#it's only one floor but it's probably a tall floor. to have shelf space.

[a-eo-iu]

quick n vague sketch of what ymumy's ship probably looks like on the inside!

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Dystopian AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 21, word count 979

CW- Death by gunshot

The Earth was dead. Nothing grew apart from genetically modified mushrooms. The planet’s water was so toxic it had to be run through filters repeatedly to make it even halfway drinkable. The once beautiful green country Sirius lived in was now brown.

The HOB owned everything. They owned the food, water, phones, housing, and vehicles. Whatever you could buy. Somehow, it all led back to The HOB. 

Sirius lived in an old block of flats that had been converted to house hundreds of occupants. His room was a small pod. It was barely tall enough for him to sit up in. He did, however, have a shelf, which most people would kill for. It’s the little things in life. 

Most of the Earth's inhabitants, at least those with money, had bought passage on the gigantic space cruisers. They were cities in the skies, set to blast off into outer space to protect the elite from the Earth’s final days. 

Sirius had helped to build these beasts, but apparently, he wasn’t good enough to be part of the crew. So he spent most of his time in a local garage helping to fix the vehicles of the same posh prats that would be leaving.

One such vehicle had an issue that took him the entire day to sort out. He pulled out a stack of paper real-life paper from the air filter box. The customer brushed him off when he came for the vehicle, and Sirius was left with the papers. 

That night, he pored through the papers. He didn’t understand half of it, but he understood enough to know this was important. Sirius decided he needed to show a friend of his what he’d found.

“It’s, it’s, it’s amazing. Sirius, The HOB, has been hiding this from everyone. It’s not too late to save the Earth!” Marlene exclaimed as she typed some complicated equations into her computer. 

The door burst open, and armed guards flooded into the small space. They raised their guns and shot Marlene before she could even open her mouth. Sirius ran. 

He didn’t know how he got out of that room, but if he had to guess, they probably hadn’t expected him to move. 

Sirius had always been fast, and he used the adrenaline coursing through his veins to run as fast as he could. The men were right behind him, though. He dashed around a corner and found himself on the airfield with the space cruisers. 

He raced towards the nearest one and, with the knowledge only someone who’d helped build one, opened a secret hatch in its belly and wiggled into the cramped space. 

He gulped in air as he tried to catch his breath. The hull was so dense. He had no idea if the men were still there. He’d have to leave it for a few hours at least before he tried to escape. 

With the adrenaline wearing off and nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, he let the misery of Marlene’s death wash over him and focused on how it was his fault she was gone. The tears that fell from his eyes were thick and hot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. 

Suddenly, a horrendous booming rumble blasted his eardrums. It took him precious moments to realise the ship was about to launch. He tried in vain to open the hatch, but once the engines were engaged, all external doorways were locked down. 

The noise got louder, and he screamed as his eardrums tried hopelessly to block out the noise. He crushed his fists to them and felt the ship begin to rise. 

The booming got worse, and he was crushed into the floor as the behemoth gained speed. He felt his bones rattling and shaking as the ship fought against the Earth’s gravitational pull. 

After what felt like an eternity, everything stopped. He knew there would be the gentle thrum of the engines if his ears could actually pick up sounds anymore and that the ship wouldn’t feel like it was moving at all if his body wasn’t still trembling. 

He reached his hand above him and unlocked the internal hatch above him. He dragged himself up into the corridor. It was made for crew and never meant to be seen by the paying passengers. He wandered along it, having no idea what he was going to do. He didn’t have permission to be here, and he didn’t put it past some of the employees on here not to just expel him into the void. 

His ears popped as he walked down another corridor, and he regained some of his hearing just in time to catch the sound of boots walking towards the next bend ahead of him. He flew through the door beside him and waited for the footsteps to disappear. 

Sirius glanced around the room he was in. It appeared to be sleeping quarters, and compared to his tiny pod, it was huge. Two full-sized beds, built into the wall in bunks, a door that probably led to a washroom and two sets of drawers. 

Before he could plan his next move, the washroom door opened, and a tall shirtless man wrapped only in a towel, with beads of water running down his chest, walked out into the room. 

“Oh, hello. I didn’t think I had a bunkmate.” He reached out a hand. “I’m Remus.” Sirius tentatively took it and shook it. 

“Sirius,” He introduced himself. 

“Well, hello, Sirius. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Sirius forgot all about the previous hours of his life. He’d have to find a way back to Earth and figure out a way to get the information out that would save it so that Marlene’s death wouldn’t be meaningless. But right now, all he cared about was the man with the honey eyes beaming at him.     

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 29

chapter 29 - silver lining

synopsis: maybe this wasn't so bad.

word count: 4,387

warnings: namie's thing for seiji

"i'm making plans for the past so i’m losing touch fast i'm so callow, following a shadow of what i'm supposed to be,, aluminum - daisy the great

Every unfavorable situation has a silver lining.

A sweeping overstatement and a very naive thing to say. However, there are moments in your life where you actually stop and think “Oh. Well this isn’t so bad.” You’re having this moment right now as you sit in Izaya’s desk chair, using your feet to spin the chair so you can track Namie’s location in the room. Said woman is perched on a ladder, thoroughly dusting the tall bookshelves. The man had so many books, you wonder if he actually read them, or if he just kept them for appearances.

Izaya had left a while ago, probably off to do some shady business. It’s just the two of you now, quietly minding your business and enjoying each other’s company--well, you were enjoying her company. She hadn’t really acknowledged your presence all that much. Still, you were content to be in a space with a person. This was more like what you imagined it would be with Izaya--but the man would not keep his mouth shut. Not even during business hours could he refrain from spinning his chair towards you and imparting all of the grisly details of his current task.

While you were not keen on learning about whose place of employment he was giving to whoever, you were partially relieved at the absence of your friends’ names in his little spiels. You mentally scold yourself for using the term. ‘Friends’. They were just people, now. People that you cared about. People who might care about you…

You had hoped that these thoughts would stop coming. That somehow, the eccentric man and stoic woman would fill the void in your heart and dispel any desire to see your old companions. But you always knew that it could never.

God, you’re so tired of moping around like this!

Something topples to the ground, tumbling over the carpet with a dull thud. Namie stares down at the floor, where a book has fallen. You stand from the chair--a little faster than you’d like to admit--making your way over to the bookshelf. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You say, bending down to pick up the book. 

Her eyes trail your hand as you raise it towards her, offering the book. You narrowly catch her gaze flitting to your face before she takes it from you. She pushes it back into place. Seeming to have finished her job, she climbs down the ladder, plucking another set of pages from the shelf on her way down. You don’t even have time to wonder what it is she’s going to do with it--she’s already sitting at her desk, flipping through the pages.

“Oh, I see. That’s what you thought that I meant.” Izaya’s laugh is like nails on a chalkboard to you at this moment. 

“What the hell else could you have meant?”

You had slipped yet another jab at Izaya into your unconventional conversations. It was growing to be one of your favorite hobbies, seeing exactly what you could do or say to throw him off at least a little bit. Guilt never overcame you--after all, he was usually the one who started it. His favorite thing to do was mock you for your ‘fall from grace’, dangling your previous friendships over your head to get a rise out of you. Refusing to give him the satisfaction, you fired back that at least you had friends at some point. You went on to say that the only person that had room to talk was Namie--hell, she even had a great relationship with her brother.

That didn’t garner the reaction that you expected. Now he was just smirking at you, relishing in the pressing gaze you were directing at him. “Well, well, how do I put this lightly…? The love Namie harbors for her brother is quite... one-sided.”

You really thought it would stop there--that Namie was just struggling to rekindle her connection with her brother and that would be the end of it. But then he just kept talking…

“It’s really a shame Seiji got himself a girlfriend...maybe then Namie wouldn’t spend so much time pining after him.” Izaya narrowly dodges something that had been thrown at his head--was that a stapler? Looking over your shoulder, you see the most emotion you had ever seen on Namie’s face. Her dark eyes glare daggers at Izaya. She stands with one hand perched on her desk, the other arm dangling in recovery of a strenuous throw. 

“I don’t know what possessed you to think you had even the slightest right to say his name...but you better not do it again.” The room practically ices over with the venom in her voice. Even you’re tense and her eyes aren’t even on you. 

“Right, right. Forgive me. My mistake.” Izaya is as breezy as ever, going back to his typical evildoings. 

Seiji. That’s that boy you see Mika Harima latched onto all the time, isn’t it? You ponder the likelihood of it being someone with the same name--but then you remember the indifferent, almost empty look on his face, how his dull, dark eyes match Namie’s almost perfectly. What a small world you managed to waltz into.

You’ve felt very awkward around her since then. After all, you wouldn’t be surprised if her animosity at Izaya had grown towards you as well. If you had known her brother was such a sore subject, you would have never brought it up! But how could you have known? It is kinda weird...really weird. Possibly one of the weirdest things you had come across--BUT you could overlook it….if you really really tried.

“I’m sure you’re bored, but can’t you find anything better to do than stare at my face?” Her eyes suddenly meet yours and it’s only then that you realize how long you’ve been staring at her. You’d usually bristle and skitter away--but the indifference painting her face keeps you from getting too flustered. You begin to turn away from her, ready to return to your spot at Izaya’s desk. However, a sudden thought stops you from getting too far. 

“...Were you trying to help me?” With your back facing her, you can’t take any cues from the woman’s face. Her silence baits you to turn back in her direction. Her head is tilted downward, almost buried in the book she was reading. To your surprise, though, her eyes are on you--pupils subtly zeroed in on your form. Bolstered by this, you turn to fully face her. “You sent me that photo of my father, and that document. Izaya obviously didn’t want you to. So…”

“You think I would jeopardize my profession, just to provide you aid in the form of a cryptic hint?” You barely looked away for more than a second, but when you looked back, her eyes had returned to her book. 

“Well, your tone is telling me that the answer is no.” Your feelings aren’t exactly hurt by that--you don’t know why you’d expected any different. After further thought, your lips quirk into a smirk. “Just wanted to piss him off, huh?”

A soft huff. The upward twitch of her smirking lips is so subtle, you barely notice it. Triumphant horns play in some far-off corner of your brain. This lady, she’s cool. 

The room settles back into a comfortable silence. You drape yourself over the back of the couch, your eyelids drifting closed. You weren’t particularly tired--but you found it soothing to just sit there and exist, enjoying the rare occurrence of an empty mind.

The stillness is disrupted by a piercing chime, no doubt from one of Izaya’s many work devices. It was familiar--you’d heard it go off many times as Izaya tapped away at his computer. Writing it off as a random email, you attempt to return to your relaxation. However, only a short moment passes before the chime repeats. Then comes another. And another. And another. 

You huff an irate sigh as you sit up, sparing a glance at Namie. She seems completely unfazed, probably used to the noise. You, however, quickly grew tired of it. Ignoring your body’s screams to be lazy, you extract yourself from the couch to approach Izaya’s desk. There had to be a silence button somewhere. Your eyes scan the many electronics cluttering the man’s workspace. For a moment, it seems impossible to discern which device the noise is coming from. Quickly, though, you spot a laptop that has only been partially closed, its screen still bright and flashing which each chime.

You quickly pull it open, only intending to press whatever button it takes to get the damn thing to shut up--but that plan swiftly escapes your mind once you see what exactly was on the screen.

Bakyura has entered the chatTaro Tanaka has entered the chatSaika has entered the chat

Bakyura: ‘Sup, you guys!Taro Tanaka: Hi!Saika: Hello!Bakyura: Been awful quiet in here...Figured I’d check in and say hey!Bakyura: Glad you guys joined, I was worried I’d be stuck alone with Kanra.

Your eyes scan the screen multiple times, but from the first second, you knew exactly what you were looking at. In the top left corner, where Sora is usually written, Kanra is written instead. So many dots connect in your head all at once. Kanra’s chatty, gossiping nature…”her” ability to sniff out the deepest of rumors rolling around Ikebukuro...of course it was Izaya. Are you surprised? Not even in the slightest.

Setton has entered the chat

Setton: Evening!Taro Tanaka: Hello Setton!Taro Tanaka: Looks like almost everyone is here ^^Bakyura: Yeah, we’re just missing Sora, aren’t we?Bakyura: Where is that dude?Saika: He’s been pretty quiet for a while…Setton: He has, hasn’t he? Hope he’s doing okay…Bakyura: Probably decided we were too lame for him. His loss!Setton: Oh, Kanra’s here! I didn’t even realize.Bakyura: Kanra, since you’re so all-knowing and powerful, what happened to Sora!

Bakyura: HuhTaro Tanaka: She’s quiet too…Setton: Now THAT’S unusual.Bakyura: Can’t say I’m mad about it!Saika: Maybe she’s not near her computer?

As much as your eyes want to remain glued to the screen, you force yourself to push the laptop closed.

“Ladies, I’m home!”

Just in time, the man of the hour waltzes in through the front door, a thin grocery bag dangling from his wrist. Namie, as usual, doesn’t even grant him a turn of the head. Undeterred, Izaya kicks the door closed behind him. He’s only a few steps into the room before his eyes switch to you. You notice the narrow in his gaze as it wanders to your position at his desk, and the laptop you had just shut. It’s obvious what you were doing, and you expect him to call you on it immediately. Instead, a ball of plastic is suddenly hurtling straight toward your face, his arm moving so fast your brain can barely comprehend it.

You’d barely raised your hand to protect your face when the plastic collided with your palms. As your fingers sharply grab it, you feel something crumble a little bit in your grasp. You shoot him an unamused glare, beginning to unwrap whatever ammunition he had attacked you with.

“After a long hard day of grueling work, I have brought home the bacon for the two most important women in my life! What a great man I am.”

The plastic is the grocery bag he had been holding, you realize. You toss it to the side in favor of inspecting to small red package that lived inside it.  

“Instant noodles?” you say flatly. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t tossed you a can of dog food.

“Now, what’s that look, huh? You should be grateful I care enough to feed you--not like you can go out yourself and show your face at the convenience store.” The laugh that tears its way through your lips carries a bitter taste.

“Yeah, yeah. What a great man you are. Thanks.”

The sarcasm in your tone seems to be lost on him as a satisfied smile melts across his face. You spin in the desk chair to turn your back to him, and as you do, you hear his long strides carry him in your direction. There’s barely enough time to turn back to look before a lithe hand plants itself on your shoulder. Your eyes meet that wolfish squint of his that you knew all too well. You only quirk an annoyed brow at his invasion of your personal space.

“Now, here I thought you had some sense in you and it’d be a waste of breath telling you that my work is confidential-” He’s cut off by your palm in his face as you push him away from you.

“Unless someone buys it off you, right? Relax…I was just turning the volume off on your computer. The noise was driving me crazy.” Izaya swats your hand away, his sneer now replaced with a much rarer pout. He perches himself on the desk, just far enough to be out of reach. That same sneer then overtakes your face. “Didn’t see anything you didn’t purposely leave open for me to find …I’m not stupid. Never took you for the type to masquerade as a woman on the internet. Well, maybe I did!”

The man snickers, unfazed by your petty teasing. “You’re one to talk. Mr. Sora . Y’know, if you ever wanted to be seen in public again, you could always change your identity and live as a man!” At that moment, he swiftly yanks the back of your hoodie, pulling your hood comically low over your face. He’s back at an unreachable distance before you can retaliate.

“Get bent.” He only shrugs innocently.

“Fine, then I guess you’ll never know which of your friends are who!” No matter how much you liked to pretend there was some sort of power struggle between the both of you, Izaya would always have the power to grab your attention. You hated to admit it, but he had this way of always piquing your innermost curiosity.

You had wondered about it, since long ago, when Celty had shown you the chatroom herself during the Slasher incident. As you chatted with your virtual circle, you found yourself observing each person’s behavior to see which one matched hers. It didn’t stop at Celty. You often saw a bit of Anri in Saika, and the shared name with that demonic sword thing seemed a bit too coincidental. Masaomi disappeared, and magically the similarly rambunctious Byakura appeared in the chat. The ache sneaks into your heart, blossoming into a sting as you think of each of your friends. By the time you catch yourself, it’s too late. Feeling Izaya’s gaze on you, you know that he saw it.

“Not my friends.” Your voice is infuriatingly small, and you can’t even force yourself to face that stupid smirk.

His chuckle is drowned out by the high ring of the telephone. You continue to avert your gaze as he grabs it from beside you. Taking advantage of his distraction, you slip away from the desk and back to the couch. “Ah, well isn’t this a surprise! Haven’t heard from you in a while.” 

The voice on the other end is dulled and muffled. Your trained ears automatically tune out the conversation. Instead, you bury your face into the cushion of the couch and attempt to coax yourself out of the sudden rut you had worked yourself into.

“My, my, sounds like devious business. How shady do you think I am?”

More muffled speech follows before Izaya lets out a sick, satisfied chuckle. You lift your head from the couch, perching your arms over the back cushions to give him a judgemental look. What you’re not expecting is for him to be looking right back at you, face twisted in an expression that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I see…I might just have the place for you. Check your email for the address and I’ll trust that I’ll be receiving your payment as usual.” Izaya slides into his desk chair before swiftly typing something into his laptop. Your eyes burn into the back of his head. What bullshit was he about to cause to invoke a face like that...? Just as quickly as he had opened the laptop, he snapped it closed, immediately turning back to face you.

“Unfortunately, looks like you will be enjoying your delicious meal at home. A colleague called an emergency meeting last minute.” Your lip twitches in annoyance. He was kicking you out!

“What the hell… your colleague ?? You mean another fuckin’ victim?”

“Language! As much as I love to share my exploits, not everyone is keen to extra listeners. So…nighty night!” He’s already turned his back to you, typing away on his monitor. You’d flip him off, but he wouldn’t even see it.

“Whatever, man. Thanks for the noodles, I guess.”

...

Your apartment resided on the side of Ikebukuro that was a little closer to Shinjuku than your usual hangout spots--but the walk home from Izaya’s apartment was still a pain in the ass. A part of you always considers staying the night, since you were probably just gonna come back in the next few days, anyway. But Renji needed to be fed daily and something about spending a night in the same vicinity as Izaya didn’t sit right with you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he gave someone your location so they could ambush you while you were sleeping...although he could still do that even if you slept in your own apartment.

You remember when you used to be so anxious making the first trips back and forth. Your eyes would dart about suspiciously and you would duck your head in fear of anyone recognizing you. The thought of someone finding out that you were fraternizing with the informant had you set on edge. Now, walking under the guise of nothing but an open night sky, you find yourself feeling oddly tranquil. The gray hoodie adorning your form practically swallows you. Even with the hood down, it dulls anything about you that used to stand out so much before. You blend in with the night, another nameless, storyless face lost in the city of Ikebukuro.

Nameless and storyless; friendless. Is that what you wanted to become? Were you becoming it, whether you wanted to or not?

Stop being so damn introspective all the fucking time.  

You blame Brigall for those sickeningly melancholy thoughts. Any thought that had you aching to hug Erika, hold Walker’s chilled hands, swipe Kyohei’s beanie off of his head, listen to Ruri with Saburo, pick out earrings for Anri, tease Mikado, stare into Shizuo’s eyes again…

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t you! That’s the other girl--the girl that a man injected into you with his weird, herculean, scientific bullshit or whatever. But even as her personality fades…her feelings are still there. The adoration, the compassion, the warmth, the attraction, the yearning …

The pulsing sting in your eyes and nose has you furiously wiping at your face. Not yet, please--not now. You had made it to the front of your apartment building, only an elevator ride standing between you and at least some semblance of comfort. The tranquil chime of the elevator carried a dull echo as if it was playing from far away. As your feet drag themselves through the hall, you ponder what you should do to distract yourself today. There was bound to be some shitty TV or movies to binge until you fell asleep. You guess you should whip up those noodles, too…

Your train of thought is abruptly halted when you realize your door is unlocked. Shit, did you forget to lock it when you left earlier? You were on the top floor, in a pretty well-off area(considering the city). Hopefully, somebody wouldn’t think to try the door. However, as you step inside, your heart stops. 

You hadn’t been using much of your lights the past few weeks. The natural sunlight coming through the windows was fine. As the sun set, the television and a few candles kept you from sitting in complete darkness. Those bright, fluorescent lights…they reminded you of that sterile, bright white hell--so you kept them turned off at all times.

So why were all of the lights turned on?

“Shit…” The word leaves you breathlessly. Looking around the kitchen and living room, not a thing looked out of place. The same dirty dishes piled up in the sink. Various sweaters and shirts decorated the couch. More importantly, the giant television was still there. Nothing looked any more ransacked than it already was. But someone had to have been in here. Someone could still be in here. 

You quietly traverse deeper into the apartment, ears searching intensely for any noise. You pause as you reach the kitchen counter. After a moment of contemplation, you reach towards the knife block and pull out the last one there, a small paring knife. If you didn’t have to be quiet, you would scoff at yourself. What the hell would you do with this? The further you moved into the living room, the more you hoped you wouldn’t be needing to defend yourself at all. 

That’s when you heard it.

A soft sound. So light, you had barely caught it. Then a slightly heavier sound. Then a zipper. You slowly turn in the direction of the sound, as if a mere click of your neck could alert the intruder of your presence. Sure enough, there was the door to your bedroom, pulled wide open. Soft shadows cast themselves through the doorway. You watched as they moved in an unidentifiable shape.

What were your options here? You could leave--hope Izaya’s meeting is over by the time you get back and break your streak of never spending the night at his place. But then what? Come back and hope there’s not someone squatting in your apartment? Let yourself get robbed in the case that they do find something valuable? You liked some of your things! You had no cash anywhere in the apartment, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they took something of yours to sell. And what if they came back for more? And where was Renji?

You think back to that night in the alley--when that guy had attacked you and you most certainly sent him to the hospital. Your strength was a product of torture and exploitation. It made you less of a human and more of a monster. But with it…you could defend yourself against almost anything. You stare at the small paring knife in your palm. Your fingers into a fist round it, before you carefully set it aside.

You press your back to the wall as you sneak down the hallway to your room. As you grow closer, the shadow grows into a clearly human shape. You watch it closely, trying to gain a sense of what this person looked like--their height, and subsequently their strength. Your shoulder softly touches against the doorframe, signaling that you’ve gotten the closest you can without being visible through the doorway. Shit how were you going to do this-

Swoop in and pounce? Slip in and go for the sneak attack? What if you punch first, ask questions later? What if it was someone really weak? What if this was all a misunderstanding?

Suddenly, you realize the shadow beginning to become a bit too clear. The sound of approaching footsteps meets your ears before they’re drowned out by the pounding of your own heart. They were coming, and they were gonna see you . Any ounce of your planning is replaced by pure panic as they approach the door.

A lump wells up in your throat as your mind races. Through the muddled thoughts, something slips through to the foreground of your brain. A sense of stillness washes over you as the thought fully dawns on you. Hold on…

This is your goddamn apartment!

Taking in a huge breath, you whip around and swing yourself through the doorframe. Upon immediate entry, you know somebody was there--as you suspected, closer to the door than before. You come face to face with a blurry mass--not close enough to easily collide but still within a limb's reach. You don’t make out a face, or even a body. Your comprehension cannot stem beyond the fight or flight chemicals pumping through your bloodstream. You don’t know whether to attack; to strike or shove. So you grab, fingers scrambling for purchase on whatever they can latch onto. A smooth, soft fabric is crumpled in your grasp and you pull--more like yank the person towards you. You find your bodies whirling as you spin to shove them against the wall.

“(Y-Y/N)!”

Your heart skips a beat as your name sputters from their lips. Breath heaves its way from your chest in the sudden stillness. Blinking rapidly, you attempt to clear your flurried and frightened vision. 

The first thing you see are gray eyes, so deeply sunken you could almost trace the shape of the skeleton. They’re shadowed by scraggly, unkempt strands of dark brown hair. Accompanied by an overgrown beard, most of this person’s face is obscured. 

A gasp, sharp and breathless, shoots out of you. It feels as though a rock settled its way into your intestines, nestling into places it should never be. For a moment, it feels like you've been stabbed through the gut--but as you stagger backward, you’re sure that you’re completely unscathed.

All of this from a person’s eyes.

His eyes.

Half of your subconscious struggles to recognize him. His hair is much too messy, his beard grown much too long, his gaze too empty--and where are his glasses?

The other half, however, knows him too well. Knows that unsettling, disheveled appearance. That unyielding stare. The clashingly pristine, white lab coat.

His face seems to split in half to make room for his wide, ill-practiced smile. It doesn’t suit his face. It looks as though his skin is screaming at the unfamiliar stretch. He opens his arms wide, a gesture intended to appear welcoming, but on him feels like anything otherwise. His lips part, and that graveled voice painfully pierces your ears.

“(Y/N).... my dear daughter…”

[cursedfortune]

[kumoofthemaken] [book]

Of course he was already there as soon as he noticed the witch struggling to reach a book from a higher shelf, one of the many curses of the flightless. It would have probably been seen as bizzarre anywhere else for a royal to so jump at the opportunity to offer aid to a commoner, but he was no ordinary prince and she was certainly no ordinary village crone.

"Ah, let me get that for you."

He floated past her lightly and effortlessly - much like his namesake - smiling with his eyes. Retrieving the thick, dusty tome, he presented it to the plum-haired woman.

@kumoofthemaken

This cabin of hers was made with tall cabinets and shelves because it certainly had the vertical space for it. While the only second floor was the ladder that led up to a small loft, the entirety of her cabin was built as thought it had a full second floor. Meaning her mother was absolutely took the opportunity to make things stack vertically for making the best use of the space.

Mortem didn't quite mind fetching either the step stool or ladder (depending) to get what was needed, or climbing atop of the counter even. But it would seem her newest addition to cabin life did.

An appreciative hum left the witch, knowing just what her mother installed all those years ago and why she never really sought to change. It wasn't because she was short, not by any means. Still, having a helping hand that wasn't being sassy about the matter was certainly nice. Perhaps she'd harass Makenshi for aid more often.

"I'll be certain to make use of this talent of yours." The witch declared - though it really ought to be more like a warning. Not wishing to blow dust everywhere for his sake, she took a towel from the counter and wiped it down. "Thank you, lovely." Her head tipped to the prince, polite with him as she often was. At least she was kind enough to state future intentions? If one could consider such a thing kind.

[christonbikes]

chapter 1 | innocence meets blonde boy

pairing: renjun x jeno

summary: In August of 1984, sixteen-year-old Renjun moves to Tennessee with a brand-new VHS camcorder and a dying wish to belong somewhere. What he finds instead is trouble when he stumbles upon a fight between two players of his new school’s baseball team and gets it on camera accidentally.

warnings: minor use of slurs; f*ggot, (said twice in one scene), language, nothing else i can think of let us know if we missed anything!

genre: slow burn, teenage small town love, fluff, angst, supernatural au, set in the 80’s, ghosthunter!dreamies.

wc: 4.9k

series masterlist

It’s late into the evening when his mom gets back from grocery shopping. He can hear her rustling around with the bags in the kitchen, setting stuff away and organizing the cabinets, and he laughs, remembering her habit of redoing the pantry every couple of weeks at their old place in Bloomsberg.

Erwin is very far away from Bloomsberg, but it still feels like summer here, maybe even more than it did in Pennsylvania. Renjun has always been a fan of birds and flowers, and plenty of those things fly and bloom here. Plus, he gets to start fresh, start anew. He left the old version of himself behind, the version of himself that was awkward with people and boring, and traded off to be someone with an expensive camcorder and reawakening for life.

He’s putting up all of his favorite books on the shelf when his mom peeks her head into his room.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says, “How’s it going?”

Renjun looks up from his spot on the floor, a book in his right hand. He smiles, holding up his thumb with his left. “Good. I’ll be done by nine o’clock, probably.”

“Cool. Hey, I was coming up from the store and saw a baseball field on the way. You should go check it out! I bet there’s lots of nice boys there,” his mom suggests. “Maybe you can make some friends.”

Renjun smiles at her sadly, setting the last book on the bottom shelf. He appreciates her investment in trying to help him have a fruitful teenagehood, really, but Renjun knows he’s been the odd one out all his life. He’s never been good at making friends, nor keeping them, and he understands that. But his mom still wants him to fight.

“Mom,” Renjun sighs, “You know I’m not good at making friends.”

She nods slowly, “I know, but just cause you’ve never been good at it in Pennsylvania doesn’t mean you won’t be here! Promise me you’ll give it a try.”

She looks at him so hopefully, and Renjun can’t find it in himself to say no.

“Alright, I’ll go tomorrow,” Renjun agrees. His mom smiles sweetly before closing the door, leaving him by himself with nothing but his thoughts.

*

By the time Renjun makes it to the baseball field the next day, he regrets not wearing shorts like his mom had advised. There are little trees around, so the sun catches him at every corner, blazing hot and bright.

Renjun huffs tiredly. He wipes at the sweat on his forehead with the loosest part of his shirt, camera resting in his limp right hand. There is a pretty garden in someone’s yard, but he decides to leave it unrecorded after noticing the sign above that reads “Surveillance on Property”.

Cutting through a patch of trees, he spots the main part of the field. A large parking lot blocks him from the gate. An array of teenage boys in baseball uniforms scatter amongst the space of the field, some catching balls and some throwing balls. Without counting, Renjun thinks there are about nineteen of them, more short than tall, but baseball doesn’t seem to be heavily reliant on height.

A lanky boy wearing a cap runs past Renjun quickly, heading for the field. He slams the gate open while trying to button his shirt. Some of the boys on the field look over in amusement, and one of the taller ones even laughs.

“You’re late, Park!” the tall boy yells, to which Park only dismisses him with a stressed hand.

“I’ll beat your ass,” Park huffs, dipping into the dugout entrance. He slings off his backpack and frantically looks for something in it.

Renjun looks back over to the field. He spots another boy with dirty blonde hair about ready to throw a baseball at someone else. Renjun watches for a minute as the boy winds back, curling his arm, and tosses the ball hard in front of him.

The ball soars a good twenty feet in the air before it stops abruptly, landing in a glove smoothly. Renjun looks down, trying to see who caught it.

His eyes land on a tall, well-built boy with sleek black hair. He smiles over at the other boy that threw the ball, and Renjun blinks, unabashedly staring. The black-haired boy’s smile is dazzling, pretty white teeth peeking out from underneath his lips. His eyes crease into two identical crescent moons.

Renjun’s never seen anyone prettier. His brows furrow in both confusion and endearment before he eventually turns back.

The sun is finally setting, and a light breeze rustles the trees. It’s peaceful. He pulls up the camcorder and films a leaf falling onto the stark black pavement. Picking up his feet, he heads toward his new house with a smile on his face.

*

The next day, Renjun has breakfast with his mom at their new kitchen table for the first time.

“What do you think of it so far?” his mom asks while buttering a loaf for them.

He deducts that she means Erwin, so he only shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. Not that different from Pennsylvania, yet,”

“Oh, it will be soon,” she snorts, “Just wait ‘til it snows this winter and we can still get out of our front door.”

He hums, “Yeah.”

She glances over at him before crossing to the sink, starting the water faucet. It’s comfortably silent for a minute while the tap heats up, but once she grabs a dish and runs it under the water, she hums.

“How’s the VHS camera comin’ along? You like it?”

Renjun looks up from his food and nods slightly. “Good. I’m using it a bunch.”

She only nods in response, going back to washing the dishes. Renjun is glad she doesn’t press further. It’s not like he’s using it for anything bad, and he has been using it, so he didn’t lie. But later today he’s going to go out to the baseball field to film, and if a certain black-haired boy happens to be the main character of his recording, he doesn’t really need her interfering in that.

He finishes up his breakfast silently, thinking about the rest of the day.

*

Before heading out, Renjun makes sure to dress according to the location of the sun. It’s still as high as it was yesterday when he peers out his window, so he decides on a pair of loose jean shorts and a white, collared polo. He runs his hands through his hair, then fluffs it up with a light amount of his mom’s mousse spray.

He jogs over into his room, grabbing the camera, and heads out down towards the baseball field.

In the shorts, he’s a lot less hot than he was the day before, even surrounded by a little amount of shade. He flicks on the camcorder, steadying it against his shoulder, then leaning in.

The color doesn’t disappear inside of the lens, which excites Renjun beyond belief. He walks until he can see the field from within the camera’s space, zooming in on the boys that are already at practice.

He finds the black-haired boy quickly. He’s perched against the railing, over near the gate. The lanky boy with the baseball cap, Park, stands next to him, laughing and talking as the black-haired boy listens intently. It’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he just films as the two boys gesture towards each other gently.

A shout rings out in the following seconds, and both the black-haired boy and Park turn immediately at the sound. Renjun zooms out a little, catching the tall boy that was yelling yesterday pushing a shorter boy up onto the wall of the dugout.

Renjun gasps, sensing the intensity of the scene. The black-haired boy sprints over to the dugout where a crowd of the others is starting to form.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, faggot?” The tall boy spits on the shorter boy, tightening his grip on his uniform. “Touch me like that one more time and you’re dead,”

The short boy doesn’t say a word, but hisses back at the taller boy. He leans back into the wall before kneeing the tall boy in the balls.

The tall boy yelps, his grip slipping on the short boy. “You’re gonna regret your life,” the tall boy scowls, and then his fist is coming in contact with the other boy’s jaw.

Renjun watches in horror, wincing when a crack rings out amongst the field. The black-haired boy reaches them suddenly, ripping the tall boy away from the other boy.

“Dude,” the black-haired boy yells, “knock it off!”

“What, are you a fag too? Let me finish my business,” the tall boy grits, turning back to return to the dugout wall, but he’s stopped by the black-haired boy when he grabs his wrist.

The taller boy tries to step away, but stops abruptly, falling to the ground with a cry.

“Fuck, my wrist! You bitch!” the tall boy yells out, clutching at his arm on the ground.

The black-haired boy gasps in shock, leaning down, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Get away from me, you freak! You just ruined my entire season,” the boy on the ground cries out, making the black-haired boy back away.

Renjun stares ahead, shocked. It’s as if cement is pooled around his feet. He knows he should run, get the fuck out of here, before he’s spotted and then roped into it. But his camera is facing ahead of him, pointed right at the field, and he can’t find it in him to pull away.

He quickly decides to zoom into the lens once more to see if he can get a better view of the black-haired boy’s face, but suddenly, blonde hair blocks his way.

Renjun looks up abruptly, meeting eyes with another boy. He’s not on the field, and his body position is turned in the direction like he’s heading over to the scene.

The blonde boy stares at Renjun with an unreadable expression for another moment before turning back and running over towards the chaos. Renjun gulps, finally putting down his camera and fleeing into the bushes while he still has the chance.

*

The following day is a Monday, which means Renjun has school officially. He’s a week late, according to his mom, so it isn’t bad, as everyone else has just started too.

His mother drops him off at the entrance to the school at seven thirty in the morning with a “Good luck!” before taking herself to work. The school building is pretty, built with red brick and riddled with windows. It’s much smaller than his school was in Pennsylvania, but Renjun thinks that’s a good thing. There aren’t as many people to meet or mess up in front of.

He walks up the concrete walkway behind a group of girls. They’re speaking in hushed voices, probably nervous about something. One of them giggles, twirling her hair with a finger, and the others “Ssshh!” her fondly. At the front door, they all stop, lining up beside each other like kindergarteners would. Renjun’s seen this before at his old school, though. Girls like to stay in packs.

One of the girls with brown hair opens the door, then looks at Renjun expectantly. When he just raises a brow, she sighs.

“For you!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Renjun smiles at her.

She returns the favor. “No prob. You’re new here, right?”

Renjun nods, walking through the door and waiting for her to catch up. Her friends stay back a couple feet as they walk together.

“I thought so! Hi, I’m Amy,” the girl offers out her hand.

“Renjun. Nice to meet you,” Renjun replies, shaking her hand.

She smiles again, gesturing to her friends, “I gotta go, but if you need anything, you can always ask me!”

“Thank you, I will,” Renjun agrees, letting her go to her friends while he scopes out the building for its office.

It’s labeled with a large sign over the glass entrance, so he finds it quickly. He shuffles inside, making his way over to the desk in the middle.

An older lady sits behind the desk. She has glasses and dark brown hair curled into a bun. “Hi, what can we do for you today?”

There’s a heavy southern accent to her voice, but Renjun doesn’t mind. It’s quite different from Pennsylvania, and it fascinates him.

“I just moved here a week ago,” Renjun starts, trailing off when she immediately nods her head.

“Gotcha. Name?”

“Huang Renjun,”

“Found ya! Okay honey, let me print out your schedule and you can be on your way,” she says with a sweet grin. Renjun nods shyly, turning back to sit in one of the chairs he saw on the way in.

He lets himself admire the decorations while he waits for the papers to print off. The walls are painted stark white, and there are blue accents all throughout the room, such as the chair he sits in. A devil with a black handlebar mustache is encrusted on the floor in the center of the room. Probably, his new school mascot.

“Here ya go,” the office lady says, making Renjun look up from admiring the devil’s intricate face. “Your first class will be to the right, all the way down the hall. You can get your teacher to point you in the direction of the next one, and so forth.”

“I see. Thank you,” Renjun grabs the paper from her hands gently, turning towards the door. He takes note of his first teacher’s name before heading in the direction she’d instructed.

*

By the time the lunch bell rings, he’s rotated through three classes. His schedule says he has six, so he’s already halfway done. He waits like usual for all of his peers to leave for lunch, pretending to finish up science notes. His teacher for science, Mrs. Shertz, is a nice lady with stern expressions. He quite likes her so far.

He grabs his TinTin lunch box from inside his backpack, asking Mrs. Shertz for directions to the lunchroom before heading out of the classroom. It’s quiet down the hall, which is good for Renjun. Everyone here is a bit loud. Very opinionated, at least. So, he allows himself a moment to bask in his own mind.

“Hey, you!” A loud voice cuts through the silence of the hallway, abruptly stopping his train of thought. Renjun turns, assuming naturally it’s for him, since no one else is present, but upon seeing the same boy with the blonde hair at the field from yesterday, his eyes widen.

Turning on his heels, he tries to pretend he doesn’t hear as the boy continues to yell at him. His feet pick up, but so do the boy’s, and suddenly, a hand is wrapping around his lunch box.

Renjun stops, scowling. He wipes off the tin gently with his jacket sleeve, pretending not to notice the boy standing in front of him.

“Yo! Are you deaf?” the kid scoffs, staring straight at him. Renjun looks up and lolls his head around as if this interaction in its entirety is pointless.

“No. Don’t touch my stuff,” Renjun spits, finally glaring at the boy. He’s a bit taller than Renjun, with even more painful blonde hair up close and an evil look on his face.

The boy crosses his arms. “Maybe if you didn’t ignore me, I wouldn't have had to." He trails off, shaking his head. “Whatever. I don’t have time to frolic around,” the blonde boy says, “I need that footage you took yesterday. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

Renjun definitely does, but he already has a bad taste in his mouth about this boy, so he just shrugs his shoulders. “No clue.”

The boy sighs, cocking his hip, “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you at the field with your camera. You had it pointed right at the fight.”

This is true, too, but no blonde boy is going to bother Renjun so rudely like this. He hums in fake confusion. “Nope. I already told you I don’t know. You must have the wrong person.”

“Oh, bullshit, dude. I know a face when I see one. There’s not a lot of people around here that carry VHS cameras,” he laughs mockingly, “Plus, you wore that shirt yesterday.”

The blonde boy raises an eyebrow, tipping his head down towards Renjun’s chest. Renjun’s cheeks paint themselves light pink as he looks down at his shirt. Dammit, he thinks. “Fine, you got me. But why should I give it to you anyway? I have no idea who you are.”

The boy fake smiles suddenly, outstretching his hand. “Zhong Chenle.”

Renjun scowls. “Not good enough,” he frowns, “Bye, Chenle.”

Chenle sneers, yelling for him to come back, as Renjun walks away toward the lunchroom.

*

The sun beats heavily on Renjun’s skin. School here lets out at two forty-four on the dot, so by the time he is able to scurry past all of the students, the sun has risen to its peak in the center of the sky. Like Pennsylvania, August is warm and bright still. Even the end of the month glows with an undeniable heat.

He pulls at his t-shirt, already sticking to his skin. He can’t wait to get home to shower.

Renjun’s house is not far from downtown, and downtown is a five minute walk away from the school, so he lets himself breathe in the warm air. The neighborhood leading down into the shops is pretty and clean. He stops to look at a rosebush growing in someone’s yard.

Downtown is just as pretty, if not more. There are a fair amount of diners on either side of the road, and a drugstore on the far end. The courthouse is nestled in the center, but stands prouder than the other buildings.

Renjun makes a quick stop inside the drugstore to grab a coke and a candy bar. He still has allowance from the week before, so he figures he’ll put it to good use today.

He makes quick work of it, dropping an extra penny into the tip jar and saying a well-mannered goodbye to the elderly lady behind the counter. His free hand slides the door open, looking down at his candy bar, but instead of smelling the sweetness of the summer air, his head flies into a cotton shirt.

He stumbles back, unaware there was someone coming in on his way out. Looking up, he makes eye contact with a shorter boy. He has light orange, unnaturally colored hair, and a stern expression on his face.

“Um, I’m sorry-” Renjun says before trying to shuffle past but is stopped by the boy’s hand.

“You’re coming with me,” the boy says. He grips onto Renjun’s wrist, pulling him away from the store and into town again.

Renjun struggles in the boy’s hold, confused and annoyed. “Excuse me, what are you doing?” The boy says nothing. His hold never loosens on Renjun’s hand.

Renjun is dragged down the road a ways until they finally come to a halt at the door of a diner. Renjun finally tears himself out of the boy’s grip, immediately trying to make a run for it, but he hears voices behind him. One of them sounds familiar, so just for a second, he turns back.

A boy with blonde hair is sprinting towards him, along with four other boys on his heels. Renjun recognizes the blonde boy as Chenle, the same one from school and the field. His eyes widen, but the orange-haired boy has him cornered from behind.

Renjun curses under his breath. His only option now is the diner, so he heads straight for it, ducking past the group of teenage boys. He doesn’t bother to close the door once he’s inside, instead trying desperately to locate the bathrooms.

The sign is on the right side of the diner, and two doors with restroom signs perch below it. Renjun speeds into what he hopes is the men’s, and only once he’s seated himself inside the stall does he give himself a moment to breathe.

A minute passes, and no sign of the boys arrives. Still, he waits for another couple before deciding it’s safe to exit.

The door creaks when it opens, Renjun peeking his head out an inch to see if they’re around, but he doesn’t see any signs of blonde or orange hair. Swinging the door open the rest of the way, Renjun hears it hit something soft. He turns confusedly but realizes quickly the reason.

The orange-haired boy smiles condescendingly at him before looking up, and the next thing he knows, his head is being covered with black cloth.

*

The first thing Renjun can feel is an immense headache. His head is pulsing, and he scrambles for purchase, crying out when he can’t move his hands.

A laugh is heard from the corner before a spotlight is being pulled on him. He still can’t see properly, the cloth covering his eyes, but the relief is short-lived when the cloth is abruptly pulled off of his head and thrown to the floor. His eyes burn immediately, the bright light sizzling after he’d spent so much time in complete darkness.

Everything is blurry for a minute until the burn ceases. His eyes clear up, taking note of his current position, slouched over and tied to what looks like… a lawn chair? His head whips up when footsteps inch closer, and he meets eyes with a boy he’s never seen before.

This boy is taller than Chenle or the orange-haired weirdo, instead with light brown hair and an extremely dazzling smile.

His mouth opens, lips curling up like a bunny. Renjun would probably smile back if he wasn’t tied to a chair in the middle of a pitch-black room.

“Hi, sugar,” the tall boy says. His voice is the sweetest thing Renjun’s ever heard in his life, coated in honey and syrup.

He gets himself together enough to furrow his brows. “Where the hell am I?”

The tall boy laughs. “Aw, Lele, you got a cute one!”

At the mention of Lele, another boy steps into the light. Renjun knows it to be Chenle. His blonde hair bounces when he walks over.

“I didn’t mean to,” Chenle sighs, “He’s just the one that was walking around with the camera.”

“Wait, he’s the one with Jeno’s proof? No fucking way,” another voice sounds from the room.

“What do you mean, no fucking way,” Chenle laughs.

The orange-haired boy stalks out from the shadows. He scoffs. “He looks like a nerd. I don’t see how he’s supposed to help us keep Jeno on the baseball team.”

The tall boy to Chenle’s right scowls, “Says the kid who decorated his room themed after Cass Elliot’s albums.”

“It’s themed after her best hits!” the orange-haired boy whines.

Chenle laughs, ignoring both boys in favor of crossing over towards Renjun. He leans over Renjun’s frame, narrowing his eyes. “Give us the footage, and we’ll let you go.”

Renjun scorns, huffing a piece of his hair out of his face. “Is that seriously what this is about?”

“Listen kid, I always get what I want. And right now, I want your footage,” Chenle grits out.

“What could you possibly need it for so bad you’re willing to kidnap someone?” Renjun asks bitterly.

The tall boy sighs from behind Chenle. “You didn’t tell him? No wonder the kid said no. Poor thing,”

“I didn’t need to tell him shit, Jaem. He shoulda given it to me without reason,” Chenle snarls, still looking at Renjun.

Another voice comes from the right. “Lele, you should have told him. I think he would have been willing to help!”

“Jeno’s right, Lele,” Jaem says.

Chenle sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright then, leader Jeno, you come out here and tell him why I need the goddamn footage.”

Jeno, Renjun figures, laughs, finally stepping into the light. Renjun looks over, intrigued, but his jaw drops when he sees who it is.

The boy from the baseball field, with the shiny black hair and pretty smile and crescent-shaped eyes, Jeno, stands there sheepishly. One of his arms is hidden behind his back, and the other scratches gently at the nape of his neck.

Jeno smiles at him shyly, and Renjun realizes Jeno doesn’t know who he is. His body melts into the chair.

Chenle backs away to stand with the orange-haired boy, and Jeno approaches him slowly, leaning down so they’re face to face.

“Hi. Uh, sorry about this,” Jeno says, gesturing to the chair and Renjun’s tied hands, “I’m Jeno. And you are?”

It takes Jeno asking for him to realize he even has a name. Renjun coughs, his voice scratchy from not speaking for so long.

“Renjun,” he says finally.

Jeno smiles, outstretching a hand before pulling back abruptly, taking note of Renjun’s situation. Renjun appreciates the thought anyway.

“Nice to meet you, Renjun. You already know Chenle, I’m assuming, so,” Jeno points at the tall brunette, “That is Jaemin, and the other one is Haechan. There’s also a Jisung, but it’s past his curfew, so he wasn’t able to make it,”

Jaemin waves cutely over at Jeno and Renjun, and although he’s a little pissed, he smiles firmly back. Chenle and Haechan just peer menacingly towards the pair.

“You can ignore them. Anyways,” Jeno laughs softly, “I guess you probably want to know about the footage now, right,”

Renjun nods, “That would be nice.”

“Yeah. Um, so as you saw that day, there was a fight at the baseball field,” Jeno says, “and I was in it. And I was trying to help, I swear, but I think I’m too strong for my own good, cause I accidentally broke a guy’s wrist,”

Renjun knows. He knows everything. He knows that Jeno was there, and that he was trying to break up the fight, and that he hurt someone. But he’s not planning on stopping Jeno to tell him, because that would mean he was watching Jeno and only Jeno, and no one except for Renjun needs to know that.

He nods softly, letting Jeno continue.

“I need to stay on the baseball team, because I’m trying to get a scholarship for school, and without proof I didn’t break his wrist on purpose, I’m in deep shit with the school board,” Jeno says hastily.

“He needs the footage so he doesn’t get kicked off the team,” Haechan huffs. Jeno looks back at him in warning before turning back and smiling apologetically at Renjun.

“I’m sorry it came to this, and you got kidnapped by boys from your school, but this team is really important to me. And you’re the only person that can help.”

Renjun really wants to stick it to him, to say no, fuck you, just because his friends are douchebags that peer pressure people, but he looks into Jeno’s warm brown eyes, and it’s almost impossible to speak at all. Jeno looks like a kicked puppy who just wants some love and attention, and something in Renjun pulls him towards his gaze. The fact that Jeno needs him, he needs Renjun, weighs heavily on his sad little heart.

Renjun sighs, head falling forward. “Fine. I guess I’ll help you out.”

Jeno exhales, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. Renjun looks up into his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jeno says, and it sounds so heartfelt Renjun can’t even pretend to be mad about being kidnapped.

Renjun nods curtly, but his jaw tenses as he thinks about his lack of retrieving film. “I don’t have any way to get it to you, though.”

“Told you nerds are useless!” Haechan interjects, throwing his hands up in the air. Chenle smacks them both down, while Jaemin chuckles.

“Easy fix,” Jaemin says, “You can use the Student Council meeting room. We have a film printer there.”

Jeno smiles brightly. “That’s great! Jaem can meet you there tomorrow at school.”

“Right,” Renjun replies. His wrists are starting to really hurt from the rope, so he shuffles around uncomfortably in the chair. “Uh, can I be set free?”

“Oh, of course!” Jaemin exclaims. He runs over to the darkness again, his silhouette disappearing for a minute before a grand amount of light comes on. Renjun looks around, finally able to see where these boys have taken him.

It’s not even close to what he was fearing. Instead of a dingy, musty basement filled with cobwebs and rats and other gross bugs, he finds himself surrounded by a pampered living room, with a dull, brown, leather couch, and a floral rug. A nice coffee table sits in the center of the room. Renjun’s position is over by the corner, and when he looks down, it’s definitely a lawn chair he’s been tied to.

Jeno rounds the chair, untying his hands and then the rope holding him down to the chair. When Renjun is untied fully, he brings his arms together, rubbing vigorously at each wrist.

Jaemin notices, humming. “I’ll get some lotion,” he says, running off to another part of the house.

Jeno scratches at his neck, sitting down onto the couch. “Welcome to Chenle’s living room.”

Renjun looks over to Chenle and Haechan, who are still standing in the same position. Haechan still scowls over at him, but Chenle looks a bit nicer for all the times Renjun’s seen him, his lips curving into a half smile.

Jaemin comes back, lotion in hand, and Renjun smiles back at Chenle.

[dollsonmain]

Ask me to visualize an apple? No problem.

Ask me to visualize a different way to assemble a shelving unit? Nope.

Gotta make paper cut outs.

Making lists helps stave off being overwhelmed.

The reasons this failed to do what I needed (reduce floor space consumed by plants) are that most of my plants are simply too big to fit into this unit, and the ones that are small enough can take up less floor space on a flat surface all shoved up next to each other.

It also doesn’t help that all of my plants are crammed into one spot in the house because there’s no sun anywhere else, other than the few that I’ve shuffled into the front rooms that get a little morning sun but not much, especially when the sycamore has leaves.

The way everything fits together easily allows this.

If I wanted to I could make one really tall wobbly unit with short and tall shelves or one really wide one with very few shelves, etc. I could make a large and useless square (which could be turned into a table if you had a topper for it). Almost infinitely modular. Almost. They can’t be stuck together side to side, only top to bottom like LEGO.

I wouldn’t trust the unit to have a shelf hanging out without 4 legs of support. Whole thing would probably tip over. It’s not very stable as it is.

So, if I break the unit down, I can make 4x 2-shelf tall units and either 2x 1-shelf short units or 1x 2-shelf tall unit in a slightly different shape.

These smaller units actually could reduce the floor space needed because I could stack two plants that just barely fit on top of each other. The tops are flat, so it would also let me put larger plants on the tops without them being at eye level which makes me nervous.

I would have 8 leftover short sticks.

Those could be used to make [not particularly stable] legs or to connect any two units together top to bottom. So I could have two tall, two medium, and two short stands.

Kind of like the idea of being able to play with their height for display purposes.

Or three tall stands that are a little different and two medium stands.

Or two taller units and two tall ones....

OR I can pick the whole thing up as is and haul it to the basement bathroom to use for Ozone Time.

Regardless, shuffling all the plants around again is going to be a complete pain in the ass because there are lights and a humidifier and the outlet near there is VERY DIFFICULT to get to because of the stupid couch.

[rametarin]

Just a thought experiment.

Thinking about "urban farm property" again. What if we constructed a kind of urban agricultural community? Just, designated a section of the city where residential apartment norms could take a hike and designed something new.

What if we took in the square footage of acreage of farm and gave that to people, but in place of the single plane, we gave it to them vertically as well? So the space required for acres of farmland was compressed into a few floors. Each with access to irrigation, grow lights, atmosphere controls and drainage. Either in plots, or aeroponic.

You'd obviously have less sprawling hills and hundreds of acres per person, but on the flip side, your expectation of space in an urban environment would go up, for cheaper, if you're actually planning on producing food within city limits. And unlike normal city property, this model would be space you could actually own.

The benefits of living rural means that you have the luxury of both an attic and a basement, and the capacity to just.. build your home bigger, if it's within your means to do so. To make and meet the needs that suit YOU. Living urban, you can't do that; the architect had an idea in mind when they set out to build it, and for the life of that building, it'll stay that way. For better, or worse.

So what if you had an entire floor to yourself that provided all your conceivable space needs, as an agricultural farmer. How much space would you need for crops, stored food and such?

H'okay. So. We all have a finite lifespan. The vast majority of us will not make it to age 120. However, if we did make it to 120, we would have had a finite amount of food we've eaten to sustain ourselves.

Practically speaking, exactly what a room containing the mass and volume of all the food we'd ever eat could be any kind of enormous. But, we absolutely could theoretically have a reasonable space to work with regarding the food needs of a human being for a lifetime.

And ultimately for what purpose? It's just a thought experiment. It doesn't need to have a practical application. However, for the sake of argument, lets imagine it's to estimate exactly how big a warehouse space we'd need to store all the food we'd ever eat.

So. Suppose we had a warehouse to meet our caloric intake, and caloric intake alone. How big would it be? Well. Lets assume white rice. Why white rice? Because it has a very high shelf life, a very small size, a high density of calories, and it's very easy to grow. Dietarily, it's extremely cheap and can be stored for decades.

A human body needs between 2000 to 3000 calories a day. 2500 for active people, 3000 for very active. In practice, if one had only rice for calories, that'd mean about 2 kg of rice a day. That's 14 a week. That's 62 a month (maximum.) That's 730 kilograms a year.

Clearly we're not going to be eating solid food from the day we're born. So, 119 years and 6 months worth of rice.

That brings us to about 87,235 kilograms. Or, 87.235 tonnes.

Suppose you had even 1 tonne cube containers to store rice in. However large those are, you'd to stack them 3 tall, 3 wide, and 10 long. That'd give you one tonne extra.

Roughly a cubic meter will hold 1 tonne of rice. So, just imagine a 3 meter (9 foot) tall stack of cubes, 3 meter wide (9 feet), and 10 meters long (30 feet.) Your entire life, you will never eat more than this amount of rice.

This does bring us to a problem, however; Rice under ideal conditions lasts for 30 years, only. That's only 1/4th our lifespan. And it's probably safer to to imagine each cube will last for 20 years for freshness and quality. So while we know exactly how much we'd need to feed a single person if they had a storage space to fit an amount they'd need for their entire estimable natural life, it would be necessary to replenish the stocks a minimum of 6 times over the course of their life.

But on the other hand; we also know that this amount of rice would last a family of 4 (how nuclear) for 30 years of caloric food security. Yes, mathematically this works and not necessarily humane-ly, because rice every day would go grating. But, susstenancely, it's better than having NOTHING.

But that would mean 3X3X20, 4X4X11 or 5X5X7 for storage space, instead, to provide two parents and 6 children- or guests and extended family members, in lean times, for 30 years.

All things considered, for 30 years of on-site food security for 8 people.. that's really not that bad. That's 1970 to 2000. That's 2000 to 2030. That's enough food that an 8 person expedition to the arctic could've gone radio silent and still been eating kinda-okay-I-guess (for calories only. not vitamin or mineral needs) for 3 decades.

So yes theoretically that amount of space could serve one person for 120 years, if rice lasted that long, or 6 people for the estimated 30 that rice keeps for. But the POINT is you wouldn't need THAT much room for a nice, optimal amount of food independence with a susstenance and canning pantry.

This means, if we were to ever contemplate exactly how much space could be considered a "right" as a minimum for necessity, we could consider the space required to sleep in privacy, a living room space, a kitchen space, a dining room space, and 7-8 bedrooms and a 2, maybe 3 bathrooms. And then the minimum amount of space for the caloric requirements of said family for 30 years.

Next, lets consider another fun amount of space. Growing space.

For the purposes of this thought experiment, we'll reduce growing space to portable, modular plots. They don't need access to natural sunlight; you'd be growing them with UV lights. They just need a little space, maybe soil unless you're going aeroponic, irrigation and maybe pest control.

Lets say you have the equivalent of six acres to work with, stacking grow plots on themselves one after another. Just saying.. Six acres of rice means dozens of tons of rice, per month. All of it, with no need to weed it, no need to fight with wild animals outside city mice and rats. And as it's already urban, you could dump that shit down a chute and have it being collected and harvested and processed at a facility in the city.

Just put the agricultural residence center near a nuclear fission plant, and the convenience and ease of crop planting should be pretty efficient. Naturally, different plants will need different kinds and qualities of soil, fertilizer, kinds of artificial sunlight, etc.

Suddenly there's a new model for residential buildings that don't just squeeze you into a bread box, even if it is snug compared to rural life.

[bomberqueen17]

kitchen remodel saga part 1?

I don’t know if I’ve posted about this already but Dude and I are going to get the kitchen of our house remodeled. It’s original to the house, it’s from 1950, it’s very dated, the cabinets were very high-end and remain lovely, being real wood and all, but are starting to have hardware failures. We had to replace the stove and fridge already, the sink faucet is starting to go, the sink sprayer broke, the linoleum floor is damaged in a couple of places, it’s got yellow wallpaper, it’s just-- gotta get redone. Right? Right.

We don’t know how much that costs so we don’t know how much to budget. We don’t know any contractors, of course. We don’t really know what we’re looking for. So Dude asked around. A coworker had just had his kitchen done, and recommended a place. So we went there.

Before we came in for a meeting with the specialist, she had us write down anything we really cared about. What do I know about interior design? Nothing, but I do know what I do and don’t like, in a kitchen. I only had a few things I wanted to note down.

The first thing on the list was, no stone countertops. They’re ugly, I think, but more than that, they’re prone to staining, they need special cleaning I think, they’re not *that* heat proof, they’re so hard that anything you set down too hard breaks, they’re so heavy you need special cabinets to hold them and a special process to make them level-- just, in every single way, they’re what I hate about current fashion. So I went in with a bulletproof rock-solid (ha) number one: No stone countertops.

Heh. This place only offers stone countertops. The choices of countertop surface were quartz, granite, marble, or quartzite.

“Okay how about not stone, though,” I tried, and probably I should have just walked out, because the answer was, only stone.

But. Dude was like. Let’s at least get a quote. We gotta start somewhere. But what is the point, I ask you, of getting a quote for a thing you do not want? Stone countertops mean you gotta have special cabinets and a special process to make them level and like none of that is going to apply in any way at all if we go with a laminate or butcher block countertop like we wanted. Like, it’s not even going to be the same kind of cabinets.

(Also, I was like, “i don’t like those microwaves that are supposed to act as range hoods, I don’t think they do a good job, I’d rather just have one on a shelf.” “Oh,” she said, “it’ll have to go on a countertop.” “... No,” I said, “I’d like one on a shelf, there’s never enough counter space and we’re both tall enough to reach a shelf, that would work better for me.” She stared at me. “You can’t put a microwave on a shelf,” she said, “your only other option is to put it in a drawer.” “You can’t put a microwave on a shelf,” I said, flat with disbelief; I grew up with a microwave on a shelf, two of my sisters have microwaves on shelves, I cannot think of a single reason on God’s green fucking earth that you could not put a microwave on a shelf, unless there is some newly-enacted law prohibiting it??? “Right,” she said. “But drawer microwaves are the thing now! We have one in the display upstairs, go check it out.” We dutifully trooped over to the display. It was in fact a drawer, that slid into the kitchen island and somehow was also a microwave. It was hideous, it looked impossible to clean, it was a steam-burn-accident waiting to happen, and it was two thousand dollars. “I will die before I get a drawer microwave,” I said, and we said to her, much more politely, “No, thanks, we don’t want a drawer microwave.” and inwardly resolved to have a shelf installed and maybe a power outlet put near it and we’d just put the microwave on our shelf ourselves and maybe the authorities wouldn’t find out.)

Anyway.

We had this specialist come to our house, which I wasn’t wild about, but okay, she could measure the room at least, get some idea of what we already have. We have a few pieces of furniture we’ve put in, a stainless steel counter and a wooden buffet sideboard thing, to hold all our dishes and give us some workspace since the existing kitchen had like two square feet of counter, so we pointed those out to her, and said we were planning to get rid of those. And we pointed out the table, where we eat, since we don’t have a dining room. And we explained that we wanted the half-wall to go, since it was sort of passe, we felt, to divide the kitchen proper from the dinette-- just make the whole thing kitchen, and get rid of the awkward corner cabinets. Cool cool, all on the same page, no problem.

So we went in yesterday to see her rendering. And I liked the look of it, it was nice to see the kitchen laid out a little differently. She hadn’t changed much, the stove and fridge were in the same place, sink in the same place, fine and dandy, didn’t mind that.

I didn’t actually notice right away, but as she was finished showing us the last wall, Dude was like “... where do we eat?”

She gave us a blank look. “Oh,” she said, “well, in the dining room.”

...

we don’t have a dining room. Our house is quite small. The next room is the living room, and has just enough room for a sectional couch, a coffee table, an armchair, and a couple of small bookshelves. There’s no room for a dining table there, not unless we ditch everything but the sectional.

Also she’d put in a drawer microwave. “I mean,” she said, “you don’t have to go with that, it’s just, it’ll take up so much room on this counter...”

“We could put it in the dining room,” I said, sotto voce, to Dude.

This is my new personal meme. Anything I don’t have room for can just go be in the dining room, where I’ll eat, since there’s no room in this kitchen for a table.

Sorry, but are eat-in kitchens illegal now too??????????????

I feel like even rich people eat in their kitchens sometimes???? what’s wrong with a kitchen table???

I am feeling like my way of life is under attack here, not gonna lie. Is the kitchen table no longer sacred???

also, insult to injury, or injury to insult, my dang sister who i was helping move has a new house that has a slate floor in the kitchen which is fucking terrible and now my phone is dead from getting knocked off the counter onto that slate floor so i am like even more wildly dead-set on an Absolutely No Stone Surfaces In My House vendetta and yet again we have confirmed, this place can only sell us countertops made out of stone and I will not have stone surfaces in my house i am too clumsy and will fucking break myself and everything i own for the love of god i will not compromise on this but like

i don’t know, i am losing faith

please don’t let me end up spending more on a kitchen remodel than on my undergraduate education only to wind up with nowhere to eat and stone countertops upon which i instantly shatter my skull, please no

[apocalypticgargoyle]

could i pls get a part 2 of elevator with dream🥺 the way that they show their vulnerable sides to each other is adorable <3

yes! of course! i still kept this pretty fluffy but in another request, someone asked for smut so it's a little spicy.

𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

pairing: dream x reader (dre™ my beloved)

warnings: light smut (i didn't completely write it out I'm sorry), a virgin reader, language, fwb kinda, mentions of sexual content

previous part: elevator

After nearly two hours, the elevator began to buzz with life, hoisting up to the floor where Clay and Sapnap lived. The two of you had bonded in the dim, red elevator, coming out of the cramped room as friends when you had previously just been an odd mix of acquaintance and mutual. Sapnap stood in the threshold, an apologetic look on his face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You and Clay became nearly inseparable. You found yourself showing up at his apartment for him just as much as for Sapnap. There were even times when you’d text Sapnap to see if he was busy when your roommate would be trying to shove you out the door and he’d send Clay over instead. His presence always made it awkward for your roommate’s boyfriend and while you hated to admit it, it was hilarious.

“So, you do what kind of farming?” Clay asked from his spot beside you, leaning on the counter with his eyes zoning out to watch your hands as you cooked.

Her boyfriend---who the two of you often referred to as Ricky Fitts behind his back---sighed. He had explained his profession to Clay numerous times, but the manner in which he did it was so pretentious that Clay was addicted to picking at him for it. “It’s botanical gardening. Not farming,” he groaned. “In simple man’s terms, I curate a garden for plant research and help to diversify the plant species in the area.”

Clay nodded. “And how many strains of marijuana do you have in the span of, say, a year.”

“I’m not going over this with you again,” he nipped, making Clay look down in mock defeat.

He sighed longingly before straightening up. “Okay, fine. So, hypothetically speaking, how many strains.”

Ricky stared at him blankly and you knew if you looked up, you’d break character. “Don’t the two of you have somewhere to be? Like a cave or something?”

Clay let out a short laugh. “I’m free all night actually,” he spoke, smirking slightly. “Did you wanna check out a cave with me, baby?” Clay asked him, fluttering his eyelashes.

The two of you often rode the bus together; Clay's height mimicking a skyscraper over you to grab at the bar or handle above you and kneeing you in the butt just because you were short enough that he could. That would usually end in you elbowing him in the gut. When you were coming back from class was when you were a bit quieter usually, nearly falling asleep as you stood by him and then fighting off a blush when he would wrap an arm around you just to keep you balanced upright. When he had first ridden the bus, you had completely forgotten what had told him in the elevator.

Your fingers tightened around the pole attaching the overhead bus shelf to the ground, attempting to steady yourself as you stared out the window adjacent to you. The bus screeched to a halt, jolting you forward slightly. The sea of new people obstructed your view, namely a tall figure as he sidestepped through the crowd of people. You furrowed your brows, brushing your hand against Clay’s arm to capture his attention.

He removed his headphones after pretending not to recognize you. He greeted you and grabbed onto the bar you had commandeered, leaning on the bus wall beside you. “Don’t you have a car?” You asked, reaching out to lightly pull on the lanyard sticking out of his pocket.

He smirked, brushing your hand off. “It’s dangerous down there, careful,” he jeered, making you roll your eyes at his lude joke. “Is there something wrong with supporting local businesses?”

Your brows knitted together in disbelief. “We’re on a city bus, Dream.” He shrugged. You bit your lip slightly, your mind breaking off into another explanation. “You wouldn’t be stalking me, would you?” You baited, a ghost of a blush settling over his cheeks.

He reached forward to cover your mouth. “You ask too many questions.”

He moved closer to let someone have the seat beside him, his hand settling to the space just above yours as your sides threatened to touch. You bit back the idea that Clay was following you around, finding a silent pleasure in that fact. He would probably never admit it fully.

He towered over you as the bus swayed, you having to lean back slightly in order to talk to him. “So, are you gonna walk me to class too then, simp?” You mocked, making him shake his head.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not a simp, thanks,” he answered with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “And maybe I will.”

You crossed your legs, knees popping as you bent out of your previous position on the kitchen floor with your back pressed against one of the sink’s cabinet doors. Clay was on his back, shoulders emerged in that same cupboard as he messed with the sink. You handed him a tool that he vaguely asked for, your eyes lingering on his old high school shirt celebrating some kind of sports achievement.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Dream?” You got his attention, delaying your question. He hummed in acknowledgment. “How many people have you slept with?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Let me think,” he murmured, making you snicker. “Three.”

“You had to think about that?” You joshed.

He chuckled at your words. “Well, I mean. No one’s asked me what my body count is since like… I don’t know honestly.” He peeked out at you momentarily. “Why? You looking to be number four?” He jeered, a smirk brushing across his lips as you rolled your eyes.

You huffed sarcastically. “Yeah, you wish,” you mumbled, fighting not to blush.

“Maybe I do,” he stated plainly.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sapnap walked in, peering down at his phone with an unbending concentration. Clay sat up beside you, flashing you a look before Sapnap began to speak. “I have a date. I just wanted you guys to know,” he stated before grabbing his coat off of one of the hooks. He finally looked up from his phone, lazily point a finger at the pair of you. “Don’t hook up. It’ll make it awkward for me and I’m not ready to deal with you guys being together yet.”

Clay laughed and your ears warmed, rolling your eyes as he left the two of you with his words.

After an hour, Sapnap’s words were blown to the wind as Clay’s fingers carded through your hair, his lips pressed against yours in some kind of heated passion to prove himself to you; that he was worthy of being with you in such an intimate way.

You weren’t hesitant, to say the least, and had even initiated the manner as the sun had begun to set. You had been sitting beside each other, lazily discussing your sex lives and lack-there-of.

“So, these three… Do you still keep in touch?” You asked him, watching as his green eyes searched yours for the reason behind your questions. The deep orange rays of the sunset peeked through the blinds to reflect against his blond hair.

He shook his head. “They were all me being stupid, basically. I didn’t really like any of them,” he admitted, making your stomach turn. “What about you? What’s your number?”

You shrugged. “Zero,” you snorted.

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, that’s right. I knew that,” he recounted as if he were remembering what you’d told him when the two of you were trapped in the elevator. “Um… Why?”

You shrugged again. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough.” He barely bit his lip, nodding in understanding. You cleared your throat. “It’s not that it’s a big deal to me or anything, I just… I’d like to feel safe during it, at least,” you clarified.

“It’s okay if it’s a big deal,” he stated. “It was important to me too at one point. I just…” he sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I got caught up in the pressure of losing it.”

You nodded, letting a breath of silence pass between the two of you. “Would you want to…” You looked away from him, biting back a grin at how stupid you were about to sound. “Would you want to take my virginity?”

He nearly giggled. “You feel safe with me?”

You snorted. “Yeah. I mean, I like you,” you answered, biting back a laugh. The air between you was mellow and easy. You had thrown your awkwardness out the window after Sapnap had left. “I mean, you’re one of my best friends, you know. But it’s just an offer.”

He grinned, a dusting of red settling in his cheeks from the pride he was beaming at you. “No, I want to. I just… I want you to be sure.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I’m sure. But if it’s too much pressure and everything, like I get it.”

He chuckled. “Quit. I’m honored honestly.”

You laughed. “Okay, then do it,” you stated.

And there the two of you were, Clay’s breath warm against your skin as he knotted his fingers with yours, moaning as you ground your hips against his. You could tell he was holding back for your sake, being as gentle as he could and trying not to crush you under his massive frame.

When you had pictured losing your virginity in the past, you’d always thought your body would be urging you to be thinking of something else, racing with pure terror as your partner got themselves off to get it over with. But Clay’s hands were careful, slowly introducing you to different sensations and testing the waters for you. Your mind was only focused on the fact that Clay smelled like lavender; the scent lingering on his clothes and in his hair.

You slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, before pulling it over his head. You hadn’t seen him naked before, but heat flushed to your cheeks at the view of him, even if he had pressed you into another kiss as soon as he had discarded his shirt. As he pressed a leg between yours, you moaned, fingers traveling along the length of his spine. His taste of bitter coffee and mint was becoming your new obsession as his tongue pressed into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

He leaned off of you to remove your shirt, every instinct telling you to cover back up, but he brushed it off, pressing his lips to yours again as his thumb gently brushed against your side. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re hot,” he joked, making you giggle as he lightened the mood.

“You’re so charming,” you mocked, running your fingers into his hair as his lips pressed against your neck lovingly.

He chuckled. “Only when you’re around,” he answered, making you laugh again.

The next morning, you sat beside Clay at the breakfast table, the two of you chatting about a movie you were planning on seeing later in the day. Sapnap strolled in, eyeing you carefully with his lips pursed. You both looked up at him as if to motion for him to spit out whatever was bothering him.

Sapnap took to the chair on the other side of Clay after pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Okay, so am I supposed to pretend I didn’t see you sneaking out of Dream’s room this morning?” He gestured between the two of you. “And now you’re wearing each other’s hoodies.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Clay look down with a small “what?” whispering from his lips quietly. “I mean come on, that one was mine at one point,” he continued, his comments mainly directed at you.

You scoffed. “Am I supposed to pretend you didn’t come back until an hour ago and I know you don’t carry condoms?” You countered.

Clay let out a soft gasp. “Sapnap… safe sex.” At this point he was just the Sophoclean chorus; the peanut gallery.

Sapnap sent you a sarcastic grin, disregarding your statement. “Am I supposed to pretend like I didn’t tell you guys not to hook up and you did?” Clay sipped his drink at this. “I mean, look at you two!” He swatted his finger to point at where the two of your hands were joined together.

In reality, you weren’t even sure when Clay had grabbed your hand or even that you here holding onto him as well. “Am I supposed to pretend like you didn’t do that on purpose so we didn’t bother you for a few hours?” You shot back.

Sapnap’s mouth dramatically tilted, brows raised in shock. “A Few. Hours?”

You covered your mouth as Clay laughed beside you.

Tag List: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna

[svchengss]

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

[jobean12-blog]

Fate

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1,132

Summary: You meet Loki at a bookshop. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-th-horniest-book-club Lucky in Love Challenge and day 8: Fate. My lovely friend Jo @gallifreystray sent me this amazing prompt a while back and I saw it and this story just happened. I really hope you like it, I so enjoyed writing it! Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤ My divider is by the lovely @imerdwarf PS the quote is by Clairel Estevez. 

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff

The early Spring rain is heavy and cold as you slosh down the city street. Your boots are nearly soaked through and your toes are feeling icy. You can’t seem to find a safe haven from the weather as you search the rows of apartment buildings.

Turning the corner, you see a small store with fruit out front and under an awning. You rush over and stand under it, deciding a snack might be in order while you’re here. Just as you start inspecting the apples something rubs against your legs.

You move back and look down. Two piercing green eyes stare back up at you with an expectant look.

“Oh, you sweet thing. What are you doing out here?” you ask the shiny black cat.

As if to answer your question the cat meows and starts to walk away into the rain. Unable to help your curiosity you put the apple back and follow the cat. He only walks a short distance before disappearing between the small crack in a door that was left slightly ajar.

You look up at the building but can’t read the sign because of the rain and decide to go inside. The moment you do you’re met with a cozy warmth and the smell of old leathered books. You slowly walk toward the numerous and tall bookshelves, all lined with the spines of what must be thousands and thousands of books.

“I see Fate has brought you here,” a smooth voice says from behind you.

You jump with a start and spin on your heel. You’re met with the same green eyes from earlier but this time they belong to a man. A very handsome and tall man.  His hair is as jet black as the cat’s fur that is perched atop his shoulder and as if on cue they tilt their heads in greeting.

“Hi,” you whisper, now entirely unsure of the situation.

“You must be freezing in all those wet clothes. Can I offer you some tea?” the man asks.

Before you realize what you’re doing you nod your head and follow him to the back of the bookshop. It’s there that you find a small space with a couch and two chairs and a fireplace. He motions to the chair closest to the fire and you sit with a plop.

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak.

“Of course, darling. I’m just happy Fate found you.”

The cat jumps off his shoulder and lands at your feet, rubbing along your ankles and purring.

“I was so surprised to see him outside in this weather,” you start, feeling as if you owe him an explanation for coming into the shop. “I didn’t even know there was a bookshop here.”

He smiles softly before disappearing again. You lean over and pet Fate, the sweet cat clearly seeing it as an invitation to crawl into your lap. The man returns with a large cup of tea and some biscuits.

“Here you go my sweet. Now, drink that up and get yourself warm. You should probably remove your shoes and socks as well,” he states, taking a seat in the chair across from you.

“Thank you for all this,” you say, taking his advice.

“I’m Loki, the owner of this bookshop and as you already know, your friend there is Fate,” he tells you.

You continue scratching Fate and take a sip of the tea, sighing happily when the hot liquid goes down and warms your belly. You find it extremely easy to talk to Loki and it isn’t until your stomach grumbles that you check the time and nearly yelp when you see that three hours have passed.

“Oh my! I’ve kept you so long. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize,” you ramble on, standing and stumbling over the discarded shoes at your feet. You start to fall forward but a pair of strong arms catch you, easily setting you straight again.

“Do be careful darling,” he purrs.  “Can’t have you getting hurt now can I?”

You’re completely entranced by the green of his eyes and how they seem to swirl with color.

“Hmmmm?” you reply. “Oh yes. Right. Of course. Uh, thank you,” you mutter.

You sit back down and put on your socks and shoes, now both dry thanks to the warm fire and your long stay.

“Thank you again,” you tell him. “This was lovely and I think the rain has finally stopped.”

You tear your gaze away from his and look out the front window to see the early evening sky alit with the fiery orange of the setting sun.

“Indeed, it has,” Loki agrees, eyes still on you. “I hope you will visit again soon. If only to keep Fate happy.”

You look down at the cat now sandwiched between your legs, his tail swishing happily back and forth against you.

“I don’t think I could stay away very long,” you admit, giving him one more pat before walking to the door.

“Thank you again, Loki. It was nice meeting you both,” you say, smiling at the matching pair of green eyes before opening the door.

Work and life keep you away from the bookshop for the remainder of the week but on Saturday afternoon you stroll down the same street, now sunny and dry, and see Fate sitting outside the door as if he is waiting for you.

The feline immediately perks up and saunters over to you, meowing as if to ask, “where have you been?”

You pick him up and open the door, seeing no sign of Loki. Fate unexpectedly leaps from your arms and naturally lands on his feet, padding softly down a dimly lit aisle of books. You follow him, brushing your fingertips over the worn book bindings and kicking up dust.

“Where are we going Fate?” you ask, the cat’s eyes gleaming in the low light.

Finally, he stops by a small bookshelf set under a stained-glass window. He hops on top and starts to paw at a book on the top shelf. You walk closer and caress the books spine before carefully pulling it from the shelf. When you open it a small piece of parchment falls to the floor.

You take it between trembling fingers and read the scribbled ink, as exquisite in form as it is in words; ‘Fate has spoken…your name fits in my heart, in such a way. You are destined to be the body, for the story of my life.’

Your soft gasp is met with the purr of Fate and the feel of Loki at your back. You turn slowly and see him standing amongst the fading light of the sun, his eyes shining.

“I’m so glad to see that Fate has brought you back to me darling.”

@bugsbucky @book-dragon-13​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback​ @lorilane33​ @lookiamtrying​ @lizette50​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @white-wolf1940​

[roscgcld]

HEDACANON + NANAMI KENTO || friends to lovers

request: Headcannons for my husband Nanami and a fem childhood friends to lovers? They became friends as children because they were the only ones who could see the weird scary monsters that no one else could see, and he’s very protectice of her! Gojo used to flirt with her in highschool to tease Nanami and get him to finally confess （＾＿＾）☆

note: honey you mean OUR husband nanami - because i love him a lot as well TT and of course gojo will do that lol - he just wants nanami to get off his ass and ask you out before some random ass boy tries to steal you away. but i love this honestly, such a cute request for our husband TT 

pronouns: she/her

note: very long because i love nanami and more people need to give him love 

you and nanami met in the park one day, and it was because of a weird ability that only you two share that bonded the both of you together

nanami had always been able to see curses, but he hates telling people this; espeically the adults, who just think that he is making things up for attention and will lecture him for it 

so he had learnt to ignore it for awhile now, pretending that he does not see that weird catfish like curse lurking in the pond that he stood next to as he fed the ducks

“h-hey - can i feed the ducks next to you?” a shy and sweet voice had called out, causing for him to look over to see you; dressed in a cute flowery dress and haired pulled back with a matching fabric headband. “i wanna feed the ducks too...but i don’t like the scary monster in the water...”

“...you can see it too?” nanami asked you in shock, having never met anyone who can see the things he does; even his parents were blissfully unaware of the weird creatures and monsters that lurk in almost every corner of the small town you live in 

when you had shyly nodded your head in reply to his words, you had no idea that it was the start of your relationship that will last a lifetime

because you were from the same town, you two basically became the best of friends; going to the same preschool and middle school together, spending most of your free time playing with each other, and always seeking each other out even if you two have different friend groups

when he had developed his technique, he uses to exorcise a few of the low level curses that are in your town - of course he does to quietly and in the covers of shadows so no one will notice

he always make sure that there are no curses near you that can scare you, and if they try to attack you or are scaring you too much, he’d exorcise it - yet at the time he didn’t really know what he was doing

he had remember once when you had come crying into his room, clinging onto him since there were a few fly heads that were terrorising your room - you had no idea how they had managed to enter, but they were knocking things off your shelf and scaring the living daylights out of you

nanami had entered your room and somehow dealt with them, even staying the night by sleeping on the floor next to you on your futon; only to make space for you in the middle of the night so you two can curl up together when you were too anxious to fall asleep

with how small your town along the outskirts of Tokyo is, everyone there is tight-knit and very close with each other; with very strong family-centered and peaceful living values instilled in everyone from the moment they are born

everyone was pretty sure that one day you two are going to marry one another, with how you two come as a package deal as the years go by. even your families have pretty much accepted that fact and just act like they are in-laws a this point

when he was offered a space at Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College for high school, he was hesitant - this will be the first time that he is going to be away from not only you but the town you lived in, and the first time either of you had been separated from one another ever

yet you were the one who encouraged him to go to school there, since he’d be wasting his potential if he doesn’t - you didn’t want to be the reason for him to stay back in your small town

so he had went, and now you two mostly spend time on your phone; calling and texting one another late into the night, even if you have classes the next day

there was once, during your long break, that you had decided to take a bullet train up to tokyo to spend the weekend with nanami and to explore the city that you’ve always wanted to visit

so he had waited for you by the train station, dressed in his simple Jujutsu High Uniform with his then wrapped sward resting in a weapons bag over your shoulders - smiling softly when he spotted you before catching you in his arms when you launched yourself into his embrace to give him a long awaited hug

soon you found yourself standing before the temple that hides the college within, looking around in awe as you latched onto his arm, walking beside him with the most entranced look on your face that had nanami watching you with the softest of smiles

it was there that you had met his small group of classmates - the bright and positive haibara who had stuck to your side to ask you a few more questions about his usually quiet classmate

the second years had just returned from classes, the three of them turning into the main hallway just in time to see you giggling up at nanami at a joke that haibara made; and gojo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of his usually cold kouhai smiling back at you so freely

it took him a few seconds to realise that you were probably the reason why nanami spend so much time on his phone, to which he just grinned and rubbed his hands together; this action causing geto and shoko to just sigh tiredly 

operation: getting nanami laid is a go

“kent-kun~ you never told me about your pretty little friend.” gojo called out as he skipped over to his junior, his grin widening at how nanami’s expression dropped as he gave his senpai the most unamused look on his face

yet you were just curious as you blinked up at the tall man, offering a warm smile as you untangled one arm from nanami’s and held it out for gojo to shake. 

“my name is l/n y/n, and i am from kento’s hometown. it’s nice to meet you!” you had greeted him with a wide and warm smile, causing everyone in the hallway to just stare at you before it was wordlessly decided that they were going to protect you from all the curses of the world

saying that, gojo is still going to go ahead with his plan on making nanami confess to you

so the entire time you were there, he made sure to suck up to you, being extra nice to you and giving you a few flirtatious comments here and there - but you just brushed him off with a soft smile, not really interested at his advances at all

but pushing him aside lol - you loved meeting his seniors, who asked a little more about yourself and how you seem so casual with the idea of nanami being able to see Curses

it was then you admitted that you can see and sense Curses as well, but you had no Inherited Curse Technique, meaning that you were just the every day civilian with the exception of seeing Curses

they also took the chance to ask questions about their usually quiet kouhai as well, wanting to know more about his life back home in your town that he keeps so private

usually nanami will be against it, but since you were laughing and giggling at all the fond memories you two share, he decided to let it go for once - even if it’s all at his expense

the rest of the weekend was a blast - nanami brought you about tokyo to see all the tourist sights, visit a few places that he loves to shop at or drop by from time to time, letting you try all the different street snacks and famous restaurant to your hearts content

but it is when you’re in the college that he is the most annoyed with - not at you, no. but at gojo - who kept flirting with you and kept making jokes with you about random things

if that wasn’t bad enough, you had shared a few laughs with the older male, since a few of his jokes were genuinely funny - and that had nanami fuming

geto probably took pity on the dense boy before he started to nudge at him to confess his very obvious feelings he had for you, since it was obvious that the both of you are very much in love with one another

it was either he confesses, or more dumbasses like gojo might try to pull something like this on him and take you away from him 

and even though he was sure that wouldn’t happen, the more he thought about it, the more he realised that geto might be right - and that there is a chance he is going to loose you to someone if he doesn’t act fast

and there is no way he is going to loose to that white-haired ferret - no wat in hell

when he had returned home for the semester break, meeting you up at the train station where you greeted him with a wide smile that you only reserve for him and pulling him into your warm and comforting embrace, he just sighs in relief and holds you close as well, taking a few moments to just appreciate you

throughout the semester, he had slowly build up the courage to confess his feelings to you - making a rough plan of how things are going to go before he went full on ham on the day he plans on confessing

and if we know something about nanami - it is that this man always stick to his plan 

for most of your free days, the both of you are out on dates; visiting old favorites of yours, trying out the new restaurants and cafes that you’ve yet to visit, going to a few arcades, and even a few stores to just do some window shopping together

it went on like that for a few days before he suddenly asked if you wanted to go out to visit the nearby festival that your town is holding - which you agreed with a warm smile on your face before he promised to drop by your home

you had decided that since it was a festival, you’d put on one of your most favourite yukata pieces - a beautiful dark blue one made of silk, with cranes and clouds printed all over the fabric, a simple dark blue obi to tie it all off 

nanami had decided to wear a simple grey kimono, since it just adds to the excitement of going to a festival - so when he saw you dressed for the occasion as well, he smiles and takes your hand in his, telling you how beautiful you looked

while you were still fangirling about the comment, nanami promised your father to bring you home before midnight, to which the older man just smiles and waves him off; knowing that he can trust nanami to keep his word and make sure you’re safe

when you two were there you had a blast - trying out all the different kinds of candies and treats, playing a few games, and visiting a few vendors that have set up shop at the tourist spots as well

nanami had even won you a cute seal plushie, one that you hugged to your chest in delight the entire time with the brightest smile on your face; nanami blushing and rubbing the back of his neck bashfully at how that look was directed right at him 

he had confess that night when the both of you were just admiring the stars and the moon visible in your small town, asking if you had wanted to officially become his girlfriend

when you had agreed the biggest and most happiest smile on your face, launching yourself in his arms with an excited giggle while he smiles and hugs you around the waist, happy that you had agreed

to be honest there was not much of a change between your current relationship and the one you had before - the only difference is the more physical aspects of your relationship, and how open nanami is when it comes to showering you in affection

when gojo had found out that you two finally got together, he just grinned and clapped his hands in delight, happy that nanami finally got off his ass to admit his feelings for you 

and as much as nanami hates that gojo will forever take credit for the both of you getting together, he isn’t wrong either. but there is no way in hell is he going to admit that to the older man 

even when he was a salesperson or return to the jujutsu world after awhile, he is forever going to be the protective boyfriend that he is

an arm around your waist whenever you two are out together, sharp eyes glaring at anyone who stares at you a bit too long or is eyeing you up like you’re a piece of meat

doesn’t stop you from wearing things like short dresses or low riding tops if it makes you happy, but will make sure that you are safe whenever you go out together; tossing a jacket over you if you get cold, and keeping a hand on your thigh the entire time

even now he makes sure that you’re safe, texting you when he gets a mission so you aren’t in that part of town where he is going so you’re not hurt by the curses that are roaming that part of town

by the way, it didn’t take him that long to propose to you and ask if you wanted to get married to him, which you agreed to with the same enthusiasm that you had when he asked you to be his girlfriend all those years ago

and he’s never been more grateful that he gets to call you his

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Y/N gets attacked and Chishiya is sure she will handle everything but when he sees her later there's blood everywhere, later he finds out that attackers actually cut her cheek really deepy and she will probably have a scar. He feels guilty and try to make it up by bringing something special (like cute pictures of cats bc he remembers when she quietly told Kuina that she loves cats) and from that day he is always trying to make sure that Y/N is doing fine. (2/2)

Of course! Here you go!

A Ginger Cat | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Characters(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, OC, Ann)

Summary: You get hurt during a game, but Chishiya thinks that you can handle it yourself. Later when he discovers that you were injured more worse than he thought, he brings you something to cheer you up

Warnings: swearing, blood

Word Count: 4.6k

*reader is female

The registration room had an eerie aura, you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop in there. Nothing was moving except the occasional piece of dust flying past in the breeze. You stood with your back to the wall, glaring up into the bright florescent light that had seemed to become an all too familiar ongoing theme of these homicidal games.

The wall was cold and rigid along your spine, but you put up with the small sharp pain. There was nowhere else to wait, besides on the disgustingly dirty floor. You had to gain as much rest and strength before beginning the game.

Kuina sighed heavily to the right of you, glancing at the game phone she had picked up a few minutes prior and rolling her head back against the wall in boredom. Chishiya stood next along from her, earbuds lodged in his ears and blasting loud music while he held his gaze strictly on the ground in front of him.

“Come on,” Kuina groaned, stretching her hands above her head. “When is this game starting? We’ve been here for a solid half an hour.”

She walked to the entrance of the registration room and peeked her head out the door. “I’m surprised no one else has come. Maybe it’ll be just us,” she suggested, turning back to you and Chishiya.

“That sounds great, until it’s a game of hearts,” you bluntly stated, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. Chishiya and Kuina both turned to you, sudden concern on their faces at your accusation.

The room fell quiet once more, until a familiar voice echoed through the room from all your phones simultaneously.

“Registration is now closed,” it spoke. “Game: Mice, Cats and A Dog.”

You frowned at the strange game name, having heard nothing like it before. You felt a feeling of relief wash over you as a five of clubs card conveyed itself on your screen. You were anxious you had accidentally manifested it to be a hearts game with your sly comment earlier.

“Rules: Players are the Cats. There are three live Mice to catch, each hiding in different areas around the building. Once found, the Mice must be killed using your own preference of weapon that is available on the table in the registration room.”

All three of you glanced towards the small table positioned next to the phone table that was scattered with small weapons that would hardly be enough to hurt a human. You had been wondering why they had offered such shitty weapons.

“Although, you must avoid the Dog’s gaze, for it will kill the Cats on sight.”

Your heart dropped at that last statement. You were to be hunted.

“You have an hour to kill all three Mice and return to the lobby with the bodies. If you fail to do so, all exits around the building will be closed and several more Dogs will be released and finish off the remaining players. You have ten minutes to position yourself in the building before the Dog is released.”

The list of rules on your phone screen shifted to a timer for ten minutes, already beginning to count down. You turned to Chishiya and Kuina.

“Any strategies?” Kuina asked, looking between you and Chishiya.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Split up. That seems like the most logical option. It will be quicker to find the Mice then,” you proposed, crossing your arms over your chest and scanning over the small map nearby that disclosed the layout of the deserted hotel the game was taking place in.

“But then the “Dog” will have more of a chance to find us if we split up,” Kuina argued. Kuina always focused on the safer route to ensure everyone’s survival rather than the easiest.

“No, it will be worse if we’re together, cause it can kill us all at once,” you retorted, walking over to the weapon table and starting to scan your options.

“I agree with Y/N,” Chishiya spoke up, pushing himself off the wall and strutting over to stand next to you and help pick a weapon. “I played a game very similar to this one. The best option is that we separate. Only then do we have a chance of finding the Mice in the time limit.”

Just as he said it, the phones all announced you had nine minutes left until the hunter began searching for you.

“One mouse each, and if you find yours early, keep searching so we can speed up time.”

You nodded at Chishiya’s command, snatching a small hammer and a pocket knife from the table for your weapons. You all walked out of the registration area (the front desk of the hotel) and into the empty lobby, watching as the hanging chandeliers glistening against the moonlight shining through from the obnoxiously big windows.

If anything could have gotten worse, you had to find tiny mice in a huge hotel in the complete darkness of night.

***************

You took to the upper bar.

The area in itself didn’t seem that big. But when you found it, you realised that it would be incredibly hard to find a single mouse in the cracks and small spaces between all the furniture. The eerie aura didn’t help much.

You sighed in frustration after searching underneath yet another couch. “What the fuck is this game? How the fuck am I supposed to find a rodent in a huge place like this?” you whispered angrily, flopping down on the couch dramatically.

It had been around forty-five minutes since the “Dog” had been released, but you have always been quite confident in your escaping and hiding strategies, so you weren’t too worried. The only thing you were concerned about was finding a mouse. Chishiya and Kuina had to have caught theirs by now.

A small scuttling noise cut you from your thoughts. You snapped your head towards the bar, where the sound was emitting from. A wave of excitement filled you, becoming hopeful that the noise was the mouse you were searching for.

You stood from the couch and quickly walked towards the bar, making sure not to make too much noise in case you alerted the rodent. The noise seemed to have come from behind some bottles beneath the counter. You crouched down on your knees and looked along the shelves, scanning for any sign of movement.

“Come on little mouse,” you taunted, becoming frustrated. When you noticed the flash of illuminated eyes staring holes into you through the glass of a tequila bottle, you quickly snatched the neck of the bottle and pulled it from the shelf, locking eyes with a desperate mouse with it’s back half stuck in a mouse trap.

The mouse shook violently against the trap, letting out small squeaks of pain and glaring at you with fear in it’s eyes. Although, it’s most noticeable feature was a large cross that almost seemed burned into it’s lower back. The cross had no fur or skin along it.

“This has to be one of them,” you reassured yourself, reaching to pull out the small pocket knife.

You picked up the mouse trap and hissed as the mouse managed to nip a part of your finger in defence. “Little shit,” you muttered, before pressing the point of your knife against the mouse’s back and pushing in harshly to kill it.

You hoped that you would just end it’s life and that would be that. But of course, the game had to throw in some sort of twist.

As you stabbed the small rodent, a impossibly loud screeching sound emitted from it’s tiny throat, making you drop the creature in shock and cover your ears.

The animal screeched and screeched, pain dripping from it’s cries that echoed across the room angrily. You began to panic, realising that there’s a chance the hunter could hear you. But maybe that was the point.

“Shut up!” you yelled over the mouse’s cries. You pulled the knife swiftly from the mouse’s fur and continued to repetitively penetrate it’s skin, mercilessly making it shut up while blood splattered across your angered face.

You breathed heavily once the room had fallen silent once again, staring down at the mutilated dead rodent. For a short moment, you felt bad for ending it’s life so unpeacefully.

Your head snapped up to look over the bar when sudden heavy footsteps made their way down the hall outside the bar. Your heart leapt to your throat and you turned to press your back against the bar, keeping your head down so whoever it was couldn’t see you.

You cringed as you picked up the remains of the mouse, holding it tight in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it. If Chishiya and Kuina had finished their halves, all you had to do was get to the lobby and you would be fine.

You placed your spare hand over your mouth to quieten your breathing, listening to the footsteps of the stranger who brought themselves into the room. The rapid movement of their feet made you anxious. You had never encountered a hunter that could run as fast as that.

You heard them flip a few tables over, hearing glasses smash against the walls aggressively. You closed your eyes tightly in realisation. The attacker was trying to make it harder for you to leave quietly if you were in there.

When the room fell quiet, you slowly peeked your head over the top of the bar. You managed to catch sight of the hunter themselves.

They seemed to have resembled the body of an older male, fit and tall. They had long, baggy pants, a black t-shirt while holding a machete that easily was as long as your arm. But most oddly, they wore a mask that conveyed a snarling German Shepherd.

The hunter was preoccupied over by the lounged area, looking behind the back rests of the couches and underneath coffee tables.

‘If I stay here any longer, they’re guaranteed to find me,’ you thought to yourself.

You decided you were going to attempt to leave. You had more of a chance of surviving by running than hiding.

You lifted your legs and trudged towards the edge of the bar, ducking underneath the table that was placed at the end before slowly rising to your feet. A quick glance down at your hand was enough to reassure you that you hadn’t dropped your ticket to a few more days of staying alive.

You kept your eyes locked on the hunter, making sure they didn’t turn their back as you were trying to leave. You thought you had almost made it before you miscalculated your step and tripped over a shattered glass on the ground, making you stumble forward and a loud noise erupt from the impact from your shoe to the glass.

As soon as you regained your balance, you didn’t even bother checking if the hunter had heard, you knew they did. You immediately took off running, holding your pocket knife in one hand in fear. You weren’t even halfway down the hall running towards the lobby before you heard the Dog’s footsteps behind you, trailing close and fast.

“Chishiya! Kuina!” You screamed out, picking up your pace and holding the body of the dead mouse close to your chest to make sure you didn’t drop it.

There was no way they were going to help you now, especially against someone like that. You were on your own for now, so you put faith in your own legs to carry you all the way down to the lobby.

Your heart was racing as you almost fell down the flights of stairs, so desperate to get away. At some point, you glanced upwards and saw your pursuer on the flight above you, making you feel sick.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, quickly scrambling down the darkened stairs. The blood of the mouse’s corpse seeped through your fingers as you held it in a tense fist, dripping down your arm grotesquely.

As you neared the ground level of the hauntingly big hotel, you stumbled as you jumped the few remaining steps and saw a sign that had an arrow labeled “Main Lobby” pointed to the left. You took in that direction, glancing behind you to see the “Dog” hot on your tail.

But unfortunately, you took too long to look at the sign. The “Dog” quickly caught up, grabbing an aggressive fistful of the back of your shirt and yanking you backwards towards them. You were too scared to scream. The air was forced from your lungs as you were pulled back, landing on the ground with the “Dog” suddenly standing over you, feet planted on either side of you.

Before you could even think, their machete plummeted down towards your face, making you flinch your head to the right, narrowly avoiding the blade. Although, the edge of the sharp metal managed to graze your cheek, creating a long gash along the side of your face.

The “Dog” continued to attempt to stab you in the face, stumbling above you as you attempted to kick their legs out from underneath them. In a sudden desperate attack, you kicked with all your might at their locked knees and they let out a yelp of pain as their knee buckled harshly backwards. You took the opportunity to run, not even giving them a second glance. You knew they’d already be back on their feet, after you again.

As you neared the humongous room that was labeled the lobby, you saw Chishiya and Kuina by the big doors that led inside. They seemed to have been banging their fists against an invisible force, separating you from them. The game must have locked them in when they placed their dead mice in the box that was located in the centre of the huge hall.

Their faces changed their hopeful expressions when they saw your pursuer, the blood running from their cheeks, making them pale. As soon as you entered the lobby, passing through the invisible force with ease, they followed behind you quickly.

“Hurry! Throw it in!” you heard Chishiya cry to you desperately behind you. You glanced back to see him slowing down, holding out his taser towards the “Dog” in case they managed to reach you. The electric light of his taser lit up significantly in the darkened room.

Once you reached the small white box placed on the table in the centre of the room, you shoved the disgusting remains of your victim inside, watching as it landed on top of two other mice.

Everything froze. The “Dog” immediately stopped running, dropping to their knees and face-planting onto the ground in front of Chishiya. All three of you stopped in shock, heavy breaths filling the air. Had you done it?

“Game Clear. Congratulations.”

The collar around the “Dog’s” neck exploded, blood splattering the walls and coating the gorgeously patterned carpet with it’s own artwork. You had seen it many times before. Once more couldn’t hurt.

“Took you long enough,” you heard Chishiya smartly remark. You glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow. He looked smug, as always. Not a single scratch on him.

“Give me a break, I had to face someone three times the size of me,” you remarked, rubbing your face tiredly. Your adrenaline had calmed, and now the pain of your deep gash on your cheek settled in. You hissed as your palm grazed it, pulling back and looking at your hand to see blood across it.

“Shit,” you rasped out, wiping your hand on the material of your pants.

“You okay Y/N?” Kuina questioned, walking over to you. You shook your head, dismissing her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a small gash. It’ll heal soon enough,” you reassured.

“Are you sure? That looks quite deep,” Chishiya commented, strutting over and using his hand to push your chin to the side so he could look more closely at it. The feeling of his hand placed so gently on your skin made your heart suddenly race, and you panicked and pulled your head away before he could even see your wound.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted, attempting to hide your embarrassment. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late, and I’m tired and hungry.”

***************

You stood in your bathroom, attempting to wash your clothes that you wore at the game earlier. You were soaking and scrubbing them in the bathtub. No matter how much blood seeped from the fabrics, it never seemed to be clean enough.

You grunted, annoyed and tired. Kuina said she was going to spend some time out nearby the pool with Arisu and talk to him about his game. Chishiya didn’t say where he was going, but you assumed it would be the roof or something away from everyone else.

A wet feeling along the side of your neck made you suddenly flinch and hit your skin, worried it was a weird bug of some sort. But your eyes widened when you brought your hand back and saw the concerning amount of blood spread across your palm.

You stood up from the side of the bathtub and leant against the sink, looking to the large mirror. “For fucks sake,” you sighed out as you caught sight of your large gash again. “This has been bleeding for hours. How do I make this stop?”

You winced as the moist towel you used earlier was once again dabbing along the skin of your face, collecting up the annoyingly large amount of blood percolating from your cheek. You were becoming afraid that it wasn’t going to stop at all, but you were too stubborn to go to Ann for medical help.

You’ve seen her weird dissection obsession, so you felt uneasy putting the trust of your health into her hands.

The blood dripped quicker the more you attempted to clean it up. Soon, there were miniature blood puddles scattered around the sink as you kept trying to clean them.

*********** “Hey Usagi, have you seen Y/N?”

Chishiya was making his way around The Beach searching for you. He usually liked spending his late nights having a drink with you in a quiet corner of the ground floor pool. Although, he hadn’t been able to find you and he was getting worried. You usually were either down in the lobby or with Kuina after games.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry Chishiya.”

He huffed annoyed, thanking Usagi and walking away from the dance floor. He thought he should check in your room as a last resort, but if you weren’t there, that’s when he would really worry.

He slowly made his way up the multiple flights of stairs, passing by a few people on the way. During the walk, he zoned out in his own thoughts, his mind filing with you.

How would he ever tell you how he felt? He believed you only saw him as a friend, an annoying one at that. Especially since you happen to banter a lot with him. The thought made him smile, he loved that you didn’t take his bullshit seriously and treated it like a game.

‘How do I let her know that I truly do care for her?’ he asked himself, fiddling with the drawstrings of his white hoodie as he strolled down the brightly lit hall. He hadn’t ever been the best with emotions, so how could he show that he was genuine about his romantic feelings towards you?

When Chishiya reached your room, he lifted his fist to knock on the rotting wood, freezing suddenly. Why was he hesitating? He’s done this so many times before, why was he suddenly nervous? He shook his head, embarrassed for catching himself in these thoughts. He had worked himself up again.

He knocked on your door loudly three times before calling out to you. “Y/N? You in there?” The silence that followed his call made him anxious. He knocked again, this time more persistently.

“Coming!” he heard your muffled voice call through the door. He stood back from the door as you opened it, giving you a small smile. But it soon disappeared from your face when he locked eyes with the bloody tissue that you held to your cheek.

“Hey Chish,” you groaned out, lazy eyed and turning back into your room, leaving the door so he could come in. Chishiya rushed to you quickly. “Wait, Y/N. What’s going on? Why are you hurt?” he asked frantically, pulling on your shoulder to get you to look at him.

You brushed his hand off of you. “It’s fine. Just a small gash from the game earlier. It started bleeding again,” you said, giving him a stare.

Chishiya shook his head and cupped your face, avoiding your cut, to have a closer look. “No Y/N, that doesn’t look okay. It’s bleeding way too much.”

You stayed still as he replaced your hand holding the tissue on your face with his own, being as gentle as he could as he cleaned the blood gathering around the gash.

“Here, sit down on the bed,” he muttered, indicating towards the end of your bed. You both shuffled over and sat down, Chishiya still holding the tissue on your face.

You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he examined your wound. His dark eyes glistened in the dim light of your hotel room. He looked ethereal. But he took a quick glance towards your eyes, snapping you from your daze. You hissed as he caught a bit of the gash on the tissue. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand to your chin to readjust your position.

He then sat up and walked towards the bathroom, walking quickly so the blood of your injury didn’t drip too much. As he was there, you heard a soft gasp. He probably had found the blood-covered sink and towels.

He returned back with a clean towel that he found in your bathroom cabinet. He held a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this? If I knew it was this bad, I would’ve helped you out.”

You shrugged your shoulders. To be honest, you weren’t too sure why you didn’t tell Chishiya or Kuina. It just didn’t seem that big of a deal.

“You’ll need some stitches,” he concluded, holding a clean towel underneath your cut. “Also, stop using tissues to clean the blood. They flake easily and can stick to your injury.”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You wish Chishiya didn’t find you like this. You hated making anyone else worry about you when it wasn’t entirely necessary.

“Look at me,” he demanded, bringing your head up with a gentle hand on your neck. Your breath got caught in your throat as he wiped around your cheek, cleaning up any excess blood.

“Come on. Let’s get you to Ann,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for you.

You took his hand and he pulled you up playfully, making you almost stumble into him. You glared at him. “Wow. Even when I’m injured you’re still a bully,” you teased. Chishiya smirked and winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

And yet, the whole way to Ann’s medical room, you didn’t let go of his hand.

***************

You woke as the sun hit your eyelids, illuminating your room with bright rays of light. The sun was strangely gorgeous that morning, so you woke up in a good mood.

You sat up and stretched, letting out a large groan as your bones popped in your back. Although a wince made its way onto your face as you yawned, making the skin of your treated gash stretch.

Chishiya had told Ann to place a protected medical patch on your cut, since he thought it would be better than just leaving it in case of it getting infected or worse during your next game. So for the time being, you had a flat piece of cotton taped on your face. Ann said to only leave it on until it had certainly stopped bleeding through, as well as to change it around two or three times a day.

When your eyes finally adjusted to your surroundings, your sight landed on a strange scene in front of you.

At the table on the end of your bed, there was a small plushie of a ginger kitten. The makeshift fur on the stuffed toy was slightly dirty and it was missing a bead for an eye, but it still remained strangely comforting.

You crawled to the end of your bed and reached out to grab the plushie, bringing it close to you and looking over it for anything. Who knows? Someone could have put it in your room as a trap.

But it was proven safe when you noticed the small, neat writing on the end of the kitten’s tail, which read ‘Chish’.

You chuckled at the childish toy, realising Chishiya must have snuck it into your room while you were asleep.

“Idiot,” you laughed, “Can’t tell me he likes me as his friend but he can put enough effort into finding a stuffed cat in the Borderland for me.”

It felt special, because you knew Chishiya would have had to go into deserted Tokyo to find such a gift for you. You looked on the table and saw a small piece of paper. You frowned and reached out for it and opened it.

‘Here’s a stupid plushie for your troubles. Kuina said you liked cats so I thought you’d feel better with this xx’

You laughed at his half-hearted message. Chishiya never was that good with words, but he didn’t have to be in order for you to understand how he felt towards you.

Although the plushie was a bit beaten and battered, it still brought such a sense of home to you.

***************

You sat in the lobby, watching everyone scuttle around. Your usual drunken party group passed through every now and then, which was always good entertainment.

You jumped as you felt a pair of hands suddenly grip onto your shoulders, quickly moving to your eyes and covering them.

“Guess who?” the stranger asked cheekily, making you relax when you recognised their familiar, cocky voice.

“Get your hands off me Chishiya,” you giggled, pulling on his hands and turning around so you would face him. His face held a big smile across it, which was so unlike his usual neutral expression.

“What’s got you so happy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. Chishiya pulled away from your face and jumped over the back of the couch so he was then sitting beside you.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to see you,” he admitted, laying his head on your shoulder comfortably. His boldness was rather prominent then more than you had ever seen.

“How’s your cut?” he asked, looking up to examine the patch on your cheek. You shrugged it off. “It’s fine, not too bad now.”

Chishiya smiled, and suddenly leaned forward and left a lingering kiss on your good cheek, making your eyes widen at his action. “That’s good,” he gushed and continued on like he didn’t do anything.

“Yeah. Um...” you muttered awkwardly while rubbing the spot on your face where he kissed. “I wanted to say... thanks for the gift earlier,” you said, placing an arm around his shoulder comfortably.

Chishiya beamed happily, but tried to hide his blush by turning away from you. “No problem,” he mumbled out, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

You laughed at his response. Chishiya may have not been that good with words, but he didn’t need to be for you to notice that he really loved you.

[todourouki]

Good Girls, Bad Guys | Dabi

a one shot

SUMMARY: The one where no one can understand why you’re so interested in Dabi, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. Maybe it was how soft he was when no one else was around, or how gentle his touch was against your skin, or maybe even how clumsy he is on purpose just to see you— whatever it was, you couldn’t get enough of the scarred man.

PAIRING: Villain!Dabi & Sweetheart!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Dabi purposely acts careless during missions so u can tend to his wounds because he’s an attention whore, Smut [18+]

Dabi was a complete mess.

He was a mess made of old silver staples, burnt purple skin adorning his lean and tall build, the same routined outfit that never seemed to alternate, unruly raven hair always managing to stay as distressed as the day before, and silky yet lewd words that slipped off his sinning lips as if it were his maiden tongue.

The only difference with his usual mess of an appearance today as he stood with arms crossed against his chest would be the large rip peaking through his black coat. Your eyes widened, rushing him into your living room and shutting the door behind him.

Your apartment was one that Dabi never seemed to get tired of. He had only really been in the living room, yet the cozy space always brought an odd sense of familiarity into his soul he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He wasn’t sure if it was the plush and soft couches, pillows thrown against each cushion making it look just as soft and comfortable as they really were, or maybe it was the picture frames hanging around every wall with a candle on an invisible shelf not too far from the glass.

Either way, the steps he took in his plain black socks on to the carpet under the couches and coffee table brought him into a weird headspace one could only describe as happiness. It really did scare the shit out of him.

With a simple few set of steps, he swung his body down onto the cushions he always found himself sinking into at weird hours of the night like today. The only difference from the current night to others would be that it was an earlier hour, currently being only two in the morning as soft rain pattered against the windows adorning your cozy living area.

“Dabi..” Your soft words whispered into the silence of the room, hands gently hovering over the large cut in concern as you watched him throw you a rather forced smirk.

“Nothing worse than what I already got. Just patch me up like new, princess.” His words didn’t get the usual blush from your cheeks he always searched for after his usual flirtatious remarks filled the room.

All he was gifted with would be a look of sadness covering your usually content face. Without a word, you stood up and walked away towards what he assumed was your bathroom. All the man could do was furrow his eyebrows, the confused face remaining when you walked back into the couch and knelt down on the floor next to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He bluntly asked, a once drawn eyebrow raising as you brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt off and eyed the dried up cut.

You continued to remain silent, only sighing as the alcohol pad in your hand made its way over to the open skin. Before the stinging sensation could reach his skin though, the opposing hand gripped onto your wrist and tugged it further away and just enough to make your eyes finally meet his.

The silence surrounded the room, Dabi staring at you in order to get you to speak. You were conflicted, of course you loved patching the man up almost every night and hearing about his wild adventures in words that made your eyes twinkle with excitement. Yet you were becoming exhausted of seeing him with a brand new scar eventually worse from the one than before.

“I just..” Your soft voice began, Dabi’s posture becoming subtly more relaxed the minute his favorite sound filled the room. “I get tired of seeing you get hurt all the time, you know?”

Your words made him smirk, the same infamous one he couldn’t seem to keep off his burnt lips. In one swift movement, he released your arm and pushed it back towards the large gapping wound that made your stomach turn.

“You worrying about me?” He questioned, the hand that once gripped your wrist now resting against your cheek as he stared at you mockingly.

It was hard to not get flustered around Dabi. He had such a way with words and always knew just how to get your ears to turn a hue of red you didn’t even know they were capable of becoming. You felt the heat flush to your cheeks and hoped the flattery you felt wasn’t too visible. Your face turned back to the large cut on his arm, ignoring his remark all together.

The minute the liquid reached his arm, a soft hiss you were used to slipped off his lips. You only weakened the grip on the cut, your bottom lip being tugged between your teeth in concentration.

“I have to get rid of the bacteria before I use my healing quirk— I’m sorry.” Your apology rang on deaf ears, and Dabi chose to ignore it in order to save your heart from thinking you hurt him.

He only nodded and placed his hand away from your cheek to behind his head in order to give his eye level some more precision on your face. You had a concentrated knit between your eyebrows, and he almost got worried you were forgetting to blink. This was an expression he was much too used to, yet every time he saw it gave him the same feelings he could never explain.

The silence in the room pained you both, the level of words usually slipping out of either of your lips being brought to an awkward zero. It was really uncomfortable, and you couldn’t deal with it anymore as you tossed the now bloodied up tissue somewhere on the ground.

Your hands replaced the tissue, a light reflecting across his arm and making a hiss leave his lips once again. You knew that the feeling of your healing quirk made him feel uncomfortable and he never really grew used to it yet. It shocked you though, because you’d think after being in this exact predicament probably over 100 times, he’d grown used to the prickling feeling.

“Where was this one from?” Your voice was still soft, trying to ease his mind off the pain in a way you knew was best for him.

Dabi loved the way you cared for him. The first time he met you was at the League of Villains hideout in a trashy old building he really hated. You walked in through that warp guy’s portal and the minute he saw you was the minute he believed in angels. It was like time stopped, and he really wasn’t a fan of finding people so attractive yet there you were.

You were announced to be the healer for the league. Shigaraki found you abandoned in some building destroyed in a fire you couldn’t remember, and finding refugee in the odd man was your only option to survival at that point. With that, you were granted as the only person with a full-blown apartment in the building in order to be available for their every need, and were granted immunity from being on actual missions.

That was good enough for you, though. You weren’t a violent person, and knowing most of their targets were children didn’t sit right with you. Despise that, you didn’t have the heart to quit and instead decided to spend the remainder of your days with the dysfunctional League. You had never felt genuinely needed the way the League needed you, and in some weird Stockholm syndrome way, you couldn’t shake the comfort you got from knowing they had to have you around to genuinely survive.

“If I tell you, you’d only worry more.” He smiled over at you, a rare sight blessing your wondering eyes and making you blush once more.

Dabi wasn’t a liar— that’s something that was well known amongst everyone in the league and even amongst you. So when he thought about what happened today, why he was sitting on your couch, and how he planned on hiding the truth from you, he had to mentally lecture himself for stretching the truth.

The real reason Dabi was getting patched up underneath your touch was because he chose to be.

He would never tell you, but the large and deathly gash on his arm was at first only a slight cut where a staple had fallen out. He chose to ignore it in the beginning and decided to check in with you about it after the weekend passed. Yet the minute he realized that meant he’d have to go several days without feeling your touch and hearing your voice made him change his mind completely.

With that, a tissue was wrapped into a ball and sitting in his lips and Dabi ended up watching himself remove a few staples from his arm and tug at the skin in a way that made him shiver. I literally tore myself open to see her, who the fuck does that?

Your hand had finished doing its job. Dabi could tell by the way the prickling ended, and he found his body getting pushed upwards and being replaced by the comfort of your chest against his back.

You positioned the both of you to where his body was leaning against your legs and chest in a way to make his arm in perfect reach for you. The stapler in your hand warned Dabi of what was to come, and he simply sat back against the comfort of your body heat with closed eyes.

“People that worry are people that care.” You whispered, the sound of the stapler pressing into his arm being the only other sound. Dabi’s face remained stoic as he drank in your words and let a loopy grin cover his bored expression.

“Are you saying that you care about me?” Dabi continued to tease, bright blue eyes now opening and staring into yours with flames threatening to shoot through his pupils.

You scoffed, finishing the last staple and replacing the metal object down with a bottle he recognized as the ointment you always forced him to wear after using his quirk. The cool of the cream made him sigh in content. The contrast of his burning skin to a cold burn-relieving cream brought pleasure into his body.

“I care about all of you— that’s why I do th-” “No, Y/N.” He interrupted, making you clam your mouth shut and listen to his words nervously. “I asked if you cared about me.”

You finished lathering the ointment on his skin, gently propping his body up against the backrest of the couch. He only slightly grimaced and tossed the bad arm on a side that didn’t interfere with his position. Your legs were now crossed underneath you.

“Of course I care about you, Dabi.” Your voice made a groan threaten to fall off his lips. There was nothing Dabi loved more than your voice, especially when you said his name. Whenever you spoke, he knew every one and everything didn’t matter if it wasn’t you and your vocal cords.

Dabi rolled his head to the side to make you face him. Even with a bad arm, he was able to now pick it up and peel his jacket off his body lazily.

“How much do you care about me?” The smirk playing weakly on his lips made you shiver, and just watching his expression brought butterflies to your stomach.

“A lot, that’s why I’m always ready to patch you up..” You mumbled, nervously looking down at your fingers and playing with the ring on your right index finger.

It wasn’t that you were shy— but the way Dabi’s eyes always followed yours brought a certain attraction you couldn’t stuff away. It was almost scary how much he made you squirm, even under something as simple as a gaze.

Sure, Dabi flirted with everyone. It didn’t take a genius to see that he flirted with you in a different way, though. His eyes always lingered longer on your frame when you entered the room, he spoke more words to you than he’s probably ever said in his life, and he always kept his endearing pet-names for you and only you.

“You wanna know something, doll?” He asked lowly, his face staring into yours intensely as you finally lifted your eyes to meet his and nodded your head.

Regardless of his appearance, regardless of his attitude, and regardless of the fact it’s Dabi, you knew that you were a goner from the start. You had a ridiculously annoying crush on him, and we’re pretty sure he could coerce you into doing just about anything. He probably knew that, too.

“I think I care about you more than anyone else here.” His words stitched onto your skin, the quietness seeming as if he feared anyone else would hear his words.

“You’re too good and innocent for this world.” He continued, a patchy hand stretching its way over towards your face and slowly rubbing at your cheeks.

You stood quiet, fearing that he’d stop his words all together and you wouldn’t be able to here the sincere tone he rarely spoke in. The only sound in the room one was able to hear was the pattering of water running down the window and your lit candles cracking amongst themselves. Your head leaned into his hand and let the warmth of his palm silk you in.

“That’s a problem though, baby.” Baby.. Your eyes widened at the new name, eyebrows furrowing and glancing over at him with a tilted head.

“What problem is there about that, Dabi?”

He chuckled, gliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of hair as soft as possible. He tugged your head closer towards his daringly. You breath began to shallow and you felt it, the excitement that always came with Dabi whenever he was around.

“You might be a bit too good for me.” He spoke as if he was trying not to scare you away. The timidness of words only brought you closer to him, finally feeling your chest collide with his arm as you were pressed against his side with your face dangerously close to his.

His blue eyes refused to leave yours, and the intensity of the situation made you nearly melt inside. It’s been a while since anyone ever said something like that to you, let alone a guy. A feeling jumpstarted your butterflies, and you ran your tongue against your bottom lip to hide the now dry sensation of your lips.

“I’m not too good for you, please don’t say that Dabi.” The way his name rolled off your tongue made him groan and grip your hair a little tighter.

You’d be lying if it didn’t feel good.

Your face was close enough to feel the heat run off his cheeks, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to just collide your lips with his. The sexual tension he oozed was something you couldn’t handle, no matter how hard you clenched your thighs.

“You sure about that, princess?” You heard the dare in his voice and felt nothing but exhilaration run through your veins as if you were speeding down a highway on the opposite side of the road.

You weren’t sure when his hands reached your shorts-covered bottom, but you soon found yourself mumbling in surprise when your body was tossed (with literally one arm) across his figure in a straddling position. Your chest arched into his by the pressure he had on your ass, and a gulp slipped through your lips in embarrassment.

You refused to back down, though.

“I’m really sure, Dabi.”

You knew the effect you had on him when you mentioned his name, and he knew by the way he smirked up at you. His other arm was still limp on his side, but that didn’t stop his dominant and good arm from groping every inch of your lower half. You were trying your hardest to cover a moan, yet the minute he gripped a piece of your thigh close enough between the other, you couldn’t help but slam your lips against his.

Dabi tasted like what you would expect him to taste like. The saliva that trailed from his throat down yours had the taste of metal and mint chewing gum. The taste became something you grew familiar to within seconds of smacking your lips against his, and by the way his body gripped you closer to his, you could tell he enjoyed your taste just as well.

Dabi’s mind went empty at the way your tongue moved against his. He couldn’t believe that his pretty little girl could kiss him like this, letting out secret moans into his lips in a way that made sinning sound like a good idea. He also couldn’t believe how fast he got hard, the bulge pressing against his jeans in a way he just couldn’t work with.

You felt it, and your body began to nervously rock back and forth in a way to secretly relieve yourself. Before you started to press your body down harder, Dabi’s free hand slipped up to your hair again and pulled your head back with a tinge of softness. He was out of breath and flustered, and you were sure you looked just as distraught as him.

“Listen,” he panted, his hand letting go slightly of the grip and groaning at the way your lips swelled up in a coat of his own saliva, “if you start something, I won’t able to not finish it. I also won’t go slow.”

The words activated a switch in your head, eyes widening as you stood up from his lap. Before he could question your actions or even grow a bit disappointed at the idea of you not wanting to continue, his eyes nearly jolted out of his skull. Before him stood you, clad in a pair of plain white panties and your shorts thrown on the ground from where you had dropped them. If Dabi wasn’t already obsessed before, he knew he was nothing but smitten now.

You stood quiet and he followed suit as you took your place back into his lap. Without glancing at him, you fiddled with his belt and loosened the grip around his hips.

Dabi really wanted to stop you. He really fucking did. Yet watching you focus on nothing but trying to take his clothes off made him unable to move and speak. It was like he was brainwashed, and he nearly died the minute you sat up to push his pants down.

“I-I-Y/—” “Shh.”

Your fingers covered his mouth as you continued to stare down at his pants in focus. You knew he was trying to stop you, but you wanted to continue. You knew you wanted him to know that you were just as fond of him as he made it seem he was for you.

After struggling to shimmy his pants off his lanky legs with one arm since you were still trying to shut up him, you watched his body lie limp across your couch in nothing but a shirt and black briefs.

It was like heaven in front of your eyes.

You licked your lips, shyly taking a seat on top of him and removing your hand. Your fingers made their way over to his chest. You wanted to take his shirt off and feel the skin to skin contact, but you knew how Dabi was about that stuff. He’d never say it, but you knew he was insecure of the uneven portions of skin there.

He tilted your head up with a finger and brought your wide eyes to his. “What do you want to do, doll? It’s whatever you want.”

The words brought goosebumps up your spine. The way he said it just made you weak, each word slipping off his lips like the air you needed to breathe and you soon found yourself whimpering at the sentence you knew he set up for this exact reaction. You could tell by how smugly he watched you writhe under his words.

You thought about your next sentence carefully. His arm was injured, and you weren’t sure if he was as into this as you were. Sure, making out and dry-humping was cool for a while— but would he be okay with jumping straight into sex? Sure, most people go through an extensive amount of foreplay in order to get the mood going, but you didn’t really want to. His arm was hurt, and all you wanted to do was watch him squirm under you as you made him feel good.

“I want to ride you.” The sudden confidence of your voice made him stammer, eyes watching you as they twitched in excitement. He had never realized how much he’d wanted those words to slip off your pretty lips but he was beyond estatic to hear them he meant for him and only him.

He didn’t respond, only pressing you into his lips with the hand gripping your hair and taking your mouth by surprise. Your tongues moved in sync, and you could feel yourself only growing wetter and wetter from just the way he pounded his lips into yours.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved your fingers to the waistband of his briefs and pushed them back just enough to hear something heavy smack against his stomach. Yes, something heavy.

He gripped your hair again and this time with much more intensity, broke your lips apart and pushed your head away from his. From the quick glance you gave him, you could see his nearly throbbing dick rest against his lean stomach in a way that nearly teased you. His lips were wet and his eyes were clouded with desire.

“I want to watch your face when you sit down on my dick, Y/N.”

The assertiveness made you nod your head obediently. Instantly following his commands, you rested your body onto your knees and pushed your panties to the side. A soft hand gripped his dick, and the way he sucked his breath in at the contact made you smile smugly.

He didn’t realize though, since his eyes were now trained on your dripping heat inch closer towards his dick. He counted in his head, preparing himself to sink into the place he wanted to get into the most.

5. Your hands slowly swirled up and down his dick, pumping gently enough to prepare his body to take you up yet to also evoke a moan from his lips. And Dabi doesn’t moan.

4. Your eyes never left his the minute you had a good enough grip on him, and just that alone made some precum slip through his tip.

3. He thought you looked so pretty getting ready to sit down on his cock. ‘Imagine when she’s actually riding me, fuck.’

2. To prep yourself up a bit more, you lathered you’re wetness with a swipe of your thumb against his tip, the sensation making him suck in an incoherent curse.

1. This was your moment. Usually Dabi wanted to take control, and usually in his fantasies about you, it was you getting drilled into your own bed in a way that had you forgetting how to scream. This was different though. Dabi wanted to see what you were going to do.

Before he could even continue his thoughts, the feeling of a soft, extremely wet, and tight hole covered his penis agonizingly slow. With squinted eyes in pleasure, he watched as your face moved from that smug smile to a look of focus and surprise. Within just the first few inches, you already felt as if your insides were more full than possible.

Growing impatient yourself was something you knew would be a bad idea, but you couldn’t help it. So with that, you let go of all strain in your knees and in your hands and let your body drop fully into his embrace. Just like that, you imagined he was probably in your damn gut at this point.

“You’re so big.” You gasped, the vulgar words coming out of your lips making Dabi groan even more than he already was at the sudden contact.

You took a few more minutes to take him in as your vagina just refused to take all of him in. For a skinny guy like him, the weight he carried down there definitely made up for it and you weren’t complaining.

Before you knew it, you felt the need to continue. With that, you dragged your hands up to Dabi’s face and gripped the sides in yours. His lips met your lips, and you began to grind your body against his in order to control your pace for the time being.

You had to rip your lips off his as your slowly found yourself bouncing against him. The movements were so sudden, Dabi didn’t expect it and found his eyes slamming shut in pleasure as his free-hand gripped your ass cheek roughly.

“Fuck Y/N.” He moaned, making you feel only more determined than before.

His praises (which really only consisted of moans, groans, and the word fuck) egged you on, and before you knew it, you were bouncing your body up and down with such speed and intensity, Dabi couldn’t even say a word.

You were fucking him so good, he couldn’t even speak.

Dabi wasn’t sure if it was the way you slipped your body all the way up to his tip only to slam back down, or if it was the quick and loud moans that left your lips so richly, or if it was the trail of wetness coming down from your lower heaven pooling into his light pubic hairs. Whatever it was though, was causing him to see stars.

As thunder cracked in the background, all you could focus on was the sounds of your thighs and body slapping into Dabi’s in a perfect motion.

“D-Dabi—” you moaned loudly, the words falling off your lips quicker than you could handle, “I-You-You feel so— so fucking good.”

The word good dragged out longer than you liked, your screams being reduced to whimpers due to not wanting anyone else to hear you. Dabi watched you, groans coming out of his lips matching yours in a way that made you grow in intensity.

Your hips moved harder and faster, finally finding your own G-Spot and beginning to see stars in your trail of sight.

“You look- look so fucking pretty— taking my cock like this— baby.” The name only made you yelp, whimpering as your eyebrows furrowed and began to thrash your ass tight vagina in a quick notion of in, out, grind, out, grind, in, and over and over again.

There were many things you did to impress Dabi. Honestly, the way you breathe was something Dabi wanted to praise you with in itself. This, however, was beyond him.

Watching you throw yourself against his dick, eyes crossing and drool slipping across your still swollen lips, ass that he was gripping onto as if it would leave forever clapping against his skin, whimpers and cries coming out of your throat was something that Dabi now believed he wanted to be the only thing he ever saw again.

“Just like that doll, I want to see you cum-see you cum all over me.” He managed to get out, face scrunching as he felt his tip slam into a certain part of your pussy that damn near sent vibrations down his long length. He had never felt pussy this good before, and maybe it was just because he was attracted to you, but whatever it was— was driving him absolutely insane.

You felt your stomach tighten, a trail of curses coming out of both you and Dabi’s mouths in synch. You continued to bounce against him. Somehow, the position you were in where you were now on your feet only allowed you to ride him harder and faster than before. Dabi nearly passed the fuck out.

You, on the other hand, were definitely already gone. Watching his face scrunch up, staples clattering as his hair began to stick to his forehead and his lips rip your name and curses like they were the only words he knew— you couldn’t handle it. With that, the pressure in your stomach grew.

“Do-don’t worry about me baby—” he could feel your hole beginning to tighten up more and more, the sensation feeling as if you were milking his cock from the inside and dragging his cum up involuntarily.

“B-but I wanna cum with you.” You whined out, head thrown back in nothing but pure ecstasy.

He could see your tits bounce harshly against your shirt, yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to burn the stupid material off. For a flashing moment in time, he thought about how your eyes trailed against his covered chest.

“I know b-baby.” You said, snapping him from his stare at your chest and up to your now clearly red face. “I-I ke-kept it on so that we-we both have our shirts on.”

That itself, nearly brought Dabi over the fucking edge. The simple fact that you were so fucking considerate, enough to do some little shit like that drove him insane.

Without blinking, the limp hand once thrown on the couch was now gripping onto your body. You couldn’t say anything though, because his other hand gripped the couch and brought him to an angle to where he began to obliterate you.

With nothing but a gasp being able to come out of your locked jaw, your eyes rolled back at the way his drilled in and out of you in a nearly barbaric manner. His arm gripped around your waist in order to bring himself to more pleasure, and you found yourself bouncing up and down in order to counter him and bring more force into the slams.

“Holy fucking shit.” He yelled, his jaw tightening as he began to whimper.

You were fucking him back, your hands tugging at his raven hair roughly and your lips drooling at the sensation in a way that made you seem to be out of your headspace. Just like that, your stomach tightened up and warned you that you had about a second to let him know you were going to literally cream yourself.

You heard his staples more than usual, yet ignored the small noises in order to focus on the grip pressed against your body.

“Dabi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” You repeated, your voice hoarse and whined out from the way he fucked your brain into overdrive.

All that could be heard were your pleas of pleasure, Dabi’s hips slamming into your hips that slammed into his, the wet sounds of your pussy continuously being filled up to the brim by Dabi, and the couch beginning to squeak at the roughness.

Without catching a breath, Dabi’s hand roughly scratched its way up to your hair and tugged you to face him.

“Cum now.”

The order made your eyes roll back. You weren’t sure just how close you were, but just him commanding you to do it made you finally fall over the edge. The feeling of his dick shooting into you made you topple over onto his chest, cries leaving your lips as you orgasmed harder than you probably ever have before.

The sight you once had disappeared as you saw nothing but stars and darkness. The air once resting in your lungs cleared out, and nothing was able to leave your throat other than Dabi’s name over and over again as if it were your religion.

Dabi followed suit, finally resting underneath you and gasping for air from the orgasm he just came down from. His cock stood in you, still warm and twitching from the stimulation still being given from your tightness.

Nobody said anything, voices too tired, bodies too sticky and stuck together, and minds too empty to even be able to form a sentence. Your legs had given up on you, finally wrapped behind Dabi’s back as you clung onto him for your dear life.

“Baby.” Dabi called out softly, his raspy voice making you snap out of your fucked out trance. You looked at him, eyes barely being able to hold themselves open as your body wobbled against his.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” He softly asked, his hand gently pushing some hair still stuck to your cheeks behind your ears. You bit your lip and defiantly shook your head.

“Can we clean up tomorrow?” You asked shyly, hands rubbing up and down his chest as your voice pleaded for him to listen. “I just want to sleep with you for the rest of the night.”

The minute you looked at him with those wishful eyes and small pout, he found it really fucking hard to say no. He wasn’t really planning on staying, but now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to even think about leaving.

Agreeing with your plea to stay, he twisted his body enough to where he was finally lying down on the couch from one end to the other. He dragged your body with him, adjusting you to where your legs were tangled up and your head taking comfort on his shirt-clad chest.

With the way he just fucked your lights out, and the way he softly spoke to you and rubbed your back, you found it even harder to keep your eyes open. It was no surprise when Dabi somehow managed to turn the singular lamp on that was on the table next to him off only to find you slightly snoring on his chest.

So many times, he warned himself that when the day he got to go inside of your wet, sweet heaven came, he’d stay up and take advantage of being able to look at your fucked out expression some more.

But due to how good you rode his dick, how good you kissed him, and how good you felt weaves into his body, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and fall into the same slumber as you with his hands tightly wrapped around your frame and a small smile playing at his lips.

—

cue the song overdue by travis scott because this took me like a week to write for some reason 🥴 writers block aint no mf JOKE! Anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! I did get an anon ask somewhat similar to it though so that kinda got me to finish. So anon, whoever you were that sent that one Dabi anon in about reader being a healer and such, thanks for saving the day 😔👍🏾 anyways YEA please don’t let this flop idk why y’all don’t like Dabi </3 smh no substance! Also this is hella unedited and guess what? Idc. If you see a typo though, please lmk.

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow me if u a real one

[ktheist]

title. “it’s armani, not polyester.” | m

pairings. ceo!jimin x secretary!reader x ex-boyfriend!director!jeongguk

inspired by. conan grey’s heather.

genre. e2f - f2l , office romance, sugar daddy-baby-esque.

words. 10.6k

warnings. explicit content (obviously). mentions of alcohol use. 

concept. a retelling of conan grey’s heather in its future days.

story time.

x

“that’s your ex?” wendy blinks once before proceeding to openly ogle the - as per jennie’s excited text - ‘tall and handsome as hell cutie’ who’s in the middle of speaking to irene who seems to be sporting a larger-than-her-daily smile as her body moves as she nods and laughs and nods again, “i mean - i was expecting some hobo looking guy with spectacles bigger than his head and snot running down his face.”

with a cringe, you shoot her a much needed side eye, “okay first off - ew,”  throwing your gaze back at jeongguk, “second off, we only dated for like three months before everyone started sleeping with everybody.”

“like orgies and shits?” this time, it’s her turn to cringe.

“no,” you roll your eyes, “i mean we had our first fight, he slept with my best friend so i slept with his brother who was dating that best friend.”

“oh,” you can almost feel the way her eyes shift from you ex to you as you continue to type on the computer, “guess no more family dinners.”

“it gets better,” you feel a creep up your face as you turn to meet her wide eyed gaze, “me and his brother got into the same college and we decided to stay friends and now his mom knows me as taehyung’s best friend instead of her second child’s ex-girlfriend.”

by the end of it, wendy’s jaw is quite literally on the floor, missing her chance to greet the cutie who’s obviously led here by irene. standing up, you fix the man who seems to have turned into ice, “thank you, irene, i’ll take it from here,” without even missing a beat you give jeongguk a once over, admitting his worth of the nickname he’ll soon forth be known as in the office, “mr. jeon, mr. park is thrilled to meet you.”

jimin didn’t exactly say that - he only yawned when you briefed him about the interview with the possible new tech guy before dozing off in the passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

“you work here?” thawed from his initial shock, jeongguk hurriedly tries to catch up to you when he sees you walking towards the double doors of your boss’ office which is just twenty feet away.

“oh no, i just deliver pizza and happen to know where the ceo’s office is,” and that marks your second eyeroll for the day to which jeongguk’s lips tuck into a blatant sneer.

before he even finished his “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed”, you’re already knocking twice on the door before strutting into the room where jimin’s face lights up at the sight of you before returning to its unsmiling state when his eyes lands on something over your shoulder.

“mr. park, mr. jeon is here for the interview for the management information systems director position,” you hand him the ipad with jeongguk’s resume opened and ready for inspection.

jeongguk pretends not to see your feigned smile as you pass him but before you manage to exit the room, a voice stops you, “oh, miss ____, do you mind telling  irene to make me an extra strong coffee?”

“i can make that, mr. park,” you announce, eyebrows threatening to weave themselves together at the peculiar order.

jimin only chuckles, “miss ____, you and i’s definition of extra strong is vastly different,” but before you can debunk it, he’s already complementing his insult with a praise, “you make the nicest chamomile tea though.”

all while jeon jeongguk stands in the middle of the way yet he’s the last thing you see and probably the last thing jimin notices.

“that’s fair,” with a nod and an amused smile, you leave through the door, knowing full well jeongguk is more than able to distinguish between what’s a facade and what’s not.

and he may very well be the first to call bullshit on your too respectful interactions with your boss.

x

jeongguk gets the position. naturally, he would - he graduated at the top of his class, became valedictorian, dished out an inspiring speech to which taehyung showed you a video of when you were having your trimonthly meet up a year a ago.

he was a cutie with brains and brawn. his department sucked him in as their new director and colleague in no time. the news of the new tall and handsome as hell cutie who apparently looks better than most people in suit has spread to every other department with wendy and irene liasing between the rumors - considering the fact that they take the ‘first interaction’ privilege.

perks of being part of jimin’s secretary trio, you suppose.

the aforementioned man peeks up at you with a smirk, his leather black salvator snaking up the side of your black mesh pantyhose as you stand in front of him and just until five seconds ago, were briefing him about his meeting with the representative of the manufacturing company for the new chip.

“miss jisoo will be here in two hours and she’ll be discussing the direct materials cost, direct labor cost and manufacturing overhead - that’s where i’ll need you to pay attention because maque it is known for their concrete bargains but exceptional product outcome.” you inform.

“mr. park,” his eyes snap to yours, “my eyes are up here.”

you’re not sure what he sees, but it may or may not have something to do with your unyielding force but flirtatious tone - either way, he lets out a surrendered chuckle.

“i got it - bargain, get the cheapest overall cost but the best production,” he says before guiding your hand that’s under his chin to his mouth, taking your pinky finger between his pearly whites.

“good, call me if you need anything else,” you nod in approval, lips curling into a satisfied smile before summoning your hand back to your side.

the sound of your heels reverberate against the walls as you make your way to the doors but before you manage to step one foot out, he’s calling out for you, “____,” voice unsettlingly calm but his words couldn’t have been any more overbearing, “i expect the same amount of dedication for your... other line of work.”

you would have let that smile tuck into a knowing smirk, would have given him something to look forward to - enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day but not enough to be a distraction to his tasks. if not for the sight of a flock of wavy black hair and darkest brown eyes.

“mr. jeon,” your voice may have rose a pitch higher but you’ve managed to school it into a pleasant smile, “how may i help you?”

jeongguk’s eyebrows falter just the slightest bit as a flash of confusion mixed with suspicion crosses his face before he plainly says, “i have something to discuss with the ceo about my work.”

“i’m not sure how things work at your previous company but you need to schedule a meeting with mr. park before anything else but i’ll be glad to navigate you through your scope of duty since mr. park will redirect me to you anyway,” you say simply, noticing how the man’s eyes flit towards the tinted grey glass with three horizontal parallel line down the middle where one can distortedly see jimin’s body turned towards the glass the way it had been when you last saw him.

clearly, he’s watching this unfold through the same see through space.

“it’ll just take a sec - i promise,” jeongguk sounds halfway annoyed with your insistence.

when he takes a step to the side, you take another to the same side, “mr. jeon, this kind of behavior - and on your first day, at that - isn’t something you need on your record and i didn’t make that policy, it was mr. park,” with a the slightest tilt of your head, you let the smile turn into a snide one, “and since you’ve been going around chatting with your new coworkers, you should know a thing or two about how seriously mr. park values one’s descipline during work.”

he shoots you one last pondering look, tongue forming a gentle protrusion in his left cheek like he’d unconsciously do when he’s debating to do the opposite of what he’s told by first agreeing and then finding another way to get what he wants.

“fine,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, hands shoved into his pocket as a strand of hair falls over his forehead, “i need a list of names of the people in my department as well as the last twenty year’s worth of projects held by the company.”

the smile you have on threatens to split into a disgruntled sneer at his ridiculous demand. ten years is the maximum amount of time someone would take to review and understand the workings of the company. fifteen is a stretch because there’s a chance of a change of policy. but a record of the past ten years means you’ll have to do some digging in the storage room since not all files were digitalized and being the new director of the IT department, jeon jeongguk is not oblivious to that very fact.

“i’ll have them on your desk by thursday,” you announce and he reiterates, “i need them by tomorrow.”

and that’s the last straw for you - letting out a sound between a scoff and a snide laughter, you place your hand on your hip, “huh, are you crazy?”

“i mean, as the new director, i need to learn the ropes of the company asap, no? don’t tell me you can’t even do that?” a smile creeps up jeongguk’s face, one that mimics that of a predator who’s caught his prey walking straight into his trap, “and all that talk about discipline.”

the contemptuous chuckle at the end is what boils the blood in your veins and before you know it, you’re spouting out words that you instantaneously regret as soon as they come out.

“of course, i’ll have them on your desk by tomorrow.”

x

“achoo!”

you curse underneath your breath as you sniffle from the remnants of the sneeze. fourty-three minutes in and you’re already on your nth sneezing fit. index finger flitting across the labels on the box, it takes you three nose scrunching and five boxes down the shelf to find a light blue label with ‘1998′ written next to a ‘september’.

well, that’s the second month of the year 1998 that you’ve managed to locate. the process repeats itself for a good twelve more minutes before you hear the screech of the in-need-of-oiling door and the echo of footsteps against the quiet walls before a tall, black haired figure steps into your periphery.

he’s looking as fresh and crisp as the tie hanging around his neck while you’re pretty sure your updo hair is halfway to giving out to gravity with how you’ve been moving boxes of files around.

“so what are we looking for?” jeongguk begins unnervingly calmly.

but you’re not one to turn down a hand, “anything blue with a label of 1990 up till 2010 - oh and they come in months.”

instead of complaining or at least making his displeasure known, the man simply starts searching the shelves five feet apart from you.

and so it goes, your file searching journey with your ex slash newly appointed coworker. multiple scenarios rushed through your head when you first heard jimin’s excellent review after jeongguk left. the elder man had been typing away on his mac when you’d come to pick up the empty mugs of coffee when he’d passingly say, “you know, there’s something about him that the other candidates lack - where’d you find this guy?”

but you never thought that being stuck in the files room alone would ever come up with this outcome-

“i heard you were the one who recommended me,” that voice of his is as sweet as the first drop of nectar but instead of the boyish tint, it’s tinged with a taste of wine and masculinity.

it’s familiar yet foreign all at once.

“then you must know all three secretaries were required to pick someone to recommend the job for,” with that, you twirl on your heels, a partially full box in your hand as you strut towards the desk where its blue shaded comrades awaits.

“so i’ve been told,” and that’s how you know jeongguk’s initial casual nature was just a facade to conceal his guilt-ridden conscience, “why didn’t you tell me? you didn’t even sign your name in the email - you never mentioned anything -”

“it’s nothing personal, guk,” you cut him off, back on him you pretend to rummage through each individual file of the recent box you’d found, “we needed a new IT director and you fit the criteria but if i gave out any indication that i was the one who reached out to you, your decisions might be affected by that - even just the slightest bit and that’s the last thing i want,” you say simply, “not to mention we pay better - so you get it, right?”

when you twirl around to face him, arms crossed over you chest, ass leaned up against the desk whilst your left knee slants to rest over its right counterpart, you finally meet the man’s curious doe eyes. they’re marred with the signs of life but still as exuberant and beautiful as the first day he stopped you in the hallway. his smiles are more expensive now and he doesn’t shyly look down before talking to you but he’s still the same high school heartthrob you’d had the fattest crush on.

and that’s the thing about high school and the matters of the heart - they’re meant to stay in the past as a fond yet foolish reminder of the things you would do when you were 16.

“i can’t have my guy prancing around the office like an uncivilized raccoon and ji- mr. park is extremely particular about time,” you sigh, throwing your gaze to your blood red soles if only because you can’t hold his gaze longer than this, “trust me, i don’t do things to inconvenience you just because i should have some kind of personal vendetta against you - i don’t.”

“wonder why i have been getting the opposite vibe from you ever since i came,” his shoulder line jolts slightly as he shrugs, eyes rolling but the tiniest smile on his face tells you that it’s all a good natured jest.

“i’m sorry - every time i look at you, it feels like i went back to being that high school girl who lashed out at everyone and everything,” it’s the way his eyes sparkle like stars at your words that drives you to quickly add, “my therapist told me to take a step back every time i feel like saying something mean to you because it’s just my own defense mechanism - i’m still working on it.”

“oh,” is all he says before a blanket of silence wraps around the both of you. it goes on for the longest moment with jeongguk’s unfocused yet heavy gaze on you.

he does that - staring off at something when he’s processing information and knowing his ex-girlfriend who he cheated on now goes to therapy, isn’t something one hears everyday.

“well, let’s get these,” you light tap the box on your left, “to your office - i’ll have the intern pick the rest later.”

“oh-” almost as though snapped from a daze, jeongguk blinks. one. twice. until he’s rushing to your side to get at least two boxes, one piled on top of the other, in each arm while you choose to only carry two.

when he finally finds his words, the first thing he says it -“you don’t have to get me all 20 years of record - 10 is enough and if you walk me through how things work, i’d be really grateful.”

you scoff, a smile on your lips before he mimics yours, “are you like, concerned about me cause i told you i’m seeing therapist -”

“me? concerned? about you?” his body moves along with his eye roll but his tone lacks the sarcasm he’s intending, “not in a thousand years.”

x

jeongguk is concerned. he tips toes around you like you’re the thinly veiled ice over a lake of emotions. as though one wrong move and you’ll break. and that’s how you know you’re not the only one who’s changed and grown with the years you spent apart.

the jeon jeongguk you knew couldn’t care less if you’d fallen into the darkest depth of your ruins - only because you’d hurt him just as much.

though you haven’t got to the point of having lunch together like wendy and irene and the entire team from his department had, you’ve had moments in between  coming back from lunch with jimin and just before lunch hour is up where you’re in the pantry with ice cream in your hand and your phone in the other.

while you’re sure no one would be coming around this time of the day, jeon jeongguk finds away to surprise you with his sudden appearance. strutting in as if he doesn’t notice you, picking up the instant coffee packet only to place one newly stirred coffee cup between you and him as he sips his own that he made with the one he’s apparently gifting you.

“why?” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion filling every inch of your curled lips.

“oh you know,” his shoulder line shrugs and you realize he’s grown a few inches taller because his shoulder fully past your head, “cause i heard you like your coffees with cream too.”

“how do i know it’s not poisoned?” still dubious, you keep your eyes on him like a hawk - nothing can get past you, not even a nervous gulp.

but instead, he throws his head back, sighing, “___, you literally saw me make them.”

“i don’t know, you’re acting kinda sus, guk,” you insist, phone screen long dead as you take one last bite of the ice cream before tossing the stick into the trashcan.

“sus? me?” his free hand comes flying up to his chest as he looks at you in disbelief.

“give me yours,” you finally announce, hand struck out with your palm facing upwards.

“whatever, idiot,” he shakes his head still, despite failing to hide the tiniest smile that begins to tuck on the corners of his lips before placing the cup he’s been holding on your awaiting hand.

“yay,” you grin, delighted before taking  one long sip and breathing out in satisfaction, “i live another day.”

x

and so it goes, the light banters between moments in time. luckily for you, jeongguk is all round charmer that makes anyone and everyone - men, women and non-bonarys alike - who’s talking to him smile from ear to ear from something he says. possibly a compliment, possibly an agreement to what the other party was saying.

nobody suspected that either of you knew each other prior to this and that’s one less office rumor to look out for. you offer to help jeongguk settle in, murmuring names of the people who greets him so that he’d greet back with their informed name, seeing their faces light up a bit more at the realization that their new boss’s recognition.

“aren’t you with park 24/7? how do you know everyone in this company?” he asks one fine morning after you both got to his desk.

“i’d say it’s talent but i basically had to memorize them overnight right after i joined,” you shrug, “it wasn’t easy but you realize the difference it makes in everyone’s performance when they think their boss knows who they are.”

“so that’s the kind of person park is,” jeongguk nods whilst clicking on the ‘transfer files’ option on the screen of his computer.

“mr. park isn’t like the devil boss from hell - he’s just really self-disciplined,” you correct.

“if he was then why did he make you memorize the names of his employees?” he shoots you a look, one that says ‘you know i’m right’ to which you only roll your eyes.

“the same reason why he needs three secretaries to do his bidding - he’s too busy,” you shoot him a ‘no, you’re not’ look before sticking out your hand after the files are finish being transferred.

“how come i only get one?” his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of dissatisfaction and confusion as he places the usb drive into your hand, not quite showing any signs to take his own hand off just yet.

“maybe ‘cause you’re not that important?” you shoot him a similar ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner and before he can even say anything, you’re curling your hand over the drive before twirling on your heels.

“ouch, you know that kinda hurts,” a voice comes up behind you and almost like a tidal wave, your apology comes in a second too soon, “really? sorry, i went too far-”

before you can even finish your words, you’re left rooted in your spot. a few feet away from the glass encased room where most of the executives and their secretaries are seen stepping in.

it’s the chuckle that reverberates against your eardrums that washes away your initial guilt like sand on shore, “you’re so-” jeongguk pauses, staring at you with eyes you can’t quite decipher and a flash of emotion you have never seen him make, “you’re so soft, you know that?”

“that wasn’t funny, jeongguk,” you fix him a hard stare, arms crossing over your chest.

“sorry - what i meant is,” and that’s the thing about the two of you - ever since you’d admitted your faults, jeongguk has followed your lead to apologize first. pride seems to be the last thing standing between the two of you at the moment - and it’s times like these, where you’re willing to listen and he’s willing to explain, that you think you might just escape that dark dwelling you call your past.

“miss ___,” a familiar voice drums in your ears, a hand on your lower back pulling your attention from the man in front of you to the attractive devil that’s on your side. the infernal spark in those dark eyes of his disappears as soon as he turns to - “jeongguk, i take it miss ____ has been a great help with the presentation you’re about to show us?”

“yes,” the aforementioned man nods, a look of unadulterated confidence making its way to his face as it replaced the lingering stare where jimin’s arm disappeared behind you, “i couldn’t have finished it this fast without ___.”

at jeongguk’s words, jimin lets a smile slip onto his strong features, making him look less like the unapproachable man he’s known for, “i’m looking forward to it.”

it’s only after jeongguk is walking a few steps ahead towards the open doors of the meeting room and jimin’s hand has long left your body, does the man murmur under his breath, “i’ve received applications for jeongguk’s secretary position, do you mind looking through them for me? though... i left them at my place - if you could come up with me to pick them later after work, it’d be great.”

“really?” you quickly say, before realizing it’d come off too excited for a request of overtime so you clear your throat, looking around the vicinity to see if anyone noticed, “i mean, yes, i can do that - i can drop by for a few minutes.”

“perfect,” his eyes disappears into crescents as the corners of his lips tuck higher before you part ways - him taking the seat at the end of the oval table while you head over to the computers connected to the projector, shoving the drive you’ve had trapped in your hand into its port.

x

“i’ve heard some things,” jimin’s honey voice is barely the subject of your conscience as you watch his lithe fingers working around the buckle of his belt until one end hangs loose before he pulls on the other, the sound of leather against fabric cutting the air like knife.

after jeongguk’s presentation which was met with praises and positive responses by the board, jimin had easily approved of the proposed updates on the - as the first would call it - a tad bit out dated data base. when the wendy, irene and the rest of his team was about to head out for dinner to celebrate their well earned success, you’d belatedly told them that you couldn’t make it because you had to drive jimin home.

seeing as it was a norm for the head secretary to also take on the role of the ceo’s chauffer, nobody questioned it.

nobody but the latest addition to the company.

jeongguk looked like he wanted to say something, stared at you a little longer as you fixed him and the rest of your leaving coworkers a ‘have fun, guys!’ kind of wave. but you suppose that could wait.

“i didn’t think you’d be one to pay attention to rumors,” you manage to say, swallowing heavily as you tear your gaze from jimin’s apt hands that are looping the belt into its buckle.

“this one’s a little bit interesting,” the chuckle he lets out is sinfully innocent compared to the way he slips the looped belt through your head and pulls on it, forcing the leather material to envelop your neck like a collar, “something about you and jeon having a special relationship.”

“that’s-” the words gets stuck in your throat when your heart leaps up at the slightest tuck on your neck, almost as if he’s saying to ‘choose your words carefully, dove.’

“it’s a matter of the distant past,” you say, sending a grateful prayer to the gods for allowing your voice to sound unbothered.

“didn’t seem like what the rumors are saying,” his breath fans your face as he whispers against your ear - you have to clench your fists together to stop the shivers from wracking through your body, “but that’s alright - at the end of the day, it’s my name you’re screaming.”

a moan escapes your mouth when a pair of plump lips press against yours. sparks in your veins and passion in your heart. before you know it, you’re blindly grasping onto the zipper of of jimin’s trousers, salivating at the thought of a part of him you know too well.

“please, daddy, let me suck your dick,” you plea, eyebrows knitting together with a sort of yearning and frustration from how achingly patient the striking blonde man in front of you is.

if it were up to him, you’d be soaking up the carpeted floor with your arousal throughout the night and he’d still manage to edge you on until you’re begging to come.

but that’s the thing, either way, you’re going to be begging for him. and you’d learned earlier on that you gain less from holding onto your pride than holding onto jimin’s dick.

with your mouth, that is.

x

it’s the morning after that - that you curse yourself for not putting any restraints to your carnal desires. in your defense though, begging and pleading jimin to push you to your limits seemed like an irresistible option at the time. that is, until you’re digging out what clothes you have in the drawer in your allocated room only to find most of them catering to the neck-to-just-above-the-cleavage-reveal kind of look.

so you opt for scarves - the bruises aren’t bad but the first days are always the hardest. and jimin notices the way you’re craning your neck from side to side as you keep your eyes trained on the red light that’s about to turn green anytime soon.

“does it hurt?” the saccharine sweet voice drips with honeyed concern whilst his hand goes to massage the back of your neck.

you hum in appreciation, “that feels good.”

“maybe i should’ve been gentler,” the tinge of remorse in his voice doesn’t go past you.

“that’s not even where it hurts most,” you giggle, feeling the familiar tingle in between your legs but you manage to push it to the back of your mind as you say, “but you know i like it when you’re rough.”

jimin only laughs, head shaking at your blatant confession. and so the mini massage session continues until the car starts rolling into motion. you go on with your morning routine of reminding him of the list of things he’ll have to do and people to meet for the day.

it’s only after you’ve parked the car and turning off the ignition that your phone dings with a notification of a ‘you received 50, 000 dollars from park jimin’.

squealing, you hop out of the car, heels click clacking against the concrete as you mini run towards the blond who’d slipped out of the car a second earlier.

“thank you, daddy!” you grin, hands wrapping around his arm as he chuckles softly, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

“i booked you a session at lotus nirvana for the weekend,” he says a minute later as you stand in front of the elevator.

“oh my god,” you gasp, jaw hitting the floor, “the lotus? really?”

“and you can bring a plus one,” he boops your nose with his index finger, making you scrunch it because of the ticklish feeling it leaves.

“you’re the best!” you stand on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheekbone just before the elevator stops one level below the ceo and chairman’s parking level, revealing none other than jeongguk in a dashing cobalt blue louis vouitton suit.

you’ve managed to detach yourself from the now-unsmiling ceo who shoots the newcomer a brief smile as a greeting when jeongguk takes longer to look between you and his boss before finally stepping in.

“morning,” you greet with a wave, hoping to brush off the elephant in the room.

the man echoes back your words but nothing else - at least until you reach the 19th floor where jimin turns to you, hands in his pocket, “miss ___ i need to discuss something with you in my office,” just before you’re about to point out the sunken eyes in the younger man’s appearance.

“yes, mr. park,” you say in a heartbeat, before mouthing a ‘catch you later’ to the brunette.

x

in the next few days, you’ve opt for a variety of scarves to match your outfit. but more importantly, to hide the darkening bruises around your neck as you style your hair to hide what the scarves can’t.

it’s times like these that you keep your distance from people, choosing to stay in front of the computer unless jimin calls for you. whether to ask for if you’re up for having lunch with him, to inquire about the meeting he has or simply to just say “i miss your chamomile tea.”

at that, you can’t help but let the giggle break through your iron wall of a facade, “that’s what you called me for?”

the man’s eyes flit to the right for the briefest second, as though in search for a better answer which he finds none of before meeting your own, “yep, that’s what i called you for.”

“you’re so cute, daddy,” you gush, before placing you ipad down on the desk, hands coming up to frame around jimin’s cheeks as they turn round from the smile that slips onto his face, “i’ll make some for you tonight!” but then your shoulder line falls, eyebrows coming together, “wait - i have dinner with jeongguk tonight.”

“you mean jeon?” he raises an amused eyebrow to which you nod, hands falling away from his cheeks.

“i’ve been avoiding him these past few days and i think he’s getting a little suspicious about us spending so much time together - he thinks you’re... forcing me to do things,” you sigh - just this morning, the black haired cutie caught you in the middle of your way to your desk, pulling you to the side with a set of concerned eyebrows knitted together, “are you okay?”

you took a moment, eyes roaming around the vicinity as though it’d help spot the reason to this abrupt intervention before looking back at him, smiling cluelessly “...yeah, i’m fine.”

he let go of your arm to push his soft tresses which seemed to be missing its usual slick gelled look today, “the ladies have been saying park tends to work you to the bones every few times a month - like right now, and that’s a normal thing here?”

and because it wasn’t the kind of question you got asked often - people just accepted and were even glad that it wasn’t them that jimin was calling to his office every hour throughout the day, you had to take a moment to ponder on your answer “...yeah, it’s normal.”

“and you don’t care?” jeongguk’s blinked, mortified.

“i mean, that’s my livelihood right there so...” and you shrugged.

“i don’t know, i don’t like him,” his shoulder line tensed as he turned his body towards the wall sized window, eyes casted towards the neighboring skyscrapers.

“why?” was all you said - you’d understand intimidating. strict. unapproachable to describe the words jimin is, but no one’s ever confessed to outright disliking the man. but then again, you are the closest person to jimin in the company, no employee would risk getting fired because they blurted out their dissatisfaction towards their ceo to his head secretary.

“there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way,” instead of shrugging like what 17-year old jeongguk would have done, this older version of him didn’t even stutter.

you suppose one’s confidence and sense of reasoning - even though there wasn’t any particular reason for him to dislike jimin-

“...something about a ceo calling his head secretary ‘miss’ while he casually address everyone else by their name but never really talk to anyone beyond business matters while nobody’s has a single bad thing to say about him,” when jeongguk’s obsidian eyes fell on you, it was as though the background faded and you found yourself trapped in a glass cage - unable to run away from the truth he seemed to possess, “especially the person he’s overworking the most.”

“well,” there’s this habit that you do - laughing in the face of crisis and this was damn well a crisis because, “if you feel that way then you feel that way.”

“is there something you want to tell me?” he pressed on, speaking under his breath, “if you need help, you can always come to me.”

and that was when the laughter broke into a fit and you’re holding your stomach and his shoulder with your other hand, “jeongguk - i’m fine, really,” there was a tremble in his eyes as self doubt crept up his conscience, which meant whatever you were doing was working, “listen, how bout we go for dinner tonight with wendy and irene? i’m late but i wanna hear how your first staff dinner went.”

you managed to escape jeongguk right after his ‘...yeah, sure’ before mrs. yoo came up to you to ask about the arrangements of the seating for the upcoming corporate dinner. it’s in five months but preparations must be made in advance.

“if he’s starting to notice that means i’m not the only whose got his eyes on you,” the sweet honeyed voice pulls you out of your memories, almond shaped eyes staring at you with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

and for some reason, you felt the need to clarify where you stand and where jeongguk stands, “we were kids when we started dating - we know better now that both of us clash like two magnets on the opposite poles if we go beyond what friends are.”

“you know i have the utmost respect for you,” butterflies set flight in your stomach when jimin guides your right hand to his lips.

x

the place you end up going to is called han chu where it’s most famous for its variety of chicken-based cuisine which happens to be irene’s boyfriend’s family’s long standing business. it’d been packed with people, mostly those who’d got off work like yourselves but apparently, they have a different room for adhoc visitors who popped up out of nowhere.

“irene’s taking a long time at the washroom,” wendy announces, a small, jealous pout on her lips as she sticks her chopsticks into the rice bowl before you and jeongguk exchange a knowing look with each other.

since her boyfriend works here, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room knows irene, in fact, did not go to the washroom. and wendy isn’t too secretive about her want for a man she can call her own to which, two bottles of soju later, she slams her glass against the table and confesses, “i’m so lonely, i want a boyfriend!”

by then, irene’s already back and chiding the younger woman about how she needs to stop drinking so much because apparently, at jeongguk’s congratutional dinner, she was that coworker that drank herself silly and might or might have not blurted out something about jeongguk’s exceptional proportions in front of the entire IT department.

“___! you’re single, right?” the way jeongguk’s hand seems to be take longer to pick up one of those spicy-sweet chicken even though he was gobbling them up like there was no tomorrow just five seconds ago, doesn’t go unnoticed by you, “let’s go to a mixer! i’ll text my friend to include our names for one this weekend.”

this time, the way jeongguk’s visibly tensed shoulder line is no coincidence.

“i’m good, thanks,” you chuckle, patting the woman’s shoulder.

irene on the other hand, looks increasingly worried about her fellow coworker as time passes. it’s when wendy starts to gulp down the soju straight from the bottle that you step in, swiping it out of her hands and placing it back down on the table.

“alright, that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you home” at that, you shoot irene a signal with your eyes, counting a short ‘1,2,3′ before you both hoist her up to her feet, directing her arm over your shoulder while irene does the same with the other one.

“i’ll get the car - you ladies wait at the front of the restaurant ” jeongguk announces, just as you step out of the room.

“thanks, guk,” you fix him an appreciative smile, grateful for not having to drag the half-conscious woman’s body all the way to the parking lot.

“you know, he’s been staring at you the whole night,” a voice giggles - and seeing how wendy can barely even open her eyes, that could only mean that it’s the only other woman that’s holding her up that also decided to let out such absurd statement.

“that’s cause i was sitting next to wendy - who by the way, isn’t exactly a quiet drinker,” you roll your eyes, before a separately realization hits you- “you didn’t drink.”

“well, i can’t really at the moment,” the brunette’s voice takes a gentler turn as you watch her free hand clasp her stomach.

“oh my god,” jaws on the ground, you’re not sure if you’re even blinking, “you’re pregnant? how long far along are you?”

“a month, me and jae were discussing how we’re gonna tell our families,” she meets your wide eyed gaze half-heartedly, “and if i’m going to continue working after i give birth.”

“either way i’m so happy for you,” you reach out your free hand that’s not wrapped around wendy’s waist to which the elder woman accepts, squeezing your hand just hard enough for you to feel her fears and excitement and overflowing joy flow through you, “you and jaebum are gonna be the best parents.”

“i never really said it but you helped me a lot when i just started,” the tears in her eyes makes them look like sparkling stars in the midnight sky, “and you’ve always been so supportive - seriously, ___, thank you.”

“stop,” you squeak in between holding your breath and holding back your tears, “i’m gonna cry.”

“if you cry, i’ll cry,” irene is already pulling her hand away and fanning her face, glimmering eyes turned to the sky.

it’s a moment later that a car rolls to a stop in front of the two of you. the window rolling down, revealing an extremely concerned jeongguk, “what happened?”

the “it’s a girl thing” comes a few moments later, particularly after you slipped into the passenger’s seat next to him while irene sits at the back with wendy’s head in her lap.

by the time you reach wendy’s apartment building, irene announces that she’s staying over at the first. if only to look after the drunken woman and make sure she’s okay.

“are you sure?” you ask to which she nods, murmuring something about how wendy couldn’t survive without her hungover soup if she didn’t stay and make it.

wendy manages to sober up and walk with irene holding her hand. and with the way she’s slow-waving at you, you take it as your cue to leave too.

“call me if you need anything, okay?” is the last thing you say before the two of them step through the clear glass door.

the rest of the ride is filled with silence, save for the faint sound of low volumed music in the background. 

that is, until one of you decides to break it with a kind of heartwarming concern you thought already left his mind, “so are you okay?” he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, as if to check if the tears were still there, “you were crying just now.”

you can’t help but laugh, “don’t worry - they were tears of joy.”

“oh?” only then does he allow the smile to tuck on the corner of his lips, “what about?”

“i don’t know if i can say it,” you feel your own lips curling, “not my story to tell.”

“okay,” he nods, “as long as you’re okay.”

and so the silence returns but this time, it’s no where suffocating or makes you want to hop out of a moving car just to get away from the man you thought you could never stand to be alone with five months ago.

at first, you told yourself that it was for the good of the company - that you didn’t need to be friends, civility was enough. but then you had that talk in the storage room - both equally tensed but both grown out of their youthful impatience into someone who was willing to listen and learn.

and you realized that you work well together - too well, in fact, that jeongguk’s own secretary would come to you even after four months of working with him, just to ask you if he’d prefer his coffees black or with cream.

but you suppose it was because this was her first job after graduating - you were used to taking notes of the littlest of things jeongguk did because that was what worked best for jimin. that, minus the already known facts about jeon jeongguk that you’d gathered during your two years of knowing him and three months of dating him.

and it’s almost as though the plants and the stars align, as the car comes to a stop in front of your apartment building and as he pulls the brake before turning his upper half towards you, “i had a great time tonight.”

“me too, guk, and thanks for driving irene, wendy and me home - you’ve become quite the gentleman,” you chuckle to which the corners of his lips upturns, while his eyes casts itself down to his hands before they meet yours again.

“it was the right thing to do,” but then you can’t escape his eyes - those obsidian eyes that seem to reach through the windows of your soul effortlessly.

“well,” the smile may have been forced but it’s still comes from the heart, “i better go in.”

“yeah - yeah you should,” he nods and you thought you’re just imagining things - irene’s initial observation might or might not have gotten to you.

but just as you’re about to open the door, hand on the handle, jeongguk speaks again, “i was hoping,” at that, you turn to him, “you and me,” you can only hope he can’t hear the sound of your pumping heart, “we could try again, you know?”

you’d like to believe that you’ve gone past that part of your life where you hurt and you hurt others back - the ones that tried to help you, pull you out of that darkened cocoon that you grew so accustomed to.

like to believe that it took a bit more nudging for you to break through the cocoon and that was okay - everyone needed a little bit of help at some point of their life. yours happened to be when you were sixteen hitting seventeen. and even now, you still need help to fly - to let your wings flutter through the wind without breaking and hitting the hard cold ground.

but all of a sudden, you find yourself that same cocoon you thought you abandoned with the ugliest dark brown and maroon walls - the color of the school mascot that seemed to be the symbol of the baseball team’s undefeated victory throughout the year. and all because taehyung’s brother, jeongguk just joined the team.

and you were just one of the many girls who had her eyes on the ace. except your best friend was dating the captain so you sometimes joined her as she watched him practice. until jeongguk noticed you. until he lift you up and broke you down.

“jeongguk,” you say, heart erratically clawing against your chest - obsidian is the color of jeongguk’s eyes as he waited for your answer with bated breath, a rap song is playing in the background, smooth is the material of the handle of the door under your fingertips, marc jacobs is the perfume that faintly wafts from jeongguk’s collar and sweet is the taste of peach soju you had, “i think it’s best to maintain a professional working relationship instead.”

almost as though being pulled from a trance, jeongguk recoils, eyes blinking once before he blurts out a “yeah,” then, a moment later, “yeah, that’s probably the best - sorry for-”

“it’s fine,” you shrug.

“-making everything awkward.” he finally stops.

“i’ll see you on monday,” you say - not so sure if it’s the right thing to say, but jeongguk nods, echoing your words, “yeah - see you monday.”

and with that, you slip out of the car, heels clicking against the ground as you tread towards the door without looking back.

x

monday turns to tuesday and then tuesday turns to an abundant of weeks. your interactions ceased to a strictly professional, work-based relationship. jeongguk talks to you only when he needs clarifying where his own secretary can’t give him an answer.

you go to him when his secretary is doing a job that requires her to go mia for the day. wendy and irene are well aware of the sudden shift in your dynamics but if you’d gladly told them jeongguk was your ex-boyfriend then you gladly told them what you told jeongguk that night.

your only regret was taking away their own friendship with jeongguk. none of them went out for dinner with him because they were torn between their loyalty to their colleague-turned-friend and the boss whom they were halfway to befriending if not for your complicating the whole thing up.

“but you decided to keep your peace instead of the peace around you and i’m proud of you for choosing yourself first,” jimin had told you as he traced patterns on the dip of your back.

and you might or might not have cried and fell asleep in his arms that night before cancelling your appointment with your therapist with the next day and choosing to have it at the end of the month like you were supposed to. ever since then, your relationship hadn’t been all that physical.

“i think i need time for myself,” you’d told him in the middle of getting stuck in traffic with unmoving cars on either side of you, “but i also still want to see you.”

jimin who’d been staring out of the window mindlessly had turned to you - instead of asking you to repeat what you’d said because he barely caught it, he’d fixed you the warmest of smiles, “it’s been over a year, ___, didn’t it ever occur to you that i wanted more than just sex from this? from us?”

if there was something park jimin was, it was arcane. mysterious - just as you thought you figured out his wants and needs, he makes a 180 and surprised you in ways you never would have seen coming.

“doesn’t it bother you that i’m... this?” there was no word for it - for being yourself but also feeling like someone entirely different all at once.

“no, it doesn’t,” he’d look straight at you as he said it, “i know you probably don’t feel like it right now, but let’s go on a walk by the han river.”

and that was where you talked about your feelings and what you could and couldn’t give while you nibble on the fish shaped bun that was wafting with heavenly scent throughout your walk until you found the stall.

jimin still wanted to pay you for the times you’ll be spending together even though there won’t be sex invloved. 

“we still have another few months of the contract, if i don’t pay you then i’d be breaching it,” he’d argued with crescent shaped eyes and the most beautiful smile.

“alright but i’m paying for dinner and lunches from now on,” and there was no changing your mind.

so it goes, you work in the day and leave with jimin for the night. he’d steal away your mac and you’d steal away his but for the most parts, you’d do work in the same room. he’d stop and stepped out only to bring you a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows and you’d pay back with chamomile tea.

then came the annual dinner which marked five months since that night. he’s decked in a stylish cut black tux with a blue sheen reflected under the light. paired with a glass flute of white wine, he’d probably already won at least three hearts only an hour into the commencement of the dinner while your teeth clamor at the low temperature of the hall.

you’re halfway ready to curse yourself for foregoing your crop blazer in jimin’s car all because you remember been too warm in it - but that was last year and the air conditioning needed fixing - when something warm engulfs your open shoulders.

“jimin,” you blink, recalling the last man talking to a board member just a moment ago before you’d stepped out.

“you should’ve told me you were cold,” he chides and only then do you notice the lack of blazer on his vest-hugged body.

stealing a glance into light poured room, you briefly stand on your tip toes, hands wrapped around the man’s arm as you pull him down to meet your halfway.

“thank you, daddy,” with that, you step away, feeling the rush of heat on your cheeks and the thrill of adrenaline in your veins.

“you’re welcome, dove,” and as soon as he goes back inside, he’s swarmed with other guests who must have wondered where the star of the night went.

and you would have turned to the cityscape if not for the glint of light trapped in glass.

“jeongguk,” your voice is strained, so you clear your throat and put on a smile to cover it up, “how long have you been there?”

a scoff follows your inquiry, “you’re not 16 and a guy giving you his jacket doesn’t mean jack shit, ___.”

at the uncalled for response, you subconsciously tug on the center front of the blazer, “first off, it’s armani, not polyester,” you say, not missing the way his eyes twitching at the comparison - he used to lend you his jackets and sweaters back when you were dating, “and whatever i do with my personal life is none of your business - i don’t have to explain myself to you.”

another scoff hits the air as he steps out of the shadow and into the sliver of light that pours from the hall and onto the veranda, “so all that talk about maintaining a professional relationship were just excuses? because you couldn’t get over the past?”

“the p -” you almost choke on your words, “the past when you cheated on me with my best friend all because i said taehyung was in the right for getting mad at you over you ruining his only chance to get into one of the best theater school in the world?”

“it’s cause of you!” the fact that his voice rose doesn’t go unnoticed even to him as he looks around and only after making sure that nobody was listening, does he continue is a hushed but harsh tone, “i slept with heather because you pushed me to her. if i wanted someone to point out the many list of things i did ‘wrong’ i could’ve just went to my parents.”

you sigh, “that’s the problem, guk-” 

“don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that,” he shoot backs.

“jeongguk,” you rephrase, fingers fiddling with each other until you’ve hit the ten-second mark, “what we had was toxic. we needed so much work on our self-esteem and personal traumas but we turned to each other hoping the other could fix it and all we did was make it worse.”

“please, you were the one who was so insecure about heather - you think i don’t realize how you look at her? how you compare yourself to her when all she did was be your friend?” it takes everything in you not to flinch at his choice of words, “what personal trauma,” he laughs dryly.

“that’s what i’ve been working on but i’m not the only one flawed -your parents,” you say, choosing to ignore the first part of his retort, “them constantly paying more attention to your brother just because he was older and achieved a little bit more than you did. and everyone else who compared you to taehyung’s ‘legacy’. so you turn to the only girl who noticed you,” there’s a flash in his eyes, one that burns bright with anger - just like it did all those years ago.

but you pretend not to notice, “and i was so caught up with the idea of a boyfriend of my own - a guy that didn’t choose heather over me that i did everything i could to keep you. i was toxic to you because i agreed with everything you said, i put down others while i lifted you up but as soon as i tried to fix what i’d done,” you heave out a sigh, “one push - that’s all it takes for you to fall right out my arms and if that wasn’t enough i hurt you by sleeping with taehyung.”

the last thing you see is the boy the with maroon and brown jacket, staring right at you with eyes prickling with tears and face flushed pink but no words come out from his clamped mouth.

so you turn you back on him like you did five years ago. you turned your back on jeongguk and you don’t look back.

you find jimin somewhere amidst the crowd, conversing with a guest from your rival company.

“mr. park,” his eyes focus on your tight-lipped smile as soon as he sees it, you don’t even have to say another word when he excuses himself and you, not even sparing a glance at the guest before his hand finds itself on your waist, guiding you through the room and into the empty hallway since all the guests have arrived and jimin was supposed to deliver the opening speech before you took him away from it.

you barely remember the ride to his place and how he’d sat you down on his bed, kneeling right in front of you with eyes overflowing with concern.

smooth is jimin’s skin under your fingder pads when you touch his face. plump is his lips that you kiss and sweet is the taste of his mouth from the red wine you’d seen him down at the beginning of the event. the woody scent of bleu de chanel that you got him for his birthday last year is what fills your senses.

but they’re gone too soon.

“are you sure?” jimin’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something - something you can’t pinpoint.

“jimin, please, i-” and that’s all it takes for him to press his lips harder to yours, one hand groping your breast while the other pushes the weight of the jacket off your shoulders.

x

the room is silent.

save for the tapping sound of your fingers across the keyboard. that is, until another pair of hands capture them and brings them across your chest in a hug whilst you giggle at the ticklish sensation of deep violet strands brushing against your cheek, “let’s have dinner together tonight.”

at that, your mouth clamps shut, body recoiling to the side to meet a pair of almond eyes, “don’t you have dinner with chairman of samsung tonight?”

from the way jimin’s lips purse together into a pout, it seems like you hit the nail right on its head, “you quit being my secretary - you should let me lie to you and say i’m free so we can have some ‘us’ time.”

“nope,” you shake your head, breaking free from the man’s grasp before looking at him pointedly, “you’re not going to skip a meal with one of the most influential person in the world.”

“how’s the website going?” he attempts to change the topic, eyes focusing on the sequence of letters and numbers on the screen of your mac as if he understood what the codes say.

yet you humor him, “it’s going okay, though i can’t seem to figure out how to configure the servers.” 

it’s been six months since you’ve quit the job. three since you permanently moved in with jimin and one since you’ve got the paperworks done to open up your own joined business with irene. she decided to follow your footsteps to quit even though wendy was basically clinging onto her legs when she came over to pick up her belongings with a growing belly and a sort of radiance on her face.

naturally, the position for co-secretary was opened and applications were flooding in, so much so wendy had to beg you to meet with her somewhere just to review them together.

“i don’t know how to read people,” she lamented, “i do the technical stuff and you do the mind games - by the way,” something flashed in her eyes as her voice lowered into a whisper, “how did you to it?”

she meant, the explosive and tea-worthy news of how you and jimin came to be.

nobody knew about you and him until much much later. when you were free to go out to dinners and social events together with your hand on his arm and him strutting in with a never-before-seen smile. more jaws dropped that afternoon than the money raised for the event.

jeongguk is still the director of the IT department - you left to keep your peace but you’d also hope to keep his. because that’s the thing about past loves and open wounds. they hurt and they bleed with just the right words as knives but it’s how you choose to treat them that heals you.

and though your way of healing is by tearing a piece of yourself over and over again until you grow a new, steeler part that doesn’t mean you loathe the parts you’ve chosen to cut off. 

as such, you don’t hate jeongguk - you still want him to live life to his fullest potential. you still want him to thrive like a wilting flower after a rainstorm.

you just didn’t want to - can’t be part of that life.

“my father used to say, ‘if you find yourself in a dry spell of ideas’, take a break,” jimin’s voice is laced with a sort of playfulness as his eyes disappear behind crescent moons, “particularly in mauritius.”

“you did not book a plane to one of the most beautiful islands in world,” you can feel your cheeks hurting from the growing smile that creeps up your face, “did you?” 

“our flight scheduled to leave at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow,” he sweeps you up into his arms like you weight nothing at all.

“jimin!” a yelp escapes your lips in between him twirling around and the background moving too fast whilst your arms find their way to his shoulder, “you know i can’t hide a whole ass romantic getaway from my mother! what am i going to tell her when her unemployed, supposedly single daughter starts missing our daily calls because i was too busy vacaying?”

“a month,” jimin adds, head bopping against yours - you’re not quite sure when he stopped twirling, “we’re staying there for a whole month.”

“oh my god,” at first, excitement flashes across your face, then worry follows a second later, “what about your schedule? it’s gonna get pushed back - the phone calls wendy’ll have to make!”

“lisa’s in charge of the phone calls,” he means the new addition to his line of secretaries.

“doesn’t make it okay to give her all the work!” you say, not quite as passionate about someone you’ve never met as he gently lowers you, arms still banded around your waist whilst your foreheads touch.

“after we come back, i’ll make arrangements so your parents could come here - so i could meet them,” he steals a kiss from your half-open mouth.

“you’re kidding, you’re gonna meet my parents?” you echo, halfway into believing that you’re hearing things if not for the way his recently dyed hair bounces as he nods.

“i need their blessings first, don’t i?” he says, chuckling.

“after banging their daughter into the bed every single night, you’re gonna need a whole lot of those,” you pat his hair, in a ‘good luck’ kind of manner - your father isn’t the most welcoming and your mother won’t be as pleased to hear the out-of-the-ordinary ways you fell in love.

a bout of chuckles later, he’s swiping you up in his arms again as he carries you towards the familiar hallway where your shared bedroom lies while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“but daddy, it’s still morning,” you giggle.

“didn’t stop you from begging for my dick yesterday, did it?” the corner of his lips curve into a smirk.

x

note. story time (a short post where i talk about the background of the fic eg. why i decided to write it, the overall message of the fic etc.) is already up (queued along w the fic)!

i’m aware that armani is a brand and polyester is a clothing material so it technically can’t be compared together but in a deeper sense, armani’s material is more comfortable than polyester so it works (pls make it work) ahahahahahaha