intimacy which also reflects moments shared with your family has warmth flooding their veins, hearts pounding erratically within their chests.

“What a first impression I must be making,” Crystal jokes, drying her eyes. “Here I am sobbing in front of your significant others, and I don’t even know their names yet.”

You chuckle, a soft, teasing quirk to your lips, “what are younger sister’s for?”

“They’re staying for dinner, so there’ll be plenty of time for proper introductions then,” Nick adds, soothingly rubbing a hand over your mother’s back seeing as she’s finally calmed down for the moment.

You stand, moving to rest between Yunho and Seonghwa. Even though you’re only standing beside the two males, you can feel them all surrounding you, offering you comfort yet again in their own ways.

You smile.

“So,” your mother clears her throat, clapping her hands once to catch everyone’s attention, “who’s hungry?”

542 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 11 months

Text

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america fluff

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 7 months

Text

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter

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feyspeaker · 2 months

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Hi! I made an account just so I could follow your work. Your art is brilliant and honestly and inspiration to where I want to be. I’m an older artist who has all the anxiety when it comes to improving my process. I’m trying to get into digital portraits and I have so many ideas in my head, but it’s frustrating because I’m not where I want to be to make this happen. What are some tricks that help you/software do you use? Of course, you don’t have to share anything that makes you uncomfortable. I currently have procreate and an iPad, but I feel a little lost. Wondering if I need a different writing tablet and photoshop. Not sure. I just eventually want to find that 3D, but also artistic look you are able to achieve.

hey there! thank you so much!!

ultimately, I will sound like a broken record but I always recommend you sign up for local figure drawing or painting classes. have people pose for you at home and sketch with charcoal and paper. go to the zoo and sit down in front on an exhibit for an hour and try to draw the animals in front of you as fast as you can and fill a couple of pages, move on to a new exhibit and do it again!

nothing is more powerful of a tool to learn than whatever writing utensil you have in your purse and the back of a napkin when you see something you'd like to capture. I've spent quite frankly my entire rememberable life doing this. I used to spend every single day in middle school/high school/my brief failed stint in community college with a pack of cheap sharpies and a beat up binder full of old worksheets and homework to draw on the backs of.

drawing/painting from life will teach you better than anything.

I use a very outdated version of Photoshop, and only got a "nice" tablet in the past 7 months.

Also, a huge tip to you and anyone else reading this: do NOT get too focused on a "style" that you want. Obsessing over that just ruined me for years and years. I wanted so, so, so badly to be the next Matsuri Hino when I was a kid. I copied her work religiously and it NEVER looked right. Frustrated me to no end. And you know why my stuff never looked like hers? Because I'm not her! You can't force your art to come out any way that isn't natural, and the sooner you can accept the art your hand wants to create, the happier you'll be and the easier art will get for you.

The past couple of years before I started diving into this more realism based work, I was just shoving myself through trying to make what art I envied of others. Very stylized/textured watercolor comic book style stuff. And I just was NOT getting any better at it. I have always been more inclined toward realism work, but I've hated it and yearned for stylized work. Yoshitaka Amano? God, I just drooled over that artstyle and beat myself up for never being able to capture it in studies or otherwise.

I finally essentially restructured my entire career around making the art that makes me happy instead of what I "wanted" it to look like. I was extremely depressed, my life was falling apart, and I still needed to make art to survive but I couldn't "art" if I was depressed and hated doing it, so I just had to step back and stop worrying so much about what I thought I wanted to make, and started making what felt most natural.

there's no easy way, and art can be a soul destroying path at times, truly. your software and hardware should come very last place compared to practicing from life (it doesn't matter if you want to paint cartoony stuff of realistic stuff, always start from life). naturally you will find what makes your heart sing the most.

I get a lot of messages from people telling me similar stuff "oh your art is EXACTLY what I want to do!" but I promise you that kind of thought process is chasing a dragon that is likely to harm or drag your creative process down. art style is such a deeply personal thing, so of COURSE it's important to find inspiration, but the second looking at someone else's artwork stops inspiring you and starts frustrating you, put it away.

There are some artists who I love, that I do not check up on often because their artwork ignites, like, serious bitter jealousy in me. It's the truth. I get so mad at myself for not being more like them, and it's such a poison. I think more artists should be transparent about this feeling because I KNOW the art community has a lot of jealousy and ugliness in it.

A fact of being an artist is that you will never be completely happy with a piece you make. You are always going to see the flaws, and that doesn't change whether you'd been drawing for 2 months or 20 years. Occasionally, you will get one piece that you are like "how did I make that???" and then get frustrated that you can't recreate it lol! It's a tough beast.

It's just really important to step back and work on yourself and where you are at, because at the end of the day, the way your soul wants to express artwork might be WILDLY different from what your brain wants, and it can be really detrimental to let those two go to war.

I hope this helps. I'm very passionate about this, and when I started out I ALWAYS ignored the artists who gave the same exact tips as above. I thought they were so annoying and unhelpful, but now I /get it/.

#ask

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at-tensionseeker · 1 year

Text

No Is A Full Sentence

Elizabeth Olsen x Y/N

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, social anxiety, panic attacks

Genre: Fluff, Funny (i think, based on my humor lol)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44250676

This fanfic is inspired by Lizzie's Sam Jones' interview. I hope you enjoy!

It’s your first time going to this sushi place that one of your friends recommended. It isn’t far from your apartment, but you did have to walk for about ten minutes to get there. You wouldn’t have been if you weren’t craving those salmon nigiri take outs that your friend Jan brought to your apartment last week during your regularly scheduled movie nights. Instead, here you are standing in the back of the restaurant’s long ass line that reached their storefront because of so many people trying to buy their own food.

You put your hands in your coat’s pockets, just a failed attempt of trying to warm them. The memory of your gloves flashes in your eyes and the regret of not bringing them with you makes you want to kick yourself.

The December breeze in New York is definitely a killer. When you first moved in two years ago, you couldn’t even go outside for a full month without getting sick. The climate was new to you, especially having lived in sunny, warm weather all your life. It became a habit to buy long coats, jackets, winter gloves, and even earmuffs just so you don’t get hypothermia in the long run. Soon enough, you adjusted to the temperatures and learned how to adjust both your apartment’s and car’s heating system to help you during the winter season. It was fun.

The line moves slowly. Whatever the reason for that is, you really don’t know. Besides, you tell yourself, that you’re already in line and people behind you have come up so if you leave now you’ll just wake up in the middle of the night with those damn nigiris flooding your mind. So, you decided to stay.

You tip your toes to see if the people in front of you have moved since the last ten minutes you were there, but the sight of a short blonde hair and green eyes that met yours as she turns around for a split second stops you from breathing.

You’ve seen that face before. Multiple times.

In movies, in that Disney+ show, interviews, edits. You know it’s her.

You’ve been following her journey since her first appearance in Avengers Age of Ultron and has been on the ride up until her most recent successful film, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. You weren’t a die-hard Marvel fan before and even now you wouldn’t dare to call yourself one, but you quickly found yourself latched on to the franchise ever since you saw her. There aren’t any posters in your room, and you certainly haven’t gone to any Comic-cons, but you loved how she portrayed such a powerful character and has been fascinated by her ever since.

Elizabeth Olsen is standing in line in front of you in the middle of the cold New York weather, her frame clad in black faux fur coat and beanie on top of her head that really barely covers her blonde hair.

You suddenly couldn’t breathe. The air is getting colder and thinner for your liking, and you fear you’ll pass out before you could even say hi to her. There’s sweat forming on your palms and you know you can feel it, but you’re also a little confused since you’re pretty sure normal people don’t sweat in the cold. You brush it profusely against the material of your coat just to get it off or to calm your nerves. That one you’re still debating on.

The line moves briefly and then stops, and you think to yourself that if you could just muster any amount of courage, you’d say hi to her. Maybe get a photo with her even.

Should you say hi to her? What will you tell her? Do you tap her first on the shoulder so she can look back at you? Or is that rude?

The line moves again and you curse inwardly. It was barely moving five minutes ago, and now that you see a Hollywood Star in front of you it suddenly budges?

How infuriatingly unlucky of you.

From what you’ve seen, Elizabeth seems nice to her fans during fan meets and interviews so you know she’s not rude. That’s one of the reasons why you fell in love with her personality.

But this isn’t a Comic-con, is it? This isn’t some staged interview wherein you get a free backstage pass to meet your idol, no. This is literally outside of the restaurant in the middle of a busy New York street and she’s just trying to grab some food just like everyone else.

You’re still conflicted, even when the both of you finally reach inside. There’s probably about 4 to 5 people in front of you now, and you’re not even thinking about the sushi at this point anymore. Your hands still shake and sweat no matter how many times you wipe it off, and your heart beats faster than normal when you realize you’re both going to part ways sooner than you like it. It gets even harder to convince yourself to just go for it because when will another opportunity like this be presented to you in the future? Chances are lower than zero itself. A negative number if you think of it.

So when the customer in front of her finally reaches the counter, your shaky hands poke her slightly on her left shoulder.

Nothing.

Okay, maybe a little harder?

You poke her again, and she whips her head back to you. Her brows furrowed at the sight of you and they raise up in question. It’s hard not to look like a fool in front of a famous person, isn’t it? You probably look like a deer in headlights, but you quickly found your voice after a few blinks.

“Uh- h-hi,” you stammer. “Are you- is it okay if- I’m a huge fan of your work. Is it okay if I ask for a photo?”

You’re pretty sure she didn’t hear that. You barely let out a whisper, or is that blood that’s rushing through your ears?

Realization dawns on her face on what you mean. She shakes her head.

“No.”

There is a breaking sound somewhere. You’re not entirely sure if it’s one of the waiters who accidentally breaks some glass or if it is the sound of your heart breaking. You freeze in your place, embarrassed and hurt, but mostly embarrassed because of the dumb decision you made. Instead of letting that get to you, you give her a smile and nod to let her know that you get it.

“Forgive me,” you blurt out, still smiling at her to hide the tears burning in the back of your eyes. “I understand, of course. You’re not obliged to. I’m really-“ you pause to swallow the lump in your throat. It’s just really embarrassing. “I’m really glad to have seen you in person.”

Elizabeth only looks at you and gives you a warm smile and that eases out a little bit of your anxiety of probably offending her at some point. The customer in front of her left, you notice, so you usher her forward. She gives you one last smile and orders her food.

Few of the things you didn’t notice though. Her eyes are red and a little bit swollen, probably from crying and when she ordered her food, her hands are clasped together with fingers rubbing each other to ease her anxiety. Of course you would have, had you not been too busy cursing yourself at your stupidity.

Elizabeth grabs her takeout, gives you one last look and exits the restaurant.

You take the sushi you’re not craving anymore and replays the encounter as you go your way home. You can’t believe that the first celebrity you’ll meet in New York is the one person you adore. It was surreal, to say the least, and despite the rocky meeting with Elizabeth Olsen you are still happy to have seen her smile and look at you directly in person.

You swear to God you’ll attend the next Comic-con.

Sending the news to Jan, who doesn’t believe you therefore requested that you call him as soon as you arrive, you quickly pocket your phone and sprint your way outside of the busier streets of New York. You reach the more calm and quiet area where your apartment is and begin to walk slowly.

The unfortunate encounter with Elizabeth Olsen has been the only thing that’s replaying in your mind so when you spot a crouched figure with faux fur coat and beanie once again, you couldn’t help but squeak.

You almost tripped on her actually. She’s just by the sidewalk, both of her hands are covering her ears and her eyes are tightly closed. There’s a frown and a thin line of sweat on her face and you didn’t think twice before fully sitting down in front of her to check.

“Hey,” you prod slowly. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

Flashes of hands clasped together back at the restaurant flood your brain and it didn’t take you another minute to realize that she’s currently having a panic attack.

“Uhm… Elizabeth- Lizzie? Can I call you that? I’ll call you that, okay?” You stammer. “I’m here to help you. Can you breathe slowly please?”

Elizabeth does as you tell her. You continue to tell her to breathe and that everything is fine around you. “It’s scary, I know. But it will pass, okay? You need to be in the present, Lizzie. Just listen to my voice. I’ll be right here and you’re not alone.”

Albeit her eyes are still shut, her breathing sounds less worse than before. And when she finally looks up to you, you see the green eyes you have admired for a long time swimming in pain and anxiety. It makes you want to pull her for a hug since she may need one, but you obviously don’t want to overstep your boundaries even if that means comforting her to help.

“Concentrate on my breathing,” you nod at her to encourage her to copy the rhythm you set for her. “That’s it. You’re doing really good, Lizzie.”

Eventually after what seems like hours of doing breathing exercises with her capped with a lot of reassuring words, the hands cupping her ears drop down to her lap and are slowly rubbing her palms in another attempt to calm herself. You slowly stand up from the ground and hold out a hand for her to take.

“Are you okay now? Can you stand?” You offer. She takes it and stands up rather wobbly.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I feel better.”

“Right,” you smile at her. Noticing that you’re still holding her also glove-less hand, your cheeks flush as you pull it back while taking two steps backwards. You don’t want to overcrowd her after having an anxiety attack.

“Um so, are you from around here? I could walk you to your place if you want,” you tell her, not really wanting to risk letting her go alone after an episode. You know how it feels to be trapped by anxiety like that, and to break down in public places without backup is definitely one of the worst experiences ever.

“I’m not trying to stalk you or something,” you clarify after not getting an answer from her. “I’m Y/N. I live there in that building,” you point towards your apartment. “If you want, I can jog really quickly and get my car and I can drive you home. Or not, of course I don’t want to overstep. I understand completely.

“It’s just, I don’t want you to go on your own after experiencing that,” you add. “I know how it feels and I honestly just want to help you.”

Elizabeth contemplates for a moment and answers. “That’s very kind of you, Y/N. But, I think I need to decline the offer. Being in this business, I’m not a very trusting person-“

“Of course,” you cut her off quickly. “I understand, Ms. Olsen.”

“However,” she smiles a little bit at your rambling once again. “Can I please borrow your phone? Mine died down and I need to call my sister so she can pick me up from here. And I guess don’t mind the company while waiting?”

You quickly fish out your phone and hand it over to her. You also ignore the amused chuckle from her as soon as she sees your lock screen is that of Wanda Maximoff.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“The phone’s locked. Do you want to type in your password?” She smiles, the look of amusement still twinkling in her eyes. You don’t mind though. You’d prefer her teasing eyes over the sad ones you witnessed a while ago.

“Oh, okay. Here let me just,” you move forward to type in 0216 in your phone and the blush creeps back in your face once again when you feel her eyes watching you.

Elizabeth calls one of her twin sisters. Apparently, they’re here in New York for a fashion event and Elizabeth thought it’d be nice to come with them. While waiting for one of the Olsen twins, you both sat on one of the stairs and talked for a bit.

“I want to say that I’m sorry for refusing to take a photo a while ago,” she looks at you a little apologetically. Her posture seems calmer now and you’re really glad that she’s doing better every passing minute. “I was out on my own, and a few people have recognized me on the streets and I was just trying to have a nice time for myself.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” you reply. “I wasn’t lying when I said I completely understand and that you’re not obliged to. I'm just glad to meet you.

“I should be the one to apologize,” you bite your lip nervously. It didn’t cross your mind that you could’ve been the trigger to her already bubbling up anxiety but hearing her say that crowds have already recognized her, you asking for a photo was the last straw. “I was contemplating whether or not to ask you and I did, but I know I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

The actress waves it off. “No, honestly you were the most polite one. You were just the first and only person I said ‘no’ to who didn’t insist on getting a photo, and that set me off. Others just didn’t care and they still took their flashing phones out and pointed it at me.”

“One thing I learned from you is that ‘no is a full sentence’ so,” you acknowledge with a smile, distinctly remembering that one interview of hers with Sam Jones.

“Yes, exactly,” she laughs.

“We can take a photo now if you want to?” The actress offers after a moment of silence. “You helped me through a tough time. It’s one of the ways I can repay you.”

“It’s okay, really. You don’t have to repay me or anything. Kindness is free,” you reply, to which her small smile widens a lot more. “You’ve had a long day. I’m just the stranger who wants to help a fellow anxiety sufferer,” you joke to which she laughs lightly.

“At this point you’re not a stranger anymore,” Elizabeth says, her fingers still fiddling with each other. “I know your name is Y/N, and where you live,” she points to your building to prove it. “Those two plus the fact that your wallpaper is Wanda and your passcode is my birthday.”

She smirks at you, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks flush for the nth time that day. “Okay, you win. Yes, I’m your fan and all that. You can make fun of me now.”

“Don’t be like that,” Elizabeth laughs at your silly eye roll but waves it off. “I’m always honored to meet my fans.”

A black car pulls up from out of nowhere and Elizabeth stands up to leave. “This was really great. Minus the anxiety part,” she turns back to you and flashes that award winning smile yet again. “I’m grateful that it was you who found me cowering in the streets, Y/N. I’m hoping to see you again some other time when neither of us is either breaking down or a complete and total stranger,” you note the hopeful tone in her voice, and that makes you wonder if there’s another universe out there wherein she’ll still remember you after tonight because you’re pretty sure she wouldn’t.

If you’re lucky, this might be that universe but who knows?

“I’m glad you’re safe,” you smile at her. “See you around, Ms. Olsen.”

“That is such a formal way to address me,” She calls out, opening the door to the front seat.

“Elizabeth, then?” You suggest to which she grimaces.

“Just Lizzie is fine. I distinctly remember you calling me that a while ago during… you know,” she trails off. “And only my mom calls me by my full name and that only happens when I’m in trouble.”

“Okay, Lizzie,” you chuckle. Waving a hand up to a goodbye, the car finally speeds off to the opposite direction of your apartment. You let out a sigh and smile at the events as you walk back home.

Even when you are in bed, the memory of her voice and her smile makes you giddy. This definitely goes on the top of your list of most memorable things that have happened to you while staying in New York. You still couldn’t believe your chances. Granted your first meeting was terrible in all ways, Elizabeth was nothing short of amazing to you. You really aren’t wrong to follow her throughout her career because of her personality. The personal encounter made you want to support her more in the future.

The morning after that, the wild array of flowers on your doorstep have kind of taken you by surprise. To add to that, you see the simple note on one of the bouquets that says

“To my biggest fan,

Thank you.

Love,

Wanda Maximoff”

and your heart melts at the sentiment.

You aren’t expecting yourself to be at the receiving end of this, but it’s definitely not unwanted. It most definitely isn’t, especially when you check your phone and see a text from an unknown number asking whether or not you got the package.

You replied to Elizabeth, saving her number under “Lizzie” with a huge grin on your face. She must’ve gotten the number from her sister when she borrowed your phone to call her. Who would’ve thought that asking for a photo with Elizabeth Olsen and getting rejected will lead you to this?

Y/N: Are you my stalker now? Did our roles change?

Lizzie: Ha-ha. Very funny. I just want to say thank you again for yesterday.

Y/N: And you already have. The flowers are unnecessary.

Lizzie: Did you not like them?

Y/N: I love them. They’re beautiful, Lizzie. Thank you.

Lizzie: Would you say, they’re beautiful enough for us to talk about them over coffee?

You almost choke on the bread you made for breakfast this morning. That is definitely upfront and honest. You convince yourself that it’s probably just another way to thank you for the good deed yesterday, but there’s also a teeny tiny voice in your head saying she’s asking you out.

But why would she, right?

Deciding to not listen to any of your demons, you turn your attention back to her text. Upon rereading the text she sent for the third time now, it’s dawning on you that you’ve yet to reply. Elizabeth follows that up with another text and it makes you feel really silly because of how much your cheeks ache from smiling.

Lizzie: Maybe about Wanda also? If you want?

Lizzie: Or… anxiety issues?

Y/N: You already have me on board with coffee. Wanda talk, too. The anxiety issues, I think we should both stick to our therapists.

Lizzie: I can’t say I don’t agree on the last one.

Lizzie: So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow then? 3PM?

Y/N: Works for me, Lizzie.

Y/N: Or I can pick you up instead. I wouldn’t mind.

Lizzie: It’s okay, Y/N. Besides, I know where you live. *winky face*

You laugh at that one. She should definitely be a star of another comedy film. Elizabeth is funny by nature even though there are countless interviews of her saying that she’s not.

Y/N: Of course you’ll throw that.

Y/N: I feel unsafe now. This is unfair. I feel like I should also know where you live.

Lizzie: You will.

Lizzie: On the second date.

Lizzie: When you take me home.

Elizabeth leaves no room for questions. Your demons shut their mouths when you read that it most definitely will be a date. You want to play it cool, like coyly and shy, but what’s more to hide? She already knows you’re a fan, so you stick to that and pray that maybe… someday maybe, who knows, right? You’ll like each other.

Y/N: You’re smooth, Olsen. Got two dates in one day.

Lizzie: I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.

Y/N: Can’t wait.

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

You’re late. And you forgot your gloves again.

It’s another cold, almost snowy day in New York city. You love living here despite the busy times and countless people just trying to go through with their respective lives. It’s loud and lively and you used to hate that but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be but here.

You check your bag for the passes, but the memory of the glossy paper beside your gloves on your messy bed makes you internally groan. The first time you attend a Comic-con, and you leave your backstage passes. How else are you going to meet her?

Cursing inwardly, you send her a text to let her know of your situation even though you know that the event started an hour ago and she won’t see it because she’s definitely not holding her phone in the middle of answering questions. You blame your boss for sending that last minute spreadsheet, but this is your idea right? You have to suffer the consequences.

Being in line isn’t something foreign to you. In fact, it’s so familiar that you chuckle as kids, teens, and grown ups join you from the entrance. The line is moving rapidly as most people with passes (which could have been you if you weren’t so careless) have already gone inside. When you enter the place, it’s no surprise to see it packed as the recent MCU film has made tabloids and charts because of its success. You easily spot her even though you’re rows away from the front line. She’s sitting in the middle with her face scrunched up in annoyance and teeth biting her lower lip so hard you swear she wants to draw blood.

You grimace as you helplessly stand in the back with no way to even come forward to be close to her. The situation is laughable, but the frown on Elizabeth’s forehead is enough to make you worry and act fast. You find a spot with a lot of light so you move towards that, passing a lot of people in the process, with the hopes of her green eyes spotting you even for a distance.

It’s effective apparently, because she spots you at the same time a question is asked towards her. The frown eases, she scrunches up her nose adorably towards you and you nod back both in confirmation and reassurance that you made it there, and she lets out a full on grin you know is solely reserved for you. The interviewer interrupts and you laugh at her confused state.

“Elizabeth? The question?” The interviewer supplies.

“Right! I’m so sorry,” she laughs gleefully, head thrown back and hand covering her mouth and you’ve seen that look a thousand times before but it still gives you the same butterfly effect in your stomach. “I- uh. I saw my wife in the crowd and I got distracted. I’m sorry. What was the question again?”

“How romantic!” the interviewer swoons. “Everyone, that’s Elizabeth’s wife Y/N. Can we say hello to her?”

Your face turns red as people look at your direction and send cheers and hoots. You wave back to the fans shyly, stealing another glance at your wife on the stage as you do so. Standing in front of the light definitely has some good and bad results. You can’t believe she did that in front of everybody, but you’re not one to complain. Her PA also runs from the front to you upon hearing this and she ushers you through security. You chuckle as they bring you in, blowing Elizabeth a kiss before you disappear backstage.

“Hey,” your wife greets you after the event is finished. She skips towards your direction and plants a chaste kiss on your lips to which you happily sigh into. “I was worried you weren’t here.”

“Forgive me, my love,” you apologize while engulfing her in a hug. “You know commuting in New York is insane.”

“I repeatedly told you to get your license so we can buy you a new car.”

You smile at the worry in her voice. “I like it when you drive us to places you’re familiar with, Ms. Stuyvesant Street. And the boss left me with some last minute work.”

She pulls back to look at you. “And what were you doing in the back? Didn’t I leave the passes in our apartment?”

“I left them,” you sheepishly reply. Elizabeth narrows her eyes at you and shakes her head.

“And your gloves too. Am I right, my love?”

The cheeky smile you gave her is enough to confirm her suspicions. “I was really late and I wanted to see you as soon as I could. I miss you this morning.”

“Charming,” she laughs and rummages through her bag for something. Curious as you are, you lean forward to look at it. “Here.”

She hands you a pair of gloves.

“I keep one in case you forget yours during winter,” she grins, proud of what she did. “And I was right.”

You want to wipe off that cocky smirk off of her lips. There are a lot of people around you but she did announce you to everyone, so really what else is stopping you? After she said goodbye to everyone, you pull her hand so she moves closer to your side.

Elizabeth lets out a squeal when you grab both of her waist. You smell her perfume that invades your nostrils and your head swims at the fact that there’s nothing better than having her close again. She’s everywhere and the background fades away like a cliche movie scene, but you don’t care about any of those. She’s here in front of you and you’re incredibly happy to know that she loves you as much as you love her.

“I love you,” you whisper against her mouth.

“I love you, too.”

It’s insane how one kiss from her makes you feel giddy. And that’s saying something after being married to her for a year now.

“You need to wear the gloves, my love,” she chuckles when both of you pull away. Elizabeth leads you to the back exit that leads to the parking lot. The breeze picks up a little bit and snowflakes fall on your heads, but your face is still hot from kissing her.

“Why do I need the gloves when I could just hold your hand and let you warm me up?” You bob your eyebrows at her and kiss her temple as the both of you walk towards her car.

You’re lucky. There’s no doubt about that now. Being with such an incredible woman who supports you in everything that you do and loves you through it all is a bliss. You couldn’t have asked for more.

“And they say I’m the romantic one.”

#elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x reader #y/n #elizabeth olsen x y/n #fluff #lizzie x y/n #lizzie x you #elizabeth olsen x you #funny #new york city setting #fanfiction #fanfic #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wandanat #scarletwidow #marvel cinematic universe

580 notes · View notes

sefinaa · 6 months

Text

Is your crush your future love? + Advice

YouTube | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

Author’s note,

This isn’t based on your celebrity crush, this reading is based on the person you know or see and cannot speak to.

Credit

Pile 1:

No.

The person you are crushing on, is not your future, they would not be classified as your lover either. There is just a toxic feeling that I feel, however, it’s not associate with you, but it may be associated with the person you’re crushing on or something around their for family. I also hear a third party. This third party I believe is apart of the family.

Your crush also has very odd qualities, not quirky qualities that is, “Oh wow or you’re so cute.” These qualities are more like.. ⚠️. (That is the emoji I was channeling). I’m sure they are a nice person in your eyes and you may be the type of person to say, “you don’t know them, they’re so kind,” however there’s something really weird about your crush and it’s truly bothering me because it’s something like.. you need to leave type of energy. (It is also slightly freaky and I say this because I’m literally getting anxiety).

You need to be careful with this person and leave. They are also feeding off from your energy—similar to an energy, sucking vampire. It is something you don’t want to associate yourself with because your energy is very important and that is how you function as a person, so if you are having a hard time trying to leave because you cannot, and you still have a desire for this person then I recommend you to at least try to distance yourself from the person. So you can think for yourself and understand why you have this obsession on the wrong person or this crush on this person who isn’t good for you.

Also, I feel like you are having a breakthrough with something. It is definitely towards self improvement. I believe this crush is, in a way for you to be, I don’t want to say different, but similar to that. I’m picking up that you even know that this person may or not be a red flag, but overall, I’m seeing and feeling you want to move away from that type of person and surround yourself with good energy and positive vibes.

Pile 2:

No.

Why are you crushing on someone who is already in a relationship? Honey, you need to pick better choices and not fall for someone who’s currently in a loving relationship. I understand the situation can happen inadvertently, but spirits tells me that you already know that they are in that relationship. I hear that you know both of them and there is jealousy lingering on. That jealousy is stem on you. You have a lot of envious energy.

I recommend you start to learn how to love yourself properly, instead of focusing on the negativity and trying to be a home wrecker. Because the person you’re crushing on, is very loyal as well, and it is really not fair to all three of you. Not only are you hurting them, but the reality is, you’re truly hurting yourself. This could be a form of self sabotage, being a narcissist, or you believe that you deserve to be with that person, and whoever is in your way, “screw them I get whatever I want.” That’s not a good mentality.

I see an image of a cat stuck on a tree branch, scared to jump down because no one is there, until after awhile, someone comes with delicacy and helps. The cat is your inner child, and the person helping is you, your higher self. Your inner child is hurting awfully because of yourself, of the way you are treating the situation and yourself. Heal yourself, show love to yourself, be kind to yourself!! and things will change in your favor and you will not have that same toxic mentality.

Pile 3:

Maybe. This wary on you.

I am sensing your crush is a long distance type of situation. A majority of you feel as if you were to be in the relationship with this person it may not work out. And the rest of you, you feel as if you were to be in this relationship, how do you know if they’re loyal to you? How do you know that they truly love you for you? Each party has many questions and some of you are obsessing over it. Stop obsessing over it—the more you obsess over it, the worse it gets, and you will get stuck in a rabbit hole. You are stuck in this rabbit hole and you are watching YouTube videos associated with this. Some of you are constantly reading pick a card reading on Tumblr, Instagram, or TikTok spiritual readings that come on your feed. A majority of you are starting to believe every single one of them because of this crush. But the ones on TikTok and Instagram are telling you something different than the one on Tumblr. And because you keep reading them, you’re feeding your mind and your obsessive thoughts useless information when you are supposed to ask yourself these questions.

The main thing that you must stop, is constantly feeding your obsession with things that do not benefit you. You are entertaining your anxiety. Our anxiety is a killer when it comes to these type of situations because you do not know how the other person necessarily reacts than in person, and you also don’t know if they are being there, authentic self as well.

My advice is something that you do not want to hear. I advise you to completely distance yourself from these type of videos and readings as much as you can. The next thing I recommend is, meditating. I want you to understand your thoughts, let it flow to your brain and then let it go. Don’t entertain them, they don’t deserve it, but you deserve a free and calm mind. The third advice, my intuition says to take a long nice shower. It does not matter if you want to make it warm, cold or hot, but I recommend a cold shower because it will calm your nerves. Another piece of advice is to delete those saved videos and readings that you have about them. Delete them now. And don’t self sabotage yourself when you are in the middle of the process of removing these thoughts because these obsessions may be the reason why the relationship does not work out if you do further the situation.

Does the person have a crush on you? Absolutely. Will it be loyal? Yes to an extent. What do I mean by an extent? They will be loyal to you only if you are loyal to them. Will it be a loving relationship? Only if you remove these thoughts! This all depends on you!!

Pile 4:

Yup. Lucky pile :)

Your crush will be your future, and if you wanted to get married to them, expect a beautiful marriage. This person, their energy is so beautiful. I can feel the sense of wanting to run on a field filled with high grass, running with whom I desire, both of us laughing. The wind is breezing and the sun is a beautiful fiery color that shines on us. A picnic is near us and behind a big tree symbolizing our love. This description is what I feel about your crush.

I cannot channel much about your crush because the imagery I describe and channeled for you is the gist of your life with them. It’s a healthy and fulfilling relationship, you both won’t have that much fights, I’d say it is barely, more so silly fights. Like fighting during playing uno or who washes the dishes. This is definitely a calm relationship, you both will feel satisfied together and will experience many things you thought were not possible.

Although, I have one advice for you. Do not, I repeat, do not assume they will cheat on you. Because I hear some of you had an ex who cheated on you and now you have these negative thoughts clawing at you. Remove them at once, this person is so loyal. They are the reassurance type as well, they will be with you in sickness and in health. That’s the beautiful energy I’m feeling.

For those who don’t have these thoughts, then I recommend you to enjoy and let loose in this relationship. A majority of you are tense, and most likely are clenching your jaw. Stop. Let loose with them, they make you happy, let it be. No one is trying to hurt you in this relationship. You will be okay.

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penguin--rat · 5 months

Text

cardiomyocytes and connective tissue @nopanamaman

I’ve wanted to do a fic like this for some time now, a ‘thank you’ letter to PAFL and its community of sorts. I’m happy I finally got around to writing it:)

I wasn’t sure whether I should do this or not, but, hey! It might make someone feel a bit better!! Or, reading the fic will. That’s enough reason, I think, and you don’t have to read this, of course, no matter who you are.

First of all, I want to talk about PAFL a bit.

The first PAFL song I listened to was PiP. I saw its thumbnail when listening to some other music youtube, and so, I listened to it. Oh boy am I glad I did:) I remember thinking how cool it is that someone's making songs for their OCs and that people are interested in them. I could see so much love for the characters in it. I was so happy when I discovered there were more songs like that!! This was around when Comfort Zone had first come out, a week or two after at most. That was two years ago. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

I love PAFL. I genuinely love that songs haven’t been coming out much lately. Like, there’s media that comes out weekly and sucks shit. I’m glad Ferry is taking their time with this!!! Even if all we get each year is one song, that’s cool, because the community is wonderful and we also get doodles and art and now patreon stuff.. yippee yay… !!! And even if we didn’t. who the fuck caressss!!!!! I love coming up with AUs and OCs and theorizing with my friends!!! the time between songs gives us time to do all that:)

The characters are so charming. Every member of the cast has been a fave of mine at some point or another. They’re all so, real! I love them! I love how they fuck up and I love how they get fucked over and I love how they get exploded and killed and shot and hugged and saved and helped!!! They’re human… might not make sense, but i rlly do like them…

It’s so neat looking back at older songs and seeing how stuff’s changed. The art style, the music, it’s all so nice to look back on. Even if I wasn’t there for it.

And don’t even get me started on the worldbuilding.. Everyone say thank you to Boris Strugackij and Arkadij Strugackij for making roadside picnic and inspiring Ferry to make this… so lovely and neat. wonderful. I have not read it myself, but I might, just to be able to make my own pafl OCs more swagger..

So. This fic.

I can’t mention two years ago without at least mentioning my depression.

I can’t remember most of last year, speaking truthfully. Parts of 2021 are also fuzzy. Depression and anxiety are terrible, would not recommend. This feels cheesy to say, but it does get better!!! Slowly, unsteadily, it gets better!!! I don’t mean for this part of the post to be a ‘feel bad for me’ thing at all. Do not. I am safe and healthy now and I couldn’t be happier to be here right now.

Is life good now?? Sorta, but what matters to me right now is, I’m happy!!! It feels so surreal. I never thought I’d be like this. A part of me wants to be angry, to get depressed again about how I could have been happy all this time. But I won’t!!! Because then I’d spiral and forget another year, and, I don’t want that!

Which is so cool!!! I can like, fucking, do stuff now!! I can throw away the bad thoughts, embrace the good ones, encourage myself!!! I do things!!! I go outside and goddd dude that’s so good!! I go outside!!!

I’m doing stuff! I’m drawing, writing, cleaning my room, taking care of myself!!! If I didn’t stay alive to enjoy these small joys, what am I even here for??

And I’m alive!!! I’m here!!! I made it, I’m here, writing this on 10th november, 2023, and I’m ALIVE!!!! How cool is that???

And yea, the world is shitty, it sucks ass, but, my friends don’t!!!:3 and that’s more than enough for me… SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIENDS!!! I LOVE YOU DUDES!!!

Moving on:

It doesn’t feel right to say that I’m here now only to PAFL. But, what I can say is that it’s been a wonderful crutch for me!! It’s been something to focus on, something silly, but also something I can relate to, and something that inspires me to make my own stuff! I’d most likely still be here, were it not for these silly songs.. but, not sure I’d be as alive as I am now! Unsure if my heart would feel right in my chest! And I wouldn’t have met my amazing friends!!!! Everyone here is so nice.

Dima may be a bit OOC in this fic, and that's because! This fic is based on my own experiences, which, i don’t think is bad…

I could talk here forever about how it gets better. Butttt to be quite honest I don’t wanna lol. I just wanna say, Thank you! to Parties are for Losers, for being cool.

(Though I also wanna say, don’t put Ferry on a pedestal, they’re human, we all make mistakes, all that stuff.)

Ok time to go back to my manly Sergei ways and never talk about emotions ever again. or as anya would say: FUCK IT WE BALL!!!!!

#pafl #parties are for losers #fanart #fanfic #DOUBLE COMBO #anyway. love you guys #mwah!#pafl dmitry

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gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part One)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft best friends/ex-roommates!Chan, Minho, and Seungmin.......and Jisung is there lmao)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, boy next door/neighbor!hyunjin, virgin!reader, fluff ig, some humor, mentions of Chan doing OF, reader has anxiety and self-esteem issues, mentions of bad porn plots, one mention of reader being around hyunjin’s height and having big hands (but this is one of the few times i mention reader’s appearance in this series), it’s mentioned that reader is in her 20′s, reader may or may not have a hand kink lmao, minors dni!!!

Word count: 2,889

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

Permanent tag list (italics are unable to tag): @minluvly @awkwardnesshabitat @woozarts @septicrebel @4kwp @thepencilkorner @shmooooo [be added to the taglist by filling out this form!]

Next | Series Masterlist

“Last box?” Jisung huffed as he almost dropped the large cardboard box full of your stuff onto the tiled kitchen floor. He stood up straight and looked at you with pain on his features. “Please tell me that’s the last box.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining when you showed up late,” Seungmin told him with a frown, leaning against the center counter while he tried to catch his breath.

“Well I hardly even know _____, so you’re lucky I showed up at all,” he spat back.

Jisung was one of Chan’s friends, and Chan was one of your friends – one of three that you had since moving. The rest of your friends were left back in your hometown, so all you got was the occasional text when it was convenient for either of you.

For a little while, you were crammed into an apartment made for three people, and those three were Chan, Minho, and Seungmin. The trio needed another roommate to afford rent and avoid being evicted, so it was Minho and Seungmin who took two of the bedrooms, Chan offered you the third bedroom, and he slept on the couch. Once you got comfortable, though, you ended up rooming with Chan – he made a great roommate since he was always awake doing something until 5am when he’d return to the bedroom and sleep until noon.

But then you got a new job – well, same job but new family. As a nanny, you knew your kids would eventually get too old or their parents would get new jobs or whatever reason that they’d decide they didn’t need your services anymore. In this case, the twins you were in charge of had gotten into some daycare that their parents were on a waitlist for forever. Childcare was hard to get into since it was in such high demand, but it was also hard to afford – not like money was an issue for the family you worked for considering their house. But since their kids got in, they essentially had to fire you.

“But,” the father told you with a growing smile, “we know a family who could use a good nanny, and we want to recommend you – if you’re interested.”

You were interested, but then you found out how far away they lived. They lived on the outskirts of some busy city in a fancy gated community that would take several hours by train to get to. But the mother and father insisted that you meet with them anyway because maybe they could work something out if they liked you enough.

Maybe it was that they liked you that much, or maybe they were just that rich, but they rented an apartment nearby for you to live in – and it was a nice apartment. It was the kind of place only rich people could afford, with several ovens, a nice fridge that you could knock on and it would light up, and one of those fancy jacuzzi bathtubs that you thought only rich people or hotels could own when you were a kid. And all of this was included in your contract to nanny their three-year-old-son, Seojoon, and their one-year-old-son, Hajoon.

“So can we crash here with you now, or…?” Minho asks, his question hanging in the air as he raises a brow.

“What, can’t afford rent without me still?” you smirk. “I always knew I was the real breadwinner.”

“Look, if I could find a rich parent with kids–”

“They weren’t that rich,” you interject, referencing your old family.

“These people are, though!” Jisung bursts as he throws his hands in the air and looks around the space that you now call yours. “Holy shit, this place is sick! Yo, you need a roomie?”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes, “You just said you hardly know her.”

“We’re besties, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jisung stated completely deadpan with a shrug.

“How does one get themselves into the nannying business, might I ask?” Chan wondered with a smile that had ‘mischief’ written all over it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Onlyfans,” you teased. “I’m sure parents will love that.”

Chan’s face turned bright red as he tilted his head down to the counter and let out a long sigh, “Alright, never mind…”

You didn’t actually think anything of Chan trying to do Onlyfans for money – actually, you kind of envied his confidence. But you did unfortunately see and hear on a couple occasions, all the cringey stuff he had to say and do to get any sort of traction. But he did gain traction, and despite being faceless to avoid issues like a possible future employer finding him, he was making enough money to afford the rent without you. He might’ve been paying more than ⅓ of it, but at least him and his friends weren’t homeless.

Jisung let out a groan, “Don’t remind me about the Onlyfans. That shit haunts my dreams.”

“Don’t you mean nightmares?” Seungmin asked with furrowed brows that melted to show an evil smile. “Unless…”

“Ew! No– Fuck off, Seungmin!”

As Jisung threw packing paper from one of the boxes at Seungmin, and Seungmin began happily teasing the older boy about his possible wet dreams of Chan while Jisung threw even more brown paper at him, Minho seemed basically oblivious to it all as he let out a deep sigh and ended it with, “I’m hungry.”

Chan rolled his eyes, mumbling, “I deal with a bunch of toddlers…”

“Can we get lunch before we unpack?” Minho whined, looking to Chan for the answer. “Channie, can you order us something?”

“Well, here’s your nannying gig you wanted so badly,” you giggled.

You looked around at the open living/kitchen area that was now mostly decorated. There were a few small things here and there, but most of your stuff was put in a place that seemed suitable. You at least didn’t have to worry about furnishings like a coffee table or chairs for the island – the owners made sure the apartment came furnished when they found out all your furniture belonged to your roommates.

You checked the time on your phone. 7:48. Good timing, honestly. Your bedroom was only half decorated since there were some things in some boxes that you did not want your friends – and Jisung – seeing, but everything was put away in the kitchen and moved how you liked it, and the living room was presentable. Your toiletries were away in cabinets in the bathroom or in the shower, and towels were folded neatly away. Clothes were folded in drawers or in your closet, but underwear and bras and any lingerie you bought on a whim was still put away in a box that Jisung had opened before screaming and accidentally knocking it over in his race to get up and away from it. But overall, it took about 5 hours to get settled in.

A knock at the door made you jump.

You were never an ‘answer the door’ kind of person. Chan was the one who answered the door. Minho would if he had to, and so would Seungmin, but Minho wasn’t a people-person, and Seungmin just didn’t feel like talking to any of the neighbors or the delivery guy – yet this kid was somehow an extrovert. Chan would warmly speak to whoever was knocking at the door. You? You had family friends thinking you were mute or non-verbal because you never spoke. You were painfully shy as a child which blossomed into full-blown anxiety as you got older – but still painfully shy.

But you figured it was maybe the landlord or the parents that you worked for now. So you walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.

Who you saw was definitely not the parents, though you would probably call him daddy if he asked. You wondered if he was the landlord, in which place you considered one of those bad pornos where the girl can’t pay for whatever service she was getting and offered alternate means of payment.

‘Yeah, not even in your fucking dreams would you have the balls for that,’ you told yourself.

You undid the two locks on your door and then the chain before opening the door and smiling at the stranger, who had already began smiling warmly before the door was even open. His eyes crinkled as his full lips stretched into the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

He was tall, had long, dark hair that was half-up in a ponytail on the back of his head, and looked like he was hand-sculpted by a god. His body, while you couldn’t tell the exact shape since his clothes were a bit on the baggy side, was well proportioned – you could stare at his body proportions all day, especially in his black joggers, windbreaker, and white t-shirt underneath. Still, you could tell he was lean. He looked…cool. And oh-so stunning.

“Hi,” he grinned, holding up a hand in a motionless wave. “I’m sorry, this is probably a little weird, but I noticed you moved in today. Well, not like I watched you move in, but I saw the trucks and heard you and your friends coming up with the boxes.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckled, trying your best to make normal conversation even though your brain was short-circuiting the whole time, “they’re pretty loud. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no worries at all!” he assured you. “They’re kinda funny, actually. Who’s the small one with the brown hair? Almost looks like a coconut?”

You snorted, breaking into a real grin instead of a forced, polite one to hide your anxiety, “Probably Jisung.”

“Yeah, he’s funny,” he nodded.

“I mean, he’s something,” you shrugged, still laughing softly.

“Oh, right,” he seemed to remember why he even knocked in the first place. “I’m your neighbor. I live across the hall and thought I should introduce myself or something since you’re new. I kinda heard you say something about having no friends, so here I am!”

Right, the breathless and annoyed comment you made walking down the hall, carrying a box in your arms while Minho was nagging you about when you were going to throw a ‘sick house-warming rager’ and you had to tell him your only friends were him and the other two boneheads he lived with, and they were now about 2 hours away from you.

And back to the awkward polite smile and laugh you went, exclaiming, “Well, thanks for the gesture! I’m _____.”

As he moved to hold his hand out to shake yours, he seemed to pause, mouth open like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent for a second too long.

“Hyunjin,” he finally said, though it sounded…off. Almost unsure. “My name’s Hyunjin.”

‘Maybe he’s also full of anxiety.’

“Nice to meet you,” you told him as you shook his hand.

His was so much warmer than yours. And seemed a bit bigger, which surprised you since you seemed to be similar heights and you had the biggest hands in your entire anatomy class your senior year – that was a weird contest looking back on the memory. You glanced at his hand as he pulled it away – maybe you had a thing for hands, so what? – to see his hands seemed strong but delicate with long, slim fingers.

As if you needed another reason to have a crush on this seemingly-perfect random man.

No, not random man. Man who lives across the hall.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other pretty often, so feel free to say hi,” he offered with shrug. “Or if you need help with anything like building furniture or something, let me know. Since we’re friends now and stuff.”

“Cool,” you nodded, feeling your face get hot for absolutely no reason, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Hope so,” he said in a tone that made you feel…things. But it was quickly brushed off as he said, “I won’t keep you any longer since you’re probably still moving stuff around. I’ll see you later, _____.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Hyunjin,” you replied before closing the door.

Hyunjin. His name just felt good to say. Of course a super gorgeous person would have a nice name like Hyunjin.

‘Thank god it’s not something like Carl or Eustace. Imagine dating someone named Eustace, or moaning like, Timmy or something,’ you thought to yourself before quickly reminding yourself, ‘What does it matter? You don’t have a shot.’

That was the harsh reality. You’d let yourself fantasize while you fell asleep at night, but the truth was you knew it was impossible. You were average-looking at best, so insecure and hyper-aware of what everyone might possibly be thinking about you, and to top it all off: you were still a virgin in your 20’s. How were you going to explain that one to a guy who seemed like he could pull anyone?

You weren’t. Because there was no chance someone like Hyunjin would be interested in you.

‘Don’t say that!’ you automatically heard Chan in your head like he was living there, too. ‘Don’t ever put yourself down because you’re amazing as you are, and somebody out there will think so too.’

“Thanks, dad…” you mumbled to yourself as you shuffled back into your apartment.

“So how do you like the apartment?” Mrs. Park asked after they were caught up on how your first day with their children went.

“It’s so nice!” you gushed. “Thank you guys so much again for doing this for me.”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” Mr. Yoon promised, waving the matter away. “We’ve heard all about how you treated Marcus and Maisy and how well their English has gotten, and Donggun and Jiwon loved you so much. We had to do anything we could to have you be Seojoon and Hajoon’s nanny.”

“Truthfully, we don’t trust just anyone,” Mrs. Park admitted. “These nanny sites say all these people are certified, but I’ve heard so many horror stories from the girls at the salon.”

“We’ve been friends with Donggun and Jiwon for years, so we trust their judgment,” Mr. Yoon agreed. “Plus, the twins always seemed happy and healthy when we saw them. We could tell their family adored you.”

Your cheeks were heating at their compliments, and your smile reached your eyes as you held your hands to your chest, “Aw, thank you! That really means a lot to me. Honestly, the boys are such easy kids. Seojoon’s so sweet, and he really knows how to make someone laugh, huh?”

“He really is something,” Mr. Yoon chuckled. “Well, we hope you find your new place as cozy as your last. We understand moving somewhere new can be scary, but everybody who lives at The Brooke is nice.”

“And safe,” Mrs. Park interjected, pointing a finger at her husband and then at you, giving you a pointed look. “Living alone as a woman is frightening, but I assure you, not just anybody can live at The Brooke.”

Yeah, that was something that crossed your mind. Honestly, moving in with three boys was nerve-wracking enough even if your high school best friend knew them. She reached out after her second year of college because her roommate’s brother was Chan, and she told her that he and his roommates were looking for a roommate, and she told you because she knew you were looking to move out of your mom’s place but couldn’t afford living alone. But it kinda felt like pure luck that that worked out.

But now you were alone. If somebody broke in, there was no Chan to wrestle them to the ground if he had to. There was no Seungmin with his baseball bat that he kept behind his door. There was no Minho there to go feral with a kitchen knife. It was just you, who typically had ‘freeze’ as their fight or flight response – the ‘secret third option’ as you called it.

However, you knew The Brooke was basically for only rich people. It was all elite people who were influencers or businessmen and women, and the like. They weren’t necessarily trying to tell you those people were background checked, but they were basically saying poor people didn’t live there because poor people were the bad people.

Gotta love rich people logic.

But then that made you wonder who Hyunjin was. Truth be told, you weren’t really keeping up with the latest influencers or ‘It’ people. He seemed like he’d be some trendy influencer that a bunch of girls thirsted after, but you figured you would’ve seen him on social media somewhere, right? But he didn’t really seem like a businessman if you were going based off of his aesthetic. Maybe he just came from money.

“The Brooke is full of the best of the best,” Mr. Yoon continued. “Remember that if you ever feel nervous.”

You smiled warmly, “Right, thank you.”

“Alright, we won’t keep you,” Mrs. Park smiled, gesturing for you to follow her so she could show you out. “Go get some rest, okay? We’re glad you had a good first day.”

“I’m really looking forward to getting to know Seojoon and Hajoon more. Have a good night!”

#k-labels #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x reader #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #hyunjin x reader

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