#not to mention my week has already been so hectic and full of stress and work and now i gotta think abt this on top of it all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burningrubber · 2 years

Text

Not Really a Vacation | CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 6.5k (this was supposed to be a short one, but I just couldn't stop apparently)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some swearing

authors/n: random choice from the promt list "I thought being on vacation will be stress free." This is my first fanfic in a little while so please keep that in mind, and I decided to post it just to have something up on my page :)). I hope you enjoy the fluff and the friends-to-lovers trope. Forgive any mistakes lol. Y/n = your name, and Y/n/n = your nickname just in case. All the love ♡

_______________________________________________

masterlist

gif credit to owner below :)

It was finally the summer break in formula one, meaning that your best friend would finally be coming home. He would finally be around for a few weeks, probably travelling somewhere else at some point, but for however long he would be back in Monaco the two of you would become attached at the hip as always. Catching up on everything.

During last night's FaceTime call to Charles, you had managed to convince him that you would be the one to pick him up from the airport, even if that meant waking up five hours before you usually would. He gave into your stubbornness after a few yes and no exchanges between the two of you, far too tired to fight your mind.

Ever since you woke up, your body has been buzzing, a sense of nervousness settling in your stomach which was a bit unusual. But you brushed it off on your still sleepy brain and quickly got changed into something still pyjama like, but more acceptable for the outside world. After this, you grabbed a coffee to wake yourself a bit more and a few pieces of toast to fill your grumbling stomach.

The minute hand was ticking away slowly, barely dragging to half past 6 when you had to set out to get there at time. Grabbing the keys from the hook, you slid on a pair of shoes before heading out and to the underground parking space for your apartment building.

The drive itself was calm, music floating out of the speaker system of your Mercedes A-class while the windows were half way down, letting through the warm breeze. The knot in your stomach was somewhat there, and it only rose with every mile that you were closer to the airport. Your hands getting a bit clammy at the thought of seeing Charles for the first time in a few months, not being able to make it to the Monaco GP that took place only a few weeks prior due to your exams.

The FaceTimes and late night calls weren't enough for how much you had missed him, almost caving in and buying a plane ticket to the Austrian race that happened recently but due to some placement work, you simply couldn't make that either. It was frustrating, having such a close friend travelling all the time, however, you'd much rather have him in your life than not at all.

Before realising, you had already arrived at the airport pick up point. Getting out of the car gave you something to do, however, it didn't last long and you decided to just lean against the vehicle rather than pacing in front. You had sent him a quick message to say that you were waiting out front, and the only acknowledgement for that message was the read receipts underneath the blue speech bubble. You were fully aware of how hectic post-flight checks are, so you didn't really think twice of this.

Another handful of minutes have passed, and you were ready to send him a message full of question marks but then the arrivals door slid open. Charles was dressed in some jogging bottoms and hoodie, a cap low on his face as the sunglasses covered his beautiful hazel eyes. Once he had locked onto you, a big grin broke out on his face and he started jogging up towards you. Dropping his bags on the pavement once he got to you and pulling you into a hug, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other hand got tangled in your hair, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your arms looped behind his. If he could snuggle any closer to you, he probably would've tried.

"You can let go of me now, I won't disappear," you chuckled lightly as your feet were firmly back on the ground. He didn't fully pull away but leaned back, his hands finding their way down to your hips to give them a light squeeze, the breathtaking smile not once leaving his face as you barely saw his eyes scan over your face.

"I've missed you, mon chérie," he whispered before stepping away from you, grabbing the bags that he dropped as you wordlessly pressed the button to automatically open the boot of the car. You walked back around to your side of the car before sliding into the driver's seat. Once Charles got settled in, you grabbed his hand and gave it a little squeeze,

"I missed you too," you finally replied, before dropping his hand back onto his legs and starting the car, driving away from the airport and in the direction of his home. You could feel his eyes travel over you as you drove, it was slightly distracting as the knot in your stomach turned to a fluttering sensation, "How was the first half of the season?" you questioned, trying to escape this atmosphere without physically getting out of the car. You were well aware of how it had gone, the almost endless calls and updates telling you everything you needed to know at all times if you couldn't watch it on your TV, but it was something to talk about while the sun continued to rise during your ride back.

He immediately jumped onto the question, remembering new details and telling you stories of his driver friends and his garage team, singing their praises even if they weren't here. His voice was full of passion and laughter as he jumped from one topic to the next, filling the vehicle with chatter as you only murmured questions and a few gasps if called for. A smile easily spread across your face, the relief of having him next to you in one piece overwhelming.

Once you had arrived at his place, he took his bags out of the trunk, not letting you help him as you made your way up to the fifth floor of the apartment complex. This year he had remembered to ask you to buy some things for him over the past few days, using your keys to stock his fridge with the few necessities and tidy up slightly.

"How have you been Y/n?" he questioned once the two of you got settled onto the couch in his living space, a piece of toast dangling from his mouth, "You barely talk about yourself when we call," he added after swallowing the piece that he had been munching on. You threw your legs across his lap, getting comfortable amongst the throw pillows,

"I've been as well as any person in University can be, Charles," you replied with a slight groan. The two of you had always been physically affectionate people, however, when his hand landed on the area just below your knee it sent out a wave of goosebumps along your legs, especially when his thumb was tracing mindless circles. Luckily, you were wearing leggings so hopefully he wouldn't have been able to feel the bumps that he had caused with such a small thing. 'What's happening to me?', you had questioned yourself, getting a bit lost in your feelings.

"Well, anything new?" he questioned further after finishing off the toast he had made. You became alert to his voice, and mulled over the question in your head. Uni was getting rough, the final year work piling higher and higher with every lecture and seminar that you attended.

"Nope, same old unfortunately. But a few more weeks and I will be done," you sighed dreamily, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, already picturing yourself on holiday in a random city without any stress looming on your shoulders.

"Does that mean you will finally attend a GP? I have been in this sport for three years now and you haven't made any of the races," he frowned as you looked at him. You did feel guilty at the fact, but you simply couldn't let yourself slip behind, it was a tough course and a tough uni to get into, so you were grateful for everything that led you here and you simply couldn't disappoint yourself or others that have been cheering you on for so many years.

"Hmm, maybe," you chuckled slightly as he rolled his eyes, obviously expecting a more enthusiastic yes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you last night! I got a message from Kat about the gang meeting up tonight. I know you would prefer to sleep and stay in, but it is the first time in a while that everyone is back in one city and James is leaving tomorrow,"

"Of course we can," and with the agreement from Charles, you made a deep dive into scheduling the rest of the day, a part of it including him cooking you guys a late lunch before heading over to your place to get ready as you only had lounge wear at his house. In all honesty, you thought it would take a bit more to get him to agree but he must have missed your group of friends a lot too, it was rare for everyone to meet up. It probably only happened twice a year at this point, which was saddening for all.

Once the two of you finally got into your apartment, chaos ensued. The two of you getting ready was always distracting and entertaining, as one of your phones was connected to the speaker system in the house to play a playlist that the two of you collaborated in making. It was something to make the two of you feel closer when apart, always adding to it whenever you heard a song that you thought the other would like. Whilst getting ready the two of you continued talking about Charles' time away as he had mentioned you around the paddock a few times, his friends and colleagues getting interested in who he was always messaging and calling.

You had recalled him giving you a paddock tour at one of his favourite GPs, along the way you were introduced to unfamiliar faces, as well as somewhat catching up with the people that you knew had been friends with Charles' for longer than just the F1 period, like Max and Pierre. You couldn't help but wonder how he had presented you to these people, and what he had told them about you. It was rare that you could talk about Charles, with his famous status and being known everywhere you couldn't share your happiness about his achievement with others apart from a select few as you had always feared being used by those who you hadn't known for a while.

In between the chatter, the two of you would also break out into song and dance to your favourite songs. Laughter filling the space in between if you didn't know the lyrics. It was nice to feel this carefree with everything going on with studying, and it was definitely good to have him around. His touches and terms of endearment finally made home feel just that little bit better.

With the distractions during getting ready though, it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to turn up later than expected to these types of events and gatherings. It wouldn't usually be more than half an hour though, as when Charles would see the minute hand getting closer to the time you were supposed to leave he would start throwing compliments your way so that you would just stop continuing getting ready and put your shoes on so that the two of you could leave. This usually sounding something like, “your natural hair is beautiful, mon amor,” or your favourite, “you look pretty even without eyebrows pencilled in, mon ange.” However, the only things that those statements would do was awaken those butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

The two of you finally arrived at the groups favourite meet up spot, it was a lowkey bar that served the best snacking food and cocktails full of alcohol. At this point, you knew everyone on the staff and they also knew when to make their rounds and at what point you would like your food. Usually ordering the same things anyway. Once you reached the group, everyone else had stood up to greet the two of you, and with that it was only now you noticed that Charles had grabbed a hold of your hand when you got out of the taxi and didn't let go. The only sign was his hand finally slipping out of your own grasp to greet everyone properly.

The overlapping conversations started immediately, along with compliments and hugs from everyone. It was nice to be together again, the homey feeling settling over all the individuals as you got into your usual rhythm of bantering and breaking off into random topical conversations.

When the drinks started arriving at the table, they didn't stop. The staff making their rounds to collect empty glasses and deposit full ones instead. At some point, the food was also brought out, however, at this point into the night there was no evidence of such a thing. You, along with Kat, had probably mixed the most drinks, as well as had the most. At some point the alcohol flavours mixing into one type which effectively made the cocktails easier to drink. The chattering among the group never ceased, topics jumping from one to the other as people would break off into duos or trios to talk about something else or remember a question that they never got to ask.

At some point of the night too, Charles had moved your chair closer to his, draping an arm around the back of it which encased you in his warmth and the smell of his cologne. With the alcohol's haziness and that wonderful smell, you had managed to break off the conversation and get a bit lost in your own head. You had thought that a night like this and with the help of some alcohol, the nervousness and clammy hands would stop, however, the feelings seemed to only be growing stronger with every touch and gesture from his end. The feeling of his fingers grazing your upper arm definitely didn't help anything either.

"You alright there Y/n/n?" Kat grabbed your attention as she got resettled into her own seat after coming back from the toilets. She had somehow seemed more sober than you, despite having the same amount of alcohol swimming around in her like you did in you.

"Yep," you replied shortly, not trusting your words as you gave her a smile, grateful for a night like this with all your close friends. With the shortness though, Charles' attention had been directed to you and he leaned in towards your ear once Kat had gotten lost in some topic with one of the others.

"Ready to go home?" his gentle voice carried over the conversation happening around you, his breath causing a slight shiver to travel down your spine. You moved away from him, almost falling back if it wasn't for his arm dropping from the back of your chair to your waist, making sure that you wouldn't end up on the floor. With that, you had realised just how much the room was spinning and how much you had longed for your bed after such a long day. And so, you gave Charles a slight nod and small smile.

With the announcement that the two of you were off, everyone bid their farewells with the promises of messaging the group chat that was saved for nights like this so everyone knew that everyone else got home safe. Charles had held onto you to the walk to the taxi, and even when you were in the car. However, you didn't remember much of that, only knowing that you didn't trust your legs or your mouth to not say anything stupid so you didn't answer any of the questions that he was muttering into your hair as you had put your head on his shoulder, it suddenly feeling a bit too heavy.

Getting out of the car was a bit of a chore for the two of you, your body not cooperating with the amount of alcohol that you had consumed so you were thankful for charles arms that were holding you close to him and effectively up right. Once you got to his door, he had opened it but your legs didn't want to go inside, your brain swimming with emotions as the butterflies in your stomach zoned in on his hand around your waist.

"How confusing," you uttered, and Charles looked at you with the same emotion that you spoke of, a line between his brows forming as he furrowed them,

"What do you mean?" he had questioned, not daring to take a step away from your swaying figure,

"Nothing, I'll take the couch," you nodded more to yourself than to him,

"You must be joking," he had stated while dragging you over the threshold, closing the door behind the two of you to not cause too much disturbance to the neighbours at such a late hour. "You're sleeping in my bed, I don't need you choking on your vomit in the middle of the night or something,"

At that one word, you noticed how nauseous you had started to feel, the whooziness of your stomach not a comforting one. You had managed to toe off your shoes before making a dash to the bathroom, head over the toilet bowl as you threw up everything that you had consumed throughout the day.

"Mon chérie," Charles' voice was gentle as he crouched down next to you, pulling your hair back so as to not get anything on it. This was definitely one of the more embarrassing moments that you had around him, the post-throwing up look definitely not it. It's not like you took extra effort to always look good around him 24/7, but, you took some time with your appearance when with him, not wanting to somehow seem lesser to him at any point, not that he would but still. So you definitely didn't want this to be remembered by him.

After emptying your stomach, you swiftly flushed the toilet before leaning back against the wall facing it. Curling in on yourself as you covered your face with your hands. You only felt Charles leave for a second before he was right back next to you,

"Can you take your hands away for me, I need you to drink some water," his voice was barely above a whisper, you slightly took your hands away from your face, noticing how he turned off the harsh light of the bathroom, and replaced it with the soft glow of the one that was out in the hallway.

"I'm sorry," you croaked out when he placed the glass in your hands, taking small sips as instructed by him while he just laid a hand on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze,

"Nothing to apologise for, mon ange," he sighed with some sort of relief. Making himself slightly more comfortable on the floor, he reached into one of the cupboards below the sink and took out a pack of makeup wipes. Placing the glass down you attempted to take the pack from him, but he just stopped your hands with his own, "Let me," he smiled at you as you shuffled to face him a bit more, hugging your knees.

You didn't attempt to fight him, savouring his gentleness and acts to yourself and living in the moment, especially knowing that the days with him wouldn't last long and neither of you needed to bicker right now. The headache beginning to form slightly in the back of your head as Charles wiped off the remaining makeup that was remaining. His fingers working their way across your face with ease, only stopping at your eyes which you opened to question why he stopped.

Your eyes locked, and your breath hitched slightly. The lighting was doing him all the favours, and casting a soft glow around him, the emotions coming back and heat rising to your cheeks at how close you were. But he blinked a few times and then got back to it, neither of you saying anything as he continued once you closed your eyes.

"All done," he had whispered after a few more wipes were used, before throwing them away into a nearby bin. He grabbed ahold of your hands as he got back into a crouched position, "Can you stand up with me?"

The question lingered in the air as you didn't trust yourself to stand up before stumbling, you shook your head no and frowned slightly. Hating all these feelings and potentially what he thought of you right now.

"Ok, let's do it this way then," he stated, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back before effortlessly lifting you up bridal style. You latched your arms around his neck and tucked yourself close,

"I'm sorry," you muttered against his chest, "Just drop me on the couch please,"

"It's not like we haven't shared a bed before," he breathed, walking out of the bathroom and right past the couch, your eyes only ligered on it for as long as you could see it before he settled you down on the bed. "Stop overthinking whatever it is you're overthinking about," he said with a small smile, knowing you all too well as he stood in front of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead before moving around the room.

But you got stuck on that moment, not noticing him coming back around to be in front of you, handing over a pair of leggings and his top. You shook yourself out of your thoughts and got changed when he turned around, despite seeing each other many times in swim wear, the atmosphere felt a bit different today and you were grateful that he turned around.

Once you were ready, you shuffled yourself back up to the pillows, the warmth of the duvet and his cologne sending you straight to sleep, even before Charles got into bed.

_____

Waking up, the sunlight peeking through the blinds didn't help much with the throbbing headache that you were currently experiencing. But the feeling of arms loosely wrapped around your middle slightly diverted your attention from the pain. Blinking your eyes open, you could feel Charles' steady breath fanning across your neck, causing a flurry of goosebumps to erupt in its wake. You internally groaned at your behaviour from last night, the memories coming in pieces and fast. You needed to make it up to him somehow.

After a few more minutes of relishing in his warmth, you gently pried his arms away and replaced your body with a pillow. You admired his sleeping form for a few seconds, the slight creases of worry still evident on his face from the previous night, but overall he looked peaceful. You were aware that he would be out for at least an hour more, letting his body finally relax fully after the first half of the season, finally being at home probably making that easier.

Leaving the room, you silently closed the bedroom door before walking over to the kitchen. Apology breakfast it is. But, your cooking skills weren’t much and it was often that it was Charles that cooked for you. When he wasn’t here, you would call either of your parents to walk you through some recipe that they knew. Despite your independence and living away from your family, cooking never improved for you.

So you settled on something simple, something you made almost everyday. An omelette with some toast. And it was going… well. Somewhat. The vegetables were being pan fried and the eggs ready to be poured over. But with your luck, it started going south. Half the eggs ended up outside the pan and the toast was burnt to a crisp, not even scraping off the burnt pieces would help it. To put the cherry on top, you also knocked a plate off the counter, effectively shattering it to pieces around your feet.

You glanced over at the bedroom door, cursing your own clumsiness. A few beats passed and when you thought you were in the clear the door creaked open, Charles wiping the sleep away from his eyes before running a hand through his hair. For someone who just woke up he looked just as good as any other time and that fact alone made your heart skip a beat, especially when your eyes locked.

“What are you doing, mon amour?” He croaked out, dragging his feet over and settling in a bar stool. Sending him a sheepish smile, you turned off the stove behind you behind your back and attempted to cover up the mayhem that was across his countertops.

“Nothing,” you chuckled nervously, trying to maintain eye contact as he threw you a lazy smile,

“I can smell burnt toast,”

“You must be having a stroke,” you bound over to him and grabbed his face in your hands, trying to keep his attention on anything else. You knew you should have just ordered breakfast from that cute cafe down the street, but to get rid of the guilt and embarrassment you really wanted to make something yourself for him. To show appreciation for everything that he had done for you last night, and any other time really. He gently placed his hands on your hips, and gave a light squeeze as your eyes widened when realising your current position.

“I thought being on a vacation would be stress free,” he muttered out, looking between your eyes with a grin. You scowled at his statement and leaned back, you hands dropping from his face but not stepping away from his grasp,

“You’re not really on vacation since you’re at home. Also what stress? No stress here, good vibes only,” you rambled while shrugging your shoulders as he let out a chuckle.

“Are you ok?” He questioned, changing the atmosphere in an instance as he looked into your eyes for any change. You let out a sigh and walked back to the mess to start cleaning it up, already knowing your order for the cafe.

“Just embarrassed really,” you admitted, you had never lied to each other, knowing full well that the guilt would eat away at you and you would have confessed anyway. So you always decided to skip that part, it also ensured that it was a healthy relationship between the two of you, communication always being an important factor with anyone around you.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, mon chérie. I’m just worried about you, you kept apologising and I still don’t really know what for,” in an instance Charles was besides you, helping out with the cleaning as you started the washing up process,

“Sorry for causing a mess,” you apologised again, wiping away the eggs from the stove and floor.

“There’s no need for all these sorry’s, really, but you can tell me anything and you know that,” with that final statement from Charles, you finished up cleaning and ordered brunch from the cafe. While you took a shower to wash away all the grime and feelings from yesterday, he went to pick it up for the two of you.

All these feelings were still swimming about in you, not stepping away to let you breathe even for a moment. The fluttering in your stomach not ceasing, even when he wasn't around, the mere thought of him and all that he has done for you turning you to mush.

It was during the shower that you finally collated all these feelings, and you simply realised that you liked him, your best friend, the Charles Leclerc. You liked him and it was clearly evident by anything and everything. The FaceTime calls and messages while he was away weren't doing much for the constant feeling of missing him when he wasn't around stuck to your hip. The feelings that would wreck your body during his time racing becoming slightly overwhelming, as you would twitch every time he came too close to a wall. And when he did crash, a lot of messages and calls would be pinging away at his phone, even if you knew that he wouldn't be able to answer it right away, his device tucked away in his driver's room. The relief that would wash over you when you heard his radio, saying that he's okay, would knock you off your feet.

With these feelings finally having a reason attached, you got out of the shower, drying yourself off before changing into a pair of his shorts and an oversized top that he left out for you.

Walking back out to the living room you felt a bit more alive, the headache was slowly seeping out of you and now your body didn’t feel as disgusting. You were drying your hair with a towel when Charles walked back in, one hand holding a bag of pastries and other goods, while in the other he had a cup holder with an iced coffee that you were already drooling at and a regular mocha for him.

He placed the iced coffee into your outstretched grabby hands before settling down on the couch, you sliding onto the floor to be more comfortable and calm down the electricity that coursed through you with the hand contact when he passed you the drink.

The two of you got through the entire bag of goods, sighing in content once you finished on the blue raspberry muffin. You glanced over at him while he was typing away at his phone that was buzzing every once in a while the two of you were eating,

“I’m going to play some games with Lando and Max, are you alright with that y/n?” He looked over at you as you just smiled and nodded at him,

“I’ll clean up so you can go ahead,” you got up on your feet and collected all the rubbish from the table. Charles stood in your way to the kitchen, and gave your shoulders a squeeze before leaving a kiss on your forehead. Again.

“Thank you,” he uttered, stepping away, before leaving you with one more smile and going off into one of his spare rooms that held all his gaming setups. You stood there, hands full of rubbish with your mouth slightly ajar. As much as you guys showed affection through physical means, him kissing your forehead wasn’t frequent, and it had happened twice in the past twelve hours.

Shaking your head, you started off to the kitchen again, throwing away all the empty bags and cups. Before cleaning up the crumbs left behind on the coffee table and opening up some windows to let in the fresh air. You also cleaned up the bedroom and bathroom, picking up clothes along the way to throw them in the wash and tidying up the shoes that were still a bit of a mess at the front of the door.

With a satisfied sigh and smile, you were about to throw yourself on the couch when something started crawling across the floor near the couch. You were about to dismiss it, thinking it was just your tired mind playing tricks on you, when it started to dart towards your feet.

“Charles? Charles for fucks sake! Agh!” you were screaming at the top of your lungs, running away from the living room and into the room where he disappeared before. Closing the door behind you and throwing yourself onto a spare chair, lifting your feet off the ground.

“What? What? What?” he questioned, turning around and pulling your spinny chair towards his, the headset forgotten about as voices floated out of the ear pieces.

“There was a spider,” you frowned, eyes trained on the bottom gap in the door. He got your attention by directing your face to his face with his hands.

“You’re all good now,” he chuckled lightly, “Stay here for a few minutes, I’ll sort it out after finishing up,” he pushed himself back towards the desk and pulled you along with him effectively. Putting the headset back on his head he turned around as you looked towards his desktop.

“You’re streaming?” you deadpanned, heat rising to your cheeks immediately as you put down your bare legs away from the view of the camera. Pushing yourself slowly out of frame in a somewhat awkward manner. He glanced at the chat and then at you chuckling, Max and Lando’s shouts could be somewhat heard and you were wondering how he wasn’t deaf.

“It was a last minute choice to be fair, mon ange. Didn’t know you would run in here shouting,” he said with a smile on his face. You could see his chat flying by, only catching some words that were interested about who you are. It was often that you would sit off to the side while he would stream, not making your presence known. And you were well aware that he would mention you during conversations, but this was your first time actually caught on his camera.

“That’s fair enough, but, like,” you lost your words, a bit stressed about how the situation would be perceived, but Charles didn’t seem to care all that much. He gave your hand a squeeze before going back to talking with his friends.

“Who is the girl?” he read out from the chat and glanced sideways at you, you were locked on him even after he turned away to face his PC screens again, “She’s mon chérie.”

The smile didn’t seem to leave his face, while your breath had hitch a little in your throat. The love in his eyes was evident for everyone in the chat to see as immediately the term ‘girlfriend’ started to be thrown around. You didn’t move for a solid five minutes, even after he had closed off his desktop and tucked his headset onto the PC screen, not hearing what he said after that simple, yet filled, sentence.

“Are we off to find the spider?” He questioned, grabbing your hands and pulling you up and out into the corridor. Is he more touchy than usual or is that just me overthinking everything?, you thought. Once you reached the living room you planted your feet into the floor while he walked around, looking at the floor and walls. “I can’t see anything y/n,”

“Well it was definitely there,” you uttered, cheeks flaming with slight embarrassment at how that whole situation looked. Charles finally pulled you down towards the couch and threw his arms around you, pulling you closer into him.

“How’s the headache?” he whispered into your hair and you stilled when his hand started to massage your scalp.

It was all getting a bit much somehow, these touches and kisses. His terms of endearment having a different effect on you, with his somewhat new to you pronunciation of them. You didn't like being in this conflicted state and you knew that it would all come out eventually. You needed to admit it, and for that to be soon otherwise you'd either combust or oddly distance yourself, he was sure to catch onto your reactions eventually.

"I like you," you breathed out, your mind deciding that it was right not time to confess, "a lot," you had added, the damage wouldn't be furthered by this admission at this point. His movements had stopped and you pulled away from him, you didn't even look up at him as you leaned back into the couch. Facepalming yourself as the pleasant moment and atmosphere was definitely ruined by yours truly. "Just forget that please," a nervous chuckle escaped you, but after a few seconds you felt his hand on your thigh as he moved to be in front of you and the couch.

"I don't want to forget that, mon chérie," he whispered, catching your attention as you moved your hands away. His own hovering over your cheeks as you leaned into his soft touch, a small hopeful smile breaking free, "I like you too, and have done for a long time. I was supposed to tell you at dinner tonight but I guess you beat me to it,"

"You were?" you whispered, your eyes fully captured by his hazel ones, neither of you wanting to break out of this moment. His eyes seemed to verify all that he was saying, the softness and care in them evident. Had you never noticed that? Or did you just misinterpret it?

"Yes," he mused, "Max recommended a restaurant that he went to recently, and I quickly booked us a table for seven this evening," You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you. After a few beats you moved away, but your hands stayed interlocked at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the short hair.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else you broke the moment. The spider was back and you quickly tucked yourself onto the couch and away from him. Simply pointing at the bug that was seemingly staring at the two of you.

Charles dealt with the creature, laughing away at your reaction as your eyes were trained on it, making sure it didn't come back into the living room.

"Well the moment is definitely ruined," Charles announced, causing a chuckle to erupt from you as you finally relaxed. He sat back down next to you, and you were immediately putting your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down onto the couch. He hovered over you for a few seconds, your smiles never fading, "Can I kiss you now?"

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your own not continuing without your consent. You barely nodded before closing the distance between the two of you. It was pure bliss, your lips moulding easily into each other, filled with sweetness and affection. The gentleness he showed was like no other that you experienced from him or others in the past.

The two of you parted for air, both having bright smiles on your faces as he leaned his forehead on yours for a few seconds before moving down and cuddling into you. His arms wrapping around your middle and head finding his favourite spot in the crook of your neck, as your arms loosely looped around his shoulders.

"Before we start getting ready," you whispered out, not wanting to break this comforting atmosphere, "Can we take a nap?" he replied with a nod and a kiss to your shoulder, chuckling slightly at your predictableness before pulling down the blanket that was draped on the back of his couch. Your relationship only shifting slightly in that moment, to something that the two of you would cherish deeply.

🏁🏁🏁🏁

Thank you for reading ♡

835 notes · View notes

wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Date Night

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, sexual suggestion, that’s all!

A/N: hello! here is some fluff for y’all! hope you enjoy! happy reading <3

anon requested: Hi honey! I saw that your requests are open :)) I was wondering if I may please request a fluffly Natasha Romanoff x fem reader one shot, where she surprises the reader with a lunch date (reader has had a super stressful week!) and then convinces her to take the rest of the day off. Later on maybe Natasha starts dropping hints at their future together and later on in the week she proposes (maybe somewhere that has meaning to them) after a very romantic dinner. Thank you!! :))

Summary: Natasha convinces her girlfriend to take some time off of work. They end up having a date night unlike any of their previous ones.

Word Count: 3K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Natasha stared up at the tall building with two bags of food in hand. She was about to surprise you with some lunch, considering you haven’t been able to take a single break the entire week.

Seriously, even when you were at home, you’d be working on paperwork or taking call after call from your company partners. You’d then go back to work the next morning and completely neglect your own needs, the only thing you’d focus on was anything work-related.

You were the CEO of a major telecommunications company and things have been super hectic around your office. You barely had time to breathe with everything that had been going on, so, Natasha thought that it would be a good idea to give you a nice surprise.

She made her way into the building and got into one of the fancy elevators, quickly tapping the button to the top floor and stood in silence, lively elevator music filling the small space.

When the doors opened, she walked out and was greeted by your secretary; Megan.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff. Ms. L/N is just in her office working on some paperwork. She has a meeting in 20 minutes, though.”

Megan sent Natasha a friendly smile. The redhead simply nodded and mumbled out a small ‘thank you’ before opening the door to your office.

She was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk. The light poured into the tall windows in the room, providing sufficient lighting.

You glanced up from your papers at the sound of the door closing softly. Natasha smiled at you and held up the bags of food. Your lips turned upward at the sight of your girlfriend of five years.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” You asked as you got up from your desk, quickly making your way over to greet the Russian. You pulled her in by the waist and into a tight hug.

“I thought you could use some lunch. You haven’t been taking care of yourself and I’m here to change that.” Natasha mumbled into your neck as her arms rested on your shoulder, gripping onto the food she still had in her hands.

“Baby, you didn’t need to come all the way here. I’m fine, just been super busy lately is all.” You pulled back slightly and stared into green eyes.

“Yes, I needed to. I can’t just standby while you’re practically drowning in stress.”

Natasha got out of your embrace and made her way over to your desk, placing the food down and turning around, leaning onto the table with two hands gripping the furniture behind her.

“I’ll manage, it’s kind of my job.” You let out a small giggle, rounding the desk and sitting on your chair. Natasha turned in her spot as you patted your lap.

“Come on, let’s eat the food you brought. I have a meeting soon so we gotta be quick.”

Natasha walked toward you and sat in your lap, your arms circling around her waist. She opened the food and laid out the plates of Thai food.

Natasha fed you and herself. You both sat in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Occasionally, Nat would mimic an airplane or train noise as she moved the spoon closer to you, laughing as she abruptly shoved the utensil into your mouth.

After fifteen minutes had passed, you looked at your watch and sighed. You had another meeting that would probably be ridiculously long for no reason.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I have to get going. I have a meeting in five.”

You moved to get up, but Natasha refused to move off of your lap. You raised an eyebrow at her, the redhead giving you a stern look.

“Take the day off.” You shook your head in protest. You couldn’t take a day off, not now at least.

“Honey, you know I would if I could, bu-“ Natasha immediately cut you off, pressing her lips against yours before pulling back quickly.

“You can though. You’ve been working more than necessary! Please, it’s not even a full day off, it’s half a day.”

Natasha gave you the best puppy dog eyes and pout that she could, knowing how it affected you. Of course, she ended up winning.

“Fine, fine.” You muttered out, leaning forward and pressing a button on your desk-side phone, paging Megan, who sat just outside your office.

“Yes, Ms. L/N?” Your assistant’s spritely voice rang through the phone.

“Megan, could you please clear the rest of my day? I’m taking the day off.” You heard some shuffling on the other end of the phone before the woman replied.

“Okay, your schedule has been cleared and your meetings have been rescheduled to tomorrow.”

Natasha, who could faintly hear the other end of the conversation, smiled triumphantly and placed a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“Thank you.” And with that, you hung up and returned your attention to the beaming redhead in your lap.

“You never play fair.” You mumbled against her cheek as you placed a gentle kiss against her skin.

“All is fair in love and war, moya lyubov (my love).” You rolled your eyes at the Russian while holding back a smile.

She got out of your hold and stood up, grabbing both of your hands and forcefully pulling you to your feet.

“Let’s go! I know a few things we could do today.” Natasha spoke seductively and sent you a little wink before grabbing the trash on your desk and throwing it away in the small trash can you had under the table.

You watched with a wide smile as she waltzed toward the door, making sure to sway her hips a little more, exaggerating the movement. There was an extra spring in her step that caused her red locks to bounce with each movement.

She turned her head around when her hand was on the doorknob, smirking at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you coming or not?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I have a feeling I will be soon.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 hours later

You laid in bed with Natasha by your side, her head resting on your shoulder with an arm around your torso.

After hours of love-making, you guys had finally gotten to relax. You both just stayed there in each other’s arms, appreciating the moment.

“Honey?” Natasha spoke, breaking the silence.

You tilted your head to look down at her, the redhead already staring up at you as you hummed.

“Have you ever thought about what you want your future to look like?”

This wasn’t the first time you guys have discussed the future. You’d both mention small tidbits of your aspirations and goals, but never went too far into the details of it all.

“Well, first starters, you’re definitely there.” Natasha smiled up at you with bright eyes. It absolutely warmed your heart to see her so full of joy.

“Really?” You nodded your head and kissed her forehead, the redhead briefly shutting her eyes as your soft lips met her skin.

“Really.” You pulled back, brushing your nose against hers. The redhead placed a hand on your cheek, as connected your foreheads.

“Well, I see you in mine too. Maybe we would end up leaving this penthouse and buy an actual home together.”

You nodded with a wide smile. The thought of buying a property with the woman you adored had you giddy.

“Yeah, definitely. Then maybe we could have little rascals of our own running around. We could find a surrogate or maybe even adopt if you’d want to.”

Natasha felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of love. The thought of having children to raise with you filled her with more joy than ever.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’d love that.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The moment was cut off when a loud yawn tore through your body, promoting a little giggle from your girlfriend.

She cuddled closer to you, her arm tightening around your body with a smile on her face.

“Let’s get some rest.” Natasha’s words were slightly slurred, the exhaustion of your previous activities hitting her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, so we can have energy for a round two.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah right, more like round ten.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Go big or go home!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Go to sleep, idiot.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

5 days later

It was a Saturday night and Natasha had practically forced you to not go into work.

Usually, you would go into the office on Saturdays, despite having the day off, to get some extra work out of the way, but your girlfriend was extremely persistent.

So now, here you two were, getting ready to go out for a date night. You had to admit that this was a good idea.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and Nat had gone out on a date; it was a rarity with how busy you both would be majority of the time.

You walked out of the bathroom after brushing out your hair, your heart racing at the sight of your girlfriend clad in a simple black body-con dress that hugged her curves in all the right places paired with a cute, black blazer.

She straightened her hair and did her makeup just the way you liked it.

You stalked over to the woman who stood in front of the full-body length mirror, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind and placing a soft kiss onto her cheek.

“You look gorgeous, baby. I’m so lucky.” Your eyes raked over her figure through the reflection of the mirror before meeting her green ones.

“Thank you, but I’m the lucky one. I swear, if we didn’t have reservations, I’d rip your clothes off and take you right here.”

Natasha’s voice came out husky when you kissed the side of her neck. You sucked on her skin lightly and went to leave a mark, but the Russian turned around in your embrace.

“No marks, not until after dinner at least.” You let out a small whine, pulling her front against yours tightly.

“Oh come on! It’s not like we haven’t ditched our reservations for dinner before. I miss you.”

You tried to go for her neck again, but she flicked your forehead. You stared at her with a look that screamed ‘what the fuck was that for?’

“Don’t give me that look. I’ve been looking forward to having a date night for months. We aren’t missing this. Let’s go.”

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Two hours later

Natasha had taken you to one of the best restaurants in New York. You weren’t one for fancy places, you were more of a ‘let’s order takeout and watch tv’ kind of gal, but Natasha absolutely loved luxurious dining experiences.

When you both arrived, the waited immediately escorted you both to the most private table in the house.

The table was set with candles and rose petals were spread across the tablecloth. You were blown away, seeing as the table overlooked the city.

Natasha pulled your seat back for you, placing a soft kiss on her cheek as you sat down. You watched as she rounded the table and sat in the chair across from you.

Her skin was golden as the candlelight brightened up her face, accentuating her green eyes beautifully. She had a cheeky smile on her face and wiggled her eyebrows at you before looking at the menu.

Of course, the redhead ordered the best wine the restaurant had to offer, immediately asking for a bottle of the alcohol.

You two talked about anything and everything over the course of the dinner. You had to admit, this was probably one of the best dates you guys had ever been on, besides your first one, at least.

As you both finished off your meals and were given the check, you noticed that Natasha couldn’t seem to sit still.

She was tapping her fingers against the table anxiously as she gnawed on her bottom lip. You placed your hand on top of hers, stopping the insistent movement.

“Is everything okay, baby?” You asked in concern. It was really unlike Natasha to be nervous, especially during date night.

She was usually relaxed and content whenever you both had time to spend out together.

The redhead sent you a reassuring smile and flipped her hand over, intertwining your fingers before bringing your conjoined hands up to her lips, kissing the back of your hand.

“Never better, hon. Come on, there’s somewhere I want to take you.”

Natasha placed her credit card into the bill holder and waved down a waiter and shortly after, you both walked out into the cool New York air, hand-in-hand.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Your eyes lit up when you noticed where your next destination was; Central Park.

You had always loved the park. There was something so beautiful about the scenery and the usual liveliness of the area that brought you so much peace and comfort.

Natasha led you towards a pond that was located in the heart of the park and you immediately recognized which one it was.

The redhead stopped in her tracks on top of the tiny bridge that hovered over the pond.

“Do you remember this spot?” She asked you as she turned around to face you, hand still linked with yours.

“How could I forget? You took me here on our very first date to feed the ducks, which completely backfired.” You let out a laugh at the memory, Natasha’s cheeks turning red.

“I wouldn’t say it backfired…” The redhead mumbled shyly which only made you laugh harder.

“Honey, you ended up getting attacked by pigeons because you were holding the bread. You walked me home covered in bird shit and your clothes were absolutely torn apart.”

You were practically crying from your laughter and you felt Natasha’s hand heating up in yours.

“It wasn’t funny! I really liked that outfit.” Natasha pouted as your laughter died down.

You placed a kiss onto her pouty lips, her frown quickly replaced with a bright smile.

“Anyway, I took you here because this is where our first date was which obviously resulted in us dating.”

You nodded your head at her words, deciding to remain silent when you noticed she had more to add.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And, well… this is where I want our last date, as girlfriends, to be.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You felt your heart sink at her words. Was she breaking up with you right now? It didn’t make any sense! She didn’t ever show any indication that she was unhappy or wanted to leave you.

However, before you could completely break down, Natasha let out a shaky breath, and it was then that you noticed how shaky her hands were.

“Y/N, All my life, I never thought that I’d find love. After all of the things that the Red Room had taught me and forced me to do, I never believed that love was in the cards for me, but then I met you, and everything changed.”

You stared at Natasha curiously. This definitely didn’t sound like a breakup. So what was she going on about?

“I never ever thought that one day, I’d find someone that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. I never thought that I’d ever want to buy a house and build a family with another person, but god, I’m so fucking happy that I was wrong.”

Your eyes watered when the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. Your thoughts were confirmed as Natasha let go of your hand and slowly bent down on one knee in front of you, reaching her hand into her blazer pocket, revealing the small velvet red box that had been tucked away in the material.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Baby, these last five years have been the best years I’ve ever had, and it was all because of you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Your hands flew up to your mouth as a gasp escaped your lips. There were tears in your eyes as she revealed a gorgeous engagement ring to you.

“Y/N, I want you, every day, for the rest of my life. Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Natasha’s voice was unstable as she tried to hold back her emotions, but that went out the window when you frantically nodded your head in agreement.

“Yes!” You whispered out in shock. Natasha looked up at you with a wide smile.

“Yeah?” The redhead asked for confirmation and you let out a small chuckle.

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you! Is that even a question?” Natasha grabbed your left hand shakily and slid the ring onto your finger.

You were both crying at this point. You didn’t care that you were both stood in the freezing cold, in the middle of Central Park.

All that mattered was that this was going to be the beginning of the rest of your life with the woman you loved.

Suddenly, Natasha stood up and picked you up by the waist, twirling you both around.

Honestly, you were surprised she didn’t stumble, considering the fact that she was wearing such high heels. Luckily for you though, she didn’t fall.

You were both laughing like maniacs when she finally stopped spinning. You were like two teenagers in love without a care in the world.

You leaned down, still in her arms, and kissed her passionately.

You could feel all the love and adoration she had for you through the kiss and you prayed to God that she could feel just how much you felt for her too.

When Natasha disconnected the kiss, she placed you gently onto the floor, your arms immediately going around her neck, hers securing themselves around your waist.

“We’re getting married?” She asked in disbelief. Natasha genuinely couldn’t believe that you said yes, even if you never gave her any indication that you would say no.

“We’re getting married.” You reassured her, kissing the tip of her nose, practically melting as her nose scrunched up adorably.

This definitely wasn’t what you expected the night to be like, but you wouldn’t change any detail about it for the world.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were going to be Y/N L/N-Romanoff.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And that was a name you were going to carry around proudly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

join my taglist!

taglist: @eilarch @mindofwesley @d14n4ol @marrymemcgrath @marvelwomen-simp @fayhar @peggycarter-steverogers @midgardianweasley @unstable-sapphic-hoe @q-hearts @hallecarey1 @prentisshoe @tquick99 @levram @xxromanoffxx @romanovaslut @madamevirgo @romanoffprint @mrsromanoff @mrs-avenger3000 @acertainredhead @b-5by5 @lauraageorgiaa @peterbparkersbae @miricalebev @weelight @simpforwandanat @thewidowsghost @this-is-my-last-life @mmmmokdok @fishyandco @alexajbitar @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @loomontoia @kingpreciouswrld @justafairygirl @rail-me-romanoff @haughtlikehell @urmomsahoe6969 @iblameitonclint @makegoodchoices @puppy-danvers2016 @natashaswifey @rvselie @hoeforwandanat @shycoloravenue @scotts-orange-slices @grxvitye @lostandsearching @snooy245

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

439 notes · View notes

silv3rswirls · 3 years

Text

Clingy

Anon asks: hello! I wanted to request something along the lines of Jin calling his gf clingy behind her back when really she’s just going thru a lot atm and in need of Jin. Super angsty, but with a kind of happy ending??thank you so much if you do end up writing this :)

Paring: Kim Seokjin/reader

Summary: When life becomes too much you always look to Jin for support; however, it seems he’s grown tired of it.

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, slight fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

You were so grateful for your boyfriend.

Jin seemed to be perfect in every way. You got along easily, he was funny and kind, attentive despite idol life. He was wonderful. He was your perfect shoulder to lean on when you needed it and lately it seemed that you were having more downs and ups in life. You were in your final years of university, working part-time as well. It could get pretty overwhelming at times. You were keeping up fine with your work, but could probably use some more studying, but work was just so hectic lately. It was draining, dealing with rude people and a tough boss that always seemed to have something negative to say to you. Things were starting to feel bad again. Mornings you struggled to get out of bed, often too tired and sluggish to get ready. But you did, you managed to force yourself up and out. Getting through the day was hard though.

Today has been hard. One of your grades was slipping and work had been busier than it had all week. Your manager had yelled at you for not working fast enough, but it was hard when the store seemed packed full of people. You left later than usual as well. Still, you tried to look forward to seeing Jin after such a long day. Lately, he has been the only thing keeping you afloat. Spending time with him just seemed to melt your stress away. Being able to talk to him made the weight on your shoulders feel just a bit lighter.

At this time Jin was still at the studio, but you had already told him you would come by for a bit after work. It was something you did often and Jin always seemed to enjoy it when you came. You entered the building, heading for the practice room right away. The door was cracked open, music off indicating that they were probably taking a breather. You took a deep breath, trying to lift your spirits a bit more before going in. As you went to push the door open you stopped when you heard Jin and Namjoon speaking.

“Is Y/n still going to come by?” Namjoon asked.

“Probably.” Jin sighed.

“You don’t sound very excited.”

“It’s just- she’s been so clingy lately.” Jin admitted, “it’s all day every day with her, I don’t even get any time just for myself anymore.”

You dropped your arm from the doorknob. Clingy? Jin thought you were clingy? Blinking a few times you felt the tears that had built up throughout the day threatening to fall. You hadn’t thought you were being clingy, just seeking comfort. You told him how hard things were getting, but maybe you had gone overboard? You sniffled, taking a step back to turn around and leave, but you bumped into someone instead. Jimin was standing there, a bit of a pale look on his face at what Jin had said. “Y/n” he spoke, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like-”

“I know what he meant” You interrupted, feeling the tears begin to fall. “It’s fine I’ve just been- um” you reached to brush away the tears falling from your eyes. The build of the past few days was finally getting to you. Hearing Jin says that was just what set it all off. You couldn’t help it as you broke down in a fit of tears.

“Y/n, don’t cry” Jimin begged, “come in and talk to Jin.”

“No, I-I don’t want to bother him.” You took a deep breath. “I’m just going to go home, it’s fine.”

“Let me take you home” Jimin offered, “practice is pretty much over anyway, you shouldn’t go alone.” Jimin didn’t give you much of a choice as he told you to wait for him, running in to grab his things and tell the others he had to go. He walked with you out, catching a car to take the two of you to your apartment. He held your hand and tried to comfort you, telling you that Jin was just being stupid, that he didn’t mean it.

You were grateful for his attempts to comfort you, but you had a feeling this wasn’t just some accident. Jimin stayed with you for a bit, talking some more. You told him about your recent troubles, breaking down under the stress of it again. Jimin was there for you as a good friend, but you couldn’t help but wish it was Jin who was sitting with you right now.

You didn’t contact Jin that night or the next day. Jimin checked up on you at least, and when Jin finally texted you ignored him. What was the point if he thought you were too clingy with your problems? He wanted some alone time, so you were giving it to him. Luckily you had the weekend off of work, but the two classes you had over the weekend went missed. You felt bad, thinking about the material you were missing, but you couldn’t seem to drum up the motivation to get out of bed. It wasn’t a new feeling, you had had pretty bad run-ins with depression in the past. It had been a while since you felt this bad though, it felt like the past was just repeating itself. You hardly ate and barely took care of yourself. You just couldn’t see the point in it right now.

Jin, on the other hand, despite enjoying some more free time was beginning to get worried about you. He texted and called a few times, all of them went unanswered. We stopped by your work one evening, only to find you had the weekend off and even called Monday off as well. It had been two days since that evening and he was becoming worried. He contemplated going to your apartment. “Maybe she’s just busy with other things right now.” Taehyung offered as Jin stared at his phone with furrowed brows.

“But she hasn’t answered in almost three days,” he sighed.

“What’s the big deal, didn’t you say she was being too clingy?” Jimin asked, looking up from his phone. “Enjoy your free time Hyung.”

Jin’s face grew a bit flustered. “I didn’t mean-”

“You know she heard you say it right?” Jimin asked, “she looked really hurt, started crying even.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You shouldn’t string her along. If you don’t want to be around her then tell her yourself.” Jimin frowned, “she’s alright, just upset.”

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah, I’ve been checking in. She doesn’t really want to talk to me or anyone.” Jimin informed, “I’m mad at you for being so careless Hyung, but if you really do care about her I suggest you fix things.”

Jin was at your apartment only an hour later. He knocked a few times, waiting impatiently for your answer. He used the spare key you had given him to get in. He went straight for the bedroom, frowning at how dark it was. He moved to peel the curtains open, letting the sunlight bounce around the room and onto the pile of blankets on the bed. “Y/n?” Jin asked, going to your bedside and tossing the blankets off of your head. “Y/n, are you alright?” He asked, concern laced in his tone. You didn’t look very good, curled up in the safety of your blankers, hair tangled and heavy bag under your eyes.

“What do you want?” You asked coldly, turning away.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean for you to hear what I said-”

“Well, I did. I’m sorry for being so clingy Jin.” You tried to keep your voice strong and mad, but you could feel it slipping the more he talked to you.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” Jin apologized, “you’re not clingy, I was just talking my stress out on you. I love being around you.”

“I-I don’t mean to be so clingy Jin, things are just really hard right now.” You sniffle, turning over to look at him. “Work, school, everything’s too much. You make everything better, that’s why I wanted to be around you so much. You make me forget all my problems.”

“I know” Jin spoke softly, moving to sit down beside you, his hand coming to rub up and down your arm. “I shouldn’t talk about you like that, you know I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can I cuddle?” He asked, waiting for you to slowly nod and scoot over a bit so he could slip under the covers beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “We can talk more about it later okay? I love you Y/n.”

You nodded, not entirely feeling better. You were willing to talk more about it, as you weren’t willing to just break your relationship off over it. You loved Jin, obviously, he loved you as well, but you couldn’t help the creeping feeling in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if things with Jin would ever truly go back to normal.

#bts fanfic #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts #bts x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin imagine #jin x reader #bts jin x reader #slight angst #bts angst #seokjin angst

413 notes · View notes

aching-tummies · 3 years

Note

(Not exactly sure if I'm really doing this right but here we go.) If I was your partner... I'd take you someplace nice and encourage you to eat whatever you want. After a large meal I'd be the one to drive home, as your complaining of an upset stomach. Wanting a reaction, I'd take you down the secluded, bumpy road to see what happens.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely ask! I kind of deviated a little, incorporating some of what's been going on in my life lately (new job, stresses causing me to skip meals, the craving for pasta, etc.) The beginnings of this do delve into spiraling about weight(loss) and body image stuff a little...so if that's a trigger for people then this is your warning.

It’s been more than two years since we indulged in dine-in service at a place with non-disposable cutlery. I’ve been craving pasta for even longer than that. Creamy, garlic-y, non-reheated pasta served on a plate and twirled around a metal fork.

We haven’t taken any opportunities to celebrate for the last two years. Birthdays, holidays, promotions at work or major advancements in our career adventures—we’ve barely done anything more than acknowledge them as we both go to pick up extra shifts wherever it is that we have been working. Honestly, we’ve seen so little of each other that it wouldn’t surprise either of us if the other snuck in a job-change in the last two years. That all changes tonight.

A nearby pasta place is offering dine-in service. We booked a reservation for tonight—all you have to do is pick me up from work and we can head on over.

I’m the one that managed to sneak in a job-change in the craziness. Fast-food to office intern. I’m barely handling things. I’ve been beyond exhausted because the change happened suddenly. The office place demanded that I start with them on a whim (despite my only condition on hiring being the time to give my fast-food job the proper two week notice). Due to their abrupt “start now or we will move ahead with other candidates” ultimatum, I’ve been pulling 44+ hour weeks juggling two jobs located on opposite ends of the city.

Tonight is a celebration. Dine-in service by itself is already something to celebrate in my books, but you’re insisting that tonight is for me because I finally finished my dues to the fast-food place. The hellish four weeks of juggling is over. No more calls at midnight from me begging you to pick me up from some random quadrant of the city because I nodded off on the last bus home. No more days where I make it home from my office job only to get an urgent call from the fast-food place begging/demanding that I show up because someone cut work. No more packed weeks with no days off or time to even pack myself lunch. Hopefully no more nights where you have to peel me off of the floor because making it home was all I managed before passing out from exhaustion.

I’ve got an hour before you’re set to come pick me up from my office job. I can’t help but smile as I count down the minutes while working on editing some funding proposal that was shoved at me a couple of minutes ago.

My stomach grumbles at me and I clam up. I blush as I look around to ensure nobody heard it. The office is basically empty. All the other staff seem to have gone off to lunch. That’s something I’m going to have to get used to: the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a set schedule here…people head out to lunch whenever. As a petrified newbie, I haven’t had the guts to just take off whenever. The number of shifts where I’ve stayed here for a full eight hours and then navigated an hour and a half of transit transfers only to come home ravenous is pretty high.

Welp, if a stomach growls and nobody is here to hear it then I guess it doesn’t make a sound. I’ve got an hour left before you come to pick me up and we’re basically just two hours away from satisfying my years long pasta craving. Going out to hunt for food now would only spoil my appetite.

“I AM HERE!”

I giggle at the reference and accompanying gif you’ve sent to announce your arrival. I pack up my area and get up, saying ‘bye’ to Jerry on my way out. The second I walk out that door will mark the start of my days off for the week, something I haven’t had in over a month.

“Hi, sweetie!” I chirp as I open the passenger door and bend over to set down my bag.

As I settle in, folding myself into the car, the movements dislodge a deep rumble from my tummy. I freeze, arm still reaching out to close the door. You snicker at me with your left arm perched on your open window, fingers close to your face and highlighting that charming grin of yours that I love so much.

“Oi, close the door and we can get going.”

I do just that. With the door closed, you carefully back out of the parking space and off we go. We don’t get very far. Ah, the joys of rush hour. No use honking, Karen, you’re not ‘stuck in traffic’—you are traffic and there’s no manager for you to speak to here, moron!

I adjust my seat a little, leaning back and allowing myself to relax. I’ve done it. Tomorrow is a day off. And so is the next day. My first true weekend in over three years and my first days off in over three weeks. I can feel the tension ebbing out of me. My shoulders untense, leaving behind a distinct soreness.

My shoulders aren’t the only thing to stop tensing. Apparently, my abdominals decided to join in as well.

Grrr…RRRR…blr.br…rrr.

I blush and sit up, arms wrapping around my stomach as it continues to snarl at me. The growls come with the sharp pains of hunger pangs and I wince, hugging my tummy and pressing my arms against the pain. The grumbles are quickly drowned out by your laughter.

“Man, no wonder you say your coworkers don’t talk to you here. If I heard that coming from a newbie I’d be scared of ‘em too.”

“S-Shut up!” I don’t want to admit that my tummy has been growling very loudly at the office. I’ve skipped more lunches than I’ve eaten in my time here. I lean back in the seat again, arms crossed over my chest as I look away from you, pouting. I’m hungry enough that my stomach really hurts, I’m a panicking newbie at work that doesn’t know the ropes or what’s expected of them, and here you are teasing me.

Your right hand reaches over but instead of stopping on the shift stick it continues further until your palm finds my stomach. The gentle pressure and the warmth of your palm nudging right over where my stomach joins my intestines aids in the relaxation of my tensed muscles and brings forth another loud grumble from my guts. You move your hand slightly, patting and rubbing my flat tummy absentmindedly as you keep the rest of you focused on traffic.

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Y-Yeah…” I don’t want to admit that I’m happy about it. My waistband was loose enough to fall to my thighs before I put my belt on this morning. I love it but you and I both know weight and eating are sore subjects for me. I bite my tongue to keep from asking whether or not you think the weight loss is a good thing or not. Your tone was flat—it was an observation. The fact that I’ve been too busy and stressed out to have time to eat (or digest properly when I do) has led to the rapid shedding of pounds. Not just in the last three or four weeks, but for a long time yet. The reasons for the weight loss aren’t good…but I really do like the results, so I don’t want to hear it from you…good or bad…I don’t want to hear it. Thankfully, you don’t push the issue. Traffic picks up and you remove your hand from my stomach and put it back on the wheel.

My stomach continues to gripe and snarl as we make our way through the city at a crawl. I no longer have work to distract me and your impromptu massage has definitely woken the beast in my guts. ‘Starving’ doesn’t even begin to cover how my stomach feels. I’m starting to feel the other effects of the lack of food too. Light-headedness, feeling cold, and a limpness in my limbs. I want to press my arms into my stomach to quell some of the ache and the noises but I just can’t seem to summon the strength to put enough pressure on it. I wish you had kept your hand on my tummy. As much as your touch intensified the hunger, the pressure of your hand on my stomach was kind of comforting. Ugh…this is all wrong. We’ve been together long enough to know that both of us are into tummy stuff. Any other opportunity we’d be all over each other right now. Your mention of the weight I’ve lost and the silence that has followed since is filling me with anxiety. Under normal circumstances you’d have parked the car somewhere to tease my hungry tummy into oblivion. The fact that we’re currently driving in silence when there’s a golden kink opportunity in the palm of our hands is worrisome to me. Suddenly I don’t feel so good about the weight I’ve lost. I like it. It made me look totally bomb in my new office clothes. Buttons don’t strain even when I bend over or stretch. I spend the rest of the car ride lost in my anxieties. I’m not at an unhealthy weight. Sure, losing it is a testament of the stress I’ve been under lately…but it’s not like I’ve been intentionally skipping meals or fixating on some unachievable body image or something. This isn’t about the weight or anything, it was just a happy consequence of the hectic times I’ve gone through.

We arrive at the restaurant and you get out, expecting me to follow. I’ve managed to work myself into a ball of anxiety in the passenger seat and I don’t move. You pause on the sidewalk when you see me still strapped inside the car. You walk over and open the passenger door.

“Babe?” You see me petrified and chewing on my lip—a tell-tale sign I’m fighting some internal battle. “What’s wrong?” You cup my cheek with your hand, thumb going to pull my lower lip away from my teeth.

“Huh? Wha?” My gaze sharpens as I’m brought back to reality. I didn’t even realize we’ve arrived.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Uhm…w-well…y-you said…n-nevermind.” I unbuckle the seatbelt and step out of the car. You frown as you think back on what I meant about you having said something.

“Oh, about the weight loss?” I freeze. Bingo. “Babe—I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. Just an observation.” You scratch at the back of your head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately and gosh knows neither of us has had time to cook or pack lunches. I was just thinking that maybe we should work on that together. Going hungry so often sounds like a dream, kink-wise…but neither of us has had time for that lately. I was going to suggest creating a mealplan or something together, maybe bringing out the slow cooker and freezing some stuff so that we can just grab and go for work going forward.” I stumble over and rest my head on your shoulder, giving a slight nod.

I’m overwhelmed. One thing you said sent me spiraling and you just pulled me out of it.

“Ugh…don’t do that again.”

You smirk. “I won’t. Rather than think yourself into a hole over that, you should really think about what it is you want to eat. We’re ordering off the full menu tonight.”

My eyes widen. The full menu has more selection but it’s way more expensive. Every time we’ve come here in the past, we have always ordered off the specials menu—the discounted, half-size portions that they offer. You smile seeing my stunned reaction.

“Birthdays, holidays—and Sweets, you got a job! You got a job where you don’t have to deal with the dreaded ‘customer’. I’m proud of you, Sweets. This…this is supposed to be a celebration…right? For all the celebrating we haven’t been able to do in…damn, how long has it been—” Your rambling is cut off when I seal your lips with mine. I step back with a grin, watching the dumbfounded, wide-eyed expression pass over to you ‘cuz I’m usually the no-kissy-touchy type.

“Chicken parm with garlic, angel-hair pasta in cream sauce.” I know exactly what I want to order. I’ve known it for over two years. That dish has been taunting me in my dreams for over two years. When I chew on my pillow in my sleep ‘cuz I skipped dinner in lieu of sleep I’m dreaming about that dish. The last time I had it from here was with my parents—long before I met you—for a birthday when I was still in grade school. My stomach growls, punctuating my declaration. The sound shocks you out of your reverie and you slide an arm around my waist, resting your palm against my stomach as you feel all the empty rumbles reverberating beneath your palm.

“Alright. Guess we better walk in before they give away our table…or before you decide it’s quicker just to eat me here in the parking lot.”

Ugh…how am I already full? There’s still so much food on the plate. So, so much. Urrgh…

My stomach silently gripes at me. A sickly, sticky feeling is blooming in my guts. I’m sated but there is still far too much food on my plate. The full menu is more expensive, but they fill the plate up more and often use bigger plates. I’ve forgotten just how big, and my tummy is suffering. Two years is a long time to go without something and I’ve gone without fulfilling my craving for pasta in cream sauce for over two years, maybe even three. That’s a long time…long enough for my stomach to forget how to handle cream sauce, apparently.

I’ve only swallowed about a fifth of my plate and my stomach already feels heavy. The warm bread to start and the bites of chicken parmesan cutlet went down alright. They lined my stomach comfortably and my digestive tract knew exactly how to handle them. The first couple of bites of pasta were cushioned by the bread and chicken. When that lining dissolved away and more of the pasta came into contact with my gastric juices, I realized there was a problem.

My stomach pounced on the bites of bread and the water and cola I chased it down with. I could practically feel my duodenum yawning wide to suck in the masticated bread, my intestines just as hungry for it as I have been all day. When it had to contend with the cream sauce things started to slow down. I can feel a backlog of stuff sitting in my stomach, refusing to be broken down further into a form that will comfortably move onto my intestines. I’m chewing a lot more, my mouth creating more saliva. I feel sick. My stomach doesn’t hurt, yet, but it’s definitely going to as it fights with the creamy, oily pasta.

“Ooh…they’ve got tiramisu here.” You’re eyeing the dessert menu. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“Yeah…but it’s expensive and this is a lotta food.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating, Sweets. We’ll take whatever you don’t finish to-go. Leftovers are a Godsend, remember? C’mon, let’s live a little.”

I feel a weight settle in my stomach as you flag down a passing wait-staff and order a tiramisu. To share, thank God. My stomach churns in vain, serving only to churn up the mess of creamy pasta and chicken without moving it along further in the digestive process. The sphincter to my duodenum is squeezed tight, refusing passage to the foreign cream and oil mix that it doesn’t seem to recognize.

I managed to finish just under half of my plate before the dessert arrived. I decided to throw in the towel and asked for the rest to be packed up to-go. I put on a smile as we share the dessert and hope it’s not as shaky as my guts feel. The dessert is delicious. Rich, flavorful, and perfect. If only I didn’t have to feel it sickeningly sliding down my esophagus, plopping down heavily into a stomach crammed much too full with indigestible pasta. As my stomach clenches and churns things around the creamy tiramisu is going to get incorporated with the rest of the mess. It’s going to make it thicker and creamier…as if it wasn’t already too thick and too creamy for my duodenum to open up and allow it to wreak havoc in my intestines. As sick as my overstuffed stomach feels, I am a little grateful that my duodenum is being a stubborn prick.

If the creamy mess had passed into my intestines, I’d be doubled over in the bathroom right now, rubbing futilely at my revolting intestines. I know what dairy does to my guts. It doesn’t usually happen, just when I’m stressed or it’s close to that time of the month. It’s nasty and it hurts bad enough that I honestly think hell is enduring those cramping intestines for eternity.

We finish the tiramisu. You offer me the lion’s share, but I refuse and push it back to you with a mention on my stomach being really full. I bring my hands to my stomach and I catch the way your eyes smolder at the sight. Good. Yes. Get us home quickly, darling.

You pay for the meal, and we are off. I clutch my tummy behind my bag as we walk out to the car. Every step sends aftershocks into my guts and it’s really upsetting things in my stomach.

As I settle in the passenger seat, I notice the buttons on my blouse are a little bit strained around my stomach. Horror sets in and I quickly fumble to get the buttons undone. I don’t want to ruin my shirt and the sight of the straining buttons triggers something nasty in my mind. I calm down a little once the buttons are undone and I rub my tummy under the cover of my bag, palms running up and down the dark undershirt that is draped snugly over my full belly.

“It’s still early. Want to really paint the town red and see if we can catch a movie somewhere?”

I swallow back a sickly belch to answer your question, my questing hands churning up the mess in my guts and dislodging air pockets.

“Umph…n-no…let’s go home.”

“Sweets, you okay?” Your voice is laced with concern. Surely you can hear the sickly squelching from my guts. Do I have to spell it out for you?

“Hmm? No,” I blush as I fidget and grapple with whether or not to come clean. I’m shy about this kind of stuff—you’re my partner though and have been for a long time—we’re both into tummy stuff—we haven’t done anything on this front in a very long time. Making my decision, I move my back over to the floor, resting it against my shins and I lean back, allowing you full view of my distended tummy with my blouse undone. “I just…uhm…m-my tummy’s kinda…upset…I just really want to get home.” My stomach burbles sickly throughout our conversation. I have both my hands on the rounded curve of it, rubbing at tender spots with my thumbs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of my belly rounding out my undershirt. You start the car and pull out of our stall. Instead of righting the car onto the road you keep backing into a more secluded spot on the far end of the lot. This one is obscured by an overgrown bush or tree on the passenger side.

I haven’t even bothered with getting my seatbelt on. I was too caught up in my indigestion to think of it despite it normally being a habit. To be fair, I don’t think the seatbelt is a good idea with my tummy so bloated and sore.

“What are you—”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn in your seat, giving me your full attention. My seat is still reclined a little further than normal from the drive over. Gently, you put a hand on my shoulder, indicating for me not to sit up. Your eyes briefly meet mine and convey your plan before they go back to fixating on my belly.

I relax my arms, letting them rest at my sides as you slide a hand over the crest of my bloated gut. I bite back a groan as the slight pressure of your hand increases the pressure in my intestines. My stomach is packed full with an indigestible mass of creamy pasta. My duodenum is not allowing any of that entry into my intestines so they sit, bloated with air. The ingredients for a very upset tummy are inside of me…they just need a bit of a push to act as a catalyst.

The push comes in the form of a literal push as you place both hands, one on each side of my tummy, and squeeze. I bite back a mewl of pain until the pressure relents and you are sliding your hands all over my taut tummy.

“Oh my…you really are full.”

“Ugh…haven’t…haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” I groan as your hands churn up the mess in my guts. You know what you’re doing. You felt the firmness in my upper left and you know that everything is sitting heavy in my stomach. You focus your massage on my left, on the area where my duodenum is. You rub and nudge and coax at the area, intent on getting the sphincters to unclench and allow my meal to continue to digest.

“Oh…ah!” I can’t help but cry out a little as I feel my duodenum flood with the lumpy mess. A rumbling, wet burble indicates when the sphincter finally gives up and allows the mess in my stomach passage. My stomach acid wasn’t enough to break down the creamy, oily pasta so it’s entering my intestines relatively undigested.

After ten minutes of you massaging my belly, (in)digestion is in full swing. My intestines are filling up with the ache-inducing mass and the straining pressure that started in my stomach has now spread all over my abdomen. You reach over and pull down my seat belt, buckling it before reaching over to get my seat back into an upright position. My stomach cramps sharply with the change in orientation and my mewl of pain is cut off by a harsh belch. You pat my tummy almost teasingly as you right yourself in your seat and start the car.

I don’t bother to keep track of where we are heading. You could be taking me to the movies, intent on letting my indigestion stew for a couple of hours, or you could be driving us home. I don’t care. I can’t care because every ounce of me is focused on the sharp pains exploding all over my guts as the car hits every bump in the road. Damned city not bothering to spend money to fix the thousands of pot-holes in our roads. My stomach is just as vocal as I am about the indigestion.

You brake sharply, causing the seatbelt to dig into my tummy and tear a sharp gasp of pain from me. I see the road ahead of us…it’s not a road at all but literally the worst road in our city. This stretch of road is famous even outside of our city for just how bumpy and nasty it is. People scrape the undercarriage of their cars if they aren’t careful in avoiding the potholes that litter this thing like craters on the moon. People have lost pieces of their cars and done massive damage to their vehicles by driving down this road. People around here know to avoid this road. The alternative is a ten minute detour to take the safer, newer road and everyone agrees that ten minutes more is better than damaging their car on this road so it is always empty.

“Darling, no—”

You floor it, going down the secluded road at a high speed. We hit every bump and hole in the thing (that won’t damage the car)…you used to come down this thing often and you’re a master at navigating it to avoid damage to the vehicle. Damage to my tummy, on the other hand.

My stomach gives off aborted grumbles and gripes, each one interrupted as we hit another bump in the road. My tummy sloshes and churns. Digestion had stalled without your hands pushing everything along, but this new form of “massage” in the form of a very bumpy ride is kick starting things all over again…in the wrong direction. Stuff swirls inside of my stomach and I swear that it’s filling up rather than emptying. The pressure is building in my stomach. I’d like to believe it’s the air from my intestines, but I’m sure we managed to get most of that out with your massage in the parking lot.

"Ugh…ouch…ah—ow! Ungh…my tummy…urp…my tummy…ulp…” I can’t help it. Belches and protests roll through my throat, unchecked. It’s better than the alternative of something solid, I guess. The road has increased the upset tenfold as I clutch my stomach in both hands. The road has dialed the cramping pains up to eleven and many more aches and tender spots have erupted thanks to the bumpy ride. We’re about halfway through the road when I feel something solid tickling at my esophagus.

“Ugh—Babe—STOP!” I reach up and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing that we’re about to see my dinner come back out.

You slam on the brakes and the pressure from the seatbelt is what does it. My mouth fills with the sour mess of barely-digested pasta.

“Ugh…urk…” I swallow back the bile. It’s nasty, but there’s no receptacle and I don’t want to stink up the car. Luckily, this wasn’t a true vomiting session triggered internally—it was basically regurgitation brought on by external factors—like the seatbelt putting too much pressure on my over-packed tummy. My stomach snarls violently at the return of the sickly concoction.

You watch my struggle, fascinated. Reaching over, you put a hand on my palm, a hand that is quickly slapped away as I give you the fiercest glare I can muster.

“None of that until you get me home, darling.”

You grin, exaggerating taking your foot off of the brake pedal. I realize my poor phrasing a moment too late.

“As you command, Sweets.”

“Darling, no—”

#AT Asks #indigestion #tummy kink #tummy ache

53 notes · View notes

simsadventures · 3 years

Text

Gilded: Chapter 2: Our House (The Mess We’ve Made)

Mobster! Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t like to be questioned, and you learn that the hard way. When he wants something, he gets it, and now he wants to have everything over with as quickly as possible. But there are a few bumps on the road.

Warnings: mafia au, swearing, violence, blood, threats, violence on women, slight mention of a rape, fluff, I mean, Steve is very demanding here, but it’s a theme so…

Word Count: 6087

A/N: I’m beyond excited that you guys liked the first chapter so much and are giddy for the next one. So, here we have it. More of our arranged couple and more mafia stuff. Let me know what you thought, and again, thank you for reading! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

“You did what? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Y/N, I love you, but you must have hit your head real hard because this is not like you, at all,” Caroline reasoned, but you could see she was close to losing it completely.

They were both waiting for you to come home that night, and you first had to make sure neither of them would talk about anything you were about to reveal. You trusted both of them with your life, that wasn’t the issue, but you were afraid that if they talked outside of your apartment, Steve might know and the things he could do to them would be the core of your future nightmares, you were sure of it. When they finally agreed, you got to explaining. But you didn’t even get a full sentence out before they started jumping in it, asking questions and wildly swatting their hands, trying to make you see just how stupid of an idea it actually was.

“Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane? I do, but also like, it’s gonna take care of so many issues, and, I mean, all he needs from me, as far as I understood it, is to go to a few events with him, go to some vacations with him and that would be all. I mean, I can still have the job I actually enjoy and don’t have to slave in that fucking pub with all those weirdos, and I won’t have to worry about money,” you tried to sound reasonable and sensible, but from the looks on your best friends’ faces, you weren’t doing too good of a job.

“Right, right, cool. So, you wanna tell me that the most notorious fucking mobster in America will let you live here, with us, while he parades you around the city at night? Or that he doesn’t have enemies you should worry about? Or what about the fucking police, Y/N, huh? Have you thought of that? You will be affiliated with a known criminal, and they will start to notice you and your life won’t be as easy as you picture it,” Aidan sighed and massaged his temples, the stress of it all getting the best of him.

You sat down next to them and smiled at them fondly. It was sweet that they worried so much about you, and just the mere thought that there were people on this planet who gave a shit about you, even to the point of yelling at you at 11 PM on Wednesday night was heartwarming. You understood their reservations, you really did, but you also knew this all before you said yes to Steve. You knew it wouldn’t be as easy, and while you weren’t sure whether you would have to live with Steve in Manhattan or somewhere else, or if he let you just be on your own, you knew you could take it. The police didn’t scare you, you’ve had enough training in diverting the police from yourself, so the police was the last thing on your mind. Besides, you were signing petitions left and right to defund them, so… You were pretty sure they already knew your name from the demonstrations in front of their precincts.

Enemies were a bit more challenging to handle, but you were sure Steve wouldn’t want his new wife to die on his watch. How would that look for him? So really, all that was at stake was your sanity and your integrity, and thinking about it, Steve didn’t ask you to do something illegal. The only thing he wanted from you was to be a good girl, marry him and be by his side. And you could do that. And you were only human, Steve was a sight to behold, so you didn’t mind being connected to him, even though he specifically told you he wasn’t attracted to you.

That one still stung, but maybe it was for the better. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid when the other party was completely uninterested, and knowing it, you could just never let your body have even a minor crush on him, so the situation really resolved itself even before anything could have happened.

“I really think I can gain more than I can lose, you guys. I didn’t imagine my life being like this, far from it, and maybe Steve and his money can help me get where I want. And I won’t even have to sleep with him or anybody else. He even talked about putting a no-sex clause in our contract so that I would be safe even on paper. You always tell me that I’m not taking enough risks and that I stay rooted in my comfort zone. Well, this is quite the improvement, isn’t it?” You laughed, and they both just shook their heads but chuckled nevertheless.

“You are a psychopath, babe,” Aidan muttered but gave you a side hug, and Caroline soon joined.

“We love you and worry about you, that’s all. But if you feel good about this, then so do we. I just hope he’s ready for our wrath if anything even remotely bad happens to you,” Caroline said, and the three of you started to laugh. You would bet somebody like Steve would be scared shitless from two 20-something-year-olds who, one who was scared of wasps so much she almost fainted every time she saw one, and the other having a hard time peeling a grapefruit. Yup, they were the combat duo you would bet your money on in a fight, for sure.

Waking up, you had a good feeling about the decision, even more so than the night before. You had mulled it over and over in your head, seeing that this was the way out of everything and also your way to a lot of those things you wanted to have by now. You even thought of the saying, sometimes, the only way out is through, and this was your through. There was no foreseeable way of getting out of debt, of getting out of the depression caused by your hectic and unsatisfying life. Your way through it was accepting Steve’s money and his help for a year, freeing you from the shackles of your current life, in a sense.

That it would come with a different kind of shackled you were sure of, but everything was better than your life now because you really couldn’t even call it a life. You wanted so many things, see so many places, but the world wasn’t made for the people playing by the rules, slaving in their ordinary jobs. No, this capitalist world was made for sharks, and you had been disguised as a sheep for too long.

When you got to the gallery, you were welcomed by a sight that surprised you, and not in a good way. Where you were used to sitting every day for the past two years was another girl. She was pretty, and you bet she was wonderful, but at that very moment, all you saw was that somebody replaced you.

You swiftly unlocked the door and walked in, the girl standing up immediately to greet you with a shy smile and a wave. You couldn’t be a complete bitch to her, after all, this was way above her pay grade. So, you just nodded and strode towards the offices where the director sat.

“Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. I see you have met Laura, our new receptionist. And before you say anything, I just wanted to tell you that we appreciate everything you had done for this gallery for so long and that we thought it was time for you to learn some other skills, as you are more than capable of that,” he smiled warmly, and you weren’t sure if it was a nice way of saying you were let go of, or if you were promoted.

“What does that mean, Mr Jones?” You asked incredulously, not really in the mood to search in between the lines.

“You have become my personal secretary, Ms Y/L/N. Congratulations! I know you have the aspiration of becoming a curator, so, this way, you could get a little closer to art even though there is still some way to go, naturally,” he winked and chuckled, and you let yourself relax with the news.

Wow! Your life was already taking a turn for the better, and all you had to was to go with your gut and risk a little. You wanted to laugh out loud at the universe and its mysterious ways of working. But, thinking of mysterious, your mind suddenly pictured Steve and his devilish smirk, and your smile faltered.

“And may I ask, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the chance, and I will do my best to succeed in expectations. I just wonder what happened that the chance has come now?”

Mr Jones scratched the back of his neck, and you gritted your teeth. You already knew that it wasn’t the universe praising you for your bravery. No, this had nothing to do with the universe.

“More things have come together, to be quite honest, Ms Y/L/N. First, my long-time secretary left for her maternity leave a few weeks ago, as you might remember, and I have been looking for her replacement ever since. And I forgot what an amazing student we had here, who is already established with the clients and with our partners, and that this will be a win-win situation for everybody. And your fiancée was quite adamant that your resumé is remarkable and that I should give you a chance,” he smiled and piled gathered in your throat.

How Steve managed to persuade Jones to do this was beyond you when you left him only a few hours ago, most of which were during the night, so there wasn’t much room for negotiation between the parties. You just hoped people wouldn’t start treating you differently when they realised your affiliation. That was the only thing you obviously didn’t think through: the opinion of the society. And since the New York society had been one of the most judging and selective ones even back in the 19th and 20th century, you knew not that much has changed since. People were afraid of Steve, with a good reason too, and now they might become frightened of you too. Fucking awesome.

“I want to assure you that my fiancée won’t be present in my work life, however notorious he is,” you tried to sound as confident in what you were saying as you could, but you weren’t sure if you were doing a good job. But Mr Jones just smiled and sat down, signalling for you to sit down opposite of him, and he started talking about business and about what the job actually was. And while you tried to give him your full attention, there was this angry voice in your head, ready to bite Rogers’ head off. He would meet your famous wrath sooner than you thought, but it was all his fault anyway.

The job was, actually, quite impressive. As your boss told you, you got to meet several artists already, you could sit in the meeting where they decided what kind of art the gallery was interested in, and you soaked all that in like a sponge. You were radiating by the end of the day, and the wrath subsided a little, but only till the moment, you saw a black SUV parked in front of the gallery and one of the turtlenecks standing beside it.

You decided that if Steve could do what he wanted, so could you and so you walked in the opposite direction than was the car, leaving the turtleneck yelling your name and running after you. But you ignored him completely, even when he reached you and patted your shoulder, slightly bewildered that you recognised him and still decided not to do as he said. Oh, these obnoxious mobsters needed to learn that they couldn’t get everything they wanted.

“Miss Y/L/N, please, you need to come with me. Mr Rogers is waiting for you in the car,” he said, and you finally stopped and looked him deep in the eyes while you folded your arms across your chest. You hoped you looked intimidating, but since the guy was wearing a pair of sunglasses you couldn’t be entirely sure whether it worked. But you didn’t relent and just stared him down, and when he shifted uncomfortably, you knew you were winning this contest.

“Would you please come with me? Mr Rogers hates to wait,” he mumbled the last thing, and you would have snickered if you weren’t so determined to be the tough guy there. It was only when you heard other footsteps somewhere behind you, and the guy in front of you actually flinched that you realised the big boss himself was there to get you.

“No, Mr Rogers really doesn’t like to wait, Y/N. Is this the way to treat your fiancée?” Steve asked when he reached you, and you shuddered from the poisonous undertone in his voice. Safe to say, it might not have been the best strategy to try and walk away from him, but you had decided for it once, and now you were gonna stand by your decision.

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” you hissed but continued before he could comment on your behaviour, “is intimidating my boss to give me a promotion a way to treat me? You really think you have control over everything and everyone, Steve, but let me tell you something. This is my fucking life, and you have no fucking right to march in and do as you please!”

He just raised a brow, and his nostrils flared before you felt his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it so tightly you were sure your arm wasn’t getting any blood. But you didn’t want him to win, which would definitely happen if you pleaded with him, so you just gritted your teeth and stared him down. Steve nodded at the guys around him to leave you two, and they took a few steps back, sure enough to protect their boss but to give him at least some privacy with you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, huh? I think you’ll understand soon enough that disobedience is punished greatly here, honey! So, stop acting like a brat who gets off from causing scenes in public and come with me. And, for your information, this is a fucking order, and I dare you to move from me again,” Steve spat in your ear, and you trained your eyes on the ground.

Well, not your best idea, you had to admit that, and you valued your own head enough to just shut up and follow him. And by following him, you meant walking beside him because Steve obviously didn’t trust you enough to let go of your arm, even if his grip loosened slightly.

He thrust you in the car with a force that could scare many, but it only just slightly surprised you. When he finally sat down next to you, he bid the driver to just go and stared out of the window, not addressing you in any shape or form, and you huffed in annoyance.

“Look, Steve, you brought me here for a reason, so what do you want? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow and not today, in broad daylight in front of my job.”

“Show some respect!” He roared, and you saw the eyes of the bodyguards, or whatever they were, flick towards you in fear. It was funny how such huge men were clearly so afraid of one of them. You remained calm, however, and just remained looking at him. Then you realised something. He didn’t mind your mouth the night before that much when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t stand it when people were around. He needed to be the man, his people needed to know that nobody treated him differently and that not even his future wife could disobey him, let alone publicly. You swallowed your pride and shifted your gaze elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve had a long day, and I’m taking it on you now. I just wished you spoke to me before you called my boss, but still, thank you for the opportunity,” you muttered meekly, and the triumphant look on Steve’s face spoke volumes. He just hummed and patted your shoulder, his own shoulders slacking and relaxing. These people were so easy to read, you were actually quite astounded that they weren’t played like violins by some secret agents or something like that. Well, you thought, at least you could play them, and it would make your life a little easier if you did it well enough.

“I came because we needed to discuss more things, honey. I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday so I couldn’t stay longer, but I have the whole afternoon reserved just for you today, so we can go over all the parts of our agreement in great detail and that we can start planning our wedding,” he flashed you a smile, and it was your time to tense up because if you were to have a wedding soon, which was clearly something Steve wanted, you needed to get a move on and that stressed you out. The arrangement might have been just for a year, but you knew that Steve’s wedding was supposed to be magnificent, showing all that he obtained and all that the mere mortals couldn’t have. You included.

But then you realised something.

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first if you don’t mind,” you added quickly seeing the mobster next to you tensing up again. “As I no longer work at Joey’s pub, I need to get my things from there. My boss called me this morning telling me that I still had my work shoes and other stuff there and that I should pick it up or they’ll throw it away.”

“Just give the address to the driver, we’ll get it, and then we’ll go to my place- oh, excuse me- our place and discuss what we need,” he said simply, and you followed his orders.

The rest of the drive was silent, and you could unwind a little, reminisce about the 24 hours you have had. From taking the subway anywhere you needed to, to driving in an armoured SUV with the most prolific mafia boss of the USA, your life took quite the turn. You needed to set some boundaries with Steve, but you needed to do it tactfully and, most importantly, alone. You hadn’t known him at all, but you knew the type. There would be reasoning with him as long as he thought he had a free choice and knew that his position wasn’t neither threatened nor questioned.

This was a part of your agreement that you actually didn’t mind. Joey’s pub was not the fanciest of places in New York and while some of the customers were lovely and tipped well, the weekend sort was made of sleazy assholes who would touch you without your permission and not having to be around them would definitely be something you could get used to.

The boss who’s name wasn’t Joey, surprise, surprise, but Thomas, nodded your way when you came in. The pub was only half full, but the odour of mixed sweat, beer and vomit was ever the same. Gosh, how you couldn’t wait to be out of there.

Taking the places of the little box by the box with beer cans, you scanned the supply closet one last time and nodded as a goodbye. However, when you turned around, you bumped into somebody, and it sent you flying back a bit as you didn’t expect anybody to be there with you. You looked up to see Thomas standing there, looking pissed.

“Funny! I never knew you were on the market, pussycat. And now I find out you are newly engaged and to Mr Rogers no less? I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship,” he sneered as he neared you and you instinctively took a step back. That he had a crush on you, you knew, and you told him multiple times that you weren’t interested, that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend and that you just wanted to be left alone. You scoffed at his immature behaviour now and tried to push around him without saying a word because you knew there was no talking to people like him. But he wouldn’t let you go, of course.

“Maybe if I fucked you, you would see that I deserve you just as much, huh?” He hissed and took your already sore arm, yanking you towards him till you were pressed tight against his chance. You still remained calm, knowing that trashing and screaming would get you nowhere.

“Let me go, Thomas. Steve is outside, and he is waiting for me, so I suggest you take your disgusting hands off of me and just let me go,” you tried to reason, but, again, there was no such thing with dumbasses like him. What was more, he probably didn’t like your remark about his disgusting hands, and so, without warning, he slapped you right across your left cheek.

That made you gasp for the first time because till then, you really thought he was just playing and that he would let you go, but now seeing the bewildered look on his face, you suddenly realised that maybe you didn’t have the upper hand in the argument.

“Like fuck he is, what would Rogers do in these parts, huh? I bet it wasn’t even him who called me last night and that you were just trying to get the upper hand. But guess what, you fucking whore, you are not getting out of here until I fuck you unconscious,” he roared and you gulped, trying to think of possible escape routes. But you were in a fucking supply closet, so there was literally just the one door, and Thomas was occupying the whole space in front of it. So, you’d just have to fight your way through. You were a little rusty, but this big-bellied idiot would stand no chance.

But before you had the opportunity to execute your plan, the door behind him flew open and revealed one fo the turtlenecks (you made a mental note to actually learn their names because this was just awkward) and a very angry-looking Steve.

Thomas faltered in his movement towards you and checked who had the audacity to interrupt him. The shock and fear on his face were priceless.

Steve didn’t waste any more time as he lunged himself at the man and punched him straight in the nose, and the sickening crack you heard must have meant Steve broke it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to pity Thomas. You warned him, even though you didn’t expect Steve actually coming to your rescue. There were some advantages to being tied to him, it seemed.

The turtleneck then took Steve’s place by Thomas, probably so that he wouldn’t escape and Steve marched towards you, still looking too pissed for you to stand calmly under his searching gaze.

“Did he hurt you?” He sneered but didn’t wait for your reply as he checked your face, seeing your puffed left cheek which told him all he needed to know. The bruise already forming on your arm was both from him and from Thomas, so he didn’t comment on that, but Steve wiped the trickle of blood in the corner of your mouth before he turned around and now calmly walked towards Thomas.

“Next time that degenerated brain of yours even thinks of her, I will come and slice your throat. Am I clear?” Steve spat into Thomas’s face who just nodded, probably glad that he got out of it so easily. What he didn’t see coming (and to be honest, neither did you) was the turtleneck suddenly pulled out a big-ass knife out of somewhere and the air filled with the bone-chilling cries as he cut Thomas’ finger off as if it was the most normal thing to do before he wiped the knife on Thomas’s shirt and tucked it back in his pocket. The blood flowing from the wound was thick and almost purple, and you had to shut your eyes at the scene. But the image was already seared into your brain forever.

“Fucking rapist,” Steve said and kicked the already laying man, motioning to the turtleneck and you that you were to follow him. But your legs weren’t listening to your brain, as you were just watching Thomas writhing in pain, wailing and sobbing, and all that because he dared to touch you. An involuntary shudder shook your body, and it as only when you felt an arm around your torso, pulling you to the person’s side that you woke up. Steve didn’t say anything as he came back and wrapped his arm around you, walking you out of there, probably used to that people were dazed when they saw that much blood. And that was just a cut-off finger, how would it look if a person actually bled out there?

“Here, have a piece of chocolate, it should help you,” Steve whispered into your ear as he handed you a little piece when you finally made it to his car, and you took it without question, savouring the sweet taste on your tongue as it streamed into your system like the most delicious medicine. You took a deep breath, your brain recognising that it was a different environment and that the stench of the pub was long gone as was the blood.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you heard yourself saying meekly, but there was no reprimanding him, there was no anger in your voice and Steve heard that. He knew it was the shock of the scene talking because you weren’t one of them. You didn’t see blood on an almost daily basis as he did and you had the right to be surprised.

“I actually had to, Y/N. He touched you, he hurt you and nobody hurts what’s mine. And you are mine now or will be very soon, and I can’t have dickheads like him running around the city thinking they are invincible. You are under my protection, and the whole world has to realise that,” he tried to make you see his point, and when you nodded solemnly, he saw you understood it. You might not have been ok with it, but that was another thing, and that would take time. Steve hoped people wouldn’t be so dumb and try anything on you, but, the truth be told, inwardly he knew he would have to protect you more often than not because some people had a death wish.

“Are you up to discussing our marriage, or do you want me to drive you home?” He asked, and you looked at him for the first time since the pub scene. You shook your head and chuckled a little, not understanding where was this coming from. It was apparent that there were many layers to Steve Rogers, but his mood swings were giving you a headache already. One second he was the infamous mobster and the other he impersonated a caring boyfriend?

“I’m fine, Steve, thank you. I was just taken by surprise because I thought I would have to take him down myself, and I probably wouldn’t cut off his finger in the process, but we all do our things. I’m good for a discussion, if you are,” you gave him your best encouraging smile and Steve stared at you in disbelief for a moment before he averted his eyes towards the driver and gave him a signal that he was to take you two to Steve’s mansion.

Three hours later, you regretted your decision greatly. Steve and you had been talking the whole time, trying to reach a compromise that would be suitable for both of you considering your marriage and your wedding. You were quite surprised when Steve came up with things that were up for discussion because you really thought he would just come with a set of rules for you to follow, and that would be it. Well, the set of rules was there, but so were other things, like where you’d like to live (it was either the New York mansion which he called the apartment or some villa he had in Hamptons, apparently), what were the countries he could take you (which was actually a nice touch) and others. You didn’t give a damn about a lot of the stuff, but the countries were something that caught your attention.

“I would love to visit different places, that’s beyond doubt, but I do not wish to be taken to California, ever,” you insisted, and while Steve tried to inquire why it was that California was on your hard-no list, you wouldn’t budge. You just told him that you weren’t a fan of the hot weather and the swarm of people you heard was in LA and that it was the only place where you wouldn’t go with him, under no circumstances. After a while, he gave up and just jotted it down with a nod.

“Now, to the sex thing, do you want it on paper that I don’t want you in this way or are you good with my word?”

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you tossed your pride away again. This was a business meeting, and Steve was actually extremely honest with you, so the best you could do was to be frank with him as well.

“I’m good with your word, thank you for asking. What I’d like on paper is that you won’t trade me with information. I don’t wanna wake up one morning to be chained by some of your pistol-buddies who wanted to fuck Steve’s wife,” you raised a brow, and Steve chuckled and licked his lips, which was something that got your attention. You snapped at your brain to stop the thought flooding your brain, and a part of you considered putting licking his own lips around you on the hard-no’s list for a second.

“Alright, I will never do that, and I will put that in our contract. Now, have you decided where you want to live? And no, your own apartment isn’t an answer. I’m willing to pay the expenses so that your friends can stay there, but you are coming to live with me, either here or in Hamptons. So, which one is it?”

“Here,” you answered after a while, “I have my job here so I can’t be going back forth to Hamptons every day. Speaking of my job, will you require my presence at every meeting? I’m just asking if I even have a chance attaining my job as is, or if I should quit now because you will never let me go there again.”

“I would have let them fire you if I thought about not letting you work there anymore, now, wouldn’t I? Most of the meetings that I will need you are at night, so your work is fine. I hope your boss will give you enough vacation days because we will need those, but other than that, I think you will be fine at the gallery. Besides, I’ve assigned a personal bodyguard for you who will go everywhere with you, so you won’t have to worry about anybody attacking you,” he concluded, looking proud of himself. You, on the other hand, were bewildered.

“A personal what now? Steve, I can’t just show up at work with some huge guy in all black following me everywhere I move. I saw the looks from some of my coworkers, and they would never accept me if I had a bodyguard, c’mon,” you were desperate now because just the thought made you shudder.

“This is not negotiable, so just learn to live with it. Alright, I think that’s all from that, and we will both sign it before the wedding. Now, the wedding will be next week. I already hired planners, so that the only thing you need to care about is the wedding dress. It’s just for a show, and if it were up to me, we would just go to the city hall, but the world needs to see this wedding, so we’re doing it in the Weylin. Write down your favourite colours and flowers, the cake will be red velvet, and that’s not negotiable, but everything else you want, you write down, and the planners will do it. Also, write down all the guests you’d like to invite, family and all that, so we know how many guests we’re having,” Steve rambled on, but your mind wandered towards your family.

None of them would be attending the wedding, and your heart gave a painful tug at the thought. You had always wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle, and he was so excited to do so, but now that wasn’t possible. And your beautiful mother… The memories made your eyes water, but you blinked the tears away quickly enough so that Steve wouldn’t see them. But he was used to reading people, so he saw your reaction to him mentioning a family very clearly, he just decided against commenting on it. Yet.

“Alright, I’ll send you all the lists by Saturday, if that’s good enough, and I’m actually good with red velvet. It would be a problem if you said some cakes with loads of nuts because I’m extremely allergic to a majority of those, you should know about that, but red velvet is fine enough,” you nodded, and Steve did as well, glad he didn’t have to fight you on that one. Not that it would be a fruitful fight since the red velvet was his favourite type of cake on Earth.

“I want you to move in before the wedding, I’ll have a room set up for you tomorrow, and you can bring whatever you want from your home. You will have access to my credit card, but I’m warning you, excessive spending will not be tolerated, alright?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but bowed your head in mocked understanding. Steve had obviously spent his life with women only caring about the sum on his credit card, while you couldn’t care less. The card would be good for the wedding dress, but that was about it. You realised a long time ago that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerous ones for the environment, and while you still shopped from time to time, you tried to reduce it to a minimum. And if you did shop, you loved local stores and fair-trade manufacturers, who vowed to keep the well-being of the planet their number one priority.

“I’ll take it that you understood it. Fine, so, you’ll move in tomorrow, I think my people can manage it till that. So, they’ll pick you up, let’s say, around 8 PM? That enough time?”

You blinked and took the information in. He wanted you to move in tomorrow. Not in a week so you’d have time to actually pack and say goodbye to your friends, even if you still planned on meeting them every other day or so. You wanted a goodbye sleepover where you’d just laugh and drink and hope that the year would be a good one. Or, at least, not a disastrous one.

“That’s definitely not enough time, Steve. Can’t it wait till next week? I need to say goodbye to my friends, and it’s already late, so we can’t do it tonight and just… Give me at least till Saturday evening, Steve, please,” you tried to bargain, and while you saw he wasn’t the greatest of fans, he agreed eventually. That ended your discussion, and you were soon driven away from the house you would soon call yours.

/ Next Chapter >

Taglists in reblogs :) xx

274 notes · View notes

fukurodaze · 4 years

Text

some days

pairing: post-timeskip! oikawa tooru x fem!reader genre: angst wc: 2.4k warnings: cursing, stress, anxiety, homesickness, insecurity requested by @dasighosamu <3: “oikawa video chatting regularly with his girlfriend that somehow convinced him they’re okay [...]”

a/n: i.. am.. so so so sorry this took so long... many of the negative feelings here are taken from my own personal experiences as well, so i’m very sorry if this seems a bit impersonal for some people, but i tried to make it feel as y/n-able as possible! enjoy!

special thanks to nat @natszoo for beta reading! love u :(

LISTEN TO: blue - taeyeon; through the night - iu

you feel it in your bones. you feel it rumble and twist and turn. some days you feel it more. some days you feel it less. you know what it is today.

it’s so empty, you think, movements like a crack of sound in silence. you had woken up in the afternoon today, the room still dark yet covers already warm. oh, you feel disgusting.

the least you do is open the curtains, hoping to squeeze in some sunlight for the day you had almost missed. you remember, though, to wake up for today, because it’s saturday. you look forward to saturdays, actually, because it has in store one constant that you hold onto - facetiming your boyfriend, oikawa tooru, at 7pm.

it used to be everyday that you facetimed him, until careers advanced and work took up more and more space in lives. still, you would always watch his matches when they were televised (it was a hassle sometimes, though, to get through to argentinian television channels, but it was worth it) and he would text you good morning and goodnight in your timezone most days (it slips his mind sometimes, but you could never blame him; you like the texts anyways). and it’s okay, really, it’s okay that you don’t get to see him that often. it’s just that work gets a bit harsh sometimes and you live alone and most of your friends live quite a bit far from you and you feel like you’ve cried to them about tooru way too many times and-

okay, you are not okay. but you hold on. you try to hold on.

you get yourself an instant meal in the fridge, feeling well into the shitty weekend when you see the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. you wash them anyways, thinking that it might be a way for you to feel a little bit better. you don’t want to be irritable when you’re with tooru, because then he’ll just worry. he already worries enough about himself - the least you could do is smile. right?

it’s what you tell yourself as you slap on some skincare, hoping that the various products containing tea tree essence and papaya are enough to mask the layer of sleepless nights and early mornings on your face. it’s not like you’re afraid of him seeing you in your dejected state; it’s more like you wouldn’t want the only time you spend with him this week be a negative memory.

now, you settle on the carpeted floor of the living room, laptop placed on the coffee table between the couch and the tv you never really use anymore. you remember when tooru had bought you this apartment right before an off-season with promises of him visiting in the summer. he even insisted on that nice tv screen for netflix nights.

but alone, you prefer a laptop; so you’re thinking of selling it, yet you don’t want to pass up on the chance that tooru might come back one summer.

eventually, the facetime on your laptop sounds its ringtone, and a smile grows on your face as quickly as you pick up the video call.

"wait- can- can you hear me well?”

you purse your lips, your tired eyes seemingly so much more eager to stay open. you say, “yeah, i can hear you well. can you?”

he hums, and there’s a loving silence that ensues. you don’t really know what to do with your insides feeling all warm again, so you fold your legs to your chest and let out a light laugh. it’s him.

“wow,” you mumble through chuckles, “hi, tooru.”

“i missed you, pretty girl,” he coos. you see how tooru has his back against his headboard, one arm folded behind his head and the other holding his phone up. it’s seven in the morning there, you reckon, and he looks like he’d just showered.

“i missed you too. just showered?”

your boyfriend nods, “woke up later than usual today, but it’s, like, hot outside even at six in the morning. or maybe i just sweat too much.”

you giggle, “here, it’s so cold already. i can’t even go anywhere without a sweater - i even sleep with socks these days.”

“are you sure your heater’s doing fine?”

“my heater’s almost on its highest setting. i’ve just been getting so cold lately? maybe i just hate winter...” you trail off as you hear your own stomach grumble. still hungry...? you mutter to yourself, standing up to get a little snack for yourself, “tooru, i’m getting a snack. just keep talking, though, i can hear you.”

tooru’s smile falters a bit when he hears of you getting cold. he knows you’ve never really minded winter, using the season as an opportunity to stack up on cozy clothing and coats. hell, he had heard you say once, during one autumn, that you were so excited for winter because “you could finally wear the hoodies and sweaters since you felt too warm for them even during autumn and spring.” back then, tooru had told you that you were just too warm of a person.

but maybe he’s just thinking too much into it. he hasn’t been to japan in a long time, anyways. maybe it really is that cold.

you come back with some toast and a glass of water. a crisp, warm bite into the food makes you feel relieved. you tuck your hair behind your ears, putting your focus back on tooru. “so, how’s everything?”

“everything... is... a lot.” tooru makes his way off of the bed, telling you, “seeing you eat just makes me hungry, too. lemme get some food.” he brings his phone with him to the kitchen, propping it against a vase on his dining table, giving you a perfect view of the kitchen.

“welcome to my cooking show!” he exclaims as he lets go of the phone. it falls immediately, of course, but he takes care in propping it against some more items. it works somehow.

“i just recently perfected my egg poaching technique,” tooru smirks as he takes two eggs from the fridge, “it’s kind of flawless, not gonna lie.”

“can i see?”

he sets the eggs down on the countertop, making his way to his phone before pausing, “erm, due to camera placement issues and a shortage of hands, i am unable to give you a full view of my absolute skill. is that okay, baby?”

you nod, your lip protruding slightly in a quiet pout. tooru’s pointed it out before, but it seems like every time he calls you baby your body automatically responds with a little pout. he looks at you with calm eyes, “cute.”

as he makes his eggs, you let him go on about the people around his neighbourhood, the results of the ca san juan tryouts from last week, his new team members, and one restaurant he’s found around town. he tells you, “their food is just so good. i’ll take you there someday.”

your cheeks raise slightly at his last statement, “really? tell me more about it.”

“well, it’s a bit expensive, but so worth it. they sell japanese stuff, actually, and i seriously kid you not, it tastes exactly like food from home.”

home, huh?

“maybe when i visit one day i can bring you some food from home, too.”

somehow, the mention of home stings a little bit tonight.

it’s an off-day, off-night, off-week, you’ve told yourself, and now that the week is ending with a call from your boyfriend, you were positive that it was going to end on a high. here, you stand corrected, with your throat getting all tied up threatening hot tears from the corners of your eyes. you’ve made it this far in the week, why must you cry in front of tooru, of all people?

you take a long gulp from your glass of water in an attempt to blink back your tears. you’re glad that tooru’s back is facing the camera as he takes out a plate to put his eggs on.

you quiet down intensely, afraid that any word out of your mouth will come out as a choked sob. of course, tooru notices, whipping his head around with a faltering smile.

“y/n, are you alright-”

“um, tooru, i think my laptop’s running out of battery, so i’ll reconnect the call from my phone instead, yeah?”

tooru nods, and you hastily stand up, clicking blindly at what you thought was the red hang-up button. your legs carry you to the kitchen, a place where tooru can still hear you even after the both of you thought you had hung up, to get another glass of water.

but your arms don’t go so far as to reach for the tap, and instead, they only hold onto the edge of the countertop, trembling lightly against the cold marble.

“shit,” you curse, head hanging as tears flow down your cheeks in warm waterfalls with your breath unsteady, your neck heating up. you see how some teardrops make little puddles on the shiny countertop, and some are swept away when your hand flies over to rid them, swiping in quick motions, angry that your body betrayed you by crying.

“stop crying, goddamnit.” you mutter, “it’s going to be so obvious, and tooru’s just going to worry, and he’ll just find it a hassle to stay with you, and-” you can’t even continue your spoken train of thought when you choke on your own words, your legs not even enough to support you up.

“what a shitty week...” you slide down to the floor, trying to steady your breath. you tell yourself to hurry up with this damned cry, as you told him you were going to call him again on your phone. maybe you could say it was the wifi.

you look up, wondering why, why do i feel like this?

is it because you just miss him? is work just getting hectic? should you be going out more? but it’s cold... nothing’s been working out lately. it’s just become doubts on top of doubts and you don’t know where to stop.

on the other hand, tooru’s freezing up. he can still hear your sniffles from afar, and as he stares at the warm plate of poached eggs on toast, he wonders if it would be okay to call out to you.

it’s not like this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry, because you two have seen each other in more ways than one. still, tooru feels his heart crumble at the fact that he had had absolutely no clue as to what you had been feeling all this time, whether it be just a week, a few days, or a few hours. he wants to call out to you, hug you tight, wipe your tears, do something to make you feel better.

but tooru doesn’t really know how to make his way through this, seeing as the distance is too far for any physical comfort. he’s learned he’s not as good with comforting words as he is with flirting, but now that he doesn’t flirt with anyone other than you, he doesn’t know if he even is good with words at all. he thinks, if you were to be okay with him reaching out to you, why were you choking back your tears? why were you so quick to hide what you felt? why do you not want him to worry about you the same way you worry about him?

tooru likes to think things through, especially when he’s never felt so unprepared with you before, as he’d been used to resorting to physical comfort in the past. but in this moment, through all the doubts and negative thoughts, his mouth moves faster than his brain.

“y/n, i’m still here.”

in this moment, your breath hitches and you make the dreaded way back to your laptop, your eyes swollen and cheeks glossy.

“y-you heard everything?”

your boyfriend nods, “do... do you want to talk about it?”

you shrug, swallowing slowly. “i don’t know how to talk about it, really,” a shallow laugh falls from your lips, “some days- this week- it’s just not... it’s been low, for me.”

tooru’s chin leans patiently against his forearms, eyes focused on you.

“oh god. i haven’t cried in months,” you exhale, “and it just happened to be in front of you. i probably look ugly, or something.”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “you and ugly are words that simply do not go together.”

“you can keep crying, if you want. i’ll be here for you.” he affirms, “we take care of each other at our lows, remember? no matter the distance.”

you sniffle a bit more, your sweater sleeve damp from your tears. his words are new, but it makes you feel much less alone.

the call fades into you attempting to steady your breathing once more, and tooru reassuring you left and right. maybe it does feel nice, you begin to think, to have someone there with you. to know that they’ll care for you as much as you’ll care for them.

in the midst of your thoughts, tooru calls out, “y/n?”

you hum in response, and he continues, “i wasn’t supposed to tell you this, since it’s not final, but there’s a possibility that i’ve been selected to play for the argentinian national team in the olympics next year. in tokyo.”

you do a double take at him. “wait, you... in japan...?”

he loves seeing you smile like that. “i was called in a meeting yesterday. they were pretty positive about me being a starting setter, but, again, it’s not final.”

your shoulders drop a bit, “but there’s always a chance, right?”

“well, ‘not final’ is just their way of saying ‘don’t tell anyone yet’. and how could i not tell you?”

you giggle a little, “maybe if you come over i might have some use for this big ass tv you bought for me.”

tooru laughs, “i’m coming home, y/n.”

here comes your second wave of tears.

487 notes · View notes

thatgirlwhowritesbooks · 3 years

Text

Smoke Break - A Nace Fic

I’ve had about a million different Nace fanfic ideas rolling around inside my head lately, so last night I wrote one of them. I’m pretty sure this has been done before, but this is my take on the smoke break conversation Nancy mentions having with Ace in 1x01. Inspired by the fact I’m about to start rewatching the show for the third time before season 3 starts in the fall. Enjoy?

Smoke Break

The lunch rush almost did her in.

It was Nancy’s fourth day on the job at The Claw—and her fourth day of work ever—and she already wanted to quit.

Coastal Maine towns in the summer were a bitch, and Horseshoe Bay was no exception. The entire town was a tourist trap, and The Claw was the best (not to mention only) seafood restaurant for miles. Anyone visiting from outside the state just had to stop in for a lobster roll—which was mostly what Nancy served to people all day, every day. She had lost track of how many of her customers had excitedly informed her that eating a Maine lobster roll was on their bucket list.

What kind of person put eating a ridiculously overpriced lobster roll on their bucket list?

It was halfway through the exceptionally busy shift that George tapped her on the shoulder, hard—so hard, she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. “Drew,” she said, unsmiling. “Go take your fifteen.”

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. The entire dining room was full, and there were at least five large groups of people waiting patiently outside for a table. This was the busiest she had seen it yet.

And the busiest she ever wanted to see it.

“Thanks, George,” Nancy said gratefully, earning nothing but a glare from her former classmate.

“Don’t thank me. It’s company policy. Now get your ass out of here. Your fifteen is now a fourteen.” Turning on her heel, she stormed off in the direction of Bess, one of the other newer waitresses, who appeared to be struggling with a large table of ten people that was half adults, half kids, and all chaos. It was probably going to result in a huge tip, but Nancy was glad she hadn’t been assigned to that party. She didn’t have the patience for that.

She headed for the back room and retrieved her phone from her locker before exiting out the back door. She was instantly hit with a blast of hot, humid air, and she almost contemplated going right back inside where it was nice and air conditioned. But despite it being almost intolerably hot, it was quiet outside—unlike the madhouse inside. All she could hear were the crashing waves in the water and the squawking of seagulls in the parking lot looking for dropped food, and she welcomed it.

Staring down at her phone, Nancy slowly made her way over to the lone employees-only picnic table that was inconsiderately located right next to the dumpster. She was about to sit down when a voice spoke behind her, startling her.

“Having fun yet?”

Nancy nearly dropped her phone before spinning around to see who had spoken to her.

Leaning up against the side of the building was one of The Claw’s dishwashers—Ace. She’d met him on her first day—another hectic, busy day—but hadn’t really gotten to know him yet. She hadn’t really gotten to know anyone yet. Just the way she liked it.

She’d been aware of Ace’s existence before meeting him at The Claw. They’d gone to the same high school together, although he’d been a senior when she was a freshman, so their paths never crossed. He looked different now than he had back then. He looked taller. His hair was longer. He’d filled out a little—like he spent at least a couple days a week at the gym. He was cute. No, wait. He was hot. Not really her type—he seemed like a bit of a stoner—but he was certainly easy on the eyes.

“Sorry,” he continued before she could answer his question. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Nancy said with a dismissive wave. “I was just a little startled. I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

Ace nodded. “Yeah. George yelled at me two minutes ago to take my break.”

Nancy smirked. “You too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she yell at employees a lot?”

“All the time,” Ace said with a furrowed brow. He lifted his fingers up to his lips and it wasn’t until then that Nancy noticed he was holding onto a cigarette.

“You’re a smoker, huh?” she asked, wanting to immediately facepalm. He was holding onto a lit cigarette. Of course he was a smoker.

Ace took a long drag and shook his head as he slowly let the smoke back out of his lungs. “Nah. I only smoke when I’m feeling stressed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I’ve had this same pack for two months now, and it’s still mostly full.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t get stressed too often, then?”

“Not really,” he replied. “For the most part, I like to keep things chill.”

“So, then, what are you stressed about right now?” Nancy asked, hoping she wasn’t coming across as being too nosy.

“George yelling at me,” he deadpanned.

Nancy chuckled. “Well, with the way things are going for me with George right now, I might have to bum one of those off you sometime.”

“Anytime,” he said, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “Sharing is caring is my motto.”

Nancy smiled. “That’s a great motto to have. But I was mostly joking. I don’t do cigarettes.” She motioned to her chest. “Virgin lungs.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Something about the way he said it—his voice soft and almost flirty—made Nancy pause. Although, there was no way Ace could be flirting with her. In the only four days she’d been working with him, she’d already been made very aware of his crush on Bess. George had grumbled about it under her breath when she didn’t know anyone was listening, but even if Nancy hadn’t overheard that piece of information, she would have quickly figured it out herself. The guy wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“I probably won’t be here long enough to share too many smoke breaks with you, anyway,” Nancy said, turning her attention to her phone.

“Why is that?” he asked.

Nancy shrugged. “I just don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work.”

“What kind of work do you think you’re cut out for, then? Sleuthing?”

Nancy’s eyes snapped back up to him, narrowing suspiciously. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, because you’re the Hero of Horseshoe Bay,” he said with a grin. “The famous Nancy Drew, girl detective.”

Nancy could feel a humiliated blush spread across her cheeks. He knew about that? Oh, right, of course he did. He’d lived in Horseshoe Bay his whole life, just like she had. And she’d made the news quite frequently growing up. She would have been shocked if he hadn’t known about that.

“You’re a pretty big celebrity around this town, you know,” Ace continued. “I’ve just been waiting for the right time to ask for your autograph.”

“Oh, is that right?” Nancy chuckled again. “I’d hold off on that request for now if I were you. Maybe I was famous as a ‘girl detective’, but I’m nothing as the girl who tanked her grades her senior year and might never get into her dream school.”

All traces of amusement left Ace’s face as he frowned. “What are you talking about?”

What was she talking about? This was the first time she had admitted it out loud to anyone. She couldn’t tell her father the truth. She couldn’t tell her friends either because those friends had already decided to move on with their lives without her. Apparently, staying behind in Horseshoe Bay to wait tables for a living instead of heading straight off to college was not sophisticated enough for them.

“I…” Nancy began but then stopped, clamping her mouth shut. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to tell that story.

Slowly, Ace made his way over to the picnic table and sat down beside her, although leaving plenty of empty space between them. He turned his head to look at her, waiting silently for her to continue.

She appreciated the fact he wasn’t trying to pressure her to elaborate. She could tell from the look on his face that he was very interested in hearing what she had to say, but he wasn’t going to force her to say it if she didn’t want to.

And, surprisingly, that made her want to.

“I…tanked my grades my senior year,” she repeated finally. “After she…after my mom died.” She lowered her gaze to her lap.

“Kate Drew,” Ace said softly. “Our guidance counselor.”

Nancy nodded.

“I liked her. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”

Inhaling a shaky breath, Nancy said, “Yeah, me too.” She paused for a moment before continuing. The death of her mother was still very raw. She still cried herself to sleep every night, hoping to wake up the next morning to find out it was all just a bad dream. “Losing her was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just…I couldn’t deal. So, I gave up on all my schoolwork and I let my grades plummet. I suddenly didn’t care about trying to get into Columbia anymore or becoming an investigative journalist—which is, by the way, what I think I’m actually cut out for. I just gave up. And honestly? I don’t regret it. Even if it means I’m stuck in this town for at least the next year, getting constantly bitched out at work by the girl who hated my guts in high school.”

She paused for a beat, before sneaking a glance over at Ace. “You must think I’m pretty stupid, huh?”

Ace shook his head. “No. Not at all. Although, I’m not exactly in any position to judge, anyway. I mean, look at me. I’m three years out of high school, and I’ve been working here as a dishwasher the entire time.”

“Well, what about you?” Nancy asked. “Have you ever thought about going to college? Is there anything you want to be when you grow up?”

A small smile played at his lips as he stared down at the ground. “As a matter of fact—” he began, but then stopped and immediately wiped the smile off his face. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and said, “Not really.”

Nancy eyed him curiously. He was about to say something. But what? “Not really, huh?”

“Yeah.” The smile returned. “I don’t really care to have any life plans or aspirations right now. I’m sort of a…free spirit, I guess you could say. I just want to take things as they come.”

“A free spirit,” Nancy echoed before adding with a slight smirk, “And a deep soul.”

She wasn’t sure what exactly had inspired her to add that last part, but there was something about this guy that made her think there was a lot more to him than he was letting on.

He was a bit of a mystery.

Maybe if she stuck around long enough at this job and got to know him a little better, she could solve that mystery someday. As Nancy Drew, girl detective.

Ace turned to look at her and when his eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were, matching the color of the ocean that bordered their town. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out the back door flew open, and George poked her head out.

“Break’s over, you two,” she barked. She didn’t wait for them to respond before retreating inside the restaurant and slamming the door shut behind her.

Both amused, Nancy and Ace simultaneously stood from the bench.

“Ready for round two?” he asked her. “If you think the lunch rush is bad, just wait until the dinner rush.”

Nancy groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Here.” Ace reached back into his pocket, retrieved the pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and handed it to her. “Take this.”

Hesitantly, Nancy reached up to take it from him. “I’m not going to smoke this, you know.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes it helps just knowing it’s there if you need it.”

They began their short trek to the back door, where Ace proceeded to open it and motion for her to go in first.

“And hey,” he added, “if you do ever decide you’re ready to try it and you need a light, you know where to find me. I’ll be where the dirty dishes are.”

Another smile—this one almost too big to fit on her face—graced Nancy’s lips. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled this many times in one day. It had been a long time.

“Thanks, Ace,” she said, brushing past him through the open door. “I really appreciate that.”

Ace was right—the dinner rush did turn out to be way worse than the lunch rush. George yelled at her at least three more times before her shift was over, Bess broke at least three plates and two glasses, and one kid threw up all over the floor right in front of her. And she hated to admit it, but more than once, that lone, unlit cigarette in her locker called out to her, and she was tempted to see if it would help to cut down on her own stress levels. But Ace had already left for the day, so there’d be no one there to light it for her.

But she knew he’d be there tomorrow if she needed him. And for now, anyway, that was enough.

#nace #nancy x ace #ace x nancy #nace fanfic

77 notes · View notes

jamaisjoons · 4 years

Text

intro: her XII ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: light angst ⋆ fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: its basically just full of fluff, like nothing but fluff, reader is kinda stressed, but mostly fluff, minor possessive/jealous namjoon at the end

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: yeetHAW SURPRISE !! I managed to finish it off while on my break at work !! so here you go !!!

⏤ thank you to my love @shadowsremedy for beta reading this for me !

⇥ Previous || Masterlist || Next

Eyes strained from the hours of paperwork, you sink back into your seat before exhaling deeply, and rubbing your tired eyes, your shoulders deflate wearily. Lately, work has been even more exhausting than usual: the aquarium transferring two nurse sharks to the exhibit. However, as the head veterinarian, it meant that everything falls onto you to make sure it runs smoothly: that the sharks are healthy and well looked after, that they’ll acclimatise to their new tank properly, that they won’t undergo any major stress of any kind; just general things like that. Though, the last one was easier said than done. Moving and handling of any animals would cause them stress.

Taking another deep breath, you roll your shoulders - working out the kinks in them. Once done, you look back at the huge stack of paperwork. Thick manila files are piled one on top of each other - and all of them need to be read and signed. Different though they are, whether they be health records, or the transfer document or even just general admin work make up the stack - they all have one thing in common. Every single one of them mocks you ceaselessly; the foreboding tower reminding you of the amount of work you still have to complete.

Defeated sigh escaping your lips, you decide to get back to work. After all, lamenting your workload isn’t going to deplete it. Though, before you can start looking at the next file, your phone rings from beside you. With a side glance, you sneak a peek at the contact ID, only to perk up when your boyfriend’s name flashes across the screen. Work long forgotten, you automatically move to pick it up; your finger sliding across the screen as you answer the call.

“Joonie! Hey,” you answer enthusiastically. Already, you can feel the tension in your muscles fade - the sounds of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook yelling while Namjoon hushes them instantly soothing you.

“Hey babe, do you know what time you’ll be done today?” Namjoon’s deep voice echoes across the receiver.

Eyebrows furrowing, you glance at the clock that hangs above the door to your office. Seeing the time, your eyes widen. It’s already half six; you were supposed to be done half an hour go. “Oh shit-” you breathe out, “I didn’t even realise the time. I’ve still got a bunch of work to do though,” you continue, almost despondently. It’s a Friday evening, which means that you have the weekend to look forward to - but, you can’t leave until you’ve completed at least the more important paperwork.

“Ah- okay. Will you be coming over or going home?” Namjoon asks.

You hear Jungkook yelling in the background, cries of ‘No! Come over,’ echoing across your speaker. Biting your lip, you stare at the pile of paperwork. Once again, it mocks you - letting you know you can’t clock out until it’s done - no matter how much you want to go home to Namjoon and the boys.

“I- I’m not sure. I may finish really late and I don’t want to disturb you or anything,” you reply, barely trying to hide the upset in your voice.

Hearing your tired, strained tone, “Come over Angel, we’ll have a quiet night in. It’s also Yoongi-hyung’s birthday tomorrow, so we’re probably going to do something,” Namjoon says. Face crumpling, you nod - a quiet night in with your boyfriend sounds just like the stress relief that you need.

“Babe?” Namjoon calls out.

Realising that he can’t see you, “Oh! Sorry- yes, that sounds great. I’ll come over when I’m done. Do we need anything for Yoongi’s birthday?” you ask, a slight frown on your face. The stress of work had clearly gotten to you - you had no idea that it was already Yoongi’s birthday. It seems like you were just celebrating Hoseok’s birthday yesterday. Not that you’d done much - he’d just wanted a quiet dinner; which of course, was easier said than done, when half the guests were toddlers.

“Hmmm no- although, Taehyung mentioned wanting to bake Yoongi-hyung a cake. But that sounds messy, and I don’t really know how to bake so,” Namjoon replies offhandedly.

Perking up immediately, “we can do that! Please, Joon? Can we bake? Pretty please?” you practically beg. Across the phone, Namjoon pauses, before you hear a soft laugh.

“Someone’s excited. But alright, we can do that. Well, you can. We both know I’m useless in the kitchen,” Namjoon answers. Suppressing a yelp of victory, you pump your fist in the air before stilling. Cheeks searing with the heat of embarrassment, you silently thank whatever guardian angel is watching you. At least your boyfriend hadn’t seen that. “Alright, I have to go. Taehyung wants a snack and he looks like he’s about to cry,” Namjoon continues.

Laughing, “well you better go then. If Tae cries, that’ll only set Chim off too,” you respond knowingly.

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll see you at home then,” Namjoon says. Then, with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the phone.

Placing your phone back onto your desk, you turn back to the huge stack of paperwork. Invigorated by your conversation with Namjoon, and the thought of going home to your boyfriend and his sons - not to mention the prospect of baking - you suddenly feel a renewed fire in your stomach. Hastily, you grab the next file before you begin reading it. All of a sudden, you have a reason to finish up your work.

As you’d planned, after you’d completed all the important paperwork, you’d gone home to grab your baking equipment before driving straight to your boyfriend’s home. Seeing the stress on your face late last night, Namjoon had gathered you into his arms before taking you to bed - the boys already being fast asleep by the time you had arrived. You remember Namjoon helping you change, and how attentive he’d been the entire night; however, you don’t remember falling asleep. As a matter of fact, the only thing that you do remember, is that you haven’t had such good sleep in over a week. Somehow, falling asleep in Namjoon’s arms, had melted all the stress of your hectic week and you’d woken up feeling completely refreshed.

Thus, you find yourself in Namjoon’s kitchen the next day. Namjoon sits at the kitchen counter, his laptop and various pieces of paper scattered on the surface as he tries to get some work done. Tried, being the keyword. Really, he’d given up a while back and instead, his eyes are glued to your figure as you flit about his kitchen. You’re still dressed in your pyjamas and, well, so is he. In fact, no one had really felt like getting changed, and so even his sons are still running about in last night’s clothing.

Still, his eyes rake over your figure. With your hair piled into a messy bun on the top of your head: stray flyaways flying about everywhere as you concentrate on baking Yoongi’s cake, and dressed in a pair of loose flannel bottoms and his hoodie: the large grey article of clothing hanging from your frame; you’re the epitome of comfort. Flour stains the material, and he can see little gooey strings of eggs in some spots. You’re nothing but an unkempt mess - but still, you look incredibly endearing.

Soft melodious music echoes through his speakers, your body softly swaying to the beat as you hum along to the tune and involuntarily, Namjoon finds his eyes softening at the utter ease in your figure. The sweet scent of vanilla wafts through the air, causing Namjoon’s mouth to water at the sugary, enticing smell. You’re in the middle of icing the cake - Namjoon’s eyes following your graceful movements as you cover the sponge with the creamy frosting.

Helpless under your enchantment, Namjoon decides to abandon his work: it’s not like he was getting anything done in the first place. Standing up from his seat, he crosses his kitchen and within a few moments, you feel your boyfriend behind you. Namjoon’s strong arms curl around you, his hands loosely resting on your hips. At the feel of his comforting presence, you instinctively relax further, your back moulding against his chest.

His head immediately drops down to your neck, his nose nuzzling the flesh as he presses his feathery kisses to the column of your throat. Feeling his plush lips brush over your supple flesh, “Joonie, stop that,” you giggle.

“No,” Namjoon pouts, pressing another kiss to your skin - this time just under the corner of your jaw.

Playfully batting his face - Namjoon narrowly dodging - “I’m trying to concentrate!” you reprimand, thought from the light laughter in your voice, Namjoon knows you’re not really mad. So, instead, he lets out his own teasing growl before squeezing your hips.

“So was I, but you distracted me. So, now I’m going to distract you,” he replies. You roll your eyes at his logic, but don’t say anything else. Rather, you return back to frosting your cake.

Namjoon steps a little closer to you, his arms snaking around your hips so he can hold you in his arms. You feel his large palms intertwine before resting against your lower abdomen. Softly, his body sways with yours, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. Namjoon knows he’s not the best dancer, yet, with you in his arms, he can’t help, but follow the gentle swaying of your body - the movement coming easily to him. Meanwhile, from beside the two of you, Taehyung’s little form peers over the edge of the counter, his little hands braced on the marble countertop as he pokes his head over the ledge. “What are you doing now?” he asks, his eyes following your movements curiously.

“I’m crumb coating the cake - so that none of the cake crumbs gets on the outside later on,” you reply without skipping a beat.

“Do you like baking, Noona?” Taehyung’s soft voice continues as he turns to you in intrigue. Breaking from your concentration while you run the stainless steel palette knife over the edge edges, you glance at Taehyung.

“Mhm, it’s one of my favourite things,” you reply. Taehyung nods his head, but turns back to the half iced cake. One eyebrow raising, you attempt to suppress a little giggle. “Do you want to help me, Tigger?” you ask. All of a sudden, Taehyung perks up before nodding enthusiastically.

From behind you, Namjoon uncurls his arms from your frame, only to pull one of the barstools closer before picking his son up and depositing him onto the cushion. Once he’s sure his son is safely on the stool, he turns back to you - only to be stopped when Jimin tugs at his trouser leg. Motioning to his father with grabby hands, Jimin looks at his father with wide eyes and a soft pout. Immediately, Namjoon bends over, and stepping to your side, easily lifts Jimin up into his arms.

Turning his eyes, Namjoon lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of his final child. Unbothered, Jungkook sits with his back to one of the cabinets - his eyes glued to the screen of his game and a bowl of snacks situated next to him. Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, it seems Jungkook couldn’t care less about the cake. Though, he supposes, it makes sense: since it was originally Taehyung’s idea - and Jimin always wanted to do whatever Taehyung did - and vice versa.

Namjoon turns back to you - just in time to see Taehyung reach over to grab the bowl of icing. However, in his son’s enthusiastic haste - he almost knocks into the cake. Acting on reflex, honed from years of chasing his troublemaking twins, Namjoon’s hand shoots out and steadies the cake - his fingers gripping the cake board to prevent it from toppling over.

Turning to his middle child, Namjoon looks at him with soft reprimanding eyes, “be careful, Taehyung, we don’t want to ruin ____’s hard work now, do we?” he says.

“Sorry, daddy,” Taehyung says sheepishly.

Seeing the slight pout, and the way his eyes darken, “It’s alright! We got it in time, didn’t we?” you say, winking at Taehyung while petting his hair. At your words, and realising you’re not mad at him, the sadness in Taehyung’s eyes fades away. Once he’s perked up, you angle the handle of the palette knife to Taehyung.

Eagerly, but with more restraint this time, Taehyung grabs the utensil from you. You help him dip it into the bowl of icing - then, wrapping your large hand around his, you both begin layering the frosting over the rest of the cake. With the two of you frosting the sponge, Namjoon and Jimin stand next to you both - Jimin pointing out different places that need more buttercream while Namjoon simply watches. Though, every now and then his eyes dart to the buttery icing, his mouth salivating at the mere sight of it.

Eventually, once the cake has been iced, you drop the palette knife back into the bowl before pushing it to the side. Unnoticed to you, Namjoon’s eyes follow the movement, his eyes lighting up when he notices a soft mound of the buttercream still left over. Briefly, he contemplates whether he can sneak some away from you and his sons - but that will have to come later.

Meanwhile, you cross the kitchen, and grab your bag of store-bought decorations. If you had more time, you’d consider making them yourself - but sadly, that wasn’t the case this time. Upending the bag, you scatter the boxes and packets across the counter. Immediately, Taehyung and Jimin squeal - their small pudgy hands moving to grab the different packets.

“This one!” they both shout simultaneously, holding up different packages of cake decorations. With a laugh, you nod at both of them.

Stepping back slightly, Namjoon watches as Jimin and Taehyung move in closer to you, their knees perched on the barstools as their hands and chests lean onto the counter. Taehyung’s face is a picture of concentration as he hands one of his embellishments while Jimin points out where you should put them before they swap, Jimin handing you one of his decorations and Taehyung pointing out where you should put it.

There’s no real rhyme or reason to the way the boys garnish the cake and shortly, it’s covered in a plethora of random decorations. Soon, both rainbow coloured and chocolate sprinkles clutter the top, various different embellishments, from chocolate buttons to sugar flowers, litter the cake edges sporadically; and the borders are piped in different sized peaks of soft buttercream. Namjoon knows you love to bake: you’d mentioned once in passing that you used to do it as a stress reliever during university, and he also knows that cake decorating is one of your favourite things: your Instagram feed chock-full of random pastry chefs and amateur bakers. Yet, you still listen to his sons - entertaining their chaotic creativity as you adorn the cake with a plethora of confectionary and colours.

Jungkook is the only one still not involved, by some surprise, and with a quick side glance, Namjoon sees his son’s eyes still glued to the screen of his game console, his hand reaching for his snacks every now and then. Realising both you, and all three of his sons, are otherwise preoccupied, Namjoon turns back to the bowl of icing left forgotten on the side of the counter. Instantly, his eyes light up, and with sneaking glances towards you and his sons, he licks his lips before turning back to the bowl.

Slowly, Namjoon steps away from you - moving purposely so as not to arouse your suspicions. For most of it, you barely notice him, too engrossed in your cake - however, his strange actions garner Jungkook’s attention. Putting his game down, Jungkook watches as his father sneaks across the kitchen, only to quietly pull out a spoon and dip it into icing. Slowly, Jungkook waddles to his father, eyes trained on the way Namjoon licks up the sugary cream from the spoon.

“Daddy, can I have some?” Jungkook asks as he tugs his father’s leg - trying to draw Namjoon’s attention.

“Okay, but don’t tell Noona,” Namjoon quietly whispers. Easily, he picks up his son, only to place him onto one of the seats before pushing the bowl towards him. Jungkook quickly nods - but doesn’t say anything else, instead, poking his little fingers into the frosting.

So engrossed in your cake, you barely notice Jimin sneak away - leaving you and Taehyung to your devices as he joins his father and younger brother. However, after a little while longer, Taehyung disappears as well. Nonetheless, you chalk it down to getting bored and continue to finish up the last of the cake. Once it’s done, you let out a little victory cheer before looking up. However, the first thing you notice, is that Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook’s fingers are all in the bowl, their lips stained with the white buttercream frosting.

“What are you doing? You know that’s basically all sugar - it’s not good for you. What would Namjoon say-” you automatically begin reprimanding. However, when you spot your boyfriend next to them, looking equally guilty - plush lips wrapped around a metal spoon - you let out a little sigh and shake your head. “You know what, he won’t say anything because I have a feeling he’s the reason you’re eating plain buttercream in the first place,” you continue, looking at him pointedly.

Immediately, the three boys nod.

“Daddy said not to tell you! It’s all his fault!” Jungkook says, pointing to his father.

“Yeah! Daddy said we could,” Taehyung chimes in. Swiftly, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down on it in order to suppress your giggle.

“I saw Daddy and Jungkook eating it, so I wanted to as well,” Jimin butts in.

“Jimin! Taehyung! Jungkook!” Namjoon gasps, looking at his sons in utter betrayal. The sight of his shocked eyes causes you to splutter, and then, immediately you’re laughing.

“Oh my god, they totally ratted you out,” you snicker. Across the counter, Namjoon pouts, his sons giggling to themselves too.

“I can’t believe this. My own sons sold me out to my own girlfriend,” Namjoon teasingly laments. With another snicker, you cross the kitchen and towards him. Standing in front of him, you wind your hands around his waist and leaning on your tiptoes, you kiss the tip of his nose.

“It’s what you deserve, letting them eat plain sugar like that,” you answer, your eyes twinkling with mischief. Naturally, Namjoon’s arms wrap around you as he draws you closer to him.

Dipping his head down, he brushes his lips against yours, causing you to gasp. Reflexively, you poke your tongue out to lick your lips and a breathy moan falling from your mouth when you taste the sweetened vanilla on your lips. “It’s not funny, my love. I’m really hurt, you know. Will you kiss it better?” Namjoon asks, a roguish smile curling onto his lips. His warm breath fans across your face, your eyes fluttering as the saccharine aroma of both Namjoon and the buttercream wafts through your nose.

Breath hitching in your throat, your hands trail up his chest to curl around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “It’s a figurative hurt, where am I supposed to kiss?” you reply cheekily, your own eyes twinkling with mischief as you look up at him through the thick of your lashes.

Once again, Namjoon hums. It’s deeper this time, however - a little more sensuous. “I think I know,” he replies. Then, without giving you any time to think about it, his lips descend onto yours.

Cake box in one hand, and Jungkook holding your other, you walk into the lobby of JinHit’s building - Namjoon ushering in his twins behind you. As soon as you get in, you notice Seokjin and Hoseok standing, speaking to each other.

“Hyung!” Taehyung calls out, tugging on his father’s hand as he tries to run towards them. Immediately, Seokjin and Hoseok turn around, greeting the five of you with a wave.

“Oh wow, did you buy a cake?” Seokjin asks, peering at the white cake box in curiosity.

Immediately, “Noona baked it! Hyungie and I helped!” Jimin says proudly, a bright smile on his face.

Hoseok quirks his eyebrows, “did you now? And where was Jungkookie in all of this?” he questions, turning to the youngest.

“Playing games,” Jungkook simply shrugs, not thinking anything of it. His deadpan answer causes Hoseok and Seokjin to laugh before they nod.

“Alright, and I assume you just watched?” Seokjin chuckles while clapping Namjoon on the back.

Before he can reply, “watched? More like distracted me and then ate the rest of the icing,” you snort - once again looking at him pointedly. Namjoon’s mouth curls, his ears burning bright red as he pouts.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Hoseok replies, nodding sagely, “did he try eating sugar out of the spoon again?” he continues. Both you and Seokjin snicker, Namjoon letting out a sigh of exasperation.

“Can we just go? We’re here to celebrate Yoongi’s birthday, not make fun of me,” Namjoon pouts, a slight whiny tone to his voice. Seeing the sheepishness in his eyes, you adjust the cake box in your hold before shuffling closer and kissing his jaw in comfort. Head angling down to you, Namjoon smiles softly in thanks before returning your kiss - his lips brushing against your temple.

“Gross,” Hoseok gripes playfully, causing both you and Namjoon to stick your tongues out at him.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go, Yoongi’s probably wondering where we are,” Seokjin says - playing peacemaker in Yoongi’s stead. Then, he gestures the lot of you to follow him.

Contrary to Seokjin’s words, however, Yoongi was in no way waiting for you. Walking into the meeting room upstairs, you come to an empty room - Seokjin letting out a sigh of frustration. “God damn it! I told him to meet us here. Did he forget?” Seokjin grouses, his eyebrows furrowing in exasperation.

“Knowing hyung, he’s still in his studio,” Hoseok points out. His words, however, only causes Seokjin to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Let’s just go to his studio,” he replies before ushering you out of the room. Once again, he navigates the lot of you through the various corridors of the building - before you come upon a large wooden door. A gold plaque hangs on it, the words ‘Genius Lab’ embossed in black on the metal plate.

Aggressively, Seokjin begins knocking - practically banging his fist against the door. “Yah! Min Yoongi! Did I not tell you to be in the meeting room?” he yells. Instantly, the door swings wide open, Yoongi standing in the doorway.

Quirking an eyebrow, “I was waiting - but you’re like ten minutes late - so I decided to do some work,” Yoongi replies, his face passive as usual.

“Sorry, there was a bit of traffic,” you apologise with a small bow. Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, however, before he can say anything, Namjoon’s sons are running up to him.

Jimin and Taehyung wrap their arms around each one of his legs, Jungkook standing between them and winding his own arms around Yoongi’s waist. “Yoonie hyung! Happy birthday!” they sweetly chorus at the same time. Immediately, Yoongi’s face softens, and instinctively, he pets their heads, a shy smile on his face while he nods at them.

A bright grin plastered onto his face, “Noona, Hyungie and I baked you a cake!” Jimin says proudly, causing you to shyly hold up the cake box. Yoongi’s eyes twinkle slightly before he’s stepping to the side. Taking his cue, you all quickly enter his studio.

Swiftly, you unbox the cake, and while Hoseok holds it up - you sing happy birthday. The entire time, Yoongi’s cheeks are bunched up under his eyes, his bright gummy smile on display while he bounces in place. After you’re done, and Yoongi’s cut his cake, everyone sporadically finds seats around Yoongi’s studio. Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung sit on the floor, the younger twin in the older man’s lap as Jimin happily eats his cake beside them. Seokjin sits on the sofa, Jungkook in his father’s lap - leaving you to sit on the sofa arm besides Namjoon.

“So, are you working on anything interesting?” you ask, idly chewing on your cake while addressing Yoongi.

Nodding, “I’m actually working on a new song - do you want to hear?” Yoongi asks. Eyelids blowing wide open, you freeze in place before your jaw drops open.

“A-Are you sure?” you stutter out. Was he really offering you an exclusive sneak peek of his future track? God, sometimes you really forget that your, now, closest friends are huge musical celebrities. Sure, your own boyfriend is a famous rapper, as is Hoseok, but other than that discussion about their upcoming tour, you’ve never really gotten involved with their jobs. Namjoon rarely tended to bring it up at home, wanting to focus more on his sons and your relationship. Besides, Yoongi had always been your favourite rapper - and just the thought of getting to listen to a demo of his song has your heart racing.

“Earth to ____?” Seokjin says, waving his hand in front of your face with a playful laugh. Quickly, you bat his hand away before glaring at him with a pout, your cheeks heating from embarrassment.

“Look at her! She’s blushing like a little girl, oh my god,” Hoseok begins taunting, then he pauses. “Wait- didn’t you mention Yoongi is your favourite rapper when we first met?” he asks, a knowing smirk curling onto his face.

Features twisting into a scowl, you sneer at him, “well it’s definitely not you. You’re too mean to me,” you snidely reply, before sticking your tongue out.

Wincing jokingly, “ouch, you really wound me, ____” Hoseok dramatically sighs, clutching his heart and shaking his head.

“It’s because I’m the nicest to her,” Yoongi chimes in, nodding sagely.

“Hey! I’m nice to her,” Hoseok yells in indignation.

However, ignoring Hoseok, “Wait- Yoongi, are you sure I can listen?” you ask, remembering Yoongi’s first question.

He turns back to you before nodding and rolling his chair a little to the side. “Yeah, come on,” Yoongi beckons. Eyes lighting up with joy, you shoot off the sofa and over to him in an instant.

The moment you move, Namjoon blinks at the unexpected movement. The entire time Hoseok had teased you, he’d felt a little upset. Of course, he’d always known Yoongi is your favourite rapper - and he’d never begrudge you for it. Nonetheless, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little upset that he’s not your favourite. Gaze trained on you, Namjoon watches as Yoongi pressed one of the headphone speakers to his ear, offering the other to you, before opening up the track and clicking play.

As soon as the beat begins, your eyebrows knit together, your lips a firm line. He knows the expression well: very rarely do you bring home paperwork - both of you prefer to keep work out of your relationship - but the few times you have, he’s watched that exact same expression of concentration, your pen flitting over the papers. Every now and then, your eyes twinkle, a short gasp falling from your lips as you nod to the beat. Unable to help himself, Namjoon cannot stop the swell of jealousy, sadness and a slight twinge of possessiveness that wells up inside him.

When you shuffle a little closer to Yoongi, your ears pressed together as you share the headphones, Namjoon knows he can’t watch anymore. Quietly, he passes Jungkook over to Seokjin before shuffling out of the room. Hoseok and Seokjin look at each other, exchanging a brief knowing glance between themselves. As soon as you spot Namjoon’s movement from the corner of your eye, before you watch him softly slam the door shut, you draw away from Yoongi.

Turning to the other two, “Is he okay?” you ask, your eyebrows knotting together in concern.

“I think he’s a little jealous,” Seokjin replies softly. For a moment, you almost dismiss him, until you see the seriousness in his eyes.

“What? Why?” you ask, confusion lacing your voice.

“Just watching you and Yoongi, maybe? Like we all know there’s nothing going on, but like, yeah,” Hoseok tries explaining, rubbing the back of his head. “He’s probably a little mad too,” he continues. Seeing your face fall, Hoseok quickly shakes his head, “Not at you! At himself for feeling the way he is- he’s probably just trying to control himself and needed a breather,” he finishes. Placated by Hoseok’s words, you nod, knowing he’d never lie to you. However, his words don’t stop your heart clenching in your chest, your stomach dropping. You’d never wanted to make him feel upset - or jealous.

“I think I’ll go speak to him,” Yoongi cuts in, already getting up from his seat. Quickly, you shake your head, already shooting up to your feet.

“No!” you abruptly interject. Shuffling over to the cake, you cut a large piece of it before placing it on a paper plate. “It’s okay. I think it’d be better if I go. Watch my boys for me yeah?” you say once you're done, before shooting out of the room, not even waiting for a response.

The moment the door slams shut, the three of them turn to each other. “Do you think she noticed she used ‘my’ or…?” Seokjin asks.

With a wistful smile, “No, I don’t think she did,” Yoongi replies, shaking his head fondly.

“Well, looks like your Noona may become your mommy soon,” Hoseok chimes in as he directs his attention to the boys.

Ecstatically, Taehyung turns in Hoseok’s lap, looking at the older man in wide-eyed wonder. Standing up in his lap - Hoseok wincing when the entirety of his weight pushes down on his legs - Taehyung presses his pudgy hands against Hoseok’s cheeks before squishing them together, “Really?” the toddler asks, his voice full of excitement and hope.

Laughing, Hoseok nods his head in Taehyung’s hold, “really,” he replies. Seokjin and Yoongi nodding along to his sentiment.

a/n: this was actually supposed to have smut in it but like it got so long without it that i’ve just decided that the next chapter will be solely smut 🤡 so owo look forward to that !! whenever it comes out !!

Kofi | Masterlist

2K notes · View notes

quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH11

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 11: Resurrection Overture (XI)

Unfortunately, Qi Leren could escape his “date” with the Illusionist, but he couldn’t escape his one with Chen Baiqi.　　

Since there was no specific time for the day's training, Qi Leren got up early the next morning. When he got up, he thought he would suffer from a sore back due to training too hard the previous day, but except for slightly sore thighs, his body had no symptoms of strain, which made Qi Leren feel incredible.　　

Was it because he’d been blessed by Maria’s holy light?　　

Clearly last night when he’d gone to Du Yue, he’d been as tired as a dead dog. Du Yue had received him warmly and easily agreed to sign the confidentiality contract. According to the contract agreement, he wouldn’t be able to reveal this secret to anyone, whether it was in writing or spoken or even from a mind control skill. As long as it was concerning these secrets, he couldn’t say anything and Qi Leren would also feel it if he did.　　

This was actually an unfair contract that had no benefit to Du Yue. Qi Leren wanted to compensate him with some survival time, but Du Yue didn't agree: "I can earn so many survival days because of the clues qianbei gave me. I’ve already made a lot of money, I dare not ask for your days as well. If there’s a chance in the future, please take me with you!"　　

Looking at Du Yue's earnest eyes, Qi Leren agreed without saying anything.　　

At six o'clock in the morning, Qi Leren arrived at Chen Baiqi's shop and tentatively knocked on the door.　　

The door opened and Chen Baiqi, who had already dressed neatly and washed her hair, looked at him with a smile: "That’s very positive. I thought you wouldn’t arrive till after seven o'clock."　　

Qi Leren said that if he really had come after seven o'clock, he wasn’t sure how he’d be treated by Chen Baiqi.　　

"I’m very pleased to see that you’re so motivated. You’ll report to me at this time every day in the future. You know the consequences of being late." Chen Baiqi's smile widened. In Qi Leren’s eyes, this was really a smile full of maliciousness. "As for breakfast, ask Sissi what she wants to eat and get me the same."　　

Sissi, who came out of the back room with a yawn, said sleepily, "Flatbread fitters, thank you."　　

Chen Baiqi had put an hourglass on the table and encouraged Qi Leren by saying, "Twenty minutes."　　

"It takes at least ten minutes to run from here to the market near the steel bridge!" cried Qi Leren.　　

Chen Baiqi glanced at the hourglass: "Nineteen minutes and fifty seconds. If you feel stressed, I can send a lovely dog to accompany you."　　

Accepting his fate, Qi Leren pushed open the door and started to run as if a three-headed hellhound was eyeing his chrysanthemum behind him—truly, this was the most terrible place.　　

Many years later, Qi Leren still remembered the dominating fear of buying breakfast. In a sense, this period of running for his life in the sunset was the worst time in his life. The shopkeepers in the bazaar remembered this wind-like man. He would rush to the booth with short messy hair right on time at about 6:10 every day to buy two breakfasts. If there were other people waiting in line, his bereavement and frequent glances at his watch would make people suspect that he was manic. The most dramatic time, when he was faced with a long queue, he had resolutely cut in line at the expense of paying for everyone else in the line and disappeared from everyone’s sight like an unscrupulous customer who ran out when faced with the bill.　　

—He runs faster than I did when I learned my wife was giving birth, a stall owner said.　　

—Once, he brought a three-headed hellhound to do his morning exercises and ran faster than usual, another vendor said.　　

—That boy is really handsome. If I’m slow at preparing cakes, he almost starts crying in his rush. It's very distressing, a middle-aged female vendor fondly said.　　

People in the market speculated on his origin, but for a long time no one knew who he was, so the "6:10 rush to buy breakfast" was also included in the top ten incredible sights in the Village of Dusk. It’s worth mentioning that a new addition was also added to this list recently—why are there so many tombstones for Qi Leren on Undead Island?　　

However, Qi Leren, who monopolized these two items on the list, had no idea about his "unexpected popularity" because recently he was living a life that was like death. Chen Baiqi happily told him that because Maria’s holy light had blessed him, his body was very "resistant to exercise" and could accept more intensive training. She used this as an excuse to arrange an inhuman training regimen for Qi Leren.　　

Twenty minutes of hard running in the morning was just an appetizer. It was common to practice shooting at the same time. Even swimming from the Village of Dusk’s port to Undead Island was included in the daily training. Before finishing training every day, there was another "love lesson" by Chen Baiqi, which translates to "teaching you how to be hit by various weapons". Even the day when you dislocated your right hand because of shooting practice, you were not spared.　　

At this time, Qi Leren realized that the training menu Ning Zhou had given him was too easy and that he was too gentle as a coach. Just look at the results of Chen Baiqi's devil training: Within a week, when Qi Leren was chased by the three-headed hellhound outdoors, he was able to climb onto the roof without changing color, climbing faster than a monkey. If Chen Baiqi hadn't forbidden him from doing anything to the dog, he would have jumped at the evil dog with a gun.　　

Yes, Qi Leren also learned to shoot, as taught by Chen Baiqi.　　

Before be taught, Chen Baiqi also asked him how much he knew about guns and which one he wanted to try.　　

Although he was a man, he wasn’t very interested in guns. He said, "I don't play shooter games very much. How about a Desert Eagle? I’ve heard those are very powerful."　　

Chen Baiqi rolled her eyes: "You really do know nothing about guns."　　

Chen Baiqi recommended a revolver similar to a Smith Wesson 625, which had a large caliber, six-chambers, and convenient loading that wasn’t easy to jam. It was said that it was made by a gun fan, and that it couldn't be mass-produced at present with the technological level of the Twilight Township. He earned a lot of survival days thanks to this skill.　　

Qi Leren took the strange gun and thought of the problem of the laptop transformer and charger. The craftsman who was still alive when he’d gone last time had been away on a task, and he may have come back now. He would go see about this after today’s training.　　

While training in the afternoon, Chen Baiqi had a whim to teach Qi Leren how to dive, or dive without any equipment to be exact, to exercise his breath-holding ability, compression resistance, and control of his heartbeat and breathing. Since his profession was that of an assassin, he couldn't do without a well-trained heart.　　

Qi Leren listened in anguish to the main points about diving, put on the headlamp, and looked at the endless sea.　　

"I advocate that every player who focuses on the assassin's route should learn to dive, because to be a good assassin he must learn to overcome his nervousness and fear. There’s no training that can train a person better than jumping into the sea alone to challenge your own limits. As you dive deeper and deeper, the light will decrease. In the end, only your own heartbeat will be left in the dark world. It will seem like your soul has escaped from your body and roamed in endless darkness. You will be isolated and helpless. Nothing can save you. You have to learn to rely on yourself. The water pressure in all directions will become stronger and stronger, but the oxygen in your lungs will become less and less, and death will become closer and closer to you, and you won't even know what depth you’re diving to. You will feel fear, more and more fear, and fear will make your heart beat faster, oxygen consumption will increase dramatically, and you will die faster if you cannot overcome this fear." Chen Baiqi looked at Qi Leren, who was shivering in the wind, and smiled happily.　　

"This area isn’t deep. You’ll go down and touch a shell. It’s very simple to do," Chen Baiqi said.　　

Qi Leren said bitterly, "Can you tie a rope around me? What if I can't come back up from the water?"　　

Chen Baiqi's smile grew deeper, and her slender eyebrows made this smile even more malicious: "Don't be afraid, it doesn't matter if you don't come up for a while, anyway. You’ll slowly float up after swelling a little in two days."　　

“………………”

-----

Editor’s Notes: The next chapter may be a bit late, as I’ve had a hectic last couple weeks and unfortunately have fallen behind. I will try to avoid this though.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

32 notes · View notes

neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, slight angst in the beginning but not really, fluff

i owe you guys an apology. i’m not very active on tumblr as of posting. i’m sorry about that. school has been hard on me and i’ve been very stressed. i’ll try to do better in the future :)

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

Armin was discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. The doctor said there was nothing extraordinary to worry about. But of course, even with this information, Eren still made a fuss. That much was clear when he walked through the door with Armin's arm slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't break my leg, Eren. I don't need to use you as a crutch," Armin grumbled as the two walked into the kitchen from the garage. He reached back to shut the door with his free hand.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for supporting you in these trying times."

"I don't need your support," they scoffed. He unwrapped his arm and made his way across the room.

Eren gave him the finger, rather aggressively. The gesture wasn't reciprocated since the blond already disappeared into the hallway.

Sucking on a freeze pop, you leaned back against the cool countertop. "Welcome home, lovely. Have fun?"

Eren sighed loudly as he walked toward the freezer and got a popsicle for himself. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the top of the wrapper off into the trash.

He said sarcastically, "Oh, absolutely I did." He paused and shook his head disapprovingly. "He's a lot bitchier when it's us two. How's it been here?"

You shrugged. "So, so. Pretty quiet."

He nodded and pushed up the pineapple-flavored ice. "Thought so. Jean's gone today, obviously. Is Mikasa here?"

You huffed softly at the mention of her. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. She's been upstairs all day."

He frowned. "Oh, I see. Armin told me about the kiss, by the way. At first, I was gonna make fun of you for passing out but now that just seems cruel."

"You think?" You laughed lightly and rested both arms on the counter.

The sound that followed from him was more of an exhale than a laugh. "Listen, Y/n, even if she's avoiding you right now, I know she'll come around. Just wait and see."

"You're right," you mumbled, sticking the freeze pop in your mouth again. Armin basically said the same thing. Eren sent you a quick smile and patted your shoulder before leaving through the hallway.

You swallowed the remaining ice and threw away the wrapper. Noticing the bin was full, you took the trash to the bigger bin outside. Maybe doing some chores would distract you from Mikasa for a while.

Plus, today was the only day that allowed you to do so. Practices for the band's upcoming performance were every day until the date of it. You'd be rehearsing 24/7 since it was scheduled on such short notice.

It was going to be at a middle school some of your friends went to. The DJ they booked before flaked and your manager was kind enough to offer your talents.

Jean was meeting with Hannes and the school administrators to work out some extra kinks before the practices began.

The only day there wasn't a rehearsal was on Eren's birthday. You all decided it'd be best to take the day off to celebrate and set up for the party that would be happening later in the night.

The day passed easily as you got caught up on chores that weren't done over the past few days. The house was messier than you liked it although it hadn't been long at all since the previous clean-through. However, it had been a hectic week.

Speaking of hectic, when Zeke was there, he sure made himself at home. That much was clear when you made it to the living room portion of the basement.

Eren probably couldn't find time to clean up yet. Either that or he was just lazy because at that moment he was more focused on a pinball machine than the state of his living space.

His brother's suitcases were lying open by the couch. To be honest, you didn't love the idea of a criminal's possessions lying around your home. So, you decided that throwing them in a storage closet was the best option.

When you finished tidying up, you started a game on the pinball machine next to Eren's.

His birthday was in three days. The house looked a lot better than it did when you started, which was perfect for throwing a party. You could only hope it would stay that way.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Jean came down the stairs to let you know he was back from the school. He left when he saw neither of you were interested in what he had to say.

Once it got dark outside, you left Eren to his own devices and went to your own room to chill out some more.

Unfortunately, when you flopped down on your bed, Mikasa started to consume your thoughts again. In an effort to fight them, you turned on a show to distract yourself.

For the slow hours you spent staring at the screen, you couldn't focus, not once. No matter how hard you trained your eyes on the screen, you still thought about her.

Sighing, you got out of bed and walked to your bedroom door. You were careful of the creaking hinges, it was around midnight. Everyone would either be asleep or close to sleeping.

Except for Armin. You had no idea what he did at night but you knew better than to ask. However, he was probably pretty tired from the time spent at the hospital. So, there was a solid chance he actually was asleep.

You crept outside, checking that the front door didn't make too much noise. Your car was parked in the driveway since there was never room in the garage. The gravel underneath your feet made noise as you walked toward it. You pushed yourself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield.

Drawing in a long breath, you stared up at the sky. You needed to calm down and clear your mind. This would help, as it usually did.

Even if it was a little chilly, it was warm for a night in March, especially this late.

The stress that bubbled inside you simmered down the longer you watched the thin clouds dim the stars.

Any negative thoughts you had about the situation with Mikasa or the previous days seemed to disappear the longer your focus was on the sky.

Gravel crunched and you snapped your gaze toward the noise. Sitting up, you were surprised by what you saw.

Mikasa froze when she realized she'd been caught. She held a white blanket in her arms and still had one foot on the porch steps.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

"Hey." Your breaths were a tad ragged from the initial scare.

She came closer to the car. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." You took the blanket from her arms and she pushed herself up to sit beside you.

"The door to your room was open when I came downstairs for a drink. I thought you'd be out here."

"Oh." She knew you better than you thought.

She spread the blanket over both of your laps and leaned down on the hood of the car.

She looked at the sky but your eyes were still on her. "Why did you come out here?"

After a moment of silence, her gaze finally shifted to you. "I wanted to apologize. Ignoring you was immature. Plus, I remember how you used to come out here when you were upset. Above all else, I wanted to make sure you were alright." A blush coated her cheeks when she finished talking.

You took note of that and couldn't help but blush yourself. "I'm okay. I understand why you'd ignore me, though. If you didn't want it, that was probably your only option since we have to see each other so much."

Her brows furrowed and she sat up again. "What? Y/n, did you think I didn't want to kiss you?"

You blinked stupidly. "Well, yeah."

She laughed. "You can be so ridiculous sometimes. I've always wanted to kiss you like that. I'm just not great at expressing it."

Even more heat rushed to your face. You gawked at her and she looked down at her feet. Many things were running wild in your head. For some reason, though, there was one thing that was so prominent in your mind once you remembered it.

Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one came out rather bluntly. "What did you mean in your letter? What should I know?"

Her eyes widened, she didn't expect you to ask about that yet, and quite frankly, neither did you. Nonetheless, she answered anyway. "If only you knew. That's what I wrote. That's easy to answer now. If only you knew how long I've loved you."

She turned her face and made direct eye contact with you. She seemed to know the next question on your mind. "You never knew it but I've been in love with you since high school."

That can't be right. This is a dream. You're dreaming, Y/n. What the actual fuck?

"Are you sure? Then why did you ask Jean out when we were seniors? Why did you break it off with me mere weeks before?" Your mind was racing and it translated into sentences quickly spilling from your lips.

She still looked straight at you. Her facade of confidence was making you nervous. "I'm sure. Back then, I was so afraid of what I felt for you. Pretending the feelings weren't real and projecting them onto Jean seemed like my easiest option. For years I convinced myself I loved him. But it was never him. It was always you. I felt so awful when I realized what I was doing."

And just like that, the facade fell. Her words were no longer held confidence. She was afraid of how you'd react. She had little idea that you were ready to be just as vulnerable as her.

"When did you realize?"

Looking up at the dark sky, she pushed a stray tuft of hair away from her face. She continued, sighing softly before she spoke, "When I saw him that night with Marco, I was relieved that I didn't have to be with him anymore. When I tried to figure out why that was, I could only think about you. Every feeling that scared me before came back. I got so scared that I left. But, even then, they never went away."

You were having some trouble believing that this was actually happening. Mikasa loved you back this entire time. If she hadn't kissed you before, you would've thought this was only possible in your dreams.

However, things were actually starting to make sense. That whole time it was your fault. Every night of those two years you spent wondering about what you could have done to make her stay. It turns out you did enough. You were the reason she left.

But maybe you were the reason she came back as well. You could recall something Jean had told you a day before she came home.

"Why did you come back? You needed to do something?"

She looked back at you again. "I've just done it," she said.

Before you could process her words, she was leaning closer to you. Her lips were so close to brushing yours but she paused before they could fully touch. "Can I?" she whispered.

"You don't even have to ask."

When she kissed you, you felt everything. Her feelings, your feelings. The world was minuscule compared to you two. Anything else meant nothing at that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt fully complete. You were a puzzle and she was the missing piece. It was like before, only this time, you knew for sure what you wanted.

Pulling away, you managed an, "I love you too, Mikasa."

There were no other words that would feel so good to finally say out loud.

Everything was clear. You understood.

Now more than ever, you wanted to be with her.

posted: 9/26/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

11 notes · View notes

crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years

Text

A Speedster, A Nuclear Bomb, and a Worn Down Walkman (Ch.1)

pairing: peter maximoff/fem!Wilson!reader

summary: Y/n Wilson is the only child of the renowned X-Man Deadpool. When Y/n is asked to enroll in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters by Charles Xavier himself, she has no choice but to accept; much to the dismay of her father. Y/n isn’t used to the knew surroundings or the constant stress of her mutation. All she wanted to do was disappear. Little did Y/n know, she caught the eyes of a certain speedster who wasn’t planning on letting her fade away anytime soon.

req: Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about dating peter maximoff and being deadpools kid - @8-eight-8

warnings: none, rlly

notes: FUCK YEAH!!! IM BACK TO WRITING THIS SERIES BABEY. sorry this took so long, i swear it wont take this long next time. also 2.5k words to make up for it hell yeah!

PREVIOUS: prologue

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @wallows-spring

Saying that life at the academy was hectic would be a severe understatement; your first few days were filled to the brim with endless placement assessments and class work and first impressions. It was as if you were meeting every person at once, each new smiling face and unique name immediately leaving your brain after mere seconds of talking. It was overwhelming and chaotic and at one point you felt as if you had begun to spiral in the first week-- worst of all, you were beginning to miss your father. However, there was one person who stuck in your mind like a fly to a gluetrap-- Peter Maximoff.

Peter was made of pure adrenaline, constantly on the move at high speeds as if he would cease to exist if he were to stand still. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to land himself right next to you anywhere you went. You’re not exactly complaining, though, you quite like having Peter around. He’s like your anchor, a person you can lean on when everyone and everything becomes too much-- not to mention Peter’s physical appearance. His features were refined and smooth, as if he was carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. He always had a grin on his face, his eyes lighting up like Fourth of July fireworks that you just can’t look away from.

Similarly, Peter was still having trouble processing… you. You were like an ethereal being, an inhuman gracefulness and beauty following you everywhere you went. You brightened up rooms, your laugh could make the saddest person feel uplifted, your eyes were abyss-like pools that made Peter feel fuzzy whenever they locked with him. Peter couldn’t stay away from you if he tried-- you were magnetic, an invisible force pulling him closer and closer until he got close enough to smell the shampoo you use. Everything about you was amazing and perfect and pristine to him-- he would be lying if he claimed he didn’t have a crush on you. Unfortunately for Peter, you were completely and totally out of his league. In fact, you were so out of his league that the mere thought of you liking him seemed about as realistic as a fever dream. For now, Peter was content with being your friend.

Meanwhile, Charles was attempting to settle on one of the hardest dilemmas of his lifetime. Originally, Charles had invited you to the academy to attempt to control your mutation. Hank had run various tests to get an idea of exactly how strong you’d become, and the results were shocking. Long story short, both Charles and Hank had come to the conclusion that you were a ticking time bomb. With every day that passes your manipulation of energy expands, reigning in more and more force by the second. The process is gradual and slow, but with time, you would lose your ability to contain the energy. Keeping you in the academy would be your only chance at stopping your inevitable destination, but that would also put the rest of the students at risk. Then again, you were useful; having you on the X-Men team would help save so many people. For the first time in what felt like years, Charles didn’t know what to do.

“Hank,” The British man called. “If you were the equivalent to a timed explosive, would you… would you want to know?”

“I’m sorry?” Hank’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I just… I’m not sure if I should tell Y/n about her… situation.” Hank nods in understanding before inhaling deeply.

“Charles, she’s only been here a few days. She’s barely settled in-- give her time to… warm up to the place.” Hank replies. That doesn’t help Charles’s situation.

“And after that? After she’s settled in?” Hank sighs. He’s not sure what to do either-- all Hank really knows is that he wants whatever's best for you. Hank had come to enjoy your presence through the last few days. You were kind and paid attention to Hank and his interests. It was refreshing-- Hank wasn’t used to having some be genuinely impressed by his work.

“You have to tell her eventually, Charles. You’re only hurting her by hiding it.” Charles groans and leans back in his chair. He was truly dreading this conversation-- he had no doubt in his mind that you’d want what’s best for the other students; Wade mentioned that you had a habit of putting others' needs and feelings before your own.

“Thank you, Hank. That’ll be all.” He waves the other man out of the room, allowing himself to be left to his own thoughts. Charles’s head ached as he glanced at the report Hank had written on you, one specific observation jumping out at the distressed man: “Y/n Wilson is as much an evolutionary breakthrough as she is a safety hazard-- she must learn to contain her power; if she’s successful, she’ll be one of the most powerful mutants ever recorded. If she fails-- if we fail, the consequences will be as catastrophic and destructive as a nuclear explosive. Proceed with caution.”

______________

The sound of confused giggles and hurried footsteps echo through the hallway as Peter gently tugs you along, turning to glance at you every now and then. Peter knew you were having trouble getting comfortable with the other students, and he was determined to change that. He had a small group of friends that were eager to meet you-- Peter managed to bring you up in every conversation he’s had with anyone in the past week.

“Peter, where are we going?” You question as Peter turns around a corner. He just shoots a smile back at you before quickly pulling you into his bedroom-- a bunch of students sitting in various places on the floor. You can recognize a few faces from the hallways, but other than that they’re mostly strangers. Except for one-- I can recognize Kurt from the library.

“Alright, so, uh, I thought that maybe you’d want to meet some of my friends. Just to-- uhm-- just to get more used to some of the people here.” Peter’s stomach flutters as you grin at him.

“You did this for me?” Peter nodded before your attention was quickly drawn away from him and to the people around the room. Peter is quick to introduce you to all his friends.

“Uh, Kurt, Jubilee, Scott, Jean, Ororo, this is Y/n,” A blue teenager materializes in front of me almost instantly.

“We met already but it is nice to meet you again,” He grins a toothy grin, his hand extending to shake mine. I’m soon met by a boy wearing odd goggles, presumably Scott, then Jubilee, then Ororo, then finally, Jean. They were all friendly and unique and oddly comforting in a way, regardless of the fact that they were all a full decade younger than you and Peter.

“What’s the best way to get to know someone?” Scott asks, glancing at Jubilee. She smirks back at him.

“In all 16 years of living, I’ve come to learn that the single best way to get to know someone's personality is via the ancient practice of Truth or Dare.” She grins wildly.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know if--” You can hear Peter inhale sharply as Scott pulls him onto the floor, the other students following suit and soon forming a circle on the floor. Jubilee tugs you down by your sleeve.

“Alright, who’s first?” Jean quips. Everyone exchanges a look before settling on Peter.

“Oh, uhm… Kurt, truth or dare?” Everyone seems to be disappointed by Peter’s selection, but they continue nevertheless.

“Truth.” Peter bites his lip while he attempts to think of a question to ask, and you can’t help but stare. The silver speedster is undeniably cute-- you’ll willfully admit that any day. “Out of everyone here, who do you think is the smartest?”

“Well, both you and Y/n are much older than ze rest of us, so it’s one von of you two-- sorry Jean, zey just have more experience. Uh, I guess Y/n since I vonce saw Peter try to catch a bird with his bare hands.” You laugh out loud at this new discovery and Peter’s face burns a light red.

“Alright, Kurt, it’s your turn.” Jean says. The blue boy scans the crowd before choosing the next victim.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” All eyes turned to you expectantly. You were never a coward, so you took the most logical route.

“Dare.” The entire group jitters with excitement, anticipation for what odd things Kurt would make you do circulating in the air.

“I dare you… to hold hands with Peter for ze rest of ze game.” Scott and Jean both huff in disappointment as Jubilee and Ororo gaze at Kurt with such fury it was as if they were trying to kill him. This dare was odd, sure, but you weren’t one to back down.

“Easy peasy,” You quip as you hold out your hand for Peter to take. He laces your fingers with yours and immediately your entire arm feels as if it had just been jostled awake. The feeling of Peter’s hand in yours is foreign, but incredibly welcome. His hands are warm.

“My turn, right?” You ask, trying to forget the fact that Peter’s hand is entangled with yours. “Jubilee, truth or dare?”

“Truth, and make it good.” She grins.

“Whose mutation do you think is the least useful out of everyone in this circle?” Jubilee glances around the circle.

“Depends. I don’t know what yours is,” she trails off for a moment. “And I don’t wanna be mean…”

“My mutation is energy manipulation-- I can control the energy that’s constantly being produced.” Peter’s grip on your hand tightens a bit as Jube’s eyes widen.

“Okay, that’s fucking awesome so definitely not yours,” she exclaims. “Kurt and Peter are useful in combat, Jean is useful in getting information, Ororo and Scott are both super powerful-- I think my mutation is the least useful.”

“Don’t say that, Jubilee,” Scott says from across the circle. “You’re useful sometimes.” Jean cringes at his words and both Jubilee and Kurt laugh aloud. Scott seems unaware of his mistake.

“Thanks, Scott,” The young girl said before returning to the game. “Alright, my turn again? Ororo, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Ororo smirks. She’s quite pretty, her hair looked soft and shimmery-- not dissimilar to Peter’s.

“I dare you to knock the power out of the entire mansion for a full five minutes.” Ororo complies, a large clap of thunder echoing through the mansion as the room goes dark. Ororo had created a large thunderstorm to cover for the power outage, lightning and rain wailing down on the windows. Peter grips your hand tightly, his muscles tensing as he shuts his eyes for a moment. The other students are consumed by their chatter and laughter in the darkness.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask softly. Peter is jumpy and nervous, but he doesn’t want to seem cowardly in front of you.

“Y-yeah, I’m just not the b-biggest fan of thunderstorms,” You can tell he’s trying to act tough. Gently, you run your thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down.

“Don’t worry, silver, the storm will pass. For now, I can distract you if you’d like me to,” You offer. Peter looks at you for a moment, and his heart skips a beat. You’re kind and sweet and selfless, you’re considerate and caring and wonderful and Peter is in awe of you.

“A distraction would be nice.” Peter said quietly, wincing at the weakness in his voice. He was almost 30 years old, one of the oldest among the group in the room and he was cowering because of a little thunder. He felt ashamed and small-- it really was no shocker that you were out of his league. However, when you flipped his hand over and began tracing shapes on his palm with your finger, all of his worries melted away for a moment.

After a while, Ororo switched the lights back on and dispersed the storm outside, the group of teens returning to the antics almost instantaneously. You pulled your hands away from Peter reluctantly.

“Well, uh, I better get going-- I have some work to do.” You say as you stand up. “It was lovely to meet all of you, this game was pretty fun. I’ll see you around.” You can hear Peter scramble behind you, quickly following you out of the room as if he were a lost puppy. You walked in silence for a while, Peter’s strides in sync with yours as you made your way to your bedroom. You admired the detailed architecture along the walls as you walked, various small symbols were scattered across the wallpaper. You didn’t realize you’d reached your bedroom until you were standing face-to-face with the door.

“Thank you.” Peter says, his voice low and raspy. He’s not looking at you, his eyes glued to the floor.

“For what?” The shameful feelings returned as Peter kept his eyes on the floor. He feels like a baby-- a whiny baby who gets afraid during thunderstorms and has trouble articulating his thoughts and feelings. It made him so frustrated when he couldn’t find the words to say what needed to be said-- his mind just moved too fast to grip onto any coherent thoughts. When he glanced into your eyes, he managed to get something out.

“It’s just that I know a lot of people who would make fun of me for being as old as I am and so easily scared.” You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. Peter didn’t want you to pity him, but at this point he just needed to express his gratitude. “Thank you for… not being one of those people.” You took his face gently in your hands and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Anytime, Maximoff. Anytime.” You smiled before opening your bedroom door and stepping inside. The first thing you notice is that the books on your desk have been knocked over. Then, you realize that there was someone standing behind you.

You yelp, whipping around and shooting out a blast of energy. You didn’t even expel that much force, but the figure is launched into the wall. It’s only then that you realize this figure was actually your father.

“Dad? What the fuck are you doing here?!” You shout as you rush to help him off the floor.

“What, I need a reason to come see my daughter?” He jokes as he pops his arm back into its socket. He looks worried, but he masks it with a smile. “It just happens that Charles wanted to see me the same day I came to visit you.”

“Charles wants to see you? Why?” You ask as Wade pulls you into a hug. A cough from the doorway startles you apart, and a very anxious looking Hank is standing in the doorway.

“Looks like we’re about to find out,”

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen series #wade wilson #wilson!reader #peter maximoff x wilson!reader #a speedster a nuclear bomb and a worn down walkman series

116 notes · View notes

daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years

Text

ʙᴀʀɢᴀɪɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀʟꜱ | 𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘬𝘺𝘶𝘶!! Hitmen AU! 19+ [Daichi x F!Reader] One-Shot | NSFW

Dedicating this one-shot to @heartbeat-art for drawing my rendition of Daichi in this AU ;; This be for you bb!

I literally feel like I gotta write Daichi to bring it full circle now man, I hope you all enjoy this and literally thank you precious bean, for inspiring me to write for my AU again man ;; I’ve never had anyone want to make art for anything I’ve written for and I jsut ahng;aoehgow;h I’m wallowing in feels --- ಥωಥ

TW; Manhandling ; Slight choking ; Dirty talking ; Just Daichi being a whole daddy--- I mean what Σ(´・ω・｀) ; idk ahsoigaheroig I’m just plain old sinning

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

A ping echoed throughout the empty foyer room. A lone figure sat glimpsing over the information provided as she couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape her lips. Her form was seated rather comfortably in the large chair as her legs were pulled in tight to allow her chin to settle atop her knees as she finished the transaction and bargaining details on her end.

It was a corrupt. Something she should’ve never considered, but after the blatant jab to her company and the clear hit on her COO and CFO there was nothing else she could really revert to that wasn’t morally corrupt.

“Besides...they were the one’s who started this game, and now it’s time to remind them who owns what.”

Dark (e/c) eyes narrowed at the mere thought of how her co-workers had been exterminated. Perhaps her enemies had hired the same hitmen, perhaps they didn’t. All she knew was that the planned meeting for details was within the next 24 hours, and she wasn’t going to miss a single thing.

Her choice to step into the corrupt field was forced, though she thought it was unnecessary, the desire to rightfully bring vengeance for her subordinates reigned supreme.

“They’re just a bunch of lecherous perverts anyways...”

Though at this point, she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself that her choices were right; yet no matter what she thought now, the nail on the coffin had been slammed down with no remorse.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Simple and clean cut, he sat calmly within the well lit diner. Though for the price and bargain he was given, he had to admit he was rather surprised at the quaint meeting place that was set. He was used to the extravagant restaurants, the loud highly populated clubs, the dark sinister bars with their own shares of secrets, but a small diner? It was a first, and immediately his interests in the client had piqued.

“Sawamura, correct?”

Soft, yet clearly pronounced, his attention fell onto the woman who approached the booth he was situated at. He offered a nod before gesturing to the seat before him. His deep bronze eyes focusing on her entire being as she settled in the booth across from him.

“Before we begin, I have to ask. Why here? It’s rather...”

“Different?”

A knowing smile formed on her lips as she waved a hand up for the waitress to swing over to take their orders. Her (e/c) never leaving his as a hint of mischief twinkled at him.

“Let’s just say I’ve been to many functions similar to this, and since it is my own I wanted a...change of pace, if you’d like to put it that way.”

The smile never left her features as she finally allowed her gaze to move from his own strong one as she looked up at the waitress, her order falling flawlessly from her lips before the woman turned to him.

Simply ordering a black coffee, the waitress left with the common phrase that their orders would be out shortly. Once out of earshot, he shifted to lean back, his eyes never leaving hers as he took in her calm stature as she met his gaze head-on.

“I will say it is out of the norm, though not unwelcome. But let’s get to business, Shall we?”

“Ah yes, the order I have is simple. I understand that in your line of work you don’t necessarily care for the personal details so I won’t bore you with that, but I’m sure besides that you’re also wanting to discuss the payment methods, yes?”

“Eloquently said. You’re right on the dot Ms. (y/n). I have no qualms in your personal business, however I am rather curious over your bargaining chip you added. I will say, when that specific order came in my men were...more than shocked.”

A soft groan escaped his lips as he finally closed his eyes as he remembered how utterly chaotic that day had been.

“And? Are you opposed to it Sawamura?”

Her tone was sharp, quick witted as she tilted her head at him, the look of mischief never leaving her jovial (e/c) eyes as she watched him release a breath.

“No, not at all. Rather, I’m curious as to why you’d offer yourself. It strikes me as odd, and I can’t help but feel as though you’re aiming for something more than what is to be anticipated.”

With that, he leaned forward his gaze stormy and heated as he rested his elbows on the table, fingers intertwined with one another as he quirked a brow at her, almost as if teasing her to continue with her explanation.

Meeting him halfway, she leaned forward, her body mimicking his own as she had a coy smile on her face as she gently rested her chin atop her intertwined hands.

“Simple things really, after all I’m a woman who has desires, and I would’ve either changed the bargain if the person I was meeting wasn’t what I was expecting. As for that last statement...I’ll share that upon your completion of our deal.”

“Oh? And what was your expectations, Ms (y/n)?”

“A handsome, strong man who looks as though he could fuck me the way I want him to.”

The tension between the pair was high, amusement dancing in her eyes as his gaze practically darkened with heat and curiosity as he smirked. Though, with the sudden appearance of the waitress, the tension eased albeit slightly as the orders had been set down before them.

Yet neither broke eye contact, even as the waitress had asked if they needed anything else.

“I believe we’ll be fine for the time being, right Ms. (y/n)?”

“Correct, I’ll wave you down if there’s anything we may need.”

Their voices overlapped one another smoothly, as if planned as she briefly broke their little staring contest to ensure that the waitress was completely out of earshot. Once she was, the young CEO relaxed and leaned back into the booth as she began to dig into her food, a little hum of joy escaping her lips at the first bite before she spoke once more.

“Well, do we have ourselves a deal Sawamura?”

Taking another bite, she took her time to chew the morsel before finally bringing her fiery gaze up to meet his own as she set one elbow on the table, and resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she waited patiently for his answer.

His response wasn’t immediate. Though he kept his gaze with hers, he only broke it momentarily as he grabbed the cup of coffee before taking a calm sip. A low sigh escaping him at the comforting cup before he raised his eyes to her own waiting ones.

“As long as you uphold your end of the deal and explain your ulterior motive after, then we have ourselves a deal. I’ll send you the results once it’s over.”

“Excellent. Your reward will be worth it. I guarantee it.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

It had been a hectic week. With working through the two deaths in the company and dealing with the publicity, she was ready for a nice glass of wine and a long night’s rest of the unnecessary stress that was given to her by the opposing corporation.

At the last meeting she had met eyes with the CEO. His grimy eyes raking over her form, and the unnerving smug smirk on his face when the deaths in her company was mentioned in private. It had her utterly pissed off and hoping for the damn bastard’s execution even more.

And, to her surprise it came as a beautiful text message. Despite the unknown number, she knew exactly who it was.

xx-xxx-xxx-xxxx

Neutralized.

Grinning from ear to ear, she felt the copious amounts of stress wash away. Though even to her, she wasn’t sure if she should’ve even felt this way. It was immoral, wrong. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to be upset. The amount of corruption and perverse things the CEO of her rival corporation had gotten away with was absolutely sickening, and finally he was gone.

xx-xxx-xxx-xxxx

8 p.m. xx/xx

375-1250, Sodeyachi, Ogawara-machi Shibata-gun, Miyagi

The response was simple, her eyes now hooded as she sent the message before getting herself up from her place on the couch.

“I suppose I should give him a treat.”

With that, she set her phone on the table before heading out to prepare for her visitor.

»»————-　➴　————-««

The light knock at the door brought a sense of joy through her veins as she slowly got up from her seat on the couch. The room had been dimly lit, a glass of wine already downed and settling into the fiery pit of her stomach as she answered the door. The long transparent lacy robe she wore only added to her appearance as she gave her visitor a coy grin.

“Welcome, please. Make yourself at home.”

With that she shifted to allow the built man into the rented space as she closed the door behind him, locking the door. Though before she could turn to address him she was slammed up against the door, her thighs resting on either side of his waist as one of his arms coiled around her waist as he nipped at her ear.

A light gasp escaped her parted lips as her fingers found purchase against the deep royal blue dress shirt he wore as her thighs clenched around his sturdy waist.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

Though her words were light and wispy, the low growl in his throat had her shiver in anticipation as he planted a firm kiss to her jaw.

“You leave yourself looking like an entire treat for someone like me, and of course I’m going to take what’s due.”

“Then take it big boy...show me how badly you want it...”

There was no hesitation as his lips surged forth to claim her own. Passionate yet clearly skilled, his tongue dove forth as he swallowed every gasp and moan that escaped her lips. Her fingers tightening around the soft fabric of his shirt as his hands had slipped down to her thighs, caressing them lightly-- almost tauntingly before his fingers slipped past the thin fabric of the robe, and roughly grasped her ass as she was hefted up into his arms.

Another moan escaped her as his lips began to attack her neck. Unrelenting as each kiss left a mark on her skin. Each earning a groan of pleasure from her as her fingers moved from his shirt to his hair as her fingers roughly ran through his hair, nails trailing down as a low moan was coaxed out of the large man, and the next thing she knew, she was thrown onto the bed.

Though the sight gifted to her next was something she was sure she would desperately be wanting to see again in the near future. The grin that graced his features had her tauntingly spread her legs as she licked her lips. Though as he practically ripped his shirt off to reveal the mass expanse of muscle and unmarked territory to her, she couldn’t help but let out a sudden whimper as her fingers clutched tightly around the sheets beneath her. Practically ready to pounce onto the male before she was suddenly lying flat on her back, the robe doing well in restricting her movements as he seemed to pin down just the right areas to keep her in place.

“That desperate huh?”

The rasp and growl that coated his words as her softly groan before she tauntingly brought her head up to peck his jaw, though the action brought a large hand down to her throat, lightly squeezing as a spike of adrenaline surged through her. The dark hungry look in his eyes and the dominating aura he possessed had her practically sopping wet as she gyrated her hips against the heat that was pressed against her.

“Trying to ride my thigh now? Well aren’t you an impatient little girl...”

His taunting had her let out a raspy moan as he squeezed lightly once more, allowing his thigh to rub up against her throbbing cunt as she struggled to get air into her while alleviating the throbbing in her cunt.

“M-More...”

Desperate for more, she struggled to grasp his wrist as she felt her eyes roll into the back of her head at the immense sensations she was feeling, though had to bite back a cry as he pulled back. Vanquishing the rush she was feeling as he relented his hold on her. Confusion was written all over her face before he spoke once more. Heat flooding her cheeks as she couldn’t help but immediately do as he asked.

“Finger yourself for me, pretty girl. Let me see you prep yourself for when I fuck that wet cunt of yours.”

Leaning back, she did as she was told, her fingers daintily removing the thin piece of fabric that covered her as she began to slowly spread her legs side, her fingers slowly working their way around the juices that flooded out of her throbbing pussy before she began working and stretching herself for him.

As she did so, he slowly unbuckled his belt and began removing the last bits of clothes he had on. The look on his face practically having her forgo her assignment to just crawl over and take the hit man’s rock hard erection into her lips.

“Stay and do as you’re told, pretty girl...”

The sheer amount of lust that coated his words had her gulping as she continued to stretch and fuck herself open for him, pushing as deep as she could as his gaze stayed strong on her.

“That’s it...stretch yourself good for me....gonna fill you and fuck that cute sopping cunt of yours...”

Another whine came from her as the thought of being filled flooded her mind, her ministrations slowing slightly before she was jerked back into the present as her hands were halted by a larger pair. Strong copper eyes bore deeply into her own before she was suddenly lifted up and set over his lap as he nipped at her neck.

“Work yourself on my baby girl...and before you even ask I’ve got protection on. No time to be a dad...”

Despite the comment, she couldn’t help but not care much as the comment really slipped by her thoughts before she slowly worked herself down onto him. His girth and size stretching her much more than what she had expected as she let out a sharp gasp as her fingers dug into his shoulders, marking up his skin as he eased her onto his cock.

“That’s right, good girl...you’re doing so well princess~.”

Gravelly and slightly slurred, his words began to jumble at the heat that was wrapped around him as he forced himself to wait until she had completely eased herself down onto his cock. Once settled, he gave an experimental jerk of his hips and she let out a shaky gasp and mewl as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she tightly clung onto him.

“Go on baby girl, let’s see you bounce.”

The teasing tone in his voice left no room for arguments as she shakily nodded before slowly moving herself up and down. The feel practically euphoric as she continued to quicken her pace, though when she thought she was about to tire out, the position had suddenly shifted and she was staring down at him, her body suddenly upright as he grinned cheekily at her before he jerked his hips up, helping her along before his fingers dug into her hips, steadying her only slightly as he began to meet her pace.

The coil of heat that formed between the pair grew even more as she felt her body begin to tense up. A string of curses left her lips as she tightened herself around him, before she came. Exhaustion hitting her soon after she felt him come straight after her. The bruising grip on her loosening as she felt herself lay on top of him in exhaustion.

At one point she had remembered laying on his chest, the next she was by his back was facing her as he seemed to be skimming down his phone.

“Mmmm...lay with me Sawamura...”

Broken and raspy, her voice was soft as she carefully got up to wrap her arms around him from behind.

“I believe I’m due for my explanation (y/n).”

“I suppose, you did fuck me rather well...I want a sort of business deal Sawarmura...finding other hit men can be so....annoying. Plus, I’ll be able to pay you in any way you want. Not a bad deal isn’t it?”

The silence that came after had her pouting slightly as she pressed her lips against his neck as he finally stopped scrolling through his phone to set it aside before turning to lay her down on the bed before laying next to her on his side.

“...I’ll discuss this with my team first--”

“I only want you.”

A light laugh came from him as he lightly flicked her forehead.

“Idiot, you think I’m going to share my client like this with those idiots? No. If it happens to work in your favor...then you can expect a message.”

“Oh? Then let’s hope that it works out in everyone’s favor~.”

»»————-　➴　————-««

Least to say, the next week she went in to work a brand new phone sat awaiting on her desk with a new message waiting for her.

xx-xxx-xxx-xxxx

What’s the next assignment?

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#hitmen au #au #haikyuu hitmen au #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi x reader #sawamura x reader #hitmen!daichi #to the precious baby who helped me get motivation to write for this au again #thank you again so much for drawing Daichi #I can't put into words how utterly shocked and emotional I am /still/ over how good it looks #you deserve all the support and love bb #also idk if this be up ur alley but uh yEAh this happened at 2am so uH

106 notes · View notes