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klaineficroulettechallenge-us · 2 years

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Chapter 8 By Honeysucklepink

Read on AO3 [Chapter 8]

Saturday, March 31, the day after Rachel’s Party

“God, it’s about time, Hamhock. I’ve been waiting here forever!” Sebastian was frustrated. He had shown up at The Lima Bean at the assigned time, but if he had known that the Fairy Princess and his friend Aretha Franklin were going to be there, he would have arrived sooner and gotten a table near them to eavesdrop. Instead, they were just leaving when he pulled into the parking lot. When Dave finally arrived, Sebastian’s coffee was already getting cold. Not that it was even good coffee, nothing like what he got in Parisian cafes.

“Relax, Sebastian, it’s been 15 minutes,” Dave said, taking off his jacket and putting it on the chair. “I had to help my dad with some stuff around the house. Wait here. I’m going to get something to drink.”

“Not going anywhere.” Sebastian rolled his eyes but waited, sipping his coffee and wincing. It tasted burnt, but it was still caffeine.

Dave returned with something that looked more like dessert than coffee. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“Nothing. You just missed Bravo’s least favorite Real Housewives side characters leaving.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh. You know, Kurt and that black girl friend of his…”

“Mercedes?”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’ll bet she’s totally in on selling Kurt and Blaine’s fake relationship. We could have spied on them and overheard them plotting.”

“Or they could have overheard us ,” Dave said. “I mean, don’t the two of us look a little suspicious being together?”

“I hate to hand it to you, but you have a point,” Sebastian said. “Okay. Next time, we pick a less conspicuous place.”

“Why do you need to spy on them anyway? Aren’t you getting enough information from their phones? Don’t tell me I broke into Kurt’s locker and copied his SIM card for nothing.”

Sebastian pulled out the burner phone he had been using to monitor Kurt and Blaine’s texts to each other. “You might as well have,” he said, tossing it on the table in between them. “I’ve been reading these for weeks, and I want to die from the boredom. There’s one whole night where they just send each other cheesy pick-up lines. Honestly, they’re barely PG-13. Not even one dick pic I can use for blackmail. Blaine must be dying of sexual frustration.”

“Or sex isn’t as important to him as it is to you.”

“Any guy who says that is lying. Based on these, I certainly don’t think they’re really dating, but it’s not enough. I need more proof. Which is where you come in. Anything from the party the other night?”

“I mean, not really?” Dave shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t know if we should be doing this anymore.”

“What? You can’t back out now; we’re so close to catching them in the lie!”

“You didn’t see Kurt the other night,” Dave said. He looked around nervously then leaned in. “At Rachel’s party, Santana decided to start a game of spin the bottle. Frankly, she didn’t give anyone a choice. Anyway, when it was Kurt’s turn to spin…it landed on me.”

“You dog!” Sebastian howled. “What’d you do, put a weight in the bottle or something? And how does he kiss? I bet like some little girl kissing her pony.”

“No. It wasn’t like that. We didn’t kiss at all. In fact, he ran off.” Dave sighed. “I really thought he’d forgiven me for all of it. Maybe he did, but he sure as hell didn’t forget.”

“Forget what?”

“When, um…when I was trying to sort my shit out last year, I took a lot of it… No. I took all of it out on Kurt. I stalked him, threatened him, intimidated him…right up until he stopped being scared of me. One day, I did my daily locker-check on him. You know, putting him in his place in the high school hierarchy. Except this time, he didn’t back down. He didn’t cower like usual. Instead, he chased me down the hallway and followed me into the locker room. He got all up in my face, just screaming at me, like he just…snapped. Telling me I was worthless, I was scared, I was ordinary. And…that’s when I grabbed his face, and I kissed him.”

Fuck. Sebastian wasn’t expecting that. He knew Dave had bullied Kurt, but this was something else. “And what happened next?”

“He pulled away, had this look on his face, like pure…terror. And I think I maybe went back in to kiss him again, like maybe he’d understand that it wasn’t just spontaneous, like I meant it, but he just shoved me again, hard . And that’s when I realized, Fuck. I just outed myself , and I freaked out and ran.”

Sebastian was stunned. He knew Dave was obsessed, but that was a little far. “Dude, you know I’m a grade-A manwhore, and I freely own that shit. But even I get consent first.”

“I know, and I regret it. I really do. I would never pull that kind of thing again with anyone. You know I found out later it had been the first time a guy ever kissed him? I mean, he’d kissed Brittany, but I guess when you’re a gay dude, that doesn’t really count. Well, that and everyone at McKinley has kissed Brittany; even I’ve done that.”

“And now I’m finding out Hummel’s not even a gold-star gay. Shit, today is full of surprises.”

“I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. You should have seen Kurt’s face last night. Like, the idea of kissing me freaked him out so much, it practically disgusted him. He had to run away, the thought of it was so awful. There’s no getting him to date me after that.”

“Wait a minute,” Sebastian said, realizing something but also needing to interrupt Dave’s descent into further self-loathing. “You said Kurt spun the bottle. So, he had to have kissed someone else before he landed on you. Who did he kiss?”

“Blaine. You know, now that I think about it, it was hardly a kiss.”

“How so?”

“I mean, when Blaine showed up with all his prep school buddies, they did this whole sexy, bad boy performance, and it ended with him landing a big kiss on Kurt, like a really intense thing with tongue and stuff. But then it got weird. I think Kurt was avoiding Blaine, but then they both disappeared somewhere, and then during the game, Kurt just gave him a peck. Like the kind I’d give my grandma.”

“Interesting.” Seb pondered. “Could be that Lady Face isn’t big on PDA and was pissed at Blaine. But I’ll bet it’s more like they couldn’t keep up the act all night. So, that means I still have a chance.”

—*—

Monday, April 2

When Kurt got back to school Monday morning, he was a little apprehensive. He had meant to catch up with Blaine in person over the weekend, but apparently, “ Something came up. Family emergency, ” and they texted back and forth all weekend instead. He did find out that what had happened between Nick and Jeff at Rachel’s party had been a huge misunderstanding fueled by Puck’s evil concoction. Rachel had left out of her drunken ramble late Friday night that the bottle game went another couple of rounds and that Brittany had taken over from Dave, landed on Nick, and made out with him a little longer than to Jeff’s liking. Blaine was happy to say that after a little mediation, Nick and Jeff had reconciled.

Kurt, in turn, had let Blaine know that Mercedes was now in on the ruse and that she wasn’t mad anymore (he didn’t say that Mercedes had offered to play Cupid or that he was happy to let her). So, it seemed that the plan was back on track… Operation Fake Date was still a go, complete with a dual Prom King run. But it still didn’t explain why he hadn’t seen Blaine all weekend or this morning.

It was close to lunchtime by the time Kurt was back at his locker when he sensed Blaine approaching. He turned to see Blaine back in his usual look: gelled hair, a gray striped cardigan, and a snappy bow tie. His jeans were dark and cuffed, not a single rip or tear to be seen. Blaine did a little spin and held out his hands as if on display. “Better?”

“Much. I appreciate the bad boy look as much as anyone, but let’s leave that to Puckerman. I’m happy to see the old ‘Sandy Olsen’ back that I know and love.” Kurt motioned to Blaine’s outfit, and it was then he realized that Blaine’s smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. “Oh, no. What’s wrong? Does this have anything to do with the family emergency you hinted at?”

“Maybe? Yes, actually. It’s just… My brother is back in town. Actually, he’s insisting on coming here and taking me to lunch.”

“Ah, the elusive older brother that I have yet to meet. Does he know you’re ‘dating’ someone?”

“That would require him paying attention to someone who is not himself, so highly unlikely.”

“Blainey!” Kurt and Blaine both turned to the voice that called out down the hall. Kurt’s jaw dropped… Walking towards them was the tall and devastatingly handsome star of the freecreditratingtoday.com/savings commercials! He loved those ads and even had the jingle as his ringtone. He glanced over at Blaine, who looked almost…embarrassed? Why, when they were being approached by the most handsome man in North America (next to Blaine, of course)?

“Cooper,” Blaine said as he accepted a hug from the man. “You didn’t have to come inside the school. I was going to meet you in the parking lot.”

“And miss the opportunity to schmooze with my fans, Squirt? Never. No, that Coach Sue gave me a full hall pass, after signing her breast, of course. Fascinating woman. And who’s this? This the boyfriend that Mom was gushing about?” He held his hand out for Kurt to shake, which he took enthusiastically.

“My boyfriend, yes. Of course, Mom told you.” And Kurt remembered, Oh, right. Gotta keep up the boyfriend thing. “Kurt, this is my brother, Cooper Anderson. Coop, meet Kurt Hummel.”

“He’s your brother? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Kurt shook Cooper’s hand enthusiastically. “I love your commercials!” He could swear he almost heard Blaine murmur, “That’s why ,” but he was still a bit starstruck.

“Guilty as charged on both counts,” Cooper said, his smile dazzling and oozing with charm. Must run in the family , Kurt guessed. “So, how long have you and my little brother been dating?”

“Cooper, stop,” Blaine groused. Kurt supposed he didn’t count on having to lie to his brother as well.

Kurt jumped to the rescue. “Not too long. Shortly before Valentine’s. But we’ve been friends for so long, we just sort of fell naturally into it.” He recounted their entire friendship-to-”relationship” story as he and Blaine had created it, told him about the New Directions, and mentioned that many of them were planning to attend performing arts colleges after graduation.

“Oh, no. Bad idea,” Cooper said. “No, you don’t want to waste time going to school when you could be auditioning and getting into the industry right now! Learning on your feet and all of that, right, Blainey?”

“I wish you would stop calling me that.”

Cooper snapped his fingers. “I got it! Why don’t I come by your Glee class this week, do a couple of free lessons? I’m sure your teacher won’t mind, especially since I’m giving his students the rare opportunity to learn from a professional. The Cooper Anderson Method, exclusively for you guys!”

“I’m sure Mr. Schuester won’t mind at all. I’ll ask him today!”

“Great! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get this squirt to lunch and back in time for, what, history? Calculus? Some other class that has nothing to do with acting?” He playfully nudged Blaine’s head, causing Blaine to smooth down his hair.

“Spanish, actually.”

“Ah, sí! ¡Eso será útil para las telenovelas! Great meeting you, Kurt.”

Blaine waved and mumbled, “Bye,” then turned and walked with Cooper.

As Kurt watched them both walk away, he couldn’t help noticing they both had very attractive butts. That ran in the family, too? Kurt was still hoping that this thing with Blaine would become real someday, but heck. He may be older, but depending how Cooper swung…

Just… Blaine’s brother was absolutely amazing.

—*—

Thursday, April 5

Blaine’s brother was absolutely infuriating.

When Cooper had called from the airport on Saturday with a “Surprise!” and an apology for missing their grandmother’s birthday (“I was auditioning for a super secret project, and the director’s name just might rhyme with Bichael May ”), Blaine could have forgiven him, even though it meant missing spending the rest of the weekend with Kurt. But showing up at his school, flirting with everyone (but especially Kurt), and everyone making googly-eyes at Cooper (but especially Kurt) was making him ill. It just reminded him that Cooper was the special one, and Blaine was just… Blaine.

After they had lunch that day (where Cooper humiliated him by testing out his awful accents on the poor Breadstix waitress), Kurt told him that Mr. Schue had okayed Cooper coming to class that week as a way to dissuade the seniors from doing Skip Day. Now, Blaine had to sit in the choir room while Cooper gave acting lessons. Worse, he watched as all of his classmates gobbled up all of his bad guidance with a spoon. Pointing, speaking loudly, ignoring your scene partner? This was terrible advice. And Kurt was writing notes, lapping it up voraciously. Blaine had thought there were hints of Kurt reciprocating his feelings, especially at Rachel’s party. Heck, he was pretty sure they were going to kiss again until Mercedes showed up. But now? All he could remember was Kurt begging him to do the Duran Duran medley with Cooper on Tuesday. Hearing “You’re both so handsome and good!” should have made him feel better. But it didn’t. Actually, for a split second, he wondered if Kurt didn’t want them both (to which he shivered an “Ew!” to himself).

He probably could have held in his outburst during their practice run of an NCIS scene, but when Cooper looked at him with a straight face and said, “A man in a dress is dead,” he couldn’t take it anymore.

“God, Cooper, why do you have to be like this?!?!” he yelled.

“There you go, Squirt! Now, point while you’re yelling!”

Ugh, he really didn’t get it. “I’m not acting, Coop. This is actually me actually yelling at you!” Now, the rest of the Glee Club was focused on them, awkwardly standing by. Even Tina was frozen on the floor, unsure if she should sit up or keep playing dead. “Ever since we were kids, you’ve had to turn everything into a competition, and I was never good enough. It was always, ‘You need to watch your rhythm, Blaine,’ ‘Try to keep up, Blaine,’ ‘Blaine, you need to focus.’ Never once did I get support!”

Cooper looked like he’d been hit with a brick. “Blaine, of course, I support you. I just wanted you to reach your potential.”

“Then tell me when I’m doing well! It’s always about what I’m not doing right! And then, I have to watch you waltz into my school, watch everyone fall all over themselves because you’re so charming, watch Kurt practically salivate over you. God you even cast your spell over my own boyfriend…” Well, now he was exposing himself… So what if it was the truth? It was what he and Kurt were convincing everyone of, right? “I’m done with this, Cooper, done with you .” And at that, he stormed off.

Blaine went to the locker room first to take out his frustrations on the punching bag. He threw as many punches that he could, throttling the bag until his shoulders and hands ached. He hit the shower afterward, turning the water to as hot as he could stand it. He let the steam and the pressure pound into his muscles and his lungs, but it didn’t completely release the frustration he felt toward Cooper, Kurt, or himself. He toweled off, got dressed, reapplied his gel, then made his way to the auditorium, where he did the only other thing he could think of when his emotions were too much…sing them out.

When he finished the last lines of “Fighter,” he heard applause from the wings.

“Should have known I would find you here,” Kurt said as he stepped out onto the stage.

“I’m fine.” Blaine shrugged.

“As a wise man once told me, ‘fine’ doesn’t sing like you just sung,” Kurt said. “That was quite the outburst you had in the choir room. Nice touch dragging me into it, by the way. But I know that wasn’t all about me. Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just… Cooper . He has to be so handsome and talented and charming and enigmatic, and I’ve watched you trip over your own feet at the mere sight of him all week. I mean, his acting advice isn’t even that good.”

Kurt looked…amused? “Blaine, are you jealous?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m… Okay. Maybe a little.” Blaine had to admit it; he was totally jealous of Kurt’s crush on Cooper, mainly because it wasn’t on him. Maybe this was his chance to open up, tell Kurt exactly how he really felt? But ugh, in the middle of the hallway between classes was not the way he wanted to do it. Kurt deserved romance and wooing. This wasn’t the right time. So… “Cooper just has this ability to make everybody love him and make me feel like, well, not that.” There. That was technically the truth, too.

“Blaine, Cooper is handsome and charming, sure, but he’s not you ,” Kurt said. “And by the way, everybody in that choir room loves you, too. Cooper was just something new and shiny; that’s all. And if I’m being totally honest? Yeah. He’s a little full of himself.”

“He is,” Blaine nodded.

“Speaking of people who love you… A little birdie told me he might be waiting back in the choir room. Don’t worry. The rest of the Glee Club already left. You two need to really talk. I think you touched a nerve; he was pretty upset.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. You know, he really does think you’re talented. He just didn’t know how to tell you. I have a feeling he’s open to finding another way than what he’s been doing.”

Blaine hoped that was the case. His brother infuriated him, but he still loved the guy. “Are you going home?”

“No. Need to stop by the garage first. See you later?”

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dave Karofsky awkwardly hovering near the back auditorium door. Blaine acted quickly. “Of course, you will, honey,” he said before he leaned in to Kurt without warning and kissed him softly on the lips. He nestled his face into Kurt’s neck just long enough to whisper, “Dave’s watching,” before finishing a hug, taking the opportunity to inhale Kurt’s scent. He then went in search of his brother to put out the other fire he had started.

He found Cooper in the choir room, right where he’d left him. He was sitting at the piano (apparently Brad had cleared out, too), plinking out the opening notes to another Duran Duran song and murmuring the lyrics to himself. “Came in from a rainy Thursday on the avenue…”

“Thought I heard you talking softly,” Blaine finished the line.

Cooper startled slightly and stopped, turning on the bench. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Blaine said, his head bent, eyes down. “Look…

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry…”

Cooper laughed at their unintended synchronicity. “Um, you first.”

Blaine shook his head, but said, “Okay. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, especially in front of everyone. I think I embarrassed both of us.”

“You probably did,” Cooper agreed. “But also, I guess I deserved it. Maybe you were right. I guess I just wanted you to do well so badly that I focused more on correcting your mistakes than all the ways you were already talented.”

“You…you think I’m talented?”

“Squirt, if I didn’t think you were, you think I would bother pushing you so hard to succeed?” Cooper stood up. “Blaine, I’ve been in Hollywood for years , and my big break is a commercial that airs during Dr. Phil and late-night, syndicated reruns of CSI: Miami . But you…with your Disney Prince looks? Your voice and stage presence? You’re gonna take it all by storm. Movies, music, Broadway…”

“I thought Broadway was dead. Your words.”

“You’ll single-handedly revive it. I just wanted you to be the absolute best. And everyone can use some improvement, like your dancing.”

“Coop…”

“What I’m trying to say is, I assumed you already knew how good you were at the other stuff. But I guess everyone needs some reassurance every now and then. So, this is me saying it. Blaine, you are awesome, and I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

“Thanks, Cooper.” Blaine and Cooper met in a hug.

Cooper patted Blaine’s shoulder and said to him, “And by the way, that boyfriend of yours is a keeper. Hold on to him.”

“Huh?” Blaine pulled from the hug.

“Kurt. Let me tell you, after you left, he tore into me. Said I was being ungrateful and unfair to you and how you were right, that I was focused on the negative and not seeing all the wonderful things you are.”

Blaine blinked. Wonderful ? “Things like what?”

“Like how you’ll do anything for your friends, that you’re probably the most talented and gorgeous guy he’s ever met, and that I don’t know how lucky I am to have you for a brother.”

“Well, he’s right on that last one.”

“And on the others, too. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Blaine smiled. If Kurt really did think all of those things…was there a chance?

Cooper walked back to sit at the piano. “Now, how about one more Duran Duran number…for the road?”

“Sure. Why not?” Blaine said, leaning on the other side. “And after, we can work on your audition tape.”

“Audition?”

“For the Michael Bay movie. I think you might sell yourself short, too, Cooper. If anyone belongs in the Transformers franchise it’s you.”

“Thanks, Squirt.”

As they started over again on “Ordinary World,” Blaine couldn’t help but let his imagination drift back to what Kurt had apparently told Cooper. And if he had really ripped into him like he had said, he was either a great actor… or both of their outbursts tended to reveal truth in anger.

Note from GleefuldarrenCrissFan: The next chapter, written by starpunchsoup, will be posted Saturday morning. This fic is completely finished, thanks to Teddyshoney, who edited each chapter. Don't forget to leave a review and let the author know your thoughts.

Read on AO3 [chapter 8]

#The Prom-us #the prom-us #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic roulette- the prom-us #the prom us #signal boost #klaine fanfic

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authorkun · 3 years

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[𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙘] (001)

Jujutsu Kaisen x Male reader

Warning: Mentions of su!cide, gore, violence, and strong themes

"𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙣, 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨."

A smooth honey like voice dripped with interest of the vessel that stood before him. The male's eyes casted down before traveling back up the first year's torso. He licked his lip at the sight with a smirk.

"Oya? Oya? N/n-Chan where did you come from? You were supposed to be in Hyogo." A blindfolded sensei questioned. N/n, or better known as M/n sent a small wave at his underclassmen, who gaped at both his sensei and senpai with wide eyes. "Oh the other second-years would love this." M/n took out his phone and and started taking an array of photos of Megumi.

"Anyways, I was, heard there was a SGP (special grade problem) going on. Thought I'd check it out. You too?" He lazily draped himself against the older. "The elders complained about putting my abilities to good use." Gojo chuckled remembering the annoying email from the secretary. "Anyways, who's this?" "Yuji Itadori sir!" The pinkette quickly bowed. A hearty laugh bubbled in M/n's throat at the formal honorific. "Get up no need for that, cause a nice senpai like me cares for underclassman." The male proudly pointed to himself.

"M/n L/n. Say where is the cursed object anyways?" Itadori sweat dropped. "Well I ate it." "Damn the kid has balls." M/n bluntly stated making a certain raven haired sorcerer flustered at the vulgar statement. "So how's Sukuna, or whatever his face is?" The (e/c) orbs analyzed Itadori looking for any sign of the curse. "He's annoying, he keeps on talking." Tapping his head with his palm signaling the telepathic link. "10 seconds."

"Huh?" "Come on back after 10 seconds." Gojo reiterated. "I dunno about this." "Don't worry I'm the strongest." M/n playfully rolling his eyes. "And if it gets out of hand, I'm stronger." "Megumi, hold onto this will ya." Gojo tossed a paper bag towards him. "Can you also hold onto this? It's killing my back." The second-year threw a heavy duffel bag Fushiguro's way, almost knocking him out. "What's this?" Megumi's eyes lingered on the white bag. "Kikufuku Mochi." His eyebrow twitched at the information. 'He was buying souvenirs, while people were dying?!'

"Aww Megumi they're not souvenirs. They're for the bullet train back." Sukuna was suddenly in the air about to pounce on the 'unsuspecting' male. "Behind you!" Fushiguro yelled worriedly. Gojo dodged getting close to the curse's ear. "Two of my students are watching so, I hope you don't mind me showing off." He turned sending a blow towards Sukuna's back, making him stumble. 'He's unbelievably fast. Not only that-.'

"It doesn't matter what era it is, you guys are always a pain you stupid Jujutsu sorcerer! He dryly laughed. "But that doesn't matter to me." With a flick of his wrist chunks of concrete flew towards Gojo. Who when the dust cleared stood unscathed holding the rubble as nothing. "Should be about time." M/n clicked his tongue, while filing his nails next to Fushiguro. The markings on Itadori's body disappearing. "What a surprise! You can control it!" He yelled. "He's kind of annoying though." Itadori repeated.

"It's a miracle that's the only side effect." With that, the older tapped his head knocking the first-year out. "Aww booooo I was looking forward to annoying Sasuki more." The M/n whined like a toddler throwing away his file. "What did you do?" Fushiguro asked ignoring his senpai. "He's knocked out." Gojo stated holding onto the passed out male. "I though you were smarter then that Megumiii." The two once again ignored the manic (h/c-ette). "If he wakes up and isn't possessed...he might have potential as a vessel." He reasoned. "Quick question what do I do with him?" M/n sweat dropped. "Even if he has potential, under Jujutsu regulations he must be executed..." He drawled off. "But I don't want to let him die!" Fushiguro finished with a determined look.

"Is that a personal opinion?" M/n playfully teased. "Yes, a personal opinion. Please do something about it." "Hmm a precious student's request." Gojo scratched his chin in 'thought'. "Leave it to me, and your senpai!" He exclaimed. "So with that, let me reiterate...you're gonna be executed." The blindfolded teacher waved his hands around in finger guns. "This story doesn't make sense so far." Itadori grumbled. "Hey, Man, I tried. An execution is an execution, but I managed to suspend the sentencing."

"A suspended sentencing? So it's on hold now?" The pinkette questioned. "Yup. Let me explain from the top." Gojo went to grab something out of his pocket realizing it was gone. "Looking for this?" M/n's form came out of the shadows, holding up the shriveled appendage. "This look familiar?" Itadori raised a brow. "Another finger?" "Ding ding ding. You want a cookie or something?" M/n leaned on his sensei's shoulder aggravating him even more. "Its the same cursed object you so voluntarily consumed. There's 20 total, we're in possession of six." "Twenty? Oh, including both arms and legs." Nodding his head in understanding. "Wrong, Sukuna has four arms." M/n stated nonchalantly tossing the finger up for Gojo to blast towards the wall creating a small crater like hole. The finger looked unscathed. "As you can see, you can't destroy it. It's that powerful of a curse.

With every passing day it gets even stronger." The (h/c-ette) moved from his place wandering behind Itadori, the hot breath on his neck made himself shutter. "That's where you come in. You die, the curse in you dies as well." M/n moved back rocking back on his heels. "The Elders have a stick up their ass and wanted to kill you right away. My dear Gojo and I thought it be a waste for a pretty face like you to offed yet."

A small pink flush dusted against Itadori's cheeks. "There's no guarantee that another vessel able of controlling of Sukuna will ever come around again. So... our proposal was, "if we're gonna kill him, why not after he takes in the rest of Sukuna". Killing two birds with one stone really. Your two choices right now are either to die now or wait to find the rest of Sukuna and die then." An intimidating aura surrounding M/n.

The next day

"Who died?" M/n asked picking at his nails, feeling oddly uncomfortable around the place heavy with death and sadness. "My Grandpa,he was more of a dad I guess though." Itadori hung his head. "I see, sorry to bother you at a time like this." Gojo apologized sitting himself next to the male. "Are there a lot of casualties with curses like this?"

"This is a pretty uncommon circumstance...But if you're talking about potential damage, yes." In the corner of Gojo's eyes he could see M/n's hand start to tremor. "...Let's just say, you're lucky to die normally after an encounter with a curse. Finding a body torn in two is still a light death compared to the others..." M/n stare burned into the bench a few feet in front of them. Walking off as flashes of blood painting the walls continued replaying in his head. "What's wrong with him?" Itadori asked looking off towards where the male went off to. "Not many things are known about M/n. Supposedly during a special grade case, they had found a witness around the age of 7 standing in the middle of what was assumed his family. The report was hard to read not much about the kid except the crazed look in his eyes and the astronomical amounts of cursed energy spilling from his body.

The case was left unfinished because they couldn't understand what exactly happened. The one account from the boy saying that it was a monster who killed his family. Of course when they checked there wasn't a sign of a curse. The elders shut the case down and took in the kid in, fear of his powers haunting them. From what I know, he was taught by the principal himself how to control his cursed abilities. When I was in my last year, I heard about an incident including the boy with a special grade. It had changed him from an outgoing and friendly person to a husk of one. He distanced himself and gained the liking of inducing pain on himself. He's strange that's for sure." A vision of a preteen M/n slitting his arms for an 'experiment'.

He claimed the experiment was to figure out how many cuts he could endure before passing out. Itadori stared at the older with an opened mouth. An image of the bandaged male popped into his head. 'Bandages'. "When I saw him pass in the hallways smiling like no tomorrow, made me think if the incident had never happened to him..."

"...He would have a normal life" he finished the other's sentence. "But that kind of thinking is common when you first get into the game. You learn how to ignore those thoughts. Those thoughts alone could drive a man insane. If you start investigating the remains of Sukuna, you'd probably some gruesome scenes, every sorcerer has their case that changes them wether it be for the best or the worst. Pick your hell."

"If Sukuna is eliminated, will there be fewer people killed by curses?" Itadori's grandpa's words rung in his head. "Of course." Gojo nodded his head. "You got that other finger?" "Yeah." Gojo placed the object in his hand. Itadori took a second to study it. "Now that I look at it it is pretty disgusting." He said tossing the appendage into his mouth absent mindedly swallowing it with a gross gulp. 'That's one tenth of Sukuna, how will that sit?' Black marks appeared on his body before leaving as quickly as they came. "Blaughhh, that was so gross." The male wrapped a hand around his throat at the taste. 'He's able to control Sukuna without a problem, heh.' Gojo thought. "I take it you're prepared for what's to come?" "Not at all. I am wondering why I have to be executed though. But I know I can't leave this curse alone. It's final, I'm gonna eat the rest of Sukuna. That's all"

"Yahooo! I'm back!" An overly enthusiastic voice emerged. M/n ran over waving his hands around. A bag slung around his shoulders. Something seemed off. An evident bruise starting to form around his neck peeking out from the loosely wrapped bandages. A cut lip and a few more scrapes littering his face. "What happened?" M/n shrugged still smiling. "Just a fight, this delinquent looking guy said he had a bone to pick with me, he had his fun....and so did I~" He took out his phone, shoving it into both of their faces. Sure enough a buff looking male was in tears, tied up. "The old wasabi and mustard up the nose always works like a charm." M/n shoved the device back into his coat, before handing the paper bag over to Gojo who quirked his brow.

"I went on a little trip into town and got you this~" The male's hands roamed around the bag pulling out a box. "I saw this delectable Mochi stand and turns out their family were from Sendai. What's the chance they made kikufuku? I got them for free since the owner was an old friend. Told 'em it was a gift for someone special." He winked at the end. Sukuna lowly growled barely loud enough for Itadori to hear. 'What's your problem?' 'Shut it brat.' Sukuna coldly snapped.

"This is why you're my favorite second-year." Gojo chuckled as if he were a grade school girl. "Looks like it's shaping up to be a fun hell. Get your belongings together by the end of the day." He turned towards Itadori, Megumi now standing behind him. "We goin' somewhere?" "Tokyo." Fushiguro answered with a battered face. "Ah! My little Meg-Chan is back!" M/n attacked the poor male in a tackle like hug. Snuggling his face further into the first-year's chest. A red hue danced acrossed the ravenette's face, as Gojo secretly took pictures.

Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical School The walk to the school was quiet, the only noise being the light chatter being shared between the two with occasional comments from M/n, who's interest was glued to a small book in his hands. The quietness of the curse had caught Itadori off guard, causing questions to form about his weird behavior. Sukuna seemed to keep his gaze fixed onto the object held by the other. 'The book he's holding..' Itadori's eyes flickered over to the small piece of literature questioning it's importance. "What are you reading?"

"Just an old book I'm rereading." The male had answered turning to the next page. "If you have already read it why are you reading it again?" His curiosity had gotten the better of him. "A good book never gets old no matter how many times you read it." What confused Itadori, is why Sukuna was so fixated on the older. A soft thud sounded out as M/n closed the book, placing it back into his pocket. "Anyways, you're about to have an interview with the principal." "The principal?!" He exclaimed confused.

"There's a high probability he could reject you so make sure you go all out." M/n said once again picking at his nails in amusement. "What then! Immediate execution?" He snapped making the former quirk a brow at his statement. A small mouth formed onto his cheek.

"So you're not the boss? Pathetic, a hierarchy that isn't based off of strength is worthless." Itadori slapped a hand over his cheek, keeping Sukuna from further speaking. "I'm sorry about him, he pops out." "You have quite the amusing body now." M/n cheekily said. Another small mouth popped out, this time located on his hand. "I owe you a favor you know."

"Not again!"

"Once I make this brat's body my own, you'll be the first one I kill. The male next to you will once again be my king when I take my crown back." M/n crossed his arms in confusion.

"It's an honor to be targeted by Sukuna himself, but what do you mean 'your king once again'?

"Have you ever wondered what caused the incident ten years ago? And why the Elders were so keen on raising him?" The mouth disappeared leaving both Gojo and M/n astounded at the new information.

'How does Sukuna know about that, and why did the elders drop the case as if it were nothing.' "You wouldn't do that would you senpai?" A hopeful smile painted on Itadori's face. "...." The words couldn't form as M/n stood wide-eyed at the curse's words.

'I wouldn't, would I?...'

#jujutsu kaisen #seme male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #itadori yuji x top male reader #jjk itadori #jjk fushiguro #jjk nobara #zenin #inumaki #sukuna ryomen x male reader #dazai osamu #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #top male reader #suicidal maniac #jjk

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zackcrazyvalentine · 3 years

Note

i am the anon who asked earlier about the character limit ! i’m ready to send my ask now-

so could you write something about a female mc (or gender neutral it’s up to you !) that doesn’t take a shit form anyone ? like when someone bother she just “tsk” before threatening them and the bois are like “wtf that was kind of hot tho-“ .

i can see them just simping for her like we simp for them and it’s making me laugh-

also i’m not really sure if you write for them but a small reaction of perhaps side-characters to her ?

i’m really asking for too much skdkdjdksowkw-

thank for reading it and i hope i’m not bothering you ! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Alright, for this one, anon allowed me to pick some Twst guys to react to MC

But, ahem…. hope they’re (and y’all are) happy with the way I carried this out

Neige (& dwarves) + Che’nya are also included, as they wished to see side characters react to this MC too

Let’s get started (bc it’s loooong)~!

HAPPY 1st ANNIVERSARY, EVERYONE!! 🥳🎉

-- -- --

OVERVIEW

Heartslabyul: Riddle is very surprised at her behavior and may scold her for it, but he secretly admires the confidence and will to stand up for herself. Trey is also taken aback, but well… if that helps her get through NRC, fine by him (he pretends not to see). Cater SIIIIIIMPS like duuuude THAT ATTITUDE IS WHAT HE DESIRES TO HAVE AGAINST HIS SISTERS (she’s his role model now). And man, do I even need to say what Ace and Deuce think? PLAIN FUN, and they simp, Deuce a little more than Ace.

Savanaclaw SIMPS and simps HARD. Ruggie and Leona due to females in Afterglow Savana being overall more respected. Not to mention IRL lionesse are in charge of hunting and female hyenas are the dominant ones in pairs. Jack I see as someone who admires people who are strong and can stand for themselves, and a no bullshit MC is wow… but perhaps he thinks maybe she could be a little more polite.

Octavinelle is a little hard to read. Azul first is very surprised and a bit offended, but once he finds out she acts this way towards everyone and anyone… Be ready to become his 3rd bodyguard lol. Leech Twins adore to annoy her, Floyd provokes her more with tugs and shoves while Jade can just throw ANY comment her way with that smile to trigger the instinct; she’s become their little plaything of sorts.

Scarabia: Kalim is SHOOKED!!!! The first time he hears her comments leaves him with a surprised pikachu face. Jamil is startled a bit, but man… SIMPS, and is like "you speak my inner thoughts".

Pomefiore: Vil is also VERY surprised, but admires the way she so willingly defends herself with only words and harsh glares (anger looks very pretty on her). Rook SIMP, yuuup. He's amazed at how just one comment and death stare from her has magic wielders cowering in fear, gets goosebumps from excitement when those are directed at him. Epel simps too! Like DAMN HE WANTS TO STAND UP FOR HIMSELF LIKE THAT!!! No more stupid etiquette classes, time to be tough! (Vil quickly turns his plan to dirt tho lol)

Ignihyde: Idia is ?????? At times, he's very intimidated by her, but on other occasions he's ready to talk back (this especially when he's communicating through the tablet). Ortho is shook, too. For someone who comes from another world and is scared by many possible scenarios in this Wonderland, they're surprisingly brave. He likes her! Get ready to be his Big sis

Oh man, Diasomnia… Malleus is surprised when he first sees the change of attitude, since she's nice in his nightly visits to Ramshackle, but very soon he'll be like "I like this human" Slowly becomes her simp. Lilia is VERY amused by her behavior and sometimes likes to provoke her. As soon as a threat is thrown his way, however, he'll be ready to throw one back as he smiles brightly. Silver is surprised, they all cower before her, how?! He may or may not simp, but he absolutely looks up to her (wishes to be more assertive like that). Boy oh boy… Sebek… SHOOKED; just try to say something rude to his Young Master, get ready for the loudest "EXCUSE ME?!" and following rant. Shooked and shooked TO THE CORE.

ALL the staff are very irritated by her antics, but the ones more vocal about it that have a little back and forth with her are Crowley and Crewel. Sam just laughs it off, besides it's rare for her to threaten him (mainly bc he gives special discounts for her).

BOY...RSA… Neige is SHOOKED, but rudeness never stopped him from making friends and pull a smile out of them (well, ya better stop right there bc she's ready to PUNCH). Needless to say, majority of dwarves are surprised too… except, Grant who just chuckles and says like Jamil "speaking my inner thoughts". Che'nya acts as if it's the most normal thing, doesn't flinch back or anything ("we're all mad in our own ways~ it's the norm here")

In the end, all of them simp for her, one way or another~ (and let her get away with a handful of stuff bc simps)

Heartslabyul

"Aren't you the cutest little thing~? Look at your lil' nose sniffing my finger so adorably!!" The [color] haired girl gushed at the hedgehog in her hand, carefully petting its colorful quills.

Someone sighed in irritation at her behavior, "Stop that! We're not allowed to pamper the hedgehogs like that, so cut it off!"

[Color] eyes narrowed at the intruder, "And who here says I care what you, or the rules, say? They're animals, pets practically. You need to show them affection for them to live long, happy lives, dumbass."

At the small scene, Trey interrupted, “Let's please act accordingly. Come on, we need help painting the roses." The 3rd year signaled the other Heartslabyul student to follow.

"What?! No, not fair! How come she's not getting punished for this when we get scolded for it?!" He raised his voice.

"Hey now, leave [Name]-chan alone, she isn’t bothering anyone. Be a good kouhai and listen to Trey-senpai. Remember vice dorm leader is just as respected as dorm leader here." Cater cut in, trying to somehow make things lighter.

"Bull-!" Before the guy could even finish his sentence, Riddle appeared.

"What seems to be the matter here? At this rate, if you keep getting distracted with unimportant things, we won't have our preparations ready." The redhead followed their gazes to the girl sitting on the floor surrounded by a rainbow of hedgehogs.

"Ah, I understand." Riddle nodded.

"Thank-!" However, the student was once more cut off by the 2nd year.

"[Surname] was appointed by me personally as hedgehog caretaker. Her activities consist of cleaning cages, feeding, and the important task of pampering them with affection and love." Heartslabyul's dorm head explained, "We do play croquet frequently, and many 1st years don't treat our animals superb. Not to mention, it is said the Queen of Hearts herself would pamper her hedgehog just like [Surname] is doing… Admirable, don’t you think?"

"Are we clear now?" Slate grey eyes looked sternly at his dormmate.

Defeated, the boy accepted. "Yes, dorm leader Rosehearts."

"Go help Cater and Trey with rose duty." Riddle dismissed the boy.

On his way out, a certain troublesome 1st year made an indirect comment.

"That's why you get informed before complaining about things~" Ace teased.

Deuce smacked his friend on the back of the head, "Shut it, we committed the same mistake when we first saw [Name] baby talking the hedgehogs."

"H-Hey! There was no need to reveal that!"

Savanaclaw

Full cafeteria, the worst scenario ever. Not to mention both [Name] and Grim were starving.

So, when she saw an opportunity to get in line for the (oddly) short line for [fav. food], she did. However…

“What the fuck’s up with you?! Just because you’re a girl ya think ya get special treatment, dumbass?!” Some random rude student said.

Oh, bad move, idiot.

All [Name] had to do was throw an icy glare their way and turn away slowly for the boy to tremble in his socks.

Human and Grim picked their full and finally headed to any empty spot available, which resulted in them sitting with the Savanaclaw students, who watched the scene unfold.

“[Name]-san, that’s some temper you’ve got-” Ruggie began talking, but was immediately silenced by the same icy stare.

“To hell with that, I am hungry and ready to destroy the world, so better keep your mouth shut to see your future.” The girl grumbled, taking the first bite of her precious meal.

Three pairs of ears flattened in shock, looking at one another to agree on what they experienced right now.

“Wait a second…” Ruggie thought, breath hitching after receiving such cold glare.

Jack kept a watchful eye as he drank his water, strange warmth crawled up his face. “That was…”

Leona, for once, looked awake enough. Green eyes with a tinge of respect reflected in them, teasing smile slowly developing on his face. “Seems like the herbivore has some fight in her… Nice, very nice…”

“That was… very attractive…” The trio gulped down whatever they were eating, before averting their gaze elsewhere to hide the blush. Except Leona, he chuckled silently before looking down at his plate to recover from the little display of power from her part.

Meanwhile, the otherworldly student and cat monster shared a confused look. “Weirdos… Do they enjoy seeing me eat? Yeah, not sitting down with them again.” [Name] decided.

Octavinelle

"Keobi-chan~!"

"Not again…" [Name] grumbled between teeth. Just as she thought she was out and away from the whole Octavinelle trio, these two come again for her.

"Let's go, koebi-chan! Azul wasn’t done talking with you~” Floyd grabbed onto her arm and tugged.

“You two never know when to stop, or do you?” Grim swiped at Floyd’s hand as best he could from the girl’s shoulder.

Then came the chuckle she hated most, that instantly ignited that fight or flight instinct in her. “Please, Floyd is simply stating the truth. Azul is adamant in speaking to [Surname]-san, it’s only expected of her to allow him some time. After all, he was so gracious to lend his help when she most needed.” Jade linked his arm with her free on and began walking.

“Oi! Get your hands off me! I’ve heard enough from Azul! I’ve declined the offer more than enough times for it to get through his head!” The [hair color] stood her ground as much she could, but the two towering eels still dragged her to their destination.

Floyd laughed, “Little shrimp fighting for her life when she’s already lost~” He shot Jade a look and his twin immediately knew what he wanted to do. They lifted her from the ground and began swaying side to side.

“What the hell?! Let me down, let me go! I’ve had enough of you! We’ve helped Azul more than enough already!” [Name] and Grim were left to flair and yell more protests while the twins chuckled and laughed at their predicament.

Eventually, they arrived at Octavinelle and the two-halves-of-a-whole students were plopped down onto the couch inside Azul’s V.I.P. office. The tweels left them with those sinister pointy teethed smiles of theirs, sending chills down the duo’s spines.

“Now now, [Name]-san, Grim-san, do keep your voice down. I’ve got a deal much better than our last offer. Hear me out, now would you?” Azul spoke, suave and sleazy as ever.

“No, cut it out already! Just accept I won’t-!” Her complaints were interrupted by the octomer’s firm statement.

“One meal!” After noticing he had their attention, the dorm leader continued, “One free meal for the two of you each day, along with some Madol… All for [Name]-san’s intimidation services and Grim-san cleaning dishes.”

“Make it TWO meals and it’s a deal!” Grim quickfired.

“NO! No, no!” The [color] eyed refuted. She leaned close to Ashengrotto over the desk, eyes narrow and eyebrows furrowed, “...Make it two free meals AND drinks daily, with a nice pay… and throw in some deluxe tuna cans from time to time…”

Grim perked up at that, eyes shifting from human to merman as they stared each other down to see who relented first.

Azul sighed, “Very well…” A gloved hand came forward, “Have we got a deal?”

[Eye color] looked into baby blue, before nodding and shaking his hand. “A deal it is, but” [Name] leaned even closer, right on the gray haired’s face, “Let it be known that just you fail once on giving the pay and it’s over, Ashengrotto.”

He snorted, “Oh, no need to worry about that, I always hold onto my end of the contract.” Taunting gaze mocked the [hair color], “The thing is, can you?”

“This damn Octavinelle people..!” [Name] felt fire light up her veins from anger and irritation at his words.

Scarabia

“Grim, look! We once more have a delicious cream cheese for you to enjoy with crackers!” The ever excitable Kalim exclaimed, reading a pair of crackers to feed Grim.

Before his hand could get any close to the scared cat’s face, [skin tone] hads grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Kalim, how many more times do I have to tell you?! Stop that!” An exasperated sigh followed her words. She let go of his arm.

Kalim (and pretty much all of Scarabia) looked at her. “No, not those big round cute ruby eyes…” The girl thought, feeling herself relent already. “Only for you… only for this ray of sunshine will I try to be less on the fence…”

[Name] cleared her throat, “W-Why don’t you… try asking Grim properly if he would like some first, instead of just shoving the food in his mouth!” An awkward giggle left her lips. “Was that better?! That did not sound better, at all! No!! It was harsh!”

Silence carried on afterwards, making her feel even more awkward and nervous of her actions. There’s a first time for everything.

“She’s right on that. You understand, don’t you, Kalim?” Jamil broke the silence, turning everyone’s eyes to him now. “As host, you should offer your visits amenities correctly, not force them upon them.” The dark haired boy remained focused on his plate of curry while he informed his dormmate.

“Oh! Of course, of course!” The dorm leader snapped out of his zoning out, “Apologies! Grim, would you like to try the cream cheese?” Kalim recovered his pep, bringing close the plate of cheese and crackers to Grim.

“Ah… No, thank you…” The monster declined. “However… I would like to try the dates you have over there.”

“Sure, no worries! Try as much food as you like! This banquet is for everyone to enjoy, after all!” Just like that, everyone’s spirits were lifted, and the party returned to its full swing.

From across the table, Jamil threw the [hair color] a smirk and a nod. She looked away with a faint blush on her cheeks.

Pomefiore

“She dares show her face here, dressed like that?”

“And with a stinky, dirty raccoon hanging from her shoulder.”

“As always, these pretentious idiots…” [Name] tried to steel herself, taking deep breaths as she carried on towards the Pomefiore common room. Vil asked for her presence here for some idea he had in mind and wanted to carry on.

“Fuh-nyah, this place always smells like perfume… Has me sneezing all over, eugh.” Grim rubbed his nose to ease the itching.

The girl giggled lightly, petting her companion. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the smell in a few seconds.”

“Ah, Trickster [Name], Monsieur Hirsute! Bienvenue à Pomefiore!” Rook welcomed them, as colorful as ever.

“[N-Name]? You’ve been… summoned here, as well?” Epel seemed surprised to see his friends here.

Vil stood up from the throne, “And just in time you’re both here. Could’ve done with a few extra minutes of head start, but at least you’re here and didn't arrive late.” The elegant 3rd year went over to explain his idea to the 1st years.

However, as the dorm head explained, the comments continued…

“Seriously, can’t she take the hint she’s not wanted here?”

“As a girl, she should know to take better care for herself.”

“Alright that’s it.” The Ramshackle prefect took a very deep breath and interrupted Vil, “Yeah, uh, apologies for cutting you off, but let me take care of some matters.” Turning around, the [color] haired looked over at the group that kept saying unasked opinions.

“Hey, you pompous people with deliriums of grandiose!” At the start of her screaming, Vil and Rook braced for the worse while Epel drew a very big smirk.

Everyone kept their dignified faces, sure that their dorm leader and vice head would have their backs.

“I dress bad? I don’t take care of my skin, nails, lips, hair? Grim isn’t always smelling nice?”

“Hey! What with that, [Name]?!” “Shush, you…”

“Just because I’m a girl you dare assume what I should act like?!” She scoffed, “Well, let me see you survive in a world far different than your own, disoriented and with no means to go back, live on a tight budget along with your equally as disoriented monster friend, with the only clothes you own being very mistreated and old uniforms students left in a rundown dorm!”

Everyone looked at her and murmured.

One of the students spoke up, practically laughing at her face, “What? Want us to feel pity for you? Sounds to me like you’re not trying hard enough.”

Grim himself was ready to burn this scum to a crisp, but thankfully, someone else stepped in to defend their friends.

“Oh? Like you’ve clearly not been doing?” Vil glared at the boy harshly. “Don’t think just because you’re good looking you have an immediate pass to be a student of Pomefiore, of NRC. Your grades are lacking, and for someone in this dorm to be that terrible in alchemy is ruinous. Seriously, an F in potion making? You strive to be as resourceful and tenacious as the Beautiful Queen by not being able to brew even a simple potion?”

The mob cowered back, shocked at their dorm head speaking that way to them.

“Doesn’t feel good to have yer flaws n’ failures spoken of, eh?” Epel yelled from a few miles back. He could see Schoenheit stiffen at the use of his distinct accent, but the farmer boy could care less in this moment… and so did Vil.

Rook stepped over with a friendly smile, placing a hand on the student's shoulder and on Vil’s. “Please rest the case, lest we want our hearts and faces wrinkle up from anger and stress.” The hunter squeezed the boy’s shoulder, applying pressure on one of the nerves to get the message across. In case that was not enough, narrow green eyes spared him a side glance full of ill-intent, “Any more comments like that, and your heart will be carved out of your rib cage and go in a jewelry chest to display as a trophy.” Was his message.

“Y-Yes, Rook-senpai!” The mob immediately answered and made their way out to somewhere else.

The actor rubbed the bridge of his nose at the scene, “I apologize on behalf of my dorm, those types of comments are absolutely not tolerated, but there seem to be more potatoes to wrangle than what I imagined.” He sighed, “But anyways! Let us continue with our original plans. [Name], Grim, Epel, follow me. We shall start with having you all take a nice bath and do proper skincare...and furcare, I suppose.”

“Oh, I would very much like some hypermosturizing serums and a bathbomb or oils to help destress, please!” The [hair color] said.

Vil chuckled a bit, “After that, you need all the lavender oils in the water.”

“Wait, does that mean…?!” Epel became unsettled and looked at Grim.

The monster finished the lilac haired boy’s thought, “We’re gonna end up smelling like a potpourri or somethin’?!”

Rook came behind them, pushing them lightly forward to walk in the other two’s direction. “Come now, moniseurs! Bath time is a great time to spend relaxing and planning your activities for the day!”

The rowdy duo only groaned at his words.

Ignihyde

“Oh, [Name] [Surname]-san, that was an amazing play!” Ortho congratulated while spectating the game going on between you and his brother.

The girl chuckled, “Thanks, Ortho… Did that specifically to show your brother not to underestimate a magicless human’s abilities in games such as this.” Sizzling could be heard coming from the older Shroud as he silently fumed, but his flaming hair betrayed his silence.

“That’s right, get mad and lose your temper. It’ll be easier to defeat you like that… defeat you once more.” [Color] lips turned into a mocking smile. “Talk shit, get hit, bruh!”

Idia desperately played his following moves, a supposed combo to take you down considerably. “I don’t believe you’ll keep that smile in your face for long.”

She chuckled, ominously now, “Ohoho, I believe I will be keeping this smile… and victory with me~!” The 1st year kept laughing as she played her last strategy, leading to his defeat for the 6th? 10th? time today.

The dorm head took a deep breath before he could yell his frustration out, hair turning a shade of dull red, telling the other occupants of the room of his temper.

“How’s that for underestimating the skills of a human, Idia? Tired or eating your dirt yet or not? Told ya this would only lead to absolute defeat-!” Before [Surname] could boast some more, Idia stood up and dropped himself on his bed, back turned to them all.

The robot boy floated over to the enraged 3rd year. “Big brother? Your vitals are erratic, heartbeat is quick and body temperature is on the raise. Would you like some help relaxing?”

“I believe it’s better to let him be, Ortho.” The girl reassured. “Wanna play a game with me? See if you can beat me?” She suggested.

The android quickly cheered up, “I would love to!”

- Few minutes later -

[Color] eyes stared at victorious play.

5 times… It had only been 30 minutes and already 5 times… She was beaten by the younger Shroud 5 times already!

Ortho smiles at her (or at least she assumed, with him keeping his mouth coveron). “This is entertaining, [Name] [Surname]-san! Can we play one more time?” Those innocent yellow eyes looked up at her tired, irritated ones.

“I- uuuh… S-Sure, Ortho..!” A strained smile stretched her lips.

Idia sat down somewhere near, teasing pointy smile on his face now. “How does it feel, [Surname]?”

“Shut the hell up, Shroud, you’re no one to speak like that.” The girl whispered through gritted teeth.

Diasomia

Blah, blah, blah… chatter, chatter, chatter…Loud booming voice annoying everyone around.

“Alright, damn it all!” [Name] slammed her hand on the table. “For the love of all that's holy, shut the hell up, Sebek!!”

Everyone was stunned for a moment at the outburst, Silver jumped awake at the shouting.

Sebek looked at her with the most indignant look, “Excuse you?! That is something extremely rude to say! Even more so because you interrupted my conversation with the Young Master!”

“What do you even mean?! You interrupted my conversation with Malleus in an even more impolite way first!” She reminded her fellow 1st year.

Zigvolt scoffed, “Only because you don’t possibly have anything of interest to speak with Master Malleus.”

“Sebek I swear to god!”

“Silence, human! Stop pestering us!”

“You are the one doing the pestering here!”

And just like that, both students began bickering.

Silver looked at Lilia, “Don’t you think we should do something about this?”

The old fae sighed into his tea cup, placing it back down before taking a sip. “We absolutely must, Sebek’s voice was already inflicting a headache, now we have... that…” Red eyes looked at the brash underclassmen arguing.

Malleus, meanwhile, rubbed his temples at their antics.

“Children, stop it now or else-” Vanrouge noticed how his words were going unnoticed, so he decided to raise his voice some. “Children-” More shouting, silencing his call for attention.

“Children!” Lilia’s voice boomed around the room, along with the stomping of his heel on the stone floor. The surround sound effectively made the misbehaving students shut up.

“Thank you.” He said with a closed eyes smile, “Now, to settle your senseless screaming, why don’t we try asking Malleus himself what he believes happened, hm?” The bat suggested, turning to look into lime eyes to urge his master to speak up.

“Oh..! Hmm… Well… It is true Sebek interrupted the conversation I was having with the child of man,” [Name] looked at her friend with an I-told-you-so smile, “And I disagree with him, [Surname] was telling me very interesting things about her life and experiences in this Wonderland.” That made the girl stand even prouder.

“However,” The pistachio haired male looked at his superior with hope in his eyes, “I agree with his comment on how interrupting conversations the way [Surname] did is very rude.” Now it was his turn to boast a little. “But let’s not forget he interrupted us first, and therefore is rude himself.” Sebek deflated at that.

Lilia clapped his hands with a bright smile, “Problem solved! Now,” The fae looked at the tall 1st year, “Sebek, dear, [Name] is our guest today, treat her with respect. She is Malleus’ specially invited guest, let her spend her time occupying our leader’s time as she pleases. He invited her for that reason, after all.”

“U-Understood, Lilia-sama…” Zigvolt agreed against his will.

“Thank you, Lilia!” [Name] thanked at the same time Sebek spoke.

“Very well, let us enjoy our tea time in peace now.” Finally, the youthful soul sat down and picked up his cup to take a much needed sip of the amber liquid. “Young ones these days, I swear...”

NRC Staff

Shouting and yelling resounded around the meeting hall, leading Mozus to rub the bridge of his nose to try and ease the oncoming headache.

“Hello-!” Vargas was cut off.

“Not now, Professor Vargas, I need to knock some sense into this crow!” The 1st year yelled at the muscular P.E. teacher.

He sat down near Trein with a sigh, “They’re at it again this week?”

“Yes, they are…” The old man grunted.

“Been at it for 20 minutes now, can’t believe it.” Crewel tapped his finger on the wooden table in irritation, “Headmaster Crowley should already relent and give her more allowance if it means we can get our meetings done!”

“Absolutely not,” Trein disagreed, “[Surname] should learn to handle her finances better, budget things appropriately and spend the least on useless things.”

Crewel let out a single mocking laugh, “Really now? Have you heard what biweekly amount of money he gives her?! It’s not even enough to buy a steady supply of meals from the shop for a week!”

Soon enough, the two teachers joined their respective sides in the battle of Crowley vs. [Name], while Vargas watched with the most uncomfortable look.

And, after a good more minutes of shouting, the last call was given…

“You know what?! I’m done!!” The [color] haired girl made her way to the exit, “It’s always “Because I am so kind” blah blah blah! But you never do anything to help me!” She made a bad impression of the Director on purpose.

“It’s not only me in the dorm, it’s also Grim! And he’s a sizable cat, he needs to eat properly and plenty, too!” She turned around before leaving, “Seriously, Headmaster, I don’t know anymore how to scream at you that we need help! We’re sleeping on dirt every night, we’re breathing mold and dust everyday inside the rundown dorm! We need food and clothes and bedsheets and hygiene products!”

[Name] had to take a deep breath before saying her last words, “If you’re not going to help me search for a way back home, then… at least help me make that crumbling building feel like home…” With that, the heavy door shut close.

The young girl quickly made her way out of the building, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay and not let them overflow. Out of habit, or maybe it was her consciousness trying to search for comfort, her feet carried her to Mr.S’s Mystery Shop.

The simple ringing of the bell signaling a new customer already made her feel better.

“Welcome, little devil! What can I help you with today?” Sam greeted with his typical energy.

The [hair color] sighed in relief, making her way to the counter. “Hello, Sam.”

“Aaah, another fruitless fight with the Headmaster?” The shopkeep inquired, identifying that tired tone in her voice.

“Indeed…” She let head lay upon her crossed arms as the rest of her body leaned on the counter. “I ask myself why I even keep trying it, nothing will ever change…”

A shadow friend pat her head to try and comfort her.

“Because you’re perseverant and a fighter, and wish to have a school life as nice as the one your friends in established dorms live. It’s not an unjustified fight.” The mysterious clerk said, full confidence in his words.

“You believe so?” Curious [color] eyes looked at his moving figure.

“Of course! Everyone else has a nice room to sleep in, why shouldn’t you? Besides, the Headmaster decided to take you in, a responsibility he can’t ignore.” He placed a small mug in front of your head, “Go ahead, take a drink, it’ll help you in more ways than you can think of.”

Carefully unwinding from her position, a hand took the mug and brought it under her nose. One sniff and the girl could tell this was [fav. drink]. “Sam, I’m-! How did- How did you know this is my favorite?!” A pleasant surprise that brought a smile to her lips.

“You always buy it, guess you must really like it.” Magenta eyes watched as she took a sip, “Comfort food and drinks are perfect after an upsetting experience.”

[Name] threw him a tender smile, “Thank you, Sam. All you do for me and Grim is very appreciated… Don’t think I don’t notice those special discounts.”

All he did was wink at her as he turned to welcome a new customer.

Royal Sword Academy

Helping put up a stage was not an easy task. Could anyone really blame her for being so mad at everyone who got in her way after being overworked like that?

Who knows how many times she yelled at people to hurry up and move away from her path already.

And it just so happened a playful cat decided to scare the soul out of the 1st year at the worst moment, just as she was trying to take a short power nap.

“Found mew (pronounce it as m-you-w pls)!” A floating head and apparently dismembered arms appeared before [Name], hands falling on her shoulders.

She screamed bloody hell at the boy, “WHAT THE F-CK, CHE’NYA?!?!” A coughing fit followed due to the sudden loud yelp, “That was,” Cough, “My heart I just spat out!”

Meanwhile, the RSA student laughed his head off at the startled girl.

It irritated her, “And what do you think you’re doing laughing like that?! I could’ve tore a vocal cord or actually have a heart attack, you dumb cat!”

Oh… Never in his life had he been called that, at least not that he remembered.

They remained in silence for a while.

Eventually, Alchemi giggled once more “Aha~, nice to see you’re mad too! Told nya it was the norm here~”

The [hair color] nodded in mock agreement, “Yeah, can finally see all of you are damn BONKERS!”

~°~ ~°~

This boy… what is his problem?! Suddenly approaching a stranger all smiles and good vibes? [Name] knew this was a twisted world, but this was plain creepy…

So, of course, the fight or flight instinct kicked off.

Yanking her hands out of his hold, [color] orbs sharpened to the meanest glare she could muster right then and there. “What do you think you’re doing? I am not a princess, and I definitely am not your princess! That’s way too creepy to tell someone you’ve just crossed eyes with.”

A multitude of gasps was heard. “Ah, that’s right, he has tiny friends with him…” [Name] could only inwardly sigh and groan.

Neige himself gasped too, what a rude person!

A little giggle was heard, “That’s exactly what I wanted to tell him.” Grant whispered, amused by the whole scene.

“Alright, okay, uh… Gotta go now. Pleasure, or not, to meet you. Goodbye.” The NRC student walked past the strange students. “And I thought there was nothing crazier than NRC… B O I was I wrong…”

The dwarves looked at their stunned friend.

Dominic tugged at his pant leg, “Neige, are you alright? Just let her be, I’m sure she reacted like that due to being cautious about strangers.”

“Yes, I’m fine…But,” Round chocolate eyes remained on her retreating form, “Nothing has ever stopped me from befriending even the grumpiest of people! Or has it, Grant?” The brunet smiled at his friend.

“I suppose not- Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” The redhead complained while the rest laughed merrily alongside LeBlanche.

-- -- --

THE MADWOMAN DID IT OMGGGGGGG MY EEEEEEYES ASDFGHIMKLF

HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY!!! What other way than to celebrate with LOOONG request including most, if not all, of the Twst characters!!

LET US SHARE MANY MORE MEMORIES TOGETHER!! CHEERS TO US ALL!!!

(P.S. OMG if you see shifting between fem pronouns, they/them pronouns and "you" stuff... PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! My brain got a bit confused in a part! Hopefully I corrected it all)

799 notes · View notes

silky-stories · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Maybe headcanons or some kind of literature with either vampire garcello x reader or mermaid garcello x reader?? You could do both or one or the other. You're the one writing it after all. Thanks!

Oh. Ohohohohohohoho, now we’re talking >:)

Anon I am going to let you in on a little secret, so anyone who isn’t anon look away >:(

...okay now that it’s just you and me, one of your suggestions kind of predicted a oneshot I’ve been working on that I’m going to be posting soon. So because of that I’ll be going with the other option. Hope you enjoy ;3

———————————————————————

Parched. {Vampire Garcello/Reader}

Genre: Suggestive

Words: 2027

Related Song: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know { slowed + reverb}

Summary: When your boyfriend gets home from a long day, it’s only polite to fix him a drink, don’t you think?

Disclaimer/s: Steamy content, swearing, blood

Notes: Garcello speaks in red this time, Reader speaks in blue ;) [Also, monster character x reader or character x monster reader is my absolute jam, feel free to send in requests like this more often-]

———————————————————————

Your boyfriend was, to put it lightly, a little bit on the odd side.

He work dark clothes on hot days, didn’t like the sun very much, had an uncanny sense of smell and hearing, and liked his meat pretty rare. To the outside world he was a weird shut-in that was probably goth, but you knew a hell of a lot more than that.

The two of you had met late at night in a rougher part of the city. You were on your way home from picking up a few essentials at the nearby 24-hour convenience store when you heard some rustling coming from an alleyway. Then some banging. Then some yelling. Then silence.

Well that was ominous as hell.

...

Time to investigate.

You made your way down the dreary alley, groceries in hand, preparing yourself to see a murder scene or something of the like and...

...you honestly weren’t that far off.

You found yourself watching as a man pinned a guy to a wall, his head lowered to his neck. At first you felt yourself getting embarrassed, figuring that you had walked over and unintentionally interrupted a passionate moment. You quickly realized that wasn’t the case when you watched the guy go limp in the arms of the larger man.

After a few moments of you being the quietest you’ve ever been in your life, standing and staring in shock, not knowing what would even be the right course of action for a situation like this, he pulled away. The guy that had previously gone limp slowly slid down the brick wall, deep red trickling down his neck and pooling in the crook of his shoulder. The aqua-haired man let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his gloved hands, still unaware of your presence.

Your mind was blank when you spoke up, it had to be for you to do something so bold yet stupid.

“Is he dead?”

The man flinched, hard, and whipped around to lock eyes with you. You were met with two bright red dots staring back at you, stunned, you began to unintentionally study his face.

The dark crimson that you had seen on the possibly-dead man’s neck was also identifiable as a smear on this guy’s face, starting at his lips and trailing off along his cheek where he had tried to wipe it off. His lips were slightly agape, revealing a set of sizeable fangs, as well as other teeth that seemed sharper than a regular human’s teeth should be. Looking down further you noticed that his gloves were fingerless, presumably to allow the sharp claws of nails that he had to stick out.

Other than all of that though he looked like a pretty normal guy. A pretty normal guy with very pale skin, but normal nonetheless.

“I... huh..?”

You were so busy taking in his clearly inhuman appearance that you actually forgot what you had initially asked for a moment, but restated your question when it came back to you.

I mean, what was there to lose at this point? It’s not like running seemed like a very smart option.

“Him. Is... is he dead?”

You pointed at the man that was currently almost falling over in his slump to emphasize your point. The man in front of you took a double take between you and what may have been a dead body before responding, clearly taking in the absurdity of the situation, similar to you.

“He’s... no he’s... passed out I...”

He paused, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was even happening. You took the moment to look at the body a little more critically and, surprise surprise, noticed that he was actually breathing.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take much so he’s just...”

Didn’t take much?

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Suddenly the whole ordeal just clicked in your brain as you finally understood what it was that you were looking at.

“You’re a vampire!”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, shocked and questioning, almost accusatory as your eyes went wide.

He didn’t seem to like that though. His brows pulling together tightly in sudden concern as he frantically looked around for any other possible witnessess. When he reinitiated eye contact he appeared quite a bit more panicked than before, more like someone that had been caught doing something arguably wrong. He looked threatening for the first time throughout the encounter.

“You... what do you plan on doing..?”

Plan on doing? Like what you were going to do after this? Knowing that vampires did in fact exist and at least one lived in your city?

“Do you... ever kill them?”

He shook his head warily.

“Then... I don’t... think I care?”

He was surprised to hear that, to be fair though, so were you. You figured you would care more about catching a literal vampire in the act but... he wasn’t killing anyone so was it really any of your business?

“You... you don’t care that I just drink some of his blood???”

“I guess not?”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief at your own statement, any ounce of a threatening or intimidating expression had left his face.

“He’s not gonna, like... turn into a vampire or die of disease or something later, right?”

“No that’s uh, not how it works...”

“Then just like... I don’t know, make sure he gets cleaned up and home safe and this stays between us I guess.”

He let you know that that’s what he did on a regular basis and after a few more awkward moments you were on your way.

That definitely wasn’t your last interaction though.

He didn’t trust you to keep your word, you honestly couldn’t really blame him, and you ended up catching glimpses of him watching you from alleyways or tops of buildings at night. It was kind of worrying at first but eventually it got to the point that you would just smile and wave if you saw him.

Eventually he would wave back.

Sometime down the road and you learned his name. Months later and you found an odd friendship forming, starting with you asking him to come in on a particularly rainy night.

Even later and you found yourself developing feelings, getting to know who he really was. His personality, his struggles, his fears. He really wasn’t a bad guy, he just had no other choice since regular food did nothing for him.

After half a year of your strange friendship you found yourselves together, he had happily moved into your apartment and you had started to acquire blood bags for him to use instead of people. That didn’t stop him from drinking straight from the source every now and then... although, the source he used had definitely changed.

“I’m home.”

You leaned out of the kitchen to smile at Garcello, he returned it with a warm grin, shucking off his coat and tossing it to the side to land on your shared couch.

“Welcome back! How was your day?”

You greeted him with open arms as soon as he meandered into the kitchen, he swiftly took up your non-verbal offer and swept you into his strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled, sighing deeply through his nose as he melted into the embrace.

“It went fine, certainly not my job of choice but I think the interview went alright.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and nuzzled your head against his, pleased to have him back in your arms after half a day without him.

“I made sure to get bread and milk like you asked.”

You chuckled as you spotted the brown paper bag he had set on the counter.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold you like that, peppering your cheek and jawline with a few kisses as he told you more about his day. Although, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude somewhere along the way. He suddenly went from sweet and giddy to much quieter, giving shorter answers when you asked him a question as he let you lead the conversation.

You decided to bring it up, just in case there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You just... you went kinda quiet so I just wanted to make sure.”

He was perfectly silent as he thought over his answer.

“Yes, but... are you... working on anything right now?”

His tone was anticipatory, eagerly awaiting your response. You found yourself suspicious of his intentions.

“Well, no, I was just putting away some dishes that I was washiNG-!”

You were caught off guard by his tongue dragging across your neck in a smooth motion, tightly taking hold of the back of his t-shirt as he did so. You felt him smirk against your neck afterwards.

“That’s good... you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

“Y...y-yeah...?”

“Yeah...”

You flinched as he brushed one of his fangs against the top of your shoulder.

“The thing is, I’ve had a bit of a... craving today.”

One of his claw-like nails came up to trace along your sternum...

“It’s been just... driving me mad.”

Your collarbone...

“Itching the back of my brain...”

Your sternocleidomastoid muscle...

“Funny, right?”

Stopping and hovering just above one of your carotid arteries.

“Yeah... f... funny...”

His smirk grew in response to your reactions, nuzzling your neck affectionately with a huff.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is...”

He tilted his head up to whisper in your ear.

“...would you mind if I had a little taste?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into him, not even having to speak for him to know what your answer was. He had waited for that cue though, just like usual he would never drink from you unless he was certain that you were fine with it. Even then, you both had a very clear safe word that you had used in the past if anything went wrong or you changed your mind.

You didn’t really have to worry about that though. You knew you were safe in his hands.

He purred in response to your willingness, slowly walking you back and gently pinning you to the wall.

“God you smell good right now...”

He lowered his head back down to your neck, finding the spot that he had traced up to and licking a small stripe along it, pinpointing the location of your pulse.

“...bet you’d... taste even better though...”

He was gentle as always when he bit down, it only felt like a pinch until the aphrodisiac kicked in, immediately erasing any sense of pain you had. Being guided by one of his hands that had tangled itself in your hair, your head lolled to the side as he drank from you. A gentle moan erupted from your lips as your grip on his shirt went slack, your arms falling limp beside you as bliss took hold of your thoughts.

“F... fuck...”

He purred louder as you gave clear indication of your enjoyment. The hand that he had propping himself up against the wall fell and came to rest on your hip, gripping tightly as the hand he had on the back of your head made soft contact with the wall instead.

He cut himself off a little bit sooner than usual, pulling away just enough for you to watch him lick his lips and fangs clean.

He chuckled as the hand that raked through your hair slid down to cup your cheek.

“...I was right, you taste amazing...”

His expression didn’t lose it’s smugness though, usually when he was done he would take a much softer turn and patch you up immediately.

“Although, I think I might have put a little too much aphrodisiac in your system sweetheart...”

He was right, you felt like a rag doll right now, nearly putty in his hands as the only thing keeping you standing at the moment was his grip on your torso. Your eyes had glazed over slightly and you were practically panting at this point.

“...let’s do something about that, hmm~?”

#garcello x reader #fnf garcello x reader #garcello #fnf garcello #x reader #self insert #suggestive #request #one shot #garcello but with a little spice #i hope i did alright with this one #i don’t write for vampires very often haha #panic anon

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you.

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity.

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice.

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests.

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote.

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face.

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.”

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”.

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar.

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant.

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it.

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place.

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?”

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?”

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—”

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably.

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me).

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside.

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection.

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia.

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”.

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”.

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction?

God, you had prayed it was the last.

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter.

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you.

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly.

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry.

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck.

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains.

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point.

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth.

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people.

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon.

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™.

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks.

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with.

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens.

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened.

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours.

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses.

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired.

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)!

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently.

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down.

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?”

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter.

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do.

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care.

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you).

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin.

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch.

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.”

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.”

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”.

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk.

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between.

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.”

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making.

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day.

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud.

“Yoongi.”

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length.

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?”

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels.

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!”

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming.

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now.

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him.

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs.

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly.

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?”

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

3K notes · View notes

cake-writes · 4 years

Text

Earn It

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: filthy smut, ANAL (yes reader is 100% that bitch), kinda-sorta dubcon due to alcohol, praise kink, pain kink (yes reader is also 100% that bitch), safe word mention (not used), subtle D/s undertones, begging, degradation, count down, squirting, 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: so you can blame my darlings @mandalorianspace and @buckybarnesplumwhore for this one. THANKS A LOT. 💀 also I could not be fucked with the ending so lmao sorry but the smut is just more important here, okay???

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

You’re on your hands and knees in front of your boyfriend of two years, side of your face pressed into the sheets – and although you can’t see him, you can hear the roughness in his voice, feel his callused fingertips dig into the flesh of your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart.

Despite how long you’ve been together, though, it’s unfamiliar.

“Bucky,” you gasp as his vibranium thumb smooths over your puckered hole. “Please fuck my ass, please—”

The tip of his thumb slides in, and you shiver.

“You’re so tight, honey,” Bucky warns, voice low, bordering on dangerous. “Sure you can handle it?”

You take his warning as a challenge, of course you do, but you don’t miss the slight note of concern in his tone. You’ve done anal before, just not with him because you’ve always been so intimidated by how thick he is. Even told him that once a long time ago. Funny story, that.

Right now, however, you’re high on endorphins and drunk on too many shots of tequila to care.

“Yeah,” you respond breathily. “I need it. Baby, please.”

You’re eager, so much that you barely notice when he replaces his thumb with a finger until it sinks further inside than the former could ever reach. Just one finger leaves you gasping, never mind two as he stretches you open even more.

“Bucky,” you whine, wiggling your hips, impatient and needy. Two fingers isn’t nearly enough preparation considering how long it’s been since you had it last, but you want him. You want him so fucking badly, and he’s taking too long.

As if on cue, a third finger presses inside and you hiss at the burn. It’s a reminder that you shouldn’t rush, but you want it. You need it.

“Fuck me,” you plead, reaching back to spread your cheeks apart so he doesn’t have to. “If it won’t fit, then make it fit. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

Bucky stops, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in your ass, to stare at you – not that you even notice, because you’re already so fucking gone for it. You do hear a hint of surprise in his voice when he asks after a too-long pause, slowly, teasingly pulling his fingers out, “What’s our safe word?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve done a scene, and you breathe, “Peaches.”

“Good girl.”

After a playful smack to your ass, Bucky releases you to retrieve the bottle of lube from your nightstand. You pull your head up off the sheets to peer back at him, heartbeat pounding in your ears as he pops open the bottle.

There’s something about the way his skin seems to glow in the warm lamplight, or maybe it’s the way his hair falls so perfectly into that pretty face of his; or how, when his eyes meet yours, dark and teasing, you feel yourself get even wetter at his approach.

Anticipation.

The lube is cold and wet as it drips down the crack of your ass and onto the bed. Some small part of you is thankful that he had the foresight to lay down a towel, but the thought is quickly forgotten when he holds the tip of his cock against your hole.

You think you’re ready. You’re beyond ready.

It's slick, ridiculously so, the way the head pops in without a hitch – but it’s a beautiful stretch, one that stings just enough to make your legs quake. You bite down on your lower lip because it feels good, too. Too good. Too right.

A whimper escapes your throat when Bucky presses in further, because that’s when it starts to hurt a little bit more – but you don’t use your safe word, because maybe you want it to hurt. Or maybe you just want him balls-deep inside you so badly that you don’t care. Or maybe that’s the tequila talking.

You assume he’s about halfway in when he withdraws almost all of the way to spread the slickness further. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I—”

Your affirmation is promptly cut off with a moan when he slides back inside, a little further than before, but that’s where he seems to get stuck. Not in the literal sense of the word, but your channel just can’t seem to take any more of him no matter how gently he tries to ease inside. You’re just too tight.

“Hurry, baby,” you whine. “Please.”

You’re already being stretched to the limit, and it burns in the best of ways, but you want him inside. You need it.

The warmth of his palm on your ass cheek is a balm as Bucky mutters to himself, “Make it fit, huh.”

And that’s when you know you’ve made a mistake, because he lets go of your hair to grab your hips – but before you can stammer out your concerns, he slams all the way inside, punching the breath from your lungs. You swear you actually see stars because it hurts, fuck, it hurts, but hell if you don’t love it all the same. You swear aloud, too; a string of filthy curses escapes your lips as your back arches, hands balling in the sheets below.

With Bucky so fully seated inside of your ass, you quickly realize that he couldn’t have been anywhere close to halfway before. He’s just too big, too thick, you’re not ready—

But no safe word. Not yet. It hurts too good.

His body cages yours in from behind, but all you can focus on is the searing stretch of his cock deep inside of you. He’s pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder and whispering sweet nothings against your skin, perhaps meant to be a distraction, and it helps a little.

“Fuck me,” you rasp. Your pussy is drenched and he hasn’t even started moving yet. “Baby, please, I can’t—”

You can’t even think, let alone form a coherent sentence, but he understands just fine. His withdrawal is almost as bad as the entry – but that perfect pain twists and warps into some semblance of pleasure within your masochistic brain as he starts a slow, gentle rhythm, one that has your eyes rolling back.

“Look at you, honey,” Bucky whispers, one hand smoothing down your back, cool vibranium meant to soothe, “Taking every fucking inch.” His praise has your core clenching around nothing, but it makes your ass tighten up, too, makes him groan out, “Good girl. God, you’re so good for me.”

“Y–Yeah,” is all you can manage to respond with, because your mind is blissfully blank.

There’s another pause as Bucky adds a little more lube, and then he’s pulling your arms back, dropping your face back onto the sheets – but that’s fine by you because you’re practically drooling anyway, and when he picks up the pace, you actually do drool. He stops being gentle because he knows you can take it, knows you’ll use your safe word if you have to, and the feeling of him pounding your poor abused ass into oblivion only sends you higher.

Mindless babbles and pleas leave your mouth on an endless loop; you don’t know what you’re even saying anymore, other than yes, yes, yes. Your knees slide further apart from his onslaught, which changes the angle just enough for him to slam into your sweet spot.

“I’m— Bucky, I’m gonna—”

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to implode, ready for him to put you out of your misery.

“Not yet,” he orders. “Wait for me.”

The sheer command in his voice makes you clench up again, because it’s near-impossible to stave off the inevitable. The pain’s given way to pure, unbridled pleasure at this point, and it teases your undoing, makes you so fucking desperate to come that tears start rolling down your cheeks. It’s adrenaline. It’s delirium. Your voice goes hoarse begging him to fill you up, to give it to you, to let you come, please, baby, please—

“Oh, honey,” Bucky coos, tone patronizing, smoothing your hair from your face. “You wanna come so bad, don’t you?”

“Please let me come,” you beg, not even caring anymore what a state you must look: face hot, flushed, tears staining your cheeks, saliva smeared down your chin and on the sheets. “Please, please, please—”

Each ‘please’ is punctuated with another slam of his hips until two of his fingers are in your mouth, digging into your cheek, stifling any further pleas; not that you don’t continue to try. Muffled, incomprehensible moans are all that come out.

“Too bad. You’ve gotta earn it.”

That’s when he finally lets go and buries his hand in your hair instead, to push and pull you as he pleases, use you however he likes.

“So fucking desperate—” Bucky slaps your ass hard with his vibranium hand and you jerk in surprise – not that you mind, because it feels so fucking good. “Had to shove it in ‘cause you’re such a needy little slut, isn’t that right, honey? So now you’re gonna take it, just like you asked for.”

As if it’s not hard enough to hold back, now he wants to talk to you like that?

“Bucky, please—” You’re sobbing with desperation as he pulls your hair back by the roots. “Please, I can’t, I can’t—”

You’re like a broken record, but you’re pretty sure it’s your brain that’s broken because you just can’t comprehend anything anymore. You feel like you’re floating, almost, ready to combust but you’re just not allowed to, yet.

“I’m gonna count down,” Bucky tells you, voice strained, and you know then that he must be close. “Three.”

Vibranium fingertips dig into your hipbone, hard enough to leave bruises, and he uses the tighter grip to pull you back harder onto his cock.

“Two.”

Sloppy wet sounds echo through the room as he slams into you with a more frenzied, albeit uneven pace.

“One.”

And then he angles his hips just so, aiming for your sweet spot once again which he successfully hits, over and over and over until finally, finally—

“Let go. Let me feel you.”

In an instant, your body tenses up like a live wire as you reach your peak with a strangled cry, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids in what’s probably one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. He’s never made you hold out for so long, never made you beg this much before, but it’s certainly done something for you if the sudden gush of wetness between your legs is any indication.

“Christ, sweetheart—”

Bucky shoves in as far as he can go, and you feel a sudden burst of warmth deep inside as he fills up your ass just like you begged for. Aftershocks have your body spasming as his cock pulses inside of you, once, twice, three times, four—

And then his grip goes lax, on both your hair and your hip, and your scalp aches painfully but not nearly as much as your backside. It stings and burns as he slowly pulls out, gently massaging your lower back as he does: another welcome distraction.

The head of his dick slips out with a distinct pop, and you whimper. If it’s because of the loss or because of the pain, you’re not sure but either way you’re definitely going to feel it in the morning.

Pulling some wet wipes from your bedside table, Bucky attempts to carefully clean you up, but you’re already so sore so you take it from him and do it yourself.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, continuing to rub your back. “Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

You give him a dopey smile. “Yeah. But it was worth it.”

Bucky snorts. “Sometimes I think you like the pain a little too much.”

Then he presses a kiss to your forehead, to which you let out a sleepy hum of approval. You love his aftercare, you really do, but today a cuddle is more than enough. The two of you lay together on the bed as he strokes your hair, and when you fall asleep, Bucky thinks to himself, well, you definitely earned it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #earn it

2K notes · View notes

terzos-edibles · 3 years

Text

Silver Linings

1. Gotta Keep On, Keepin' On

Summary: No kid, no tribe, and avoiding his responsibilities, Din Djarin has gone back to bounty hunting and mercenary work under the watchful eye of Boba Fett. After a job on Ibaar goes very wrong in more ways than Din would like to count, he is forced to flee with a very peculiar New Republic doctor. He is determined to get enough credits and fuel to drop the doctor off on her home planet and be done with it. But will he be able to part ways with her after she finds all the right and wrong ways to push his buttons?

Words: 1.8k

Rated Mature: language, canonical violence, depression, mentions of suicidal behavior.

“I don't know if I'm scared of dying But I'm scared of living too fast, too slow Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go There’s no starting over No new beginnings time races on.” - My Silver Lining, First Aid Kit

Ibaar-

The fist of the Empire reached far, sweeping across the farthest reaches of the Galaxy; the deepest corners seemed to have felt its influences. Even the smallest, poorest planets had Stormtroopers deployed to them - a formality to further oppress the planets’ occupants and show their might - and dissuade any sort of rebellion from sparking. The destruction of the second Death Star and subsequent death of Emperor Palpatine at the hands of the Rebellion had shown that plan hadn’t, well, panned out. Still, in the five years or so after the fall of the Empire, the New Republic was just now starting to finally make its way into the Outer Rim Territories after ensuring that the more strategically essential planets were well taken care of. Remnants of the Empire still clung to those planets, holding out hope that the Empire would somehow revive itself and their loyalty would be rewarded. Many felt that the New Republic had abandoned them, that things hadn’t gotten any better since the Empire had fallen. It would be the same as it had always been. The Outer Rim would continue to be forgotten, continued to be terrorized by Remnant Stormtroopers, continued to be terrorized by pirates, and continued to be terrorized by gangsters. People had given up hope once again.

But, aid was coming. Slowly, but it was coming. New Republic troops were starting to make their way back out towards planets that needed them, bringing with them much-needed supplies and rations. Marshals were installed in the major cities and villages to help keep the peace and bring a sense of law to an otherwise lawless territory. Medical teams were dispatched to provide much-needed tautology assistance to planets that were unable to get the care they needed.

Doctor Gertrude Ásketill was the first in line to sign up for those peace operations. She was coming hot off of her time as a rebel medic. She was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and full of hope as they deployed her to the first assignment. She had an entire team - plenty of assistants and droids to ensure that everyone got the proper care they needed. They were able to start a proper clinic, train the locals, and establish a line to the core planets to ensure they could get all the medicine and vaccines they would need. Trudy felt good when she left that planet for the second.

The second planet saw fewer supplies and resources. She thought maybe it might have been a mistake. This planet had a bigger population than the last. Perhaps they didn't realize they needed to send more supplies, but then the third and fourth planets came. Supplies and resources were stripped as funding got cut, and slowly her team was redistributed to other projects.

And that left Trudy on the fifth planet - Ibaar.

It was just her and a few other doctors spread across the Outer Rim that was left of the program. She was sure that they would be recalled back to Chandrila - the capital of the Republic, but that had been almost a year ago. She had been on Ibaar for about as long. She was alone; at least, it felt that way. The only other two in her clinic with her was an older model R4-7 droid named A9-C that had been reprogrammed to help in the medical field. The humanoid-shaped, bug-eyed droid was built in the early days of the Empire and complained more than he assisted. The other was a teenager named Max, who had taken an interest in medicine. Whether it was because he liked Trudy or wanted to become a medic was to be answered. He was a good assistant and listened.

The only other Republic representative on Ibaar with Trudy was the Marshal: Baxley Morgan. How that man ever got the job of Republic Marshal was beyond her. It was probably why he ended up out here. He had a good heart, but the boy was dumb as a brick, and while she was no fighter - she could at least shoot a blaster well enough to hit whatever she was pointing at. It might not have been where she wanted it to go, but at least it’d hit its target.

The Empire had put blockades up to punish the Ibaarians for being sympathetic to the rebel cause. The aid that had been promised to the Ibaarians had finally come, and it was a little lackluster. The locals were friendly enough, but they felt a little betrayed. Trudy couldn’t blame them.

Trudy had become jaded herself; things were back to the status quo. There weren’t any more Imperial blockades, but with the lack of resources and supplies coming in - there might as well have been.

Ibaar, all-in-all, wasn’t a bad planet. It was a mountainous, temperate planet. The capital village, and the one that Trudy was in, was nestled in a valley - built into the side of the mountain while the rest of the land in the valley was used for farming. The natural cliffs that reached their stony fingertips to the sky provided a natural defense for the village, and the hundreds of waterfalls that cascaded down their sides gave the village and farms much-needed water. On a clear day, you could see for miles around. Though for all of Ibaar’s beauty, the weather was the worst. They could be lucky to see the sun one, maybe twice, per month. The rest of the month was plagued with overcast clouds, fog, daily rain, and nightly thunderstorms. It took some getting used to, and Trudy had ordered extra vitamins to help with the lack of sun.

Despite being the capital village of Ibaar, Laakso Village didn’t even have its own docking bay within the village’s boundaries, especially - making already scarce supplies harder to get. Luckily speeders made that journey a bit less complicated, though it was still rough going. A local warlord and his gang - a former Imperial commander and his troopers - had taken it upon themselves to decide that the Ibaarian Mountains were a great place to hide and run their smuggling business out of, using the old rebel tunnels from the war.

It made things dangerous.

Unsuspecting travelers going to and from the port or any of the other smaller villages in the mountains would be ambushed. Those lucky to survive had their property stolen. The bandits would look for anything from blasters, food, credits, various forms of technology they could get their hands on, and medical supplies. Trudy didn’t know how many villagers and travelers she had patched up in her time there, injured by ambushes. While the gang kept the locals terrified, they still hadn’t been bold enough to make their way into Laasko Village, choosing instead to raid the smaller outer villages - ones not protected by a marshal.

Baxley was having a hell of a time dealing with it himself and had brought up hiring some extra help. Trudy had nipped that in the bud; hiding behind hired mercenaries wasn’t going to do anyone any good - that he really needed to call in support from the Republic. The conversation tapered off after that, and the emergency seemed to have died down. However, as it always did, there was no downtime. The newest crisis cropped up - the report of the flu on a neighboring planet in the same system. A planet Ibaar happened to trade with. Which meant Trudy had to work to get vaccines to Ibaar before everyone was sick. She had ordered them about a month ago. Thank the stars someone was on her side, and the vaccines only took a month to get to her. Someone had made the shipment hastily, and they were currently waiting for someone to pick them up. Trudy couldn’t pull her boots on fast enough when the docking attendant called her to report they had been dropped off. Within fifteen minutes, she was in a speeder with a blaster and Max in the passenger seat. They would get there by nightfall - if they were lucky. Trudy just hoped to the stars above that nothing happened on their way.

----

It seemed as though Trudy’s silent prayers were answered. She pulled the speeder around to the docking bay and left it idling as Max hopped out of it, striding up to the attendant’s office and rapping his knuckles on the glass. He had grown like a sprout since Trudy had been there, now easily towering over her - though that wasn’t exactly hard to do. Brownish red shaggy hair constantly fell into his eyes, much to his mother’s dismay, and he was a lot less intimidating than he liked to think he was, especially with those freckles. Trudy waited as they exchanged words, waving a hand as the attendant poked his head out of his office and motioned to where the vaccines were - clearly annoyed he had been interrupted from his dinner and whatever wrestling match was on the holo. Trudy moved towards the vaccines, scanning them in with the datapad she pulled from her pack and happy to see that they didn’t have to quite rush back with them. Their cooling system had enough charge to allow them to rest a little bit - though they would still have to make the trip back by night. Max helped her load the crates into the back of the speeder and went out front to buy them both some roasted tip-yip and drinks from the food cart out front. Trudy turned around, eyeing the gunship docked in the bay the vaccines had been stored in. Annoyance twisted in her stomach that the valuable vaccines were stored where some random visitor to the planet could just poke through them. Though, the presence of the gunship made her raise an eyebrow. Not many ships like this made their way out here; either the owner was here for a quick refuel, or they were up to something no good. She scowled at it as Max returned with the tip-yip on a stick and a couple of cool bottles of water. “We didn’t get harassed today,” Max observed as he sat down on the roof of the speeder, and Trudy took a seat inside. “You think somethin’ is goin’ on?”

She nibbled at the meat on the stick and offered a shrug, turning to look back at the gunship. “Who knows. I just hope they keep whatever they’ve got going on out of the village. I want to sleep peacefully when we get back.”

You know the phrase famous last words? Those were Trudy’s.

--- Miles away, a Mandalorian clad in beskar armor was about to attempt to take down a stronghold of bandits and remnant stormtroopers all on his own. Maybe Fennec Shand was right. Maybe he was suicidal. ** Chapter 2: But I Ain't Dead Yet Taglist: @novemberrain221, @blackdogdesignuk, @mistyfur5, @thepoisonofgod

#din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x oc #boba fett #fennec shand #din djarin x female oc #oc characters #oc character #grogu #the mandalorian x female oc #let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot). However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head.

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.”

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you. You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair.

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him.

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say.

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfic

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aereres · 3 years

Text

Professional - Jonathan Toews

Summary: You were expecting things to become calm after landing the position as Jonathan Toews' PA, as calm as your stressful job could be. Your relationship with your boss, though, makes your life become anything but calm.

A/N: It’s here! It’s out! Wanna thank my bestie @captaindaddies for helping me out with some stuff, ily bby ❤️

Word Count: 14,4k

Warnings: Lots of swearing, SMUT, maybe even a tip of angst, lots of nervousness and lots of teasing. Mentions of Patrick Kane, if it might bother.

Nervous, that was how you felt. Standing on the front steps of Jonathan Toews’ house was you, your bag nervously pulled close to your side as you mustered the courage to knock, to let him know you were finally ready to work as his personal assistant.

How you landed the job was still unknown to you: you were inexperienced, and everyone could tell by the way you were nervously standing in front of his front door. Still searching for the courage inside of you, you breathed out a sigh. You needed to get your shit together.

Jonathan Toews wasn’t intimidating. Right?

After breathing in a large amount of air and pushing it out of your lungs quickly, you let your knuckles hit the wood of his door, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You waited, for so long you almost thought you had missed him due to his early morning practice. When the door opened, though, you were met with a composed-looking hockey player.

You had seen him only through the screen of your laptop, but you could say that he looked way better in real life. Trying not to get too lost in his dark eyes, you greeted him softly, a nervous smile on your features.

“Y/N! Great to finally meet you in person!” He spoke, his voice deeper than you could remember as he looked at you, a professional smile on his lips. “Come in, I got a few minutes before I have to leave for practice,”

“Thank you, Mr. Toews,” was all you were able to mutter, getting rid of your coat and holding it in your arms as you looked around the rather large mansion. He gave you a small tour, and you found yourself mesmerized by everything he had shown you, from the high ceilings to the large windows that viewed Lincoln Park.

“I left a list of things to do on the kitchen counter,” he said when you found yourselves back in the main hall. “You’ll find everything you might need in that paper,”

“Okay, sir,” you smiled, finally at ease. Rummaging through your purse, you grabbed the stack of papers you had printed out for the occasion, carefully handing it to him. “You asked for my curriculum,”

“Right,” he nodded his head, scanning through the words quickly. “I’ll take a look at it after practice,”

You smiled his way, nodding your head before he could leave the room to grab his bag, leaving you on your own in the large hall. You hesitantly let yourself wander inside the kitchen, where the paper he had talked about was sitting neatly on the isle.

“I’m heading out,” he called from the hallway. “My number is on that paper, if you need help with anything,”

“Thank you, Mr. Toews,”

“Oh, and make yourself at home, Y/N,”

“What are you even reading, man?” Patrick sighed as he dropped his helmet on the bench, looking at an already-showered Jonathan slumped over a bunch of papers.

“My PA’s curriculum,” Jon mumbled, lower lip tugged between his lips.

The teammate snatched the papers from his hands, scanning through the words with a smirk on his face. “Originally from Canada, fresh out of college, worked for a company for a couple of months, ten years younger than you,” he nodded his head. “And she’s even hot,”

“It’s strictly professional,” Jon huffed, jokingly punching his friend’s shoulder as he turned around to grab some clothes, his eyes finding your picture attached to the files as he did so.

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick rolled his eyes as he took off his skates. Jonathan got dressed in silence, his mind wandering back to you and what you could have been doing at the mansion. He had received no call from you, no text, so he was guessing everything was coming along just fine back at his place.

“You aren’t even going to give it a thought?” Patrick asked after a while. “You’ve been single for ages, man,”

“She’s my employee,” Jonathan sighed, sending his teammate a dirty look. “I pay her to work for me, that’s all,”

“Whatever you say, Jon,”

“I’ll see you later, Kaner,” was all Jon said as he grabbed his duffle bag, propping it over his shoulder as he left the room, his mind elsewhere. Entering his Tesla, he took a deep breath and decided to go grab another coffee, something he didn’t do too often.

Patrick was exaggerated, Jon knew it already, but his teasing words impressed themselves into his mind. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he had taken a liking to you from the first moment you had your call together for your interview. You were kind, a smile constantly on your face as you answered his questions, you were willing to do everything he asked you to do.

He shook his head when that phrase formed itself in his brain, taking a rather different turn from the professional relationship the two of you shared. Hell, he was shocked at his own self when he let his mind even go there just after your first time meeting in real life.

Turning off the car in the coffee shop’s parking lot after grabbing his usual order, he slid his phone out of his pocket. His brain was telling him not to do it, not to get too into your business, but he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

He couldn’t even remember when the last time he had pressed on that contact’s name was, that was how much time had passed since he had last called that person. He didn’t hesitate, finally starting the call and pressing the device to his ear, his eyes focusing on the steering wheel.

“Mike? Hey, it’s Jon,” was all he said as soon as the old acquaintance picked up. “I need a background check on someone,”

-----

You had graduated at the top of the class, moved away from home for college, to Edmonton. You had an older brother, you weren’t big on sports when you were younger, you liked traveling. All the information was engraved in Jon’s mind.

You didn’t like being late, it was clear from the way you had apologized earlier that morning, Jonathan’s coffee in your hands as you mumbled sorrowful words. You overworked yourself, you weren’t one to leave work undone, and you didn’t like disappointing people.

From his spot in his living room, Jonathan analyzed you, his brows furrowed in concentration and arms folded over his chest. You were interesting, to say the least. There was something about you that had him extremely intoxicated.

Was it your sweet perfume? Was it your laugh? Or the way you spoke? He didn’t know. Less than two months. That was how long it took his thoughts to become anything but professional, that’s how long it took for him to become more than aquaintained with your presence.

Was it your inexperience? Only two boyfriends throughout high school and college, both lasted less than two months. Or was it your innocence?

You kept him awake at night, thinking about you the way a boss shouldn’t think about his employee. You had become a constant distraction at practice, during meetings, during moments he had less expected to even think about you.

He had never felt that weak for a woman ten years his junior, and he truly felt frustrated.

“Mr. Toews? Everything okay?”

Your sweet voice sent jolts through his body, snapping him out of his trance. Mr. Toews, the name kept making his cock strain against his pants, no matter how many times you called him that. “Yeah, I’m fine, Y/N,” he mumbled, voice deeper than usual as he stood up from the couch. He was at your side in just a few seconds, his eyes finding the screen of your laptop to see a schedule. “What are you doing?”

His arms caged you against the kitchen island as his chest slightly touched your back, his eyes still attached to your screen as your heartbeat quickened. “I uh- I’m organizing your schedule,” you stuttered, your body shivering from his closeness. “Player media tour is coming up soon,”

“Right,” he mumbled, a smirk painting itself on his lips as your breath got caught up in your throat when he squeezed your waist before leaving the room. You struggled to stay concentrated after he left, your mind going places it shouldn’t go as you cursed yourself for feeling that way about your boss.

Everything felt so wrong, from the way your heart hammered against your chest every time he stepped close to you, to the way you often found yourself in need of release from his teasing actions.

Working for Jonathan Toews had been unexpectedly hard, it was testing your boundaries. Holding yourself back, acting as if he wasn’t the only person you could think about, as if his name wasn’t the one you had found yourself screaming at night; it was becoming hard.

Two boring months had passed from the day you had started working for him, two boring months of taking care of his stuff and doing what you were told. Two boring months that took a turn and became two hard months when your attraction for your boss had started, two hard months that would soon become three, four, five…

Things needed to change, if you wanted to keep yourself away from any kind of heartbreak. You needed to change.

With a sigh, you unlocked your phone, letting your fingers do their work until a dating app was installed. You stared at its icon for what felt like ages, wondering whether it would be worth it or not, but eventually, you got yourself logged in.

And maybe, it was for the best.

-----

“Fuck-” you breathed out as you skimmed your way through the people crowding the streets of Chicago, some of them even wearing the Blackhawks jerseys. “I’m so late,”

You forgot to pick up his suit. His damn suit. You had been so concentrated on answering emails and getting things settled for him that the task had slipped out of your mind. The city was crowded, almost everyone seemed to be buzzed for the game, and you truly were late.

The familiar banner of the dry and clean was visible from where you were, and it took you less than a few minutes to actually reach their entrance, your breathing heavy. Your phone chimed in your hand, snapping your attention towards the message that you had received. Markus, one of the guys you had matched with on the dating app just a few weeks prior, was asking you out. If you wouldn’t have been as busy as you actually were, maybe you would have squealed in happiness, maybe you would have even called your cousin to let her know you were back in the dating scene. But you were late, your boss was waiting for you, and the text from Markus could be left on delivered for a little more.

Pushing your device inside the back pocket of your jeans, you stepped inside the warm environment of the workplace, picking up the clothing as quickly as you could before making your way back towards the mansion.

You were almost sweating when you finally closed the front door behind yourself, slipping off your coat and looking around the first story of the building for Jonathan, your mind thinking about the text from Markus. “Mr. Toews? I have the suit,”

“Upstairs!” Was all he yelled, lightly scaring you. You were hesitant to walk up the stairs. He hadn’t made it official, but it was pretty clear that he cared about his privacy, so you had taken it upon yourself to stay away from the sleeping area of the house.

You had visited that area twice: on your first day, when he had toured you around the mansion, and a week into your job, to hand him Advil after a pretty rough night at a club. Even then, you never walked past the threshold of his room, too scared to intrude.

Carefully, you started to make your way to the last floor of the house, dragging with you the suit and your nervousness. Shuffling sounds came from the end of the hallway, where the door was peeking open. The warm tones of the lights inside the master bedroom were slightly illuminating the hallway, inviting you to step closer.

“Mr. Toews?” You said, knocking lightly on the door. “I have your suit,”

He was quick to open the door completely, revealing his body to you. He had a white button-up on, his bottom being covered only by a pair of boxers. “Come in, I need your advice on something,”

Jonathan Toews was almost half-naked in front of you, showed no embarrassment from it, and you felt oh so turned on. But it was wrong, you weren’t supposed to feel that way, and that was when you made your decision. You were going on the date.

He walked towards the mirror, turning his back to you as you hesitantly stepped in. You laid the suit on his bed, keeping your eyes to the floor to avoid any kind of discomfort from his side.

“Help me choose my cufflinks?”

He was looking at you, motioning for you to go stand next to him with a small smile. When you obediently made your way towards him, he turned towards the mirror to sort out his tie. Your eyes met his quite big collection of cufflinks, everything looking so shiny and expensive. You weren’t shocked, it wasn’t a secret that you were working for a man with money, you were just surprised to see so much gold in front of your own eyes.

“I was going to go with these ones,” he mumbled, snapping you out of your thoughts and pointing towards the blue pair that was resting on the dresser. “But I’m not too sure. Choose a pair, please,”

With shaky hands, you let yourself pick the ones that had caught your attention from the start. They were golden, probably pure gold, resting cold in the palm of your hand as you inspected them. They stared back at you as the room fell silent, the only sounds coming from Jonathan, who was touching up the look of his tie.

“My grandfather’s,” you heard him say after a while, his deep voice bringing you back to reality. He was closer than you had thought, his warm palms gently holding your arms as he looked down at the pair you had chosen. “Good choice,”

Your cheeks burnt at his praise, your eyes looking up at his mirror reflection for a second. He had you flustered, and it was extremely unprofessional. Everything about your boss seemed to bring you to the edge: from the way he spoke, his voice deep and lustful, to the way his rough hands would randomly graze against yours, their touch so gentle.

“I’ll- I’ll be downstairs, I’ve got some stuff to finish,” you stuttered, biting on your lip as you started to make your way outside, stopping in your tracks when you remembered. “Oh, I had a question, sir,”

“Go on,”

“I was wondering if I could get off earlier, tomorrow night,”

“Anywhere special to be?” Jonathan asked, a smirk painting his lips as he completed the pre-game look.

“I have a date, sir,”

He tried to keep his expression as natural as possible, even though jealousy was truly burning him alive. He didn’t want to see you with someone else, someone who barely even knew you, or who barely even knew how to treat you.

He was pretty confident when it came to knowing you. Maybe the way he found out - thanks to Mike - wasn’t the best way to actually get to know you, but he knew what got you flustered, what had you weak. He knew how to make you feel that way.

How could a guy your age even know anything regarding your pleasure?

“Sir?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he mumbled - his voice fakely uninterested - ending the conversation as quickly as it started. That was your sign to leave the room, confused as to how you were supposed to feel. Happy because you were going to go on a date with Mark? Or sad because Jonathan seemed to not care at all, especially since you had thought he would, after all the teasing he had done on you?

His voice held you back one last time, making you turn around and catch his gaze in the mirror reflection. “Wish me luck?” Was all he said, making you remember just then that he had more important things to do to even care about your date.

“Good luck, Mr. Toews,”

Jon breathed out a long sigh as he let himself fall on one of Patrick’s couches, the glass of whiskey in his hand feeling cold against the warm skin of his palm. They had taken another loss, and that time, Jon was pretty confident when he said it was his fault.

He had tried to push you to the back of his mind, at least for one night, but it had been easier said than done. The jealousy he had felt just hours prior didn’t leave his body, and he wanted nothing more than to show you who you belonged to.

“Another fucking game, man,” Patrick scoffed, letting his body flop down next to him. “That shit gets me so pissed off,”

“Yeah, man,” was all Jonathan mumbled, putting the glass to his lip before taking a drink, the liquid burning his throat.

“How are things with your pretty girl?” Patrick changed the conversation, sending his friend a smirk as he sipped his own drink.

“What pretty girl?” Jon grumbled, looking at the whiskey in the glass with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Your PA, man,”

Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes, the look he sent his friend being enough to answer his question. “I told you, professional,”

“Come on, Jon,” Patrick chuckled. “You haven’t even given it a thought?”

Jonathan stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts before actually giving his teammate an answer. Oh, he did give it a thought. Multiple times. “She’s going on a date tomorrow, that’s all you need to know,”

“And you’re jealous,”

“Am not,” Jon lied, scoffing as he downed the rest of his drink, pouring himself more.

“Then why are you telling me about this?” Patrick asked, knowing that no matter what, he was right. “Don’t act as if you haven’t been thinking about her, you’ve been weird ever since she started working for you,”

Jon clenched his jaw, his eyes directing towards the skyline of Chicago from Patrick’s windows. “Okay, yeah, maybe I am,” he admitted. “Guys her age will never be able to take care of her,”

“She obviously wanted a reaction from you, man,” Patrick rolled his eyes, so obvious in his point of view. “Why would she even tell you? You’re her boss, as you like to say,”

His thought made sense: why did you even tell him you were going on a date in the first place? “That girl got you fucked up, bud,” Patrick chuckled, shaking his head.

“Fuck, every time she calls me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Toews’-” Jon sighed out, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “I can’t resist her,”

“Then don’t,”

Sending his friend a dirty glare, he chugged another drink. “I’m serious, Toews. Just get the girl,”

“As if it’s that easy,” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his glass on the coffee table before standing up. “I’m outta here. Thanks, man, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Heading out of the house, he wanted nothing more than to go home and get some rest. You crowded his mind even in his sleep, but he needed to get some rest and figure himself out.

He wasn’t able to resist you anymore, that he was sure of.

-----

You hadn’t been on many dates before, but it didn’t take much to understand that the one with Markus shouldn’t have even been considered a date. He had charmed you, brought you out to dinner just to get you in his bed, and even fussed when you had made it clear that you didn’t want to see him again.

You were frustrated, to say the least.

You had gotten just a few hours of sleep before having to head in for work, finding the mansion empty, no sign of Jonathan. No call from him was received, when you worked, he had shown no interest in you for the entire day.

Your cousin Laila also seemed to be missing in action: she hadn’t picked up your calls and ignored all your texts. You were pretty sure she had kept her phone off for the day.

The first sound inside the house was unexpected, it almost scared you. It was the front door closing, the sound of footsteps following soon after. You put on a smile, glancing up from your computer to see a tired-looking Jonathan entering the living area.

“Good evening, Mr. Toews,”

“Hi,” he mumbled, pushing himself towards the kitchen to grab a glass and an expensive bottle of wine.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?”

He had to hold himself back from sighing, shaking his head as he poured himself a glass. “Didn’t you have that date, last night?” Was all he asked after a while, twisting his wrist and watching the velvety liquid move around the glass.

“I did,” you sighed. “How was your day, sir?”

“I don’t want to talk about my day,” was all he said, voice stern as he sat next to you on the couch, more than curious to hear about the guy you had gone out with. “Tell me about the date,”

You held back a shocked look, letting your eyes find his for a second. “I-I don’t want to bother you, sir,”

“You’re not bothering me, sweetheart,” the pet name had you weak, your heart beating out of your chest as you struggled to breathe properly. “And please, call me Jon,”

The smile on his lips was enough to send shivers down your spine, a breathy sigh leaving your lips as you shut your laptop. The fact that Jonathan, your own boss, cared to even listen to you ranting about your date made him even hotter, from your point of view. He seemed to be the only one that wanted to hear about it, which spurred you on to actually talk to him about it.

“Well, he brought me out to dinner at this new Indian place, downtown,” you started, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your eyes stay on your lap. “He made us split the check-”

“Hang on-” he mumbled out, his hand finding your knee to stop you. “He split the check?!”

“Yeah,” was all you could whisper, gulping as you looked at his hand on your leg. With your last ounce of courage, you let your eyes focus on his.

“Tell me he at least paid for his shit,” he said, taking a sip of his drink as his hand slowly moved higher.

The shake of your head was enough to get him to groan. “He got the most expensive dish out of the menu and just split the check at the end,”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed, sending you a glance. “Hope you went home after that,”

You kept your mouth shut, your silence being enough to make him realize that you had done the opposite. “Y/N-”

Your name sounded so good, coming from his lips, it had you burning for him. Coming back to your senses, you kept explaining your side of the story. “Well, he mentioned going back to his place, and I needed to relieve some stress, Jon,”

“So you fucked,” he tried to keep his bitterness at bait by chugging down part of his wine. “You don’t look too relaxed, though,”

Everything seemed to spill out of you so quickly after that, especially under his gaze that left you more than submissive for him. “There was no foreplay,”

Jon rolled his eyes, hiding a cocky smirk when he realized he was more than correct, the night when you had revealed that you were going on the date: the guy didn’t know how to satisfy you.

“And, you know-” you mumbled, suddenly shy. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

“You didn’t cum,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as his hand slid up even more on your thigh. “It was pretty obvious,”

You looked at him, your body on fire as you tried not to concentrate too much on how his hand felt on your leg, or how much you needed him. “You know, you look cute when you get shy,” he mumbled, smirking as his thumb drew shapes on the tender skin right before your inner thigh, teasing you just right. “You’re so innocent, you don’t even know what you do to me,”

Your head rolled against the back of the couch as you bit back a moan, his eyes holding yours strictly as he let his hand inch closer to your center. “Did he have you so riled up for him?”

You breathed out a sigh, relishing in his touch as his fingers ghosted over the spot you needed him the most. He stopped, though, snapping you out of your lust-induced trance by pulling you over his lap. You were breathing harshly, your hands on his muscled chest as your noses brushed against each other. “Answer my question,” he grumbled, his hands rough on your thighs. “Did he make you feel the way that I make you feel?”

“No,”

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he said, voice firm as his eyes stared deep into yours.

You finally seemed to be back to your senses partially, realizing just then how wrong everything was. But it felt so good, you needed release and Jon seemed to be the one willing to help you with that. As if it wasn’t enough, all the teasing he had done on you seemed to resurface, and it made you more than eager to let him have you.

What was happening, suddenly, didn’t feel wrong anymore. “I want it,”

That was all it took for him to let his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, your hands subconsciously moving towards his hair, gripping it gently. His mouth ate all your moans, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue in, leaving you even more at his mercy.

The smell of his cologne had you in a frenzy, kissing him until you were short of breath just to have him press open-mouthed kisses on your neck while you pulled apart for air. His lips were back on yours before you knew it, playing you like the finest violin as the warmth in your chest spread lower.

When his hands found your waist, pulling you even closer and helping you grind on his growing bulge, your mind started working again. It reminded you it was wrong, that Jon was just your boss and your relationship had to be strictly professional. Caving in had already been a big mistake, not stopping would have surpassed every possible line.

You scrambled away from him, pushing yourself off of his lap in a rush, feeling extremely guilty. “Y/N, come back-”

You didn’t listen to his pleas, grabbing your coat before heading out the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

You had fucked up.

You had almost considered calling in sick just to avoid the sight of Jonathan for a little longer. The regret was intense, and you were sure you hadn’t felt anything like that before.

You were essential to his life, though, it was something you had to face. You couldn’t stay home and avoid him, or beat yourself up for what had happened the previous night for months. It had happened, it was unprofessional, but you had to get yourself out of bed and on with your life.

The mansion was silent, when you first entered it. You found your laptop on the couch, on the same spot where you were sitting the previous night, and some of your belongings on the kitchen table.

You left a go-to cup of Jon’s hot coffee on the island, opening your computer to take another look at your boss’ schedule. After morning practice, he had to be headed towards his favorite restaurant to have lunch with his brother, and then, he had a session with his personal trainer later in the afternoon.

Just as you were thinking about the fact that you needed to go pick up a present for his mother’s birthday, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. Jonathan was walking behind a blonde-haired woman, his hair messy as she sported a smile.

The sight of him with another woman had you regretting your previous night's reckless decisions even more. She was pretty, he seemed happy, and you felt dumb. Dumb to even have hoped for a small moment that it might have meant something to him, dumb because you were jealous of her, even though you had been the one to run away, after getting your moment with Jon.

His eyes found yours when he finally stepped foot inside the first floor. You held back a fresh set of tears as you looked back down at the computer screen, biting on your bottom lip as you tried to zone out.

“And that’s the door,” you heard him say quickly. “Y/N, I can-”

“Call me later?” The woman interrupted him, voice as sweet as honey as he opened the door for her, trying to get her out of the house as fast as possible.

“Sure. Bye,” the door was shut loudly behind her, the echo of his footsteps impressing itself into your mind as he made his way inside the kitchen.

“Y/N, I can explain,”

“You have lunch after practice with your brother,” you said, voice monotone as you avoided eye contact with him in every possible way. “Then a session with your personal trainer at five. Want me to schedule you a call with that woman, too?”

“Listen, Y/N, she was here because after last night-”

“Last night was totally unprofessional from both of our sides,” you stated, finally sending him a sharp look. “I’d prefer if the matter won’t be discussed anymore, Jonathan,”

“Y/N-”

“Practice is in five, I’d start leaving the house, if I was you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be out to get your mother her birthday present from you,”

“Fuck, her birthday, yes,” he muttered, grabbing his keys and coat as he settled for leaving the house, knowing just how much he had fucked up. “I thought we could have gone together?”

“Your schedule is pretty packed, but I could see,”

“Please?” He asked, voice soft for the first time. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the tears that were slowly swelling up as you nodded your head. He wanted to talk, it was obvious, and you just couldn’t say no to your boss.

“Thursday afternoon,”

“Thank you,” he sighed out, grabbing his cup of coffee before leaving the house, his mind elsewhere. “I’ll see you later,”

As soon as the door closed behind him, you let the tears fall. As much as you wanted to put up a tough facade, you had been broken, and you felt like your whole world had been dropped. You felt confused, heartbroken, jealous.

You pressed on Laila’s contact, sniffling when she picked up. “Y/N?”

“Oh, Laila,” you sobbed, even surprising yourself. “Why am I so stupid?”

She was confused, to say the least. You hadn’t called her in tears for what felt like ages; hell, work had gotten you so busy you hadn’t called her for months. Everything had come out of your mouth so quickly it had you shocked: you explained to her the teasing, the famous night, and just what had happened minutes prior, tears streaming down your face as if you’d never experienced heartbreak before.

The fact that you even felt heartbroken from your boss, Jonathan Toews, felt unreal. You had pushed your feelings for him aside for so long that you weren’t expecting to feel that hurt over something so small. You were shocking your own self.

“Why am I even crying over him, Lai?” You sniffled, wiping the leftover tears on your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“You clearly have feelings for him, Y/N,”

You closed your mouth shut at her words, shock evident in your voice as you stuttered. “But I barely even know him!”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Silence came from Laila’s line, a long sigh could only be heard as the two of you stopped talking. “This might sound so cheesy, but listen to your heart, Y/N,”

You sniffled at her words, still unsure of everything going on in your life as your heart still felt quite broken even after venting to your cousin. You needed time to figure things out, time to think.

And time was what you gave yourself.

-----

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jonathan greeted you softly, his eyes finding yours when you stopped in front of him. “I’m not the greatest at gifts,”

You giggled, shaking your head as you mindlessly let your hand grasp his forearm, sending shivers down his spine. “Of course, Jon,”

“I uh- I got the car out,” he pointed towards his Tesla, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know you prefer walking, but I exaggerated at the gym earlier and my legs are pretty sore,”

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, his softness making your heartbeat quicken. “Shall we go?”

As if you had snapped him out of his thoughts, he nodded his head, leading you towards the vehicle and opening the passenger door for you. The car was fancy, but you weren’t expecting anything else from him. He was Jonathan Toews, his wristwatch probably cost more than your old college tuition.

You small talked until you reached your destination, the large mall just out of town that hosted the most expensive stores, the ones you were so used to admiring from the distance. You slipped out of the car on your own, looking at the building with a small ounce of anxiousness as you waited for Jon to reach your side.

“You ready?”

You turned around to face him, nodding your head sharply as you tried not to get lost in his wide smile. “Thought you wanted to stay there and gaze at the mall for the rest of the afternoon,”

“No,” you giggled, starting to walk just when his hand slipped on your lower waist, nudging you. Your heart was fluttering, his touch so gentle against your skin as he helped you towards the door. Why did it feel so good when he touched you? You were supposed to hate him, to be disappointed in him; yet, you couldn’t pull away, keep a safe distance between the two of you. It was as if you were magnets, the attraction too much to actually let go.

Snapping out of your trance, you remembered just why you were there, with him, and what you needed to do. “Uh- have you been thinking about anything?”

“Jewelry,” was all he suggested, his hand dropping back to its place next to his waist when you walked inside the large main hall. “She doesn’t wear it too often, but she secretly loves it,”

“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Any store in mind?”

“There should be one just around the corner,” he mumbled, directing you around the quite empty mall with large strides. He was right, one of the largest jewelry you had ever seen was right in front of your eyes, the prettiest diamonds being exposed right next to rings and earrings.

“Woah,”

“I know,” was all Jonathan mumbled, dragging you along with him inside the store. You had an employee at your side the moment you walked in, her eyes barely even acknowledging you as she started blabbering about the shop and what they sold, entirely focused on your boss.

“We’re here for a gift, but I think we won’t have trouble looking on our own,” Jon politely said, sending the woman a small smile just as he pulled you close to his side by your waist, making you repress a gasp. The woman left soon after, giving you a once-over right before she went back to walking around the store in search of people to help.

You were struggling to breathe when he released your body, his eyes going to the jewels behind the displays as he kept you close. “I’m sorry about that. She was making me uncomfortable,”

“It’s okay,” was all you were able to mumble, following his gaze on a necklace. “Is she one for necklaces?”

“Not really,”

“Maybe earrings?”

“Yeah, she wears those often,” Jon nodded his head, searching for the displayer with the earrings. “I want something she could wear every day, though,”

“Something simple,” you hummed, your eyes raking around the various pairs of earrings. You came across a pair that looked like white gold in the shape of a flower, tempested with small, white diamonds.

You carefully pointed towards them, your fingers catching Jon’s attention. “Those look pretty,” he mumbled as he called over another shop assistant. “Could we get these out? I want to see them closer,”

The pair was in front of your eyes before you knew it, shining under the warm lights of the store. You had to refrain yourself from letting your eyes widen at the price tag, deciding to let them focus on Jonathan’s expression. “What do you think about them?”

“I think they might be too big to be casual,” was all he mumbled, glancing towards the displayer again to search for something else. “I was also thinking about a bracelet, you know?”

“I’ll go take a look at some of those for you,” you whispered, smiling his way before moving towards the other side of the store, where the bracelets were located. The diamonds and pearls were all staring back at you, begging to be bought as you talked lightly with the shopping assistant.

You didn’t even realize you had been stuck on one specific item until the lady helping you caught your attention. “That’s a Cartier,” she smiled your way. “Simple but classy, they’ve been selling pretty quickly,”

“It’s really beautiful,” you whispered, batting your lashes a few times to push yourself out of your daydream before focusing on the rest of the collections. You were pretty sure Jonathan would like the bracelet you picked out: a small, golden chain with a charm that represented family, also stutted with diamonds.

“Found anything interesting?”

You jumped when you heard Jon’s voice from behind you, his palm finding its place on your smaller back again as he stood by your side. “Thoughts on this one? The charm represents family,”

Jonathan was gentle as he lifted up the jewel, looking at it attentively before smiling your way. “I think we found the one,”

With a smile, you went to take a look at the earrings he had chosen, leaving Jonathan on his own in front of the bracelets. “We’re getting that one,” he mumbled to the shopping assistant, pointing towards the present for his mother. “Was she looking at anything else when she was alone?”

“The young woman?”

Jonathan nodded, hoping the employee could help him out in some ways. He had felt the urge to buy you something from the moment he first saw your eyes sparkle at the sight of the jewels. He knew it was wrong, but he felt like he might have needed it someday: maybe as an apology, or maybe as just a present.

“She was looking at this one,” the woman said, nonchalantly taking out of its displayer the Cartier rose gold bracelet you had been gazing at for minutes.

Just the best way to spoil his girl, he thought. “Add it to the rest, please. And don’t use a separate bag for it,”

“Of course, sir,” the woman smiled, leading him towards the checkout. “I’m sure she’ll love it,”

The two of you left the store soon after he swiped his credit card, heading towards the parking lot in silence. Your time together had come to an end, and you felt weird when the thought of missing him even crossed your mind. He had shown you softness, even regret, throughout the afternoon, and you realized you had gotten to know another part of him. The sensitive part, the part that was in some way asking you to give him another chance.

“I know I fucked up the other day,” Jonathan said when he started the car, the flashbacks of him walking the woman out rising back to life inside your brain. “And I know that you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I owe you an apology,”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as he kept driving, the city running past your eyes. He was willing to admit his mistakes, but were you going to let him back into your heart?

“Okay,”

He seemed surprised when you answered, but snapped back to reality quickly. “Take a day off, tomorrow,” he said, his eyes finding yours quickly before directing them back to the streets.

“But you have the game, Jon,”

“I want you to come to the game, have some fun,” he said, words authoritative as he kept his eyes trained on the road, your panties dampening just at the tone of his voice. “And then go out for drinks with me after it,”

That was anything but professional, if you thought about it, but was your heart going to stop you? There was nothing holding you back anymore. You took a fast glance at his face, not realizing he had caught you until his eyes met with yours. “Y/N?”

“Okay,”

You suppressed a smile as he drove towards your apartment complex, playing with your fingers in your lap as you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Your usual Friday night was going to take a turn: you weren’t going to watch Jonathan play behind the screen of your TV anymore, and you weren’t going to daydream about him before falling asleep.

Friday night was going to be different, and you knew it.

-----

Friday was calm. The sun was warm on your skin as you read a book on your couch, thankful for a morning off and some time to figure your life out. It had taken you a while to realize just how much you had been ignoring your own mental health, how you really felt, and your day off seemed to be just the perfect way to understand yourself better.

It felt confusing, if you had to be honest. Your heart was more than ready to give itself entirely to Jonathan: to give him your all, to wake up in the morning next to him, to make memories together. Your brain, though, made you feel like it was wrong, almost dirty.

You wanted the two of them to find a solution to all their divergences, to make it easier for you. You couldn’t bear the confusion anymore, staying away from Jon was already hard enough.

Laila’s words replayed themselves in your mind while you took a shower, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. What if you really had feelings for him, though? The way your heartbeat quickened every time he said your name was almost enough to answer your question; the butterflies dancing in your stomach every time you’d feel his touch were so evident you almost laughed at yourself for not realizing it sooner.

The sexual tension, at the same time, was something you clearly couldn’t ignore. You were so sure that it was what it had made you attracted to him in the first place, the warm feeling deep in your stomach, or just the way you were burning for him.

By the time evening rolled around, you felt nervous. You were worried you were dressed correctly for the game, but totally underdressed for drinks; you were worried you were going to make a fool out of yourself, as always, or that you were going to embarrass him.

The doorbell was enough to snap you out of your trance, making you grab your coat and purse in a rush before leaving the apartment building, only to be faced with a black car and a man in a suit. A driver?

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N,” was all the man said, opening the door for the backseat for you in a quick second. “Mr. Toews wasn’t able to drive you, so I’m here to pick you up,”

“Thank you,” you said, holding back the last remnants of shock in you as you slid inside the car. The lights of the city moved past you as you were driven towards the arena in silence, the city looking busy as red and white jerseys packed the sidewalks.

You felt like you were in a movie. Never in your life had you thought you would have been in the backseat of an expensive car, a driver sent by your boss chaperoning you towards the destination.

“Miss, this is your ticket,”

The car had stopped, and you had realized just then that you had reached the arena, your heart starting to leap out of your chest. “Could I stay here a little more?” You asked, voice small as you hoped for a ‘yes’, suddenly overwhelmed with what was going to happen throughout the night.

“Of course, miss,” the man smiled, almost as if he wanted to reassure you everything was going to be okay, like a guardian angel.

Jonathan wanted to apologize to you, that was what was going to happen, nothing more. What were you even worrying about? Pushing all your worries aside, you grabbed your ticket and thanked the driver, following the mass of people towards the entrance of the arena.

You heard multiple excited conversations about the game, both from Blackhawks fans and from Sabres fans. You felt slightly out of place in the crowd of people dressed in red, already holding beers in their hands as they talked, even chanted their team’s name.

You found out just after getting inside the building that you were reserved a spot with the team’s close family members, a lot calmer than the spots near the rink itself. When you walked inside the room, you were met with who you could only guess were some of the player’s parents, but a group of younger women was by far taking over the room.

They were all sporting the team’s jersey, the players’ last names on their backs never repeating on the other girls’ shirts. You silently took a seat, noticing you had the best view of the rink, from the highest spot of the building.

“Newbie?”

Your head snapped to the side to meet with a girl slightly older than you, a smile on her face as she sat next to you. “What?” You asked, slightly confused at her word.

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” she explained. “I’m Amanda, Kane’s girlfriend,”

“Oh, I’m- I’m Y/N, I work for Toews,”

“Oh, so you are new here,” she giggled, shaking your hand softly. “I’ve heard about you,”

“You did?” You asked, holding back a giggle.

“I’ve heard Jon talk about you many times,” Amanda confessed, your heart fluttering at what she said. Jonathan talked about you? “You know, other girlfriends and I are just sticking together for the game. Do you want to join us?”

The offer was given to you quickly, you weren’t even able to process the fact that Jonathan’s friends knew about you, in some kind of way. You were a total stranger to them, and yet, they knew you, they wanted you to join them. “That would be awesome,” you smiled her way. “Thank you,”

When she went back to the group, you glanced down at your phone, sending Jonathan a quick text before, eventually, joining your new companions.

Good luck, Jon :)

“Honestly, I’m so happy they won,” Amanda mumbled, looking over the few people in the hallway right before the changing room to see if the team was going to come out soon. “They really deserved it,”

A few noises of agreement came from the rest of the WAGs, the girls you had joined just a few hours prior. “What are your plans tonight, ladies?”

Most of the girls talked about going home, relaxing with their significant other, and enjoying the night; one of the wives mumbled about leaving for a small trip right after being done at the rink, and somebody else talked about going to a club. When you were asked, your cheeks heated up.

“We’re going out for drinks,” you mumbled, nervously playing with your fingers as most of the girls smiled your way.

“And you’re just working for him? Girl, don’t lie to us,” Becca, another girl, pushed your shoulder jokingly.

“What are you ladies mumbling about?” Patrick walked towards your group, wrapping an arm around Amanda’s waist as she giggled. His eyes found yours in a second, scanning your face as a smirk planted itself on his lips. “You’re Y/N, right? Nice to meet you,”

“Hi,” you smiled, your attention quickly snapping towards someone else when a familiar hand settled itself on your smaller back.

“Hey,” Jon said, propping his bag up his shoulder as he looked down at you. “Good evening, ladies,”

The girls barely even answered, too busy with greeting their husbands and boyfriends and congratulating them to actually acknowledge the captain. “Did you have fun?” He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your back, your stomach filling with butterflies all over again.

“Of course I did,” you smiled.

“You busy tonight, Jon?” Patrick asked, snapping the two of you out of your trance. “Drinks at mine?”

“We’re going out,” Jonathan stated, looking at his teammate with a smile. “Next time, I promise,”

You still couldn’t contain the giddy feeling whenever he referred to the two of you as ‘we’, it was something that had always made you so smitten.

“It’s fine, man. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick winked, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Amanda before the two were off on their own.

“Shall we go?” Jon asked, his eyes focused on yours as the hallway cleared out around you. With a nod of your head, the two of you were headed off towards his car, reaching in just a few minutes a fancy bar.

The lights inside were dim, and it wasn’t the usual kind of bar filled with bodies and loud music. There were tables, just a few of them occupied by people enjoying their drinks in silence as soft jazz music set the vibe. It was cozy, in some kind of way, even if the place was extremely out of your reach.

A table was reserved for you near one of the ample windows facing a rainy Chicago, the warmth inside the room making you breathe out a sigh of relief. “I like this place,” you said, looking around the room with a smile on your face.

“I’ve been coming here for years, now,” Jon admitted, taking a seat in front of you. “I don’t like normal bars too much, they’re too messy,”

“This place represents you, in some way,” you mumbled, your eyes finding his.

“I guess it does,” was all he mumbled before ordering your drinks, voice firm as he talked to the waitress. You were sure he couldn’t see the way she was looking at him, heart-eyed as she scribbled down the drinks as best as she could, it was almost funny.

When she left you to yourselves, silence built between you. You were more than nervous, to say the least, and he seemed to be in his thoughts, in his own world. He clearly was snapped out of his trance when your drinks were slipped in front of you.

“Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for everything,” he spoke, looking at the liquid inside his glass quickly before letting his eyes meet yours. “I never thought things would go like that, I even tried to hold myself back, but I didn’t make it,”

“It’s okay, Jon,” you whispered, playing with the rim of your glass as you tried to find some words to say. “I have to apologize too, what I did was anything but professional,”

“Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you. “If it wasn’t for me, things would have been normal, now,”

You stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes holding yours as you tried to not mutter out what you had been thinking about for ages, your body shaking in anticipation as you played with your fingers.

“I don’t want them to be normal, though,” you whispered with your last ounce of courage, shocking your own self as you bit on your lip. He looked at you in silence, making it hard for you to understand what he was feeling. “I wish you knew how I feel whenever you touch me, or when you say my name, Jon,”

There was a beat before he spoke, his voice firm after taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,”

“I want you to make me yours, even if it’s just for one night,” you breathed out, holding eye contact as you said your next words. “Even if it might not work,”

He adjusted himself on his chair, biting on his bottom lip as his pupils dilated, giving you a once over. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart,”

“Am not,” your voice was coated with lust as his hand traveled up your thigh with anything but hesitance. “You can take me home if you want me, Captain,”

He held your eyes for another moment, downing his whiskey before standing up, dropping a bill on the table. “Stand up,” was all he said, voice dark as he looked down at you. You fell into your submissive character as soon as his voice became authoritative, automatically jumping to your feet and following him out of the bar, the cold rain falling on your face.

The drive was silent, filled with tension as Jonathan went over the speed limit, the streets empty. His hand was on your thigh, too close to your center to even make you think straight. Everything was going too fast, but you didn’t care anymore.

Were the few sips of alcohol making you intoxicated, or was it Jon? Was it the strong scent of his cologne, the touch of his hand on your skin, his dark eyes?

His grip on your thigh tightened when he parked the car inside his garage, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment before he finally leaned in, over the console, and kissed you.

His lips were softer than you could remember, but there wasn’t anything soft about the way he was kissing you, grabbing you to pull you over his lap. You were eager to see where things were going to head, curious to explore more of him, and he was feeling the same way.

As his tongue caressed yours, his hands found their way towards your ass, pushing your center even closer to his growing bulge. You bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan, your hands dropping to his chest to undo his already messy tie.

He pulled away to breathe in some air, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as he grazed your throat with his teeth, shivers running down your spine. “Jon-”

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark as he threw his undone tie in the backseat. His hand dipped inside your jeans, tracing over your panties as he kept eye contact. “Tell the world who makes you feel good,”

“Jon-” you moaned again, head thrown back as he grasped your neck to pull you closer again, letting his lips find yours for another heated kiss, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

“Let’s head inside, baby,” was all he grumbled against your lips, hands on your thighs as he opened the car door. You whined, not wanting the moment to end, which made his voice darken even more. “Don’t be a brat. I’m not fucking you in my car on our first time. I’m better than that,”

You had to hold back a moan as he carefully exited the car, holding your body in his arms as he expertly walked towards the elevator, his mouth on yours. You were so lost in him you barely even registered your back hitting his comforter a few minutes later, his body hovering over yours as he wrapped your legs around his waist.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to have you like this,” he grumbled in your ear, breathing heavily as he pushed your shirt over your head, your bra following along. “Under me, at my mercy,”

His words, followed by his lips on your breasts, made the coil inside your stomach tighten. He felt so close, so real. You realized you weren’t on your own, in your room late at night, taking care of all the pent-up tension anymore. Jonathan Toews - the man who had been the center of your world for months, the man who had kept you up at night ever since he had first laid eyes on you - was on top of you, finally giving life to every fantasy of yours, and probably also of his.

His touch wasn’t as soft as it used to be anymore, his hands roughly moving from your sides to the button of your jeans, opening it in a rush as his lips found your skin again. His fingers ghosted over your heat, making you moan out a curse.

“Jon, don’t stop,” you breathed out, his lips kissing their way down to your navel. He was faced with your heat in a second, his hands pushing your underwear down your legs. You had to suppress a whine when the cold air of his room hit your heated core, your walls contracting around nothing as he let the pad of his index finger trace your slit.

“Look at you,” he whispered, licking his lips as he watched you quiver under his mere touch. “So drenched for me,”

He placed kisses on your inner thighs, teasing you just right as you whimpered under his touch, your fingers grasping his hair just when he finally let his mouth find your center. He was eager to learn what ticked you off, what made you feel good, what you needed to come off the edge. He had wanted to know for so long.

Jonathan sucked your clit in his mouth, the strangled moan that left your lips being enough to make his pants tighten even more. His tongue slid down to your entrance, his strong arms holding your waist down when you tried to follow his movements, to get some relief.

“Don’t make me tie you down, sweetheart,” was all he said, voice deep as his eyes bore deep into yours, sending you into a state of submission. When he dipped down again, he kept eye contact, his humming against your heat almost bringing you over the edge.

His tongue was making you feel stars, touching places you didn’t even know could make you feel so weak. He knew what he was doing, and he took pride in it. By the time one of his fingers slid inside of you, you were a moaning mess, everything inside your body screaming at you to let go.

Jon was attentive, keeping his eyes on you to see just how good he was making you feel, just how easily he could work you over the edge. But, just as you were about to give in and let the orgasm take over you, he stopped his movements, his lips kissing their way up your body again.

“Want to take it slow,” he whispered in your ear teasingly, biting your lobe and letting you know you weren’t going to leave the bed anytime soon. His mouth was on yours again, your taste on his lips making you moan.

Your hands were quick at undoing the buttons of his white, neatly ironed, shirt; your fingers didn’t hesitate when they touched the newfound skin of his chest, so warm and soft it made you melt.

His pants were off in a second, thrown in a corner of the room as his lips stayed on yours. You didn’t think you’d be able to separate after the night, after finally giving in and letting yourselves get close.

You were eagerly palming his cock over his boxers, ready to push yourself to your knees and give him what he had been thinking about for months. His hand gripped your wrists tightly just when you were about to push his undergarments down his thighs, your eyes snapping up to his when he shook his head. “Tonight’s about you, sweet girl,” he whispered, letting his free hand card through your already messy hair before giving it a firm tug. “On your hands and knees,”

His authoritative voice had always made you oh so desperate for him, and that time, it wasn’t any different. You were positioned in the middle of the bed as quickly as you could, your ass up in the air as he explored your body with his eyes.

“So pretty for me,” he muttered, discarding his boxers before making his way towards you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he leaned down to kiss your spine. “Beg for it, baby girl,”

“Please, Jon-” you whined, burying your face in his pillows, completely at his mercy. “Please, fuck me,”

The chuckle that left his body was enough to make you clench around air again, the shameless moan that exited your mouth getting muffled by the soft material of his pillows. “So desperate,” he unexpectedly slid his length inside of you, the stretch making chills run down your spine as a string of curses left his lips.

“Fuck- so tight for me, sweetheart,” he breathed out, his hips stuttering for a quick second before he started to thrust into you, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass harshly filling the room.

His thrusts were quick, his skin slapping against yours rhythmically as you moaned loudly. One of his hands gripped your hair, pulling your head away from his pillows, the sting of his pulling sending pleasure to your clit.

“I want to hear every single moan,” he grumbled in your ear, his punishing pace sending you into subspace as your high neared again, your legs struggling to keep the rest of your body up. He could feel your walls constricting around him, making his own pleasure even more evident as he tried to keep his cool.

Your moans became louder again when you started to tip over the edge, but you were denied your orgasm again when Jon pulled his cock out of you, gently handling you around.

You found yourself on your back, legs spread for him as he tapped his cock against your overstimulated entrance, a smirk on his face as he entered you again. “Want you to look at me when I make you cum, sweetheart,”

His words had you whimpering, your eyes closing as he moved inside of you, the new angle making you feel even better. His hand slipped down your body, reaching your clit and teasing it as he kept his bruising pace.

“Jon- Jon I’m going to cum,” you breathed out, your legs wrapping around his middle as they slightly shook, holding him closer to you.

“Look at me,” he said, his fingers on your clit speeding up. “I said, look at me, Y/N,”

You let your eyes meet his as your orgasm made your body shake, a shout of his name leaving your mouth as your walls convulsed around his cock. You were breathing harshly as he helped you ride your high, his hips snapping quickly against yours as he held back groans.

He pulled out quickly, coming all over your stomach with a loud groan as you tried to gain back your breathing, your eyes struggling to stay open. The room sat in silence as he left the bed, only to come back a few minutes later to clean you up.

He took care of the cum on your stomach, gently cleaning it with a wet towel before going back to his position between your thighs. “You did so good for me, tonight,” he whispered, hushing your whines when the towel touched your sensitive skin. “Such a good girl,”

“I probably should go,” you mumbled sleepily, trying to push yourself out of his bed only to be interrupted by his voice.

“Stay the night, Y/N. Please,”

“Jon-”

“Please,” he repeated, taking a seat next to your laying body on his bed. His eyes were scanning your face for any kind of discomfort as he let his hand card through your hair, the moment of softness making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

As you looked up at him, you found yourself realizing just where you were, just where you were laying. Your eyes really met his bedroom for the first time at that moment, noticing every single small piece of him that was resting inside the place that he found most personal, the place he barely let people in.

He was sharing it with you, the part of him that most people barely even knew.

He slid with you under the covers, pulling your body close to his as his eyes found yours. He pushed a strand of stray hair away from your face, his other hand drawing shapes on your smaller back.

“What are we doing, Jon?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he sighed out. Silence settled between you as you tried to figure out what was happening between the two of you, if your relationship had changed, but his voice filled the room again. “You know, I was in need of release after you ran away, that night,” he mumbled, his fingers toying with the ends of your curls. “There wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t thinking about you, when I was with that girl. It was a mistake-”

“Jon, please, stop it,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile. “I accept your apology,”

Your words seemed to put him at peace, at least for the night, and he pulled you even closer. “Get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning,” he whispered, tenderly kissing the top of your head as you cuddled on his side. Your body was tired, but your heart was beating quickly against your ribcage at how your night had ended.

Not only did you have the best sex of your life with the man you had been wishing for ever since day one, but you also found yourself cuddling by his side, his warm body pressed against yours. The question that left your lips was slurred by sleep, but you needed to know, you needed to know if it wasn’t going to end just so soon.

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

There was a beat after you said your words, his hand carding your hair one more time as he smiled.

“Of course I will,”

“Good morning,”

The whispered greeting had you slowly waking up, the warmth of Jon’s body close to yours making you breathe out a sigh of fondness. “Hey,”

“How did you sleep?” the man beside you asked, voice still sleepy as he played with your bed hair. You had to repress a giggle at his question, hiding your face in his chest as you mumbled out your answer.

“Like a baby,”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as the other held his phone, his eyes focused on the screen. “Plans for the day?”

“You have to meet up with your coach this afternoon,” you said, your fingers drawing shapes on his naked chest. “What time is it?”

“Nine,”

“Jon, you’re late to practice,” you scolded him with a sigh, rolling your eyes when he shrugged.

“Everybody needs a day off,” he said, making a chuckle leave your mouth. “I’ll go grab us breakfast, don’t fall back asleep without me,”

A peck was placed on your lips as Jon left the bed, your body missing his warmth after just a few seconds of being apart. You looked at the ceiling as you took in the events of the previous night, well-accustomed to the butterflies in your stomach.

You had to refrain yourself from clenching your legs at the flashbacks from the late-night activities, instead biting on your bottom lip as you remembered just how good it felt to be touched by Jonathan.

His hands on your skin, his mouth on your body, his eyes locked with yours.

You weren’t ready to leave him, though. You weren’t ready to forget about the night the two of you had spent together, to name it ‘just a one-night stand’. You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, to scold him when he was late, to spend endless nights talking about your lives after some good sex, and to be his. That was what you wanted.

You settled on getting ready as best as you could, taking a quick shower and throwing on his discarded button-up from the previous night, his cologne invading your nostrils as soon as the expensive material slid over your skin.

You heard the front door shutting after you had just made yourself comfortable in the kitchen, your laptop opened in front of your eyes as Jonathan put the coffees on the table. “Got bagels. Is it okay?”

“More than okay,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his as you took a sip from your cup. “I hope me taking a quick shower wasn’t a problem,”

“Not at all,” he smiled, seemingly noticing your outfit just then, as he leaned against the kitchen counter while he took a bite of his food. His eyes roamed your figure for a long while, your cheeks becoming quite heated as you kept your gaze on your computer screen. “You look good in my clothes,”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my clothes from last night,” you whispered, biting on your lip as you avoided his eye contact.

“That shirt looks better on you anyway,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he peeked at your laptop. “What do you have to do, today?”

“Just picking up some clothes at the dry and clean,” you mumbled, taking a bite out of your bagel. “Oh, I also need to pick up some packages,”

“I’ll come with you,” he mumbled, letting his hands squeeze your waist quickly before going back to stand against the kitchen counter. Your heart was beating against your ribcage as you tried to act unbothered, one of your hands running through your hair.

“You have other stuff to do, Jon,” you sighed, turning around to face him.

“Don’t care,” he smirked, his thumb and index finger grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. His lips ghosted over yours teasingly as you struggled to breathe, the warmth in your stomach invading your entire body. “The world can wait a little more,”

-----

Huffing as you walked around the halls of the United Center, you were trying to hold all your stress under control. It was a stressful day for Jon and you, probably the most stressful day the two of you had ever had, and things had been going okay.

Well, they had been going okay until Jonathan was nowhere to be seen after morning practice, your busy schedule being put on hold as you scanned through every room inside the building anxiously.

He had a meeting, a very important one, in fact. Coaches, PR teams and the most important people of the Blackhawks were all finding themselves in one room to discuss important business, and the captain just couldn’t be late.

His coach had mumbled something about him being extremely distracted during the previous weeks, his head going elsewhere whenever it was possible, and it didn’t take a while for you to realize it was because of you.

It had been a few weeks ever since the night, and you were confused, to say the least. You felt as if you had gone back in time, when all the two of you could share was teasing touches, deep eye contact, and sexual tension. Why were you two playing hard to get?

The large doors of the dressing room snapped you out of your thoughts, your heart hammering against your chest as you wondered whether it was a good idea or not to actually search for him inside. It probably was an invasion of privacy, right?

You almost squealed in fear when the doors opened, revealing one of Jon’s teammates, a beaten-up look on his face as his eyes met yours. “Can I help you?”

“I, uh- is Jonathan in there?” You asked nervously, sighing in relief when the younger guy nodded his head absentmindedly. “Thank you,”

He muttered something under his breath as he walked away, leaving you to open the doors to the changing room in silence. You were faced with emptiness, just the faint sounds of shuffling entering your ears as you looked around the room.

“Jonathan?”

“Ah, just who I wanted to see,”

His face sported a smirk when he walked towards the main hall of the room, dressed in only one of his extremely tight thermal shirts and a pair of boxers. He was hot, and he knew it; hell, he even took pride in it, you were sure.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close to his body. You seemed to snap back to your thoughts - too busy admiring his Adonis-like body - just then, looking up at him with a stern look.

“Jonathan, you’ve got a meeting to attend,” you said, pushing against his chest to get him away from you. “And you’re so fucking late for it,”

“You’re hot when you’re pissed off,” he mumbled, dipping his head to your shoulder to press a line of kisses over your blouse, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt. “Everyone was looking at your ass, sweetheart. Did you know that?”

You closed your eyes as his kisses trailed up your neck, reaching your sweet spot in just a few seconds. You felt in heaven, so deeply pushed into a lust-filled trance by just his mouth as you forgot what was happening outside, what you needed to do. “Had to kick all their asses to get their eyes off of you,”

His possessiveness was sending jolts to your core, his touch so teasing yet so pleasurable as he pressed another coat of kisses down your neck. His hands slid to your ass as he let his body drop down on one of the benches, your legs straddling his waist.

“Jonathan, the meeting starts in ten minutes and you don’t even have a suit on,” you scolded him as best as you could, his fingers undoing the first few buttons of your shirt.

“Just enough time to fuck you,” he whispered against your lips, his mouth on yours a second later as his hands were already pushing your underwear to the side to tease your drenched center. “So wet for me this early in the morning, baby girl?”

You let out a shaky moan as his thumb played with your clit, the pleasure too strong to pull yourself away from him. “We’ve got to be quick, Jon,” Your hands dropped to his bulge, pushing his boxers out of the way as he aligned his cock with your entrance, ignoring your sentence.

“So needy for me,” he muttered, his cock sliding against your walls smoothly as you moaned out his name, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders. To say you were a little surprised to have sex with him for the second time inside the United Center’s dressing room was an understatement, but everything felt just too good to make it end.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe as his hands helped you rock your hips against his, a sharp moan leaving your lips at the stretch. A few groans left his mouth when you picked up the pace, one of his hands dropping to your clit as he relished in the pleasure.

“Jon-” you moaned, your head lulling back as he kissed your neck, his teeth leaving a love bite on your skin. He knew it was something he shouldn’t have done, that marking was for kids, but he wanted the world to know you were his, even if he didn’t have the balls to make you his.

He seemed to be pushed in a trance as you speeded up even more, trying to chase your high and bring him to his as quickly as possible, time clicking. “I’m gonna cum,” you whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the pleasure became too much.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he spoke, voice sweet as he let his lips find yours again. “Milk my cock, baby,”

Your eyes locked with his as you came, mouth opened in a silent moan as your cunt clenched around his length, bringing him unbelievably close to his orgasm. You kept moving on top of him as best as you could, your sensitive pussy making you whine.

“I gotta cum, sweetheart,” he groaned in your ear, subtly telling you he needed to pull out. Your cheeks, as heated as they already were, seemed to burn even more as you whispered your next words, hiding your face from him.

“I’m on the pill,”

“Fuck- shit-” he muttered under his breath, the thought of being able to cum inside of you sending him over the edge, his abs clenching as he released against your walls. You caught your breaths together, his forehead leaning against yours after he pecked your lips gently.

Your eyes dropped to your watch, noticing you had just a few minutes before the start of the meeting, another curse leaving your lips. “Jon, you better get yourself ready,” you said, pulling yourself away from his body to fix yourself up.

You were hoping it wasn’t too evident that you had just fucked with your boss inside the dressing rooms as you made your way towards the doors, ready to leave.

“Y/N?”

You turned around to face Jonathan, who was messily trying to put on the tailored suit you loved on him. “What?”

There was a beat of silence as he pulled on his slacks, sending you a quick look. “The team is hosting this gala, next weekend,” he mumbled, cheeks rosy as he avoided your eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come along?”

“Are you asking me out, Jon?” You giggled, biting on your bottom lip.

“I’m trying to,” he huffed. “You obviously don’t have to, if you-”

“Yes,”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll be your date,” you giggled, tugging him close to you by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, your body relaxing against his. When you pulled back, a smile was resting on his lips, your heart beating out of your chest. “Now, get ready. There’s a meeting we have to be at,”

-----

You were so fucked.

The Cartier bracelet was on your wrist, shining under the lights of your apartment as you touched up your makeup, stomach churning nervously. You had come home to a couple of boxes on your bed, well-known names printed on top of them, and you were shocked, to say the least.

The material of your dress - a classy, black cocktail dress - was soft against your skin, and you were trying to refrain yourself from looking it up and check the price tag. The bracelet had been your breaking point, your eyes tearing up at the sight of the rose gold accessory you had found yourself admiring more than a month prior.

It felt strange to get spoiled by someone, you were going to be honest.

You heard the faint knock just as you were slipping on a dark pair of stilettos, your lips pulling into a smile as you opened the door, your eyes falling onto your date. He seemed speechless as he gave your body a once-over, his eyes softening at your smile.

“You look stunning, sweetheart,” he said, voice gentle as he tried to tear his eyes off of you. His hand slipped into yours, pushing it up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on your skin, his eyes finding just later the bracelet he had given you.

“Thank you, Jon,” you whispered, cheeks heating up at his comment. He was looking better than ever in his all-black suit, matching your outfit perfectly, and it was hard for you to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bait.

“We should head out, I know you hate being late,” Jon mumbled, his eyes still not leaving you as you locked the front door behind yourself, his body close to yours. He led you out of the building with a gentle arm around your waist, nothing but warmth filling your chest as he helped you inside the car.

You were in silence as the driver moved the car around the city, directed towards the venue, Jon’s hand staying firmly on your thigh. You had so much on your mind, so much keeping you in your thoughts, and Jon seemed to notice.

“What’s happening in that pretty head of yours, darling?” He whispered, the palm on your thigh moving to grasp your hand.

“You- you bought me all this stuff and-”

“This is my way of saying thank you,” he whispered, smiling your way as the car came to a halt. “I actually bought the Cartier when we were shopping for my mom’s presents,”

Your eyebrows scrunched as you chuckled, giving him a shocked look as he helped you out of the vehicle. “Really?”

“Yeah,”

“You never told me if your mother liked the gifts,” you whispered as the two of you walked inside the venue, your arms linked together as people smiled your way.

“She did,” he stated, greeting one of his teammates with a nod of his head. “She loved the bracelet more than I thought she would,”

You smiled proudly, waving excitedly towards Amanda when her eyes caught yours. “God, Y/N, you look so beautiful tonight!” She squealed, pulling you in a hug as Patrick and Jon talked, her hands gentle on your skin as she took a good look at you.

You thanked her shyly, leaning against Jon’s side as your attention was pushed towards the center of the room, where they were announcing the start of the gala. You were introduced to various people throughout the night - shaking hands, hugging wives and girlfriends, even waving to some little kids - and you felt quite tired when you found yourself in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, your arms wrapped around Jonathan’s neck.

He seemed to be in his thoughts, his touch warm on your skin as the two of you messily swayed to the music, your eyes closing. “What are you thinking about, Jon?”

“It’s complicated, sweetheart,” he whispered, sighing when your head found its place on his shoulder.

“Tell me about it, I’m willing to listen,”

He chuckled, his thumb drawing shapes on your back as he tried to find the words, the courage, to tell you he was in love with you. He hadn’t felt like that in ages, so whipped for someone, so willing to give them the world, if they asked. It felt scary, he had never fallen in love that quickly for anyone before, but something in him told him you weren’t a mistake. You were the one.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “And I truly can’t get you out of my mind, in any way I try. You’re my constant thought, no matter where I am or who I am with.

“I wake up every morning, and the first person I see is you. When I come home, you’re there to ask about my day, always smiling,” your body stopped swaying as you listened to his words, the world surrounding you stopping as you focused on the moment. “You’re who I want to see every moment of the day, you’re who I want to wake up next to, and who I want to gift flowers to on Valentine’s day.

“You’re who I want to vent to, and who I want to spend lazy afternoons with. I’ve made mistakes, Y/N, and you’ve always been there to help me through it, to accept my apologies,”

“Jon-” tears were coating your eyes as you realized where he was heading, your heart fluttering.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks as his eyes stared deeply into yours, softness in his voice. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and it’s scary,”

“I love you, too, Jonathan,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his as you bit your lip. “So much,”

He didn’t seem to care that you were in the middle of a room filled with people, his eyes were gentle as he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss you had never experienced before, so full of passion and love.

He pulled you closer to his body as he kissed you again, his gentle hand keeping your face close to his by the jaw as he showed you all his love in just one kiss. When you pulled apart, you didn’t care about the people staring at you and him, or the hushed whispers that they were sharing. You just leaned your forehead against his again, catching your breaths in silence as a giggle erupted from your mouth.

“Be mine, baby,” he whispered, smiling down at you. “My one and only,”

“I’m yours, Jon,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27

#jonathan toews #jonathan toews x reader #nhl #nhl x reader #chicago blackhawks #hockey imagine #jonathan toews imagine

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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

Hey! How about 113&90 or 133&68? Of course you can pick one or all or none, lol! I hope you're doing great!! 🤗🤗

Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending these!! I've gone ahead with 113 ("I prefer blondes") & 90 ("Trust me") and I have zero idea where this idea came from, but some of it made me laugh, so I hope you enjoy my attempt at humor!! 🤣 I had to make a special moodboard for this one, too. I hope you're doing well!!! 💛

__________________________________

It was an ordinary day at the shop. Another day of people reminding her that she was stupidly alone and would probably never be the customer coming in to choose a nice, sexy piece for her (non-existent) partner or the girlfriend on the receiving end.

At least she had her work friends to complain to, although half of them were off the market, too. Dany never could figure out what it was about her that seemed to deflect men rather than attract them to her. Doreah had promised that, objectively speaking, Dany didn’t suffer from resting bitch face. Missandei proclaimed that she was just so beautiful, it was intimidating. Val added onto that, saying that most probably assumed she was already spoken for.

She was in the back room double checking inventory when Doreah all but broke the swinging door down, hissing her name. “Dany! He’s back!”

“Who?” Frowning, it took Dany a second to understand who she meant. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Doreah, he very clearly had a girlfriend the last couple of times he was in.”

The least she could do was not drool atop their merchandise over a man who was probably trying to help his girlfriend spice things up in the bedroom. While it was a little unusual that there had been so frequent of visits within a short span of time - four times in two weeks, not that she was paying that close attention - there was no point in making it extra awkward for everyone.

He was extremely pleasing to look at, and yes, behind the scenes she had suggested to the girls some explicit things she might like to do with him if ever she had the chance, but a fifth return said something was either working or very much...not. The last thing she wanted to do was verbalize one of those thoughts she may or may not had fantasized about once or twice or...more. She would fire herself on the spot.

“In the last three years in this hell, how many times have you seen the girlfriend hang around outside of the store while her boyfriend does all the perusing?”

Dany shrugged, checking off a few boxes on her clipboard while she hooked several pairs of silky lace panties through her arm to help her keep count. “I don’t know, maybe that’s their thing? Maybe he surprises her and they have perfect, steamy sex.”

The first time he came in, the brunette woman joined him. He looked completely lost and overwhelmed by it all, and on at least two occasions he had locked eyes with Dany when she was trying to discreetly check him out. Mortified at how red his face had turned, she had busied herself rearranging their fragrances that hadn’t needed arranging. There had been some giggling and the woman had squeezed his arm, and Dany tried to avoid having to help them as much as possible, and that included each subsequent appearance after that, even when the brunette kept to herself outside the store. To the point where Dany put Val on the floor so that she could sit back and just ogle him guiltlessly.

Dany saw the way his girlfriend peeked in, beaming at him, probably trying to get a feel for what he would bring home that evening.

“Right, well plot twist: he has asked for you,” Doreah jabbed her finger into Dany’s back.

Spinning around on her heel, her braid whipping around her shoulders, Dany fumbled over her words. “No-no he did not! He doesn’t even know my name.”

“Obviously not!” Doreah chortled, then took hold of Dany’s shoulder with a shake. “He asked for a blonde, and when I pointed to Val, he said - and I quote - ‘the one with the blue eyes’.”

Dany blinked, her inhale suddenly hostage in her chest, shaking her head vehemently. “No, he’s definitely confused - it can’t be the same guy-”

“Get your cute little arse out there and find out for yourself, then!”

Just as pugnacious as she was when she came in to deliver the news, Doreah spun Dany around and forced her back into the main floor. She yiped and instantly wished a sink hole would appear under her feet and take her under, what with the obnoxious entrance she’d just made, the door smacking against the wall and every set of eyes boring into her.

Including his.

Doreah would not live to see another day after today.

Quietly, she cleared her throat, while everyone else went back to their browsing, but for the man who was the subject of her favorite dreams as of late. He turned to face her fully, still at the other end of the store across from her, and he fit his hands into his overly-tight jean pockets. A smile spread across his face, and stupidly, she looked over her shoulder, just to confirm that Doreah hadn’t been behind her. And finally, the cherry on top of the cake was when his eyes then drifted down to her arm, where she still had a whole armful of panties still attached.

Bleeding hells!

Hastily she yanked the door open behind her, Doreah right there and proud of herself, Dany stuffed her clipboard and the pile of undergarments into the woman’s arms. “I hope you enjoy your last few hours alive!” Dany whispered harshly, but that only made her friend splutter with joy.

Going back out, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands in front of her before approaching the obscenely attractive man. She couldn’t help but quickly sweep the area with her eyes just to be sure he wasn’t in other company. There didn’t appear to be anyone outside the open doors, either.

She stopped in front of him, and was horrified to discover, at the most inconvenient moment, that she didn’t know what words were. Her private dreams and distant stalking did not do him justice.

“Hello,” he supplied first.

For a beat, her mouth hung open without a sound until she finally managed, “Hi.”

“So-”

“I heard-”

She grit her teeth together and her cheeks lit on fire, the pair of them laughing awkwardly and immediately averting their eyes to anything but each other.

At the very least, it broke some of the tension. Dany gestured with her hand at the wall behind him, where various colorful, matching sets of lingerie were displayed. “Did you need help finding something?”

“Ah,” he sucked in a breath, briefly following the motion to see what she was referring to, but quickly looked back at her, hand scratching his head, “well, yeah, sort of...I, uh,” he cleared his throat gently. She was glad to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, but it was making her anxious, so she took matters into her own hands.

“Might I suggest the purple?” She crossed the floor to one of their mannequins donning one of their more flimsy pieces, silky and shiny bra and the thong to match. With one hand palm up, she tried to gauge his reaction as she pointed it out to him. “It compliments brown hair and fair skin quite nicely.”

His dark brow wrinkled a little, but he followed her, stopping a few feet away and not paying the fiberglass model any mind. Maybe they were fighting...so she had a better idea.

She thrust her finger up in the air to stop him from needing to explain any further, beckoning for him to follow her. They stopped, now, at something a bit more complicated, a red number where the lace bra barely covered the breasts and had a strap that wound around the neck and connected to the middle between the breasts. The panties were attached to a garter and stockings.

This time around, he flushed adorably, and she stored that away in her mind for later. If there was to be any joy found in this encounter, it might be so that she could torture his bashfulness.

“Actually...I’m...not here to shop for anyone else,” he explained, and slowly, she understood, nodding slowly, her mouth forming an ‘o’. Their bed play included some form of role reversal. She wasn’t here to judge anyone’s kinks, or preferences, not especially working for a lingerie shop. And, if it turned out that she was wrong, and perhaps he wasn’t into the ladies at all, at least she knew she never had a chance to begin with.

“Ooh, I see. Well, unfortunately we don’t have anything marketed towards men’s fashions right at this time-” an idea she needed to propose to their marketing and product team, “-but I’m sure we could find something that fits your fancy?”

Dany freely let herself measure him by way of a quick observation - he wore a fitted black tee, so it wasn’t difficult to see that he kept in great shape. Broad, muscled shoulders, biceps fighting to stay within the confines of the short sleeves, lean compact perfection. His thighs? Thick. Great for getting ones’ head trapped between. Uncaring as to what was left of her professional decency, she grabbed his arm to keep him still and rounded him, almost forgetting herself too much and just barely biting her tongue to not whistle. His ass? Perseus could never.

Just as she was moving to guide him toward another area with slightly larger sizes that could accompany his physique, a hand gently caught her wrist, and it was gone in the next breath, but she stopped, facing him once more. He’d stepped in closer, almost invading her space. “No, it’s not any of that,” he chuckled lightly. Then he word vomited, and she didn’t think he could possibly get any more chart-breaking attractive, but she was certain her eyes had shaped themselves into hearts. “Ah, fuck. I’m just gonna say it. I saw you in here a few weeks ago when I was here - I never come to the mall by the way, just...anyway, no offense. I stopped and I was with my sister-in-law and she told me I should try to chat you up...but I thought, who in their right bloody mind casually drops into a sexy lingerie store to hit on someone?”

He huffed dubiously, but she was half in love with him already.

“So, I bowed out like a coward, but obviously I kept coming back, and Margaery - that’s my sister-in-law, the brunette - tagged along for moral support, while I was pretending to be interested in…,” he looked about them by way of explaining, “I mean, not that I’m not - in fact, I am-”

Her toothy grin was so large by now that it actually hurt. Charmingly he rumpled up his face and scratched the back of his neck, then brought both of his hands in front of him and accentuated the space there as he made a go of it again. “What I’m desperately trying to say, and failing at, is...would it be super weird to ask you out? It’s so shallow, I know, and completely not like me; you’re just so beautiful and I know nothing about you-”

Dany couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed him, and he gasped through his nose, frozen in place for a beat until he finally relaxed and put a careful hand on her hip, leaning closer to her. She broke away, the taste of cinnamon lingering on her tongue, either from a mint or gum he must have just had. Peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she just needed to be sure…

“You’re sure that wasn’t your girlfriend with you?”

His head nodded once to punctuate his reply. “Positive. She’s my brother’s wife. And...I much prefer blondes, anyway. Trust me.”

“Okay,” she muttered, putting a little space between them, and going warm all over when she remembered where they were, and how about the entire store was putting their heads together and giggling and staring. “I have…,” she glimpsed at her watch, her heart sinking, “...three hours left.”

“I can wait,” he said, and when she was beginning to think he meant he would have the audacity to wait in here and distract her, he clarified, “I mean, I have some errands I can run, and then…?”

“I don’t even know your name,” she blurted with realization.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, “it’s Jon.”

“Dany,” she returned, holding out her hand. He shook it with a gentle squeeze. After they took their hands back, she made sure nobody was within earshot when she closed in on him again. “Then it’s a date. Under one condition…”

His clear grey eyes narrowed down at her.

“Which one?” Her dark brows jumped and she clandestinely used her eyes to motion to the items on display.

“What? Wait…,” his voice lowered to a rumble, lips barely moving, “seriously?”

Gods, if he only knew the images that she had conjured up in her mind pre-meeting…

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“Uh…,” he was good, very good, as he pretended that he was carrying on a conversation with her while his hand scratched his bearded face, trying to make a hurried decision. She saw the glint in his eye when he had decided, never taking her attention off of him. His gaze dropped down to her lips before drifting back to her eyes. “Third rack by the front…,” she gave a secretive, sidelong look in that direction, “the fourth row down in the second column. Yellow.”

Her eyes widened a hair. “Oh,” she breathed, her chest going tight. It was one of those numbers that, when not on a hanger or mannequin, was difficult to figure out how to get on, but it was a good thing this was her expertise. She swallowed thickly. “May I ask...why yellow?”

Jon reddened exquisitely. “Well... the last time I was here, one of your colleagues was heavily suggesting the best colors that complimented blue eyes, so…,” to her surprise, he skimmed her thumb over the apple of her cheek, just under her blue eyes.

Doreah. That sneaky little shit. It was a script they sometimes followed when a guest first came in, a starting point to help guide them in the right direction and ease nerves, but this was deliberate.

Dany owed Doreah an extra life, now.

“Alright,” she conceded, beaming. “See you at five?”

Jon smirked. “See you at five.”

#jonerys #jonerys drabble #jon snow butt appreciation #just two dorks trying to interact

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whispersatdawn · 3 years

Photo

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 8

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

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a/n: i wasn’t gonna include a written part, but here we are

word count: ~3k

This... feels strange, you thought mindlessly to yourself, as your gaze fixed on the boy seated next to you. He was busy on his phone taking photos of the fading sunset that he barely noticed you staring, which you were quite thankful for because it allowed you to take a look at him just a little longer.

There was no denying that Jaehyun was attractive. To be honest, his beautiful features slightly intimidated you. When his perfectly shaped brows raised in surprise. Or when his dreamy dark brown eyes looked like he was trying to figure someone out. You especially liked it when Jaehyun smiled or laughed. You were confident Jaehyun’s dimples were the culprits of stealing many people’s hearts; those cheek indentations were truly fatal. However, for you, it was simply the occasional, cute nose scrunch. Unlike the dimples, the latter came and went quickly, but it still had an impact all the same.

Despite having been on few casual dates with Jaehyun in the past week, it was difficult to wrap your head around the time spent together, especially since the past two years consisted of you pining over him, after missing the opportunity to act on your feelings and confess to him.

Two Years Ago (First year of college)

"We should rent an apartment and be roommates next semester!”

Your eyes widened at Sujin’s suggestion. “All four of us?” you asked, swiftly spinning your finger once to point at yourself as well as the group seated around you. It was a clear day, so after class, you had a picnic with your friends at the university quad. “My parents helped me pay for campus room and board this year. I don’t know if my part-time job at the fitness center can afford rent.”

After meeting Sujin at the freshman orientation and running into Ten and Johnny in line at a food stand during the school organizations event, you had never had more fun nor felt more comfortable with anyone than you did with them. You remembered studying for hours often with Sujin since you both were biology majors and shared some courses. There was also the time when you attended the university dance team’s fall show and watched Ten’s first solo performance. Of course, though you almost always refrained from physical altercation, you could never forget the day you confronted Johnny’s ex-girlfriend at a party after she cheated on him and showed no remorse, which resulted in hair-pulling as well as Sujin and Ten dragging you out before further troubles. With what you all had gotten through together, there was no doubt that you considered the three to be your closest friends.

“Aren’t you going to apply for the research position with Dr. Kim? I’m sure it pays more,” Sujin said before taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“That’s the plan, but she hasn’t opened applications yet, so I just have to wait,” you sighed, laying down Johnny’s lap. “I think it’ll be fun to live together though!”

“I’ve actually been thinking about living off campus, too,” Ten said, grinning, “so you’d all be saving me from looking for roommates. I’m in.”

“Johnny?” you asked in a sing-song voice, looking up at the handsome male, waiting for his response. You opened your mouth as Johnny fed you a grape and then he leaned back, probably considering the idea.

“Hm... if I say yes, can I bring people over to spend the night?”

You grimaced at him before sitting back up right away while Johnny let out a laugh due to your reaction. “No thanks for the image,” you deadpanned, “though I guess it’d be cruel to deprive you of sex. We’ll all need to obviously talk more about housing and details later...”

“Y/N, behind you! He’s here.”

You instantly froze after Sujin’s announcement. “He’s here?” you mouthed, heart rate picking up, and Sujin confirmed with an eager nod. Pushing the conversation with your friends to the side, your ears were now focused on the sounds behind you. Multiple shoes against pavement. A ball dribbling. Familiar as well as unfamiliar voices chattering. When you tried to discreetly turn around, you found some members of the basketball team on the open court. You immediately spotted Jeong Jaehyun, casually wearing a black hoodie and maroon basketball shorts, playfully shoving a teammate after a teasing remark.

“Oh my god, how did he get even hotter after Spring Break?!” you muttered before turning back to your friends.

Johnny scoffed jokingly. “Hey, hey, keep it in your pants.”

“Also, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ten asked you, nudging his head back to the basketball court.

Oh. Right.

The actual reason you coincidentally (not) picked this day for a picnic at the same time Jaehyun and his friends played basketball.

You and Jaehyun took a Calculus class together the previous semester, and in a room with a little more than 100 seats, you ended up sitting next to Jaehyun. The two of you barely exchanged much words other than when one of you had questions about assignments, but you could not help but be drawn to him anyway. And although he did not have to talk to you outside of class, you always appreciated his greetings whenever you ran into each other at parties or after his basketball games. You thought your feelings were just a temporary infatuation, but your crush only seemed to grow after months, so you made a vow. After Spring Break, you would ask Jaehyun out.

However, now that you saw Jaehyun standing a few feet across from you, you felt like you were going to throw up. You wanted to back out. Abort. “Oh, look at the time!” you laughed nervously, pointing at your wrist that was definitely not wearing a watch. “I forgot I have to study for an exam tomorrow.”

You started to stand up, but Ten yanked you back down to the ground right away, causing you to land on your butt. “Nuh-uh. Don’t think so. Hey, Yuta!”

You shot a look at Ten, sending a quick telepathic message along the lines of Are you fucking serious? before turning back to everyone on the court. Almost all of the guys faced the direction of your group after hearing Yuta’s name called. You found Yuta who waved once he spotted you and your friends. I guess I’m doing this, you thought to yourself, breathing deeply and then mustering the biggest smile you could in that moment.

“Good luck, babe,” Sujin cheered as soon as you stood up and started to walk towards Yuta. The group had already dispersed to different parts of the court, ready to start a game.

“Is there a reason why you texted me if I would be out at the quad today?” Yuta asked as you ran into his arms for a quick hug.

You pulled away and then playfully punched his arm. “Maybe there’s just something about you playing basketball that makes me swoon,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

Yuta rolled his eyes, punching your arm back lightly. “Please. I can assure you that from middle to high school, when your parents worked, you had to wait after my practices so my dad could take us home. You’ve definitely used the word miserable to describe it.”

“Okay, but it’s obvious that my presence at your practices have made you into who you are today, right? This university has to thank me for their best shooting guard.”

Yuta grinned. “Alright, just tell me what you want.”

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your feet as you glanced around for the one who has been on your mind. “I actually wanted to talk to Jaehyun.”

“Jeong Jaehyun?”

You nodded your head. Yuta leaned closer, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to assess you. After a second, your friend straightened back up and called for his teammate. “Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun stopped his conversation with another player and turned his attention to you and Yuta, slightly confused, but he walked over to you both. “What’s up?” Jaehyun questioned, catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Y/N wanted to talk to you, so I’ll leave you two to it,” Yuta explained, ruffling your hair as a goodbye before he left you alone with Jaehyun.

You let out a nervous laugh, fixing your hair. It was now or never. With the close distance between you two, you got a whiff of Jaehyun’s cologne—wood, also kind of spicy. “Hey, Y/N. Sucks we don’t have a class together this semester.”

“Yeah, sucks. How was your break?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I went to Cabo.”

You paused. “Oh.” The wealthy be different. “Cabo. Must’ve been a hell of a time. I thought Haeun’s pool party was something. Not even close.”

"Yeah, Cabo was a great time. So... what did you need to tell me?”

“What?”

“Um, you said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, feeling shy after remembering why you were there in the first place. Your eyes shifted to your shoes, unable to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you. Nervousness as well as excitement rushed through you, and your body felt like it was tingling. It kind of scared you what his reaction would be, but it was what it was. The worse he could say was no. “About that. I—”

“Jaehyun!”

Suddenly, a feminine voice called out his name. You whipped your head around to find a girl with a black long bob and bangs waving excitedly to Jaehyun and then running straight into his open arms. You took a minute to process what was happening. Your first thought was that she was very pretty. Her makeup suited her, especially the burgundy red lip tint. Her body also fitted well in her white tank top and black skinny jeans.

“Hey, babe. What’re you doing here? I thought you were working on your journalism project,” Jaehyun said, happiness evident through the way his face lit up, smiling in a way you had never seen Jaehyun smile before. Arms still around the girl, Jaehyun leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling as if you were intruding on the intimate moment.

“Yeah, but I missed you, so I decided to take a break and hang out with you,” the girl answered in the sweetest tone as she pulled away from Jaehyun. She then looked over at you as if she noticed you for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“This is—”

“I was just leaving,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun brows furrowed. “Wait, I thought—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said a little too quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “It was nothing important. I had a question, but the answer just popped into my head, haha. I, uh, actually have a thing, so I’m gonna go now. Yeah. Thanks, Jaehyun. And nice meeting you—”

“Hyejin.”

“Hyejin. Nice meeting you, Hyejin. Okay, bye!”

You spun around, and your feet picked up pace as you walked away from the basketball court, out the quad, towards the direction of the dorm. Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, likely a call from one of your friends, but you could not help but feel slightly embarrassed after the incident. The last thing you wanted to do was talk about it.

Babe. Definitely way worse than being rejected.

End of Flashback

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized that Jaehyun was now staring back at you, with those captivating eyes that sought for answers. “Y/N?” he called out softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, slightly flustered that you zoned out while looking at him. “Y-Yeah?” Shit, you cursed to yourself after you choked on the reply, and you cleared your throat before answering more clearly. “Yeah?”

Jaehyun leaned back and chuckled. “I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate you coming to the basketball games again. It’s nice seeing your face in the crowd.”

You smiled. “Of course. None of my roomies except Ten really enjoy watching basketball, but he’s been busy and it’s been fun attending with Mark and Lucas. Also, don’t tell Yuta but I think I gradually started to like basketball because of him. Watching him for so many years, I can’t help but get into it when I see him find so much delight in the sport. He’s insane on the court.”

When you caught Jaehyun’s pout, you let out a laugh. He wanted his ego fed for sure. “I mean, obviously, he’s nothing compared to you, Captain. Come on now.”

“Obviously,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a smug look. Then for some reason, in a few seconds, you caught his expression when his smirk fell. “You know, my ex,” Jaehyun started, absentmindedly grasping at the sand under his hand and letting them fall through his fingers, “she never really attended my games.”

As the sun was about to fully disappear, you heard the sound of thunder rumble in the sky. Looking up, you noticed that dark clouds started to roll in. Was it supposed to rain today, you wondered. “Hyejin?” you asked, returning your attention to Jaehyun. He nodded. Since he brought her up, you might as well have asked your questions and got them over with now. “If it’s okay, can I ask what happened between you two?”

Silence settled between you and Jaehyun when he did not answer right away, which made you feel bad because you did not want to open those wounds again. Another wave of thunder roared. You two would have to return back home soon. You were about to try and change the topic, but Jaehyun spoke first. “She said that the way I loved her bored her. I don’t know. Something about how I always agreed with her and that I never confronted other guys when I felt jealous. Or when I didn’t argue with her, it felt like I didn’t care at all.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You did not know what else to say. Breakups were hard. Before you realized, your hand reached over to Jaehyun’s, and you placed yours over his, squeezing it softly. “It’s not place to say... but she didn’t deserve you.”

Jaehyun turned his hand over so that his palm held yours, squeezing back. His lips stretched into a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You then felt a droplet of water tap on your leg. Then the top of your head. Then your cheek. Suddenly, the pitter patter of the rain became louder as it hit the sand and water. You and Jaehyun looked at each, mouth opened in awe at such misfortune, before the both of you bursted into a fit of laughter. “Wait, did you not check the weather before planning this?!” you exclaimed to Jaehyun with a huge grin on your face as you jumped up, barely covering yourself with your hands above your head.

“Listen,” Jaehyun explained as he also stood up, grabbing the jacket that he brought with him. “did you not check the weather?”

You were not sure if the rush your body felt was due to the unforeseen weather or the way Jaehyun stared at you like he was waiting for you to make a move. With your adrenaline and curiosity, you stepped closer to him. “Are you seriously trying to blame this on your date right now, Jeong Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun leaned closer to your face. You sucked in a breath, aware of the lack of space between you two. Jaehyun took his jacket and covered the top of your head to protect as best as he could from the rain. You grabbed the outerwear, but Jaehyun’s grasp was also still on the jacket. Despite the rain drenching Jaehyun from head to toe, a smile remained on his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This was my bad. How can I make it up to you?” Jaehyun asked as his eyes fell onto your lips before looking up to read your eyes. His lips pressed together, and his next question almost turned you into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” It was all Jaehyun needed to hear to release his hold on the jacket and moved his hands to cup your face. Jaehyun’s lips brushed against yours. Soft. His lips were soft. You smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made you even dizzier as you continued to kiss Jaehyun, letting the blossoming warmth consume you. You could not help but smile into the kiss, and when his tongue pressed between your lips, you started to part your lips for him until a loud crack of thunder struck in the sky, prompting you both to pull away from each other.

“As much as I’d like to keep going, I think I should get you home before you catch a cold,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle.

Like a gentleman, Jaehyun walked you all the way to your front door. Though you offered Jaehyun shelter from the rain inside your apartment, he declined, assuring you that his fraternity house was not too far from your place. “Really sorry we couldn’t get that fancy dinner,” Jaehyun apologized. “I knew you were looking forward to that the most.”

You shook your head, reassuring him with a smile. “No worries. I had such an amazing time, Jae.”

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Next time. Now get inside and change into some dry clothes. I’ll text you later.”

“Drive safe,” you told him, and he nodded. As soon as Jaehyun walked away from you, you grabbed your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, calling out to your roommates. “I’m home!”

Sujin was the first one to greet you in the living room. Her eyes widened when she spotted you in your wet clothes, droplets of water dripping from your hair to the tiled floor. “Geez, Y/N! I thought you two were just going to watch the sunset, not get into the water fully clothed.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and passed by Sujin to get to your room. After you closed the door, you ran to your bed and plopped on the mattress, not even bothering to change out of your clothes right away. You unlocked your phone and opened Instagram to view the most recent photos of you and Jaehyun from today, recalling the event that occurred hours ago. Today really happened. Jaehyun kissed me.

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different.

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.”

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book.

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.”

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.”

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being.

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence.

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year.

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?”

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?”

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.”

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.”

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?”

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.”

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe.

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing.

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.”

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over.

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.”

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest.

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man.

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.”

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.”

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?”

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.”

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.”

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?”

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.”

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea.

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea.

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you.

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you.

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?”

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?”

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.”

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.”

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.”

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?”

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.”

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.”

“So where is she?”

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.”

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.”

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly.

You smiled. “Come with me.”

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.”

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking.

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.”

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?”

You laughed. “We shall.”

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind.

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.”

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.”

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.”

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?”

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.”

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.”

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in.

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood.

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.”

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.”

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair.

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read.

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room.

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?”

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so.

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you.

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?”

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.”

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

#NYPD Blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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