#or one of the clients i work with who calls me 'darling' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 days

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In Stitches 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

We've all agreed that The Quiet Ones, Follow You Anywhere, Hidden Treasures and this fic (maybe more) have built the deluluverse.

Summary: You find your work hindered by your client's son.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had to do it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re not late, but you’re too dang close! You pride yourself on being at least fifteen minutes early wherever you go. Being self-employed, you make a point of always being on time. And you are but that long hand is a bit too close to the tick mark.

It doesn’t help that Mrs. Odinson is one of your best and favourite customers. You hate to let her down. You shake off that rattly feeling as you pull up to the gate and glance at the time again. Still a couple minutes to spare.

You buzz in with the button and wave at the camera. You’re never quite sure who’s at the other end but they always just let you through. You suspect it’s standard business and all the help know every face that comes and goes.

You roll through and steer around towards the vehicles along the east side of the curved driveway. You’ve never seen the sleek silver car you pull in next to but you know Mrs. Odinson’s pear-coloured porshe and Mr. Odinson’s slate grey beemer. They must have company. You can’t remember if she said there was a special occasion.

You slide into the space and grab your bag from in front of the passenger’s seat. You push open the door and gasp as the seat belt keeps you from climbing out. How forgetful! You unbuckle and untangle yourself, stepping out in your heeled oxfords and cigarette pants.

Your reflection looks back at you from the sleek polish of the unfamiliar silver car. You smile and shut your door, locking it with a chirp from your key fob. You tuck the key ring into your blazer pocket and bounce up towards the front door. You climb the stone stairs, broad and trimmed with curled railings. You stop at the top and clang the large knocker, a raven’s head with a ring in its beak.

A man in a dark suit answers the door. You’ve seen him before with his steely hair and sleepy eyes. He’s often the one who opens the door but he says nothing and shows you to Mrs. Odinson’s salon, as she calls it.

As the man leaves you just outside, you peek in through the open doorway. You see your client before the standing mirror in the corner, swirling as she checks her reflection. You cough and give a gentle knock on the door frame.

“Ah,” she spins to you with her pretty smile, “just in time, darling.” She struts over breezily, “the hem has come undone on this.” She smooths her elegant hands over her bodice, “so much for designer, eh.”

“Oh, my,” you give her a look up and down, “shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Thank you, darling,” she trills and strolls back to the mirror. You follow her and pull up the stool you often use for such a fix. You have a routine between you, you know what she expects and you do it.

You sit and open your bag. You pull out your needle and stir through your spindles to find a matching thread. As you thread the eye, she continues to preen in the mirror.

“Something special going on?” You ask in your usual small talk.

“Didn’t I mention? My son’s come home at last.”

“Your son?” You look up as her curiously.

“Oh, not Thor,” she laughs, “no, no, he’s always about, isn’t he?” She tugs on a blonde wave, trying to make is stay in place, “my other son. Loki. Finally decided to move back home. Not here, certainly, but close by. Near to his mother.”

“Mm, that’s exciting,” you comment as you grab the hem and work around her movement.

“Isn’t it? We’re having a little luncheon. At the tea room, I feel a public place will deter an outbursts,” she pouts at herself, “you know how family can be.”

“Erm, sure,” you agree dulcetly as you tie off the thread, “all done.”

She swirls, her skirt nearly hitting your face. You lean back on the stool and wiggle your nose. She admires herself. She is beautiful. Her age takes nothing away from her natural grace. You could only dream of having a similar bearing; you’re a bit too short, a bit too clumsy.

“Mother,” a voice drawls from the hallway. You glance over as you wrap up the thread around the spindle, “we’re due to be off.”

You don’t know that timbre. It isn’t Thor’s rumbling baritone, rather something smoother, something refined. You tuck away the thread as a slender but tall man appears in the doorway. He tugs at the cuff of his jacket as he furrows his nose.

“Ready, just needed a touch up,” she faces him, “darling, I’ve a rack for you to take. Wouldn’t want you to make the trip just for a loose hem.”

She points to several garment bags hung from a rack against the wall. You stand as her son’s green eyes find his mother then drift over to you. His sharp features turn imperious.

“Must you trouble so,” she swats at him as a loose thread dangles from his cuff.

“Wasn’t me, mother, I only just purchased the piece,” he counters, “quality, these days.”

“Darling, come, you’ve some scissors,” she beckons you forth with a flutter of fingers.

You reach into your bag and take the silver scissors from their sheath. You approach them with a smile as the man stares at you, eyes narrowing. He’s much unlike his brother. Much calmer.

“May I?” You ask and Mrs. Odinson forces his arm towards you.

He hums but offers no protest. Your fingertips brush his shirt sleeve as you roll back his jacket cuff and snip the offended thread. You feel the seam with your thumb.

“Should do for the day,” you advise, “but it’ll come loose eventually. I could do a quick sew-off...”

“We’re already late,” he declares and rescinds his arm. “Mother.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she pats his chest gently, “go on then, get yourself off. Your father and I will catch up. Oh, are you taking Thor with you?”

“I believe he is capable of tending to himself--”

“Yes, but... he does enjoy indulgence,” Mrs. Odinson girds.

“He is an adult and it isn’t yet noon,” Loki reprimands, “I shall drive on my own, then.”

“You always do as you wish, don’t you, Loki?” She rebukes playfully.

He grumbles again and his eyes flit toward you one last time, “you might have the tailor see my brother. Perhaps she could sew his lips shut so we might have a peaceful lunch.”

Your cheeks bulb a bit larger at his joke. You can't entirely disagree.

“Eh, don’t begin,” Mrs. Odinson giggles as she snaps shut a compact and shoves it in a clutch, “you’ve only just returned.”

“Mm, yet it feels I never left at all,” he frowns, still watching you.

You chalk it up to curiousity, perhaps he feels it improper to ask, you do feel it a bit much to introduce yourself without prompting. The Odinson household always holds an air of formality you can never quite riddle out. You keep a smile on your face as his cheeks dimple and he tilts his head.

“Right then,” he straightens his posture and tugs his jacket straight, “suppose I should go and hold our reservation before they think to give it away.”

He inhales and pivots away, striding off with long, stiff steps. You watch after him before you turn back to the room. You go to slip your scissors back into their sheath and drop them into your bag before lifting it. Mrs. Odinson holds a cape and a jacket before her.

“Which do you think it better?” She asks as you cross to the rack to gather the waiting hangers.

“I think the cape would be better, it is rather warm. It shouldn’t rain I think,” you proffer, “is this the hounds tooth?” You peek through the opening of one of the garment bags.

“Yes, dear, it is so lovely and yet that dang clasp is giving me such trouble,” she sounds ready to swoon at the tragedy, “might you replace it? Perhaps a button might do instead?”

“I’ll have a look,” you fold the bags over your arm and hike up your bag, “I’ll be off then. Hope you have a good lunch.”

“Thank you. Don’t you work too hard, dearie,” she trills after you, “much too nice a day to be pent up.”

You sweep off with your armful. The dresses are heavier than one might expect. You find it surprising how fabric can add up. You go downstairs and once more find that stoic man in his dark suit. He opens the door for you and you thank him brightly.

You amble down the steps, looking around your load to keep from stepping on the treacherously low edges of the bags. You would hate to trod on one of Mrs. Odinson’s dresses. You’re so distracted with your efforts to keep from mussing up the hems that a honk has you jumping in your boots.

You yipe as you turn to face the silver car, its bumper stopping just short of you as the headlights flash. Your lips make an O and you quickly scurry out of the way. You dip your head down guiltily. You should’ve been paying attention.

The car door opens on the other side as you approach your own. You peer over with a sheepish look, “I’m sorry--”

“You should be careful. I could’ve hit you,” Loki says, more accusatory than concerned.

You smile, “I know, I’m sorry. I was distracted--”

“Certainly, you were,” he affirms, as if telling you exactly how the world works, “and what would I do should you be caught under my tires? Can you patch yourself up so easily as a stray cuff?”

“No, sir, I’m sorry. Again, I wasn’t meaning to get in the way--”

“You don’t look very sorry. Not so many people smile in the face of mortal injury.”

Your cheeks wobble but you keep your smile. You can’t help it. When you’re happy or nervous or even confused, you just tend to smile through it. A smile makes everything a little better.

“I’m not smiling at that--”

“Then what are you smiling at?” He hisses harshly.

You bat your lashes and look side to side, “you.”

“Me?” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you being smart?”

You shake your head and your lips twitch, “smart? No, sir, I’m only... I suppose I just smile at everyone.”

“So you would,” he mutters and angles back to his car, “be sure to stand back then. Wouldn’t want to run over your toes.”

He drops into the car seat and slams the door. You stand back and watch him buckle in. He takes his time, adjusting his mirror, then his long fingers tap his shifter before he cranks it into reverse. He swerves around and hug the pile of clothes.

You don’t blame him for being agitated, you’ve had a few close calls yourself. Accidents are never fun. His adrenaline was just going and at least he cared enough to be upset. It’s a good reminder to be more aware.

🪡

The fabric store isn’t very busy. The higher-end boutiques never are. You don’t often come to them yourself but you desperately need a yard to match Mrs. Odinson’s crushed velvet jackets. You need to replace a full panel and you can’t compromise; she’ll notice. She has a good eye. She never seems to miss.

Time is hardly on your time. You agreed to drop off the lot the next day. She has a gala and needs that one dress in particular. You know she’ll expect the rest.

You walk around with a swatch in hand, comparing the hue and feel. You don’t want the new material to contrast. You can’t forget the thread; you don’t have quiet that shade of magenta.

You stand amid the velvets, flipping over the large rolls, tugging the end, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. Your advance is patient even as your inner expediency nips away at you. As you come to the end of an aisle, you stop short as you look up. There’s a shadow there, waiting.

You stand still, waiting for them to come down that aisle. You’d hate to get in their way. But they don’t and in an instant, the shadow flickers away. You hear them retreat down the next row and you curl around, seeing no more than a leather heel before the figure disappears.

How odd.

The mysterious entity doesn’t distract you for long. The pinks are close, each of them seems just a shade off of what you’re looking for. You sigh and breathe out between your lip, rolling your tongue around the tip of a needle that isn’t there. A habit.

You lug out each roll and carry them down to the front counter. You lift each up as a woman greets you from the other side. You smile and clear your throat.

“You don’t happen to have any in the back,” you wonder, “I’m looking for something in between.”

You show her the square of crushed velvet and she sucks her teeth, “not quite, I think. I think we’ve something close in our catalogue but it wouldn’t be at this location. The north end may have it but I can’t confirm.

You sniff and nod, still smiling. It isn’t her fault she doesn’t have it. You remember the days you worked in a fabric shop, though it wasn’t as nice as this one. You thank her and take the rolls off the counter.

“I’ll just put these back then. I need thread anyhow,” you announce.

“Wonderful, you just let me know if you need anything, hon,” she beams at you.

You nod and turn back. You take the rolls back and set them away how you found them. When you spin, you feel something shift, as if there’s a breeze in this stagnant shop. You peer around. It’s strange, it’s as if you’re being followed but you haven’t seen a single other customer in the shop.

You tilt your head and cluck your tongue as you carry on to the racks of thread near the counter. You dive into the search for the perfect thickness and colour. It’s a much more fruitful hunt. As you pluck out the very strands you need, you hear the door. Your head pops up and you glance behind you curiously. You don’t see much of the other person as they leave the store, you never even saw them pass.

You shrug and take the spool to the counter, “thanks again,” you say to the associate, “better get out of here before temptation gets the best of me.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #in stitches #mcu #marvel #avengers

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phoward89 · 1 month

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Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

Chapter 3:

It's been over a week since you started seeing Odysseus and so far everything’s going great. He takes you to work everyday and treats you to lunch. You have dinner with him when he doesn't have business obligations and cuddle with him while watching tv. You haven't spent the night at his place yet, but you've slept with him a few times. And each time the love making was slow, soft, and sensual.

And then one day everything came crashing down.

Tonight's one of those nights where you're not having dinner with Odysseus because he's having dinner with his father and some business clients. It doesn't bother you, Odysseus is the VP of Odair's Luxury Cruises and his father's the CEO; President of it. It's completely normal for him to attend business dinners.

And since the relationship’s new, you don't blame him for not taking you on them. Plus, you work in the marketing department of his father's company, so you understand why he's not taking you to business dinners. It just wouldn't look kosher.

So, that's how you find yourself in some comfy loungewear cooking dinner in your kitchen. Your kitchen that you absolutely loved. You still can't believe what Odysseus did to his kitchen, but to each their own.

As you were chopping up some vegetables, a knock sounded at your door. You weren't expecting Odysseus, since he's at his business dinner, so you're a bit puzzled on who could be at your door. You wondered if you should be rude and ignore whoever was there, but they knocked again.

Sighing, you set your knife down on the counter and left the kitchen. After crossing the main room, you reached your front door. But nothing could've prepared you for what was awaiting you on the other side.

Pulling the door open, you're met with none other than Coriolanus standing at the threshold with a bouquet of red roses, bigger than his head, in his hands.

How the fuck did he get past the doorman?

As if he could read your mind, your platinum haired ex smirked, “I just moved into the top floor penthouse of this building.” Of fucking course he did. “I thought I'd come by and greet my favorite neighbor girl.”

You rolled your eyes and went to slam the door in his face, but he quickly shot his arm out and pushed the door open. Waltzing right by you and inside of your apartment, as if he owned the damn thing, Coriolanus said, “You got your little man whore in here with you? Hmm…is that why you tried to slam the door in my face like I'm some little kid selling cookies?”

“Don't call Odysseus a man whore, Coriolanus.” You chastised your ex while closing your front door. Gesturing to the empty room, you dryly said, “And as you can see, I'm home alone.”

“I'll call Odair a manwhore if I want to, darling. He's fucked half of the Capitol, the way I see it he's a man whore.” Your ex remarked, following right behind you as you went into the kitchen. “Bet he's at one of the sex clubs.”

“No he's not. He's at a business dinner with his father and some clients.” You told Coriolanus, going over to the counter to resume chopping the vegetables.

“And you're home alone? Oh, I see how little he values you.” Your ex dryly chuckled, setting the large bouquet of red roses down on the kitchen island.

“You're one to talk, Coriolanus.” You snapped while he simply took a seat on one of the kitchen island stools.

“I never hid you away when I went to galas and had to attend dinners. I always got you a matching dress and brought you with me. So, my darling rose, I believe I have the right to talk bad about your boy toy's lack of showing you off.”

Pausing in chopping the vegetables, you put your knife down and turned around to look at your ex. “We were never official, so I doubt anyone paid me any mind.”

“Yes, well, it seems that I showed you off more when we weren't official than Odair does.” The platinum blood said as if he was reciting facts from a history book. ‘Oh, and aren't the two of you official?” He asked as a sarcastic afterthought, his brows raised dramatically to drive his remark right thru your heart.

He wanted you to see how he was better for you, how he'll show you off to the world. How he’d done that, show you off, without you realizing it. The aspiring blonde politician wanted you to see how Odair would never include you in his social circles; include you in his business, but he (Coriolanus) would. Hell had included you, which is why he warned you about his engagement with Livia- because he wanted to spare you hurt feelings from thinking it was anything other then a political and a business move.

Unfortunately, you could never view his engagement as an arrangement that was beneficial to his future (yours too since whatever made him rich, powerful, and successful caused him to shower you in gifts) because you loved him. You could only view it as an act of betrayal; one that broke your heart and made you see that you're just not good enough.

Not in the mood to be insulted by Panem's Head Gamemaker, you waggled a finger at him and declared, “Coriolanus, you need to shut up and leave. We haven't been together in a month, so you have no reason to be here.”

“You're my reason to be here, darling.” Coriolanus confessed. Getting up from his seat at the island and closing the distance between you, he admitted, “This last month has been very dull without you in it.”

Of course it has. You doubt that Livia’s letting Coriolanus be dominant and degrading in bed. You also doubt that she'd let him near her ass with that monster dick of his either. Yea…he was missing the sex life you had with him.

Standing right in front of you, the platinum blonde caged you in by placing an arm on either side of you; making your back press against the counter. Coriolanus leaned down, causing the two of you to be nose to nose. “I've given you enough time to cool down, to even have some little fun-” Distain dripped off of the word fun as he spat it out, ‘that I don't approve of, so it's time for us to make up and carry on.”

You could feel his hot breath fanning your face as you told him, “We’re not getting back together, Coriolanus.”

“Why not?” Your ex raised a brow, only to mockingly say, “Because you're too busy entertaining yourself with Odysseus Odair,” Coriolanus’ baritone dripped down an octave as he smugly said, “who will never make you feel that way I make you feel.”

How dare he say that; try to play on your feelings. Feelings that you confessed the night you left him, but probably shouldn't have since he's using them against you know.

Well, two can play that game.

You kept a neutral look on your face, even though you were pissed at his remark, and told Coriolanus, “At least Odysseus isn't engaged to Livia; unlike you he can actually love me.”

Coriolanus’ jaw ticked and his nostrils flared. You bringing up Livia and accusing him of being unable to love you as reasons to be with Odysseus set his blood on fire with a jealous rage. You're his. You belong to him- Livia or no Livia, love or no love, you’ll always be his.

And the only way to get it into your thick skull was to show you who you belonged to.

Before you could even blink, Coriolanus grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and cupped your jaw with the other only to smash his lush lips on yours in a needy, passionate, heated kiss filled with longing and desperation.

A kiss that took your breath away.

You were bent over the kitchen island, hands wrapped around the edges while your shorts and panties were pooled around your legs. Legs that were spread wide open for the tall man standing behind you.

Coriolanus Snow.

You heard the sound of him shedding his crisp jacket, which he tossed onto the island, followed by the sound of him loosening his tie. The swish of him tugging the Windsor knot echoed in the air and you knew what was next.

You felt yourself grow wetter at the clanking noise of Coriolanus unbuckling his belt. In only a few seconds, he had his pants and boxers down around his knees while rubbing his leaking tip against your clit. He bowed his head so that his mouth was right against your ear. “I'm not prepping you, Y/N. You're wet enough, I know you can take it.” Coriolanus licked the shell of your ear before saying, “Only a good girl deserves to have her cunt filled by my fingers and eaten eagerly by my tongue.” Digging his fingers into your hips, sure to leave bruises, he darkly chuckled, “You're lucky I'm going to let you cum tonight, since you've been a bad girl.”

Oh my God…He's in one of those moods tonight! Your pussy's in for a punishing pounding.

Coriolanus' baritone was full of lust as he asked, “You remember your safe word, darling?”

You've only been broken up for a month. That's not long enough to forget your safe word, the simple word of red. A word that you've never used and doubt you ever will with the platinum blonde man, who has the body of an ancient god.

“Yes.” Was the one word answer you gave him.

“Good.” He replied, a smugness in his deep timbre, before sheathing himself in your wet, tight cunt without warning; with one quick snap of his hips.

You let out a surprised moan at the stretch and intrusion of being filled up so quickly without warning while he let out a deep groan at how tight you felt around his large cock. Coriolanus didn't give you a moment to adjust to the 8 inches he’d just stuffed into your tight cunt. No, he instantly began to thrust quickly and harshly into you.

You let out a mix between a shriek and a moan at the feeling of his cock bullying your pussy; pressing against that sweet spot deep inside of you. The noise that escaped your lips made pride swell in his chest. He always enjoys listening to your noises as he fucks you.

Coriolanus wants to be the only man to make you moan and whine for him. So much so, that he lets out a grunted, “I hate the idea of anyone else having you. This pussy's mine.” He snapped his hips harder, causing you to moan at the feeling of his large cock bruising your cervix. “Fuck, baby, tell me your cunt's mine.” He ordered, roughing pounding into your pussy while using one of his hands to smack your ass.

*Smack, smack, smack.*

Coriolanus gave you three quick, forceful smacks that made your ass cheek beet read and sing. Soaked your pussy too.

You knew that you shouldn't tell him that your cunt belongs to him, but your body craved the pounding that he’s giving your pussy and you're afraid he'll just cum and stop- leaving you unsatisfied- if you don't tell him what he wants to hear. This isn't your first rodeo with Coriolanus. You know how he possessive he gets when fucking.

So….

You let out a whimper of, “My cunt's yours, Coryo. All yours.”

“Fuck…baby, you feel so good.” Coriolanus gritted out as the sounds of sweat slick skin loudly slapping together echoed throughout the air in the kitchen. “Your cunt's so tight and wet around my cock. ‘S made just for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Just for you, all for you!” You exclaimed in a shriek, feeling his cum heavy balls smacking against your clit while his dick pistoned so deep inside of you that you felt yourself get dizzy.

“You close, baby? Fuck, I'm close.” The platinum blonde remarked while fucking you so roughly that if you weren't holding onto the island you'd probably slide over it.

“Yea, so close, Coryo.” You cried out, drool spilling from your lips as your cheek was pressed against the cool marble of the kitchen island. Oh god, you were so close and it felt so so good. Being fucked like this, damn you did t realize how much you missed it. How much you needed it. Not until now- now that you're on the verge of cumming hard around the biggest cock you've ever had stuffed in your tight cunt.

Without warning, Coryo placed his calloused fingertips against your clit and began to rub the swollen pearl furiously. “Be a good little slut and cum for me. Cum for me and milk my cock dry, make me knock you up, baby.” He told you, plowing into you as fast as he could with his fingers sloppily rubbing your clit, pinching and tugging it to speed up your orgasm.

And suddenly, you’e cumming around Coryo's cock, soaking both him and your kitchen floor, while moaning his name like a prayer. His icy blue eyes rolled back into his head, moaning out a minute of fuck and your name as you milked him dry of his cum. His fingers dug painfully into your hip as he shot rope after rope of his white, hot, seed into your womb.

You whimpered when Coriolanus’ cock slipped out of you, leaving your pussy empty and clenching around air.

Coriolanus’ chest heaved as he caught his breath, but his eyes widened as he noticed a red smear on the tip of his cock along with a tiny bit of red mixed with the cum that was trickling out of your pussy like fine pearls. Oh shit… he fucked you too deep, went too hard.

Oh shit, did he hurt you?

“Y/N, you're bleeding.” Coriolanus announced, toeing out of his shoes and kicking off the pants and boxers that rested around his ankles. Pulling you up and into his arms, he asked, “Why didn't you use your safe word?”

Still cockdrunk, you just rested your head against his white shirt covered chest and told him, “It felt good, so I didn't need the safe word.”

“I'll draw you a bath, but your not going to be walking right for a few days.” He told you, picking you up bridal style. “Where's your bathroom, little dove?”

“It's the door right behind you, across from this island right after you exit the kitchen.” You informed him, causing him to just nod and carry out to the bathroom.

You were sitting on the toilet, watching as Coriolanus plugged up your bathtub and turned the water on. He fiddled with both the hot and cold knobs until the water coming out of the faucet was just the right temperature. Then he grabbed the light pink bottle of bubble bath that you had on the edge of the tub.

“Rose Vanilla.” He read the label, only to look at you and ask, “Is this new? Don't you usually use something called Brightest Bloom or Blossoms, something like that?”

Averting your eyes to stare at the white tile floor, so you didn't have to look at Coriolanus as he uncapped the bottle and poured some of the light pink soap into the tub, you told him, “I bought it last month. It came in a kit with a matching bar of soap, body lotion, shampoo, and conditioner.”

If you were looking at Coriolanus you would've seen how he stiffened up at your answer. How his jaw twitched; his eyes widened with realization. You bought it for him, because he likes roses. But you broke up last month, so…

Quickly, Coriolanus composed himself while screwing the cap back onto the bottle of bubble bath. “It smells lovely.” He complimented your taste in new bubble bath while putting the bottle back. Coming to stand in front of you, he simply ordered, “Lift your arms up for me, darling.”

Of course, you complied, causing him to pull your shirt over your head. He licked his lips when he saw that you weren't wearing a bra, but he didn't say anything about it. No, instead he simply helped you into the bath, all the while praising you with, “Good girl, that's a girl. Gently get into the water.” Once you were settled in the tub full of warm water and bubble, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and turned the water knobs off.

You assumed that since you're in the tub he'd leave, but he didn't. Actually, instead of going into the kitchen to collect his pants and shoes; make a run for it, he pulled his loosen tie over his head and placed it onto your bathroom vanity.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching Coriolanus as he unbuttoned his white shirt.

“Joining you in the tub, what does it look like I'm doing, my darling rose?”

Focusing on the faucet in front of you, you tell him, “You don't have to, Coriolanus. You can go home; take a shower.”

Your remark hurt worse then if you would've slapped the blonde across his face. He always-

ALWAYS-

took a relaxing bath with you after pushing you too hard during rough sex. Why would you tell him to leave you; to go home and shower? He's always been with you to help you clean up and come down from rough fucking. Why would that change now?

Pulling off his socks, he hid his hurt behind the answer of, “I want to take a bath with you.”

“Why?” You asked as he got into the tub, right behind you, causing the water and bubbles to ripple and wave.

Pulling you into him, so your back's leaning against his chest, he told you, “You know why.”

No, actually, you didn't know why. You're broken up, so he doesn't have a reason to stay. You two fucked, due to frustration, so he should've left already. Or at least you think he should've left already. Or if not left then maybe put his pants back on and asked you to feed him whatever you were trying to cook before he had hate filled sex with you.

Oh, if only you knew that the sex he had with you was far from hate filled. Would never be hate filled, because he didn't hate you. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

“We're broken up, Coryo, so why’re you here?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to, my darling rose. It's not very becoming.”

Of course, you won't get a straight answer from him. Why would you? The guy’s a better wordsmith than the Norse god Loki. Good luck getting the truth out of that angelic looking demon of a platinum blonde.

Coriolanus rested a hand on your thighs only to run the other thru your hair. His deep baritone broke the silence in the room with, “You know, Y/N, just say the word and we can have you moved up into my top floor penthouse within an hour.”

Is he serious? He's engaged, but he wants you to be his live in mistress all because you had a moment of weakness and had a frustrated hate fuck with him. What's wrong with him? Is he delusional? You broke up with him because you don't want to be his mistress. You don't want to be his plaything.

“Shouldn't you be moving your fiance, Livia Cardew, into your new penthouse?” You countered, knowing that if anyone would share his penthouse it'd be her.

“No.” Coriolanus gruffy spat out. “I got that penthouse for us, not for her.”

“You're engaged to Livia and I'm with Odysseus now. What happened in the kitchen doesn't mean anything.”

Coriolanus would've rather been drowned in that damn lake he dumped those guns in all those years ago that him and Spruce used to kill Mayfair and Billy Taupe with them hear you say that the fuck you just had with him didn't mean anything. That hurt him, more than he'd care to admit. He just assumed that, since you'd been together for so long (and admitted to being in love with him that night that you left), he still meant something to you.

Oh, how the gods know that you mean something to him. Even if he's too scared to admit it, you mean the world to him. Too bad he's afraid of getting hurt and is too concerned about his political career.

The damning realization hit him then and there. “You're not coming back to me, are you?” Coriolanus asked, even though he already knew what you'd say.

“No.” You shook your head. “We've both moved on; tonight was just a fluke and it won't happen again.”

Coriolanus hated hearing that. He wanted to bring you home so bad. He wanted you back with him, where you belonged. Damnit, you belong to him. Why do you have to be so stubborn?

“You haven't been with Odysseus that long, my darling. You haven't truly moved on, you're just trying to push your feelings for me onto him.” The platinum blonde told you as a last ditch effort to get you to abandon your life on the 4th floor as Odysseus Odair's girlfriend and move into his luxury penthouse; become his girl once again.

“And you claim to hate your fiance, Livia, but you're still engaged to her; plan to get married and have a happy life with the perfect socialite showpiece on your arm for all of your political aspirations.” You told Coriolanus, calling him out on his own bullshit relationship.

“Y/N-” Coriolanus began, only for you to cut him off with the order of, “Don't, Coryo. Just go, please just leave me alone.”

Coriolanus didn't say a word, just stood up and got out of the tub. He grabbed the towel off of the rack, dried off, and put on his shirt. He grabbed his tie and socks from the vanity and left you alone in the bathroom. A few minutes later, he was dressed and walking out of your front door. He slammed it shut with such a force that it shut with a loud bang that had out nearly jumping out of the tub.

You stayed in the tub, soaking and sulking til you pruned. When you got out, you felt a bit sore. You managed to dry off and go to your room, where you put on a pair of comfy pajamas.

When you went into the kitchen to resume making yourself something to eat, you saw that on the kitchen island was a large bouquet of red roses (there had to be at least 50 of them) and Coriolanus’ suit jacket.

He left his suit jacket behind, right next to the roses. But why would he do that? He was always so meticulous when it came to his fancy things. It just didn't make any sense to you.

Why would Coriolanus leave his suit jacket behind?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

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thefanficmonster · 2 months

Note

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.

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bella-rose29 · 4 months

Text

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 5

Christmas Eve part 2

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, family members are mean (are we seeing a pattern?), can you tell that I love lebkuchen from the number of times it got mentioned, they kiss again but for like 2 seconds, then they kiss again later for longer than 2 seconds 👀, reader's grandpa isn't supportive of her job (but it's ok because lockwood saves the day), a pigeon was harmed in the making of this chapter (but it lives!), drinking (alcohol), lockwood talks about his family and the Christmases he spent without them, reader comforts him, there is so much communication but somehow so much miscommunication at the same time??? and I'm annoyed at myself for doing this (but it's necessary), this part does not have a happy ending at all (I'm sorry)

series master list

"Well," Lockwood started, looking around at everyone gathered. "I suppose it started in March."

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from there. "We were on a job, just the two of us, in Kensington. A couple wanted their house clearing out before they properly moved in, and called us. Everything was going perfectly fine, and then we realised that our clients hadn't told us everything about the property, and we were dealing with three Limbless in an enclosed space." Y/n remembered that job well. It was one of the few cases that she'd actually gone on with just Lockwood, and they had been arguing for most of it about the best way to get rid of a Limbless.

Their argument had attracted the other two that were out in the garden.

"Y/n was brilliant, of course, using her Talent to locate the Sources of the three of them while I covered her, but I got held up in the corridor by some Type Ones that had appeared and she was left on her own. I only just got there in time to throw a salt bomb at the Limbless behind her and give her the extra second that she needed to wrap up the Source, but I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. I really thought I was too late and that I'd lost her." His voice sounded thick with emotion, and when Y/n met his eyes they were watery. She tried not to frown, since it was strange for her to see him so affected like this. Lockwood cleared his throat, and looked back at the crowd. "Then of course I realised that I couldn't live without her and I asked her on a date. She said no, despite my attempts at baking her favourite cake and all the flowers." He cracked a smile, and people around the room laughed.

"Well you did look rather pathetic, Ant. I sort of wanted to watch you suffer a bit more." That much was true at least, since any time she got to watch him squirm was entertaining to her.

"Well you certainly got your share of that, darling," he huffed, and Y/n bit back a snort at the frustrated look on his face. "I had to ask her about six times after that first one before she finally said yes. We've been dating since the middle of April."

"It was eight, but who's counting?" Something about his story didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was how close it was to what had actually happened on the job, or maybe it was the dread of all the questions she'd get about her job once people started mingling, wanting to know if she had a backup plan in case this line of work failed, or if she realised how dangerous it was.

Maybe it was the way that Lockwood had looked at her when he was talking about losing her.

~~~

"What are your intentions with Y/n?"

"Don't be stupid," John said, whacking his brother Sam on the arm.

"No, but really, what are your intent- oof!" Sam had been tackled to the floor by John, and Lockwood did his best not to flinch.

He'd been dragged into the library a few minutes ago by Y/n's brothers, and although he was the smallest, Tom was currently the most frightening as he stared Lockwood down from across the room, despite the two eldest brothers currently scrapping on the floor.

"Did... did you want me to answer that, or...?"

"I mean, it would be nice to know," Will piped up, eating straight from a packet of lebkuchen in the armchair opposite. Lockwood didn't think he'd ever seen the man without some sort of food nearby. He sat forward in his chair slightly, trying to come up with a good enough answer that would mean he could go back to the party. John and Sam stopped punching each other to hear his answer.

"I'm mostly just happy that she even gave me a chance, if I'm being honest." That much was true, but Y/n's brothers didn't need to know that he was talking about her acceptance of a position at his company and not the mythical relationship that the two of them had been in for eight months. "I know that I'm incredibly lucky to have her, and I can promise you that I won't do anything to screw that up."

Sam and John seemed happy enough with his answer, and Lockwood started breathing a little more easily. Tom was still staring at him, and Lockwood could have sworn that the boy hadn't blinked the entire time. Will snorted, shaking the bag around to get the last crumbs of lebkuchen out. "Yeah, sure. What's the real answer? No more of that crap, because it's obvious you rehearsed that to make us happy." When Lockwood didn't say anything for a moment Will prodded him again. "Go on."

He clenched his jaw, wondering how he could say anything nice about Y/n when she hadn't said anything nice about him for nearly three years, and looked out the window. A memory flashed up, and despite it having only been that morning, he was surprised at how quickly he'd forgotten the interaction.

Since when had she memorised how he took his tea?

He didn't think that Y/n had ever made him tea before, always making it a deliberate point to make a pot for everyone but him, and yet that morning while they sat in bed she had done it perfectly as though it were second nature. Then his mind drifted back to the night before, and he felt his face warm up at the memory of the mistletoe. He cleared his throat.

"I guess..." Lockwood sighed through his nose and clenched his jaw again. It was starting to ache. "I guess that's true, what I said before-"

"You guess?" Will interjected. Lockwood hadn't thought that he would be under this much scrutiny, but he was starting to sweat uncomfortably. He'd rather be dealing with Barnes right now than be sat here.

"It is true," he amended, making wary eye contact with the man. The packet of lebkuchen was neglected in Will's hand, hanging limply as he sat forward to question his younger sister's boyfriend. "She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me. I'm not exactly... easy... to be around sometimes because of my agency, but she deals with me perfectly. She deals with me more than she should, to be honest." He frowned, thinking again about how he needed to figure out how to apologise to her. Nothing he had said was a lie; in fact, he didn't think he'd said anything more true about Y/n the entire time that he had known her. She was incredible, since her Touch was so powerful and unlike anything that he had ever seen before. And he did count himself lucky that she, despite his horrible words, still decided to work for him. And she did deal with him, more than anybody should, and she did it by being just as much of an arse to him as he was to her.

Maybe they were good together after all.

A thud on the window made everyone turn to look at what had made the noise, and Tom finally broke eye contact with Lockwood.

"Pigeon," Sam said, having been closest to the window. "I think it might be- oh no, it's just got up and flown off. Don't tell Mum though, she'll have a fit if she sees the mark it left."

"Alright, I think we're done here. You're free to go, Lover Boy," Will said, waving his hand vaguely at Lockwood and scrunching up the empty lebkuchen packet. Lockwood got up to leave, but upon opening the door a body fell face first into his chest with a small 'oof!'

"... Darling?" Lockwood asked, confusion lacing his voice. The figure looked up and offered a smile.

"Oh, hi! I was just... wondering where you were, Anthony." He tried to not let it show how much it affected him to hear his first name in her mouth, but the slight intake of breath that he took probably gave him away. It didn't help that Y/n was in that dress, since she looked so stunning that he couldn't focus on anything but her.

"You're so obsessed with each other," Lockwood heard Will mutter from behind him, and he realised with a start that they had just been staring at each other and blocking the doorway, penning the others in the library. When they went to move, however, Sam stopped them.

"Mistletoe! You can't break tradition!"

"Ugh, again? Did Mum plant an entire fucking garden of it?" Y/n said, peering up at the sprig that hung over their heads. "They're not gonna let us leave without doing it."

"Alright. Let's get it over with then," he whispered into her mouth, and he couldn't help but feel the exact opposite when she pressed her lips to his.

~~~

"So," Y/n's grandfather Richard started, and internally she groaned. He had used the tone of voice that meant he was about to start asking about work, and she was dreading this conversation. "Being an agent. Are you still sure it's what you want to do with your life, Y/n?"

"Yes, Gramps. I'm sure. I have been doing it for years now."

"But there are so many other things you could be doing! Jobs that you could actually be good at!"

That stung a little, and Y/n sat back slightly in her chair. She loved her Gramps, and most of the time he was one of her favourite family members, but he'd been alive before the Problem had started and didn't understand that things had changed since he was a kid. He believed in her in most other ways, just not when it came to her life as an agent, which was one of the only things she was truly passionate about (other passions included drinking tea and hating Lockwood).

"I don't mean to intrude," a voice piped up, and once again Y/n found herself wondering how the hell Lockwood managed to always turn up at the right time. "But Y/n is one of the best agents in the country, sir. Her Talent is so incredibly unique and that's what makes her so brilliant at her job." He perched on the arm of the chair that she was sat on, and she frowned when she felt the urge to rest her head against his thigh.

"Well how can you possibly know that!"

"Gramps, this is my boyfriend, Anthony? You met him briefly last night?"

"Oh, is it? Right, well I suppose you would know then! Tell me, is she too much of a pain sometimes?!"

Lockwood hesitated slightly, glancing down at where Y/n sat in the chair and frowning a little at her Gramps' question. "If anything I'm the pain. I don't know why she keeps me around to be honest." He sounded so sincere about it that for a moment she forgot that he had ever said anything horrible about her. The rest of their conversation faded into background noise as she remembered what she'd overheard earlier.

It was probably breaking all sorts of moral laws to eavesdrop on her brothers' interrogation of Lockwood, but then again she'd made her boss her fake boyfriend to fool her entire family, so she figured that she was well past being entirely moral about things. And besides, she hadn't been intending on listening in at first, she'd just been walking back from using the loo and happened to hear them. She couldn't get Lockwood's words out of her head, and she'd been replaying them over and over since.

"She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me."

What the hell did that mean? Was it a lie that he'd made up to make them happy? But then she'd also heard Will prodding for the truth and his exclamation that whatever Lockwood had said before (which she hadn't heard) was obviously fake, so did he just come up with a better lie?

Tonight, she thought. Tonight I'll talk to him.

~~~

When the last guests had stumbled out of the front door, singing loudly and bumping into each other because they had had too much to drink, everybody left in the house let out a sigh of relief.

Y/n mumbled a tired 'good night' to everyone as she pulled herself upstairs, and Lockwood followed after her. He'd been helping her father tidy up a little before turning out the lights, to save some of the food that needed refrigerating and chucking other things in the bin. She had been worried when her dad first started talking to Lockwood, but then she'd heard her father laughing and had decided that they would be perfectly fine together.

Now she collapsed face first onto the bed, not yet worrying about the chill in the room.

"I can see why you were dreading that," Lockwood said, his voice sounding too loud. She'd had to down a few drinks that afternoon to deal with the sheer number of questions and comments from family members and friends, and now her head was aching slightly.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked, but since her face was still buried in the duvet it came out muffled. Lockwood's footsteps shuffled around for a while, and then went silent, and Y/n huffed in annoyance. Of course he'd just get himself ready for bed and not worry about her, that was so typical of him. She pushed herself upright, wincing when the room wobbled a little and the pain increased in her head, then frowned when Lockwood reappeared, something in his hand.

"Here. I couldn't find any painkillers though, so I'll just go and fill that up when you're done so you can try and sober up before bed."

Oh. Maybe he wasn't being so typical after all.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the glass from him and eyeing it warily.

"It's not poisoned, darling. If I was going to kill you I wouldn't do it in a way that might mean you could come back to haunt me."

"Charming."

He sat down on the bed next to her with a sigh, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "You know," he said, not looking at her. "This hasn't been... the worst Christmas I've ever had."

"No? You're spending it with me." He gave her a wry smile, finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers.

"Yeah, that's not really that bad."

Oh.

"Really?"

He hummed in answer, nodding slightly, then got up and walked over to the fireplace. They sat in silence while Y/n finished off her water and Lockwood got the fire going, and once she headed over to sit next to where he was crouching she realised how cold she had been before. He sat back, leaning on the chair behind him. Y/n was hunched over her knees, empty glass dangling in her grip. She could have done the same as Lockwood with the armchair behind her, and god knew her head needed something to rest against because despite the water dulling the ache it was still pressing against her temples, but she didn't think she could see Lockwood's face at that moment.

"The first Christmas after Jess passed was the worst."

Her head snapped to look at him where he sat to her left, but he was staring into the fire, eyes transfixed on the flames but looking at something far away. She didn't say anything, instead just letting him go ahead in his own time.

"The ones after my parents died were hard, sure, but at least I had Jess around and we knew what the other was going through. Then she was gone too, and I was nine years old in a big house that was suddenly empty of the family I had spent my life being loved by."

She knew that his family were dead since the absence of any of them was shockingly present in 35 Portland Row, but he had never told her anything. She'd had to learn it all from Lucy, George, and Holly.

"That first one was horrible. I don't think I stopped crying for longer than an hour the entire time, and I couldn't sleep because I kept replaying it over in my head. I could have helped," he whispered, and Y/n could see that his eyes were glistening in the light of the fire. "I could have saved her, if only I hadn't-" he cut himself off, his voice growing too strangled to continue. Quickly she placed her hand on his arm, turning her body to face him.

"Hey, hey," she said quietly, drawing him into her arms. Her glass had been abandoned on the floor, her hands now holding Lockwood's body in her lap instead. His head was resting on her chest while his arm wrapped around her stomach, the other supporting his weight, and Y/n told herself that she was only allowing this to happen because she hadn't yet sobered up.

She wasn't sure how long they were there for, her leaning back at an awkward angle to allow room for Lockwood to lie on top of her and curl into her side while he sniffled, but after a while she found that she didn't mind stroking her fingers through his hair (which was surprisingly soft) or having his weight on her (it was like having a weighted blanket).

"Thank you," he muttered after a while, sitting up and wiping at his face. He paused in his movements when he realised that their faces were much closer together than was normal for two people that didn't like each other. The memory of that morning when she had smoothed out his collar and he had been about to say something came back, and when his gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips she drew in a breath.

"Anthony?"

And then he was surging forward, kissing her with the same passion that he had hated her with while she reached up to grab his shirt, not caring that she was wrinkling the fabric that she herself had smoothed out that very morning. How could she think of anything but him when the two of them had finally crashed together like a tsunami hitting cities?

How could she think of anything but him when he pulled her on top of him?

And how could she think of anything but him when he sighed her name into her mouth and it sounded sweeter than the tea he drank?

And then she was thinking about him entirely, and remembering everything that had happened since they met, and suddenly kissing him was a terrible idea.

"She's not good enough for the company."

She pushed away from him with a start when those words blared in her mind like warning alarms, the memory of what she had overheard in the library around four months after starting to work for Lockwood and Co. She hadn't heard anything before, but the disdain in Lockwood's voice told her it was about her. She had run upstairs to make sure she didn't hear any more of what he thought about her.

"Y/n?" he asked now, voice hoarse from crying and kissing, and his expression was desperate as he watched her press her hand to her lips and take shaky breaths. "Y/n? What is it? Wh-"

"Don't," she snapped, standing up and trying to forget the feeling of his hands on her body. "Don't... just don't, Lockwood." He was getting up too, scrambling after her and reaching out to stop her from slipping away.

"I don't understand-"

"Don't understand what?! We can't- we hate each other, Lockwood!" The venom in her voice made him stumble back a few steps. "You never wanted me at your company and you made sure that I knew that!"

"I-"

"I heard you telling the others that I wasn't ever going to be good enough for you, and then a few hours later after a job you're telling me that my Talent is incredible?! What am I supposed to think?! And then you spend the next however many years being a complete dick to me and complaining about me, so I do the same because clearly being nice didn't work, and now you're here at my fucking family Christmas event pretending to be my boyfriend and kissing me when you don't need to-"

"Of course I need to! I know I was horrible to you-"

"An understatement," she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"-but I'm trying to figure out how to apologise to you because I know that I've fucked up and I need to fix it!"

"So you kissed me?!"

"No! Yes! That wasn't an apology!" He rubbed his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with how it was going. "It was a mistake- no, Y/n, I didn't mean it like that!"

"A mistake?" she whispered, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. "Kissing me was a mistake?"

"No," he said, tone filled with desperation. "No, Y/n, I just meant that I shouldn't have done it before apologising to you because then it would seem like... I don't know! Like I was doing it just to try and trick you into accepting my apology or something!"

"Were you? Doing it to trick me? Because right now I can't tell what the truth is, Lockwood!"

"It wasn't a trick. It was never a trick, and I'm an idiot-"

"Yes, you are."

"Would you just listen to me?!" he shouted, anger seeping in to his body, and Y/n took a step back at the look in his eyes.

"What, like how you listen to me?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Yesterday, on the platform, when I was talking about my family being a lot and how it was hard for me and I'm actually related to most of them, and I couldn't imagine how hard it would be for someone to be introduced to all of that in one go. You just assumed that I meant it would be hard for you because your family is dead, and then when I tried to explain you cut me off and gave me the cold shoulder because you didn't fucking listen, Lockwood. What I meant was it would be a lot for anyone, no matter their own experience. Hell, even George has said that he would rather be blocked from the Archives for life than ever meet my family, and he's got almost as many relatives as me!"

Lockwood didn't say anything for a minute, instead just standing still and staring at her while the fire in his eyes died down, and Y/n shook her head. "This?" She gestured between the two of them. "This will never work. We will never work. Because you never wanted me and no matter how much I want you to like me in the same way that you like the others, you never will. And I will never be good enough for you." That was one more person to add to the list of people that she needed to meet unnecessarily high expectations for in order to be even noticed. She wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face while she was talking, the salt making her cheeks itch.

"You're right," Lockwood finally said. "I won't ever like you in the same way as the others." He stopped there, looking down at the floor. When he went to speak again, however, he lifted his head to an empty room, and the bathroom door shutting him out.

Y/n ignored his attempts to talk to her through the door, shoving the duvet and blankets that she had quickly grabbed into the bathtub and plugging her headphones into her walkman so that she didn't have to hear the rest of his cruel words and excuses.

She had craved something different with him, and it had fucking destroyed her.

And now she had to wake up on Christmas Day and pretend that she was hopelessly in love with the fake boyfriend who had just broken her heart.

part 6

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #deck the halls (and not your partner)#enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

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drkmgs · 10 months

Text

Muse

Jenna Ortega x Fem! Reader

Warning: angst, break-up, exes working with each other

Story type: One shot

According to the poll, I made 50.5% of 311 voters want this one. I don't know. Should I have posted a little summary? hehe. The end was so hard to write. I hope it came out fine...

You released a heavy sigh as you looked around your blackroom. She was everywhere. There is it again, the certain squeeze in your chest. You swallowed the clump in your throat.

She was your muse.

Sadly, that has changed now.

At first, she was a stranger, then an acquaintance, turned into a friend, that developed to lovers, and now back to a stranger again. Stranger is a strong word because you don't work with strangers. What do you call two exes that sometimes work together?

You should have listened to your friends – never mingle with someone who is famous.

It will only destroy you, and it did.

Well, not you completely, but mostly your heart and it shows – in your writings, pictures, songs you listen to, and hell even in your outfits. She drastically changed you. No, scratch that. It wasn't her who changed you. It was the pain, anger, and heartache. Where do these feelings come from? Is it from the unanswered questions, like why did she leave me? Probably.

How do people cope with heartbreaks without knowing the reason as to why the person you love the most left you? This breakup did something to you. It brought a lot of people back into your life and opened up opportunities. Next month, you'll be showing chasing some of your work at the Met Gala. The main reason why you're in the middle of developing some of your films.

After your break up with Jenna, you threw yourself onto work. Most of the pieces you have sold, were painful and hurtful, but these ones that you're developing are quite the opposite. These pictures were taken before the pain, where everything was happy and in love. You weren't even halfway developing all the roll films you have, and yet your blackroom is already filled with her.

Smiling, dancing, singing, baking, walking, and even sleeping. She was certainly your muse. There is one picture that stands out, and it is your favorite. She was in a grass field with daisies. Her smiling face wasn't towards the camera but to you. It shows how happy she was with you in that moment. You wonder what changed? What changed that made her run away from you?

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone vibrated beside you. You immediately answered and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder, both of your hands were busy hanging the developed film.

"Y/N Callaway speaking." You hear hectic shoutings in the background and commands from the person who rang you.

"Darling, Callaway! It's Gladys! I know you're busy with your work for the Met Gala, but is there a chance that you could do me a favor?" You can hear that she's biting her nails as her voice wasn't as confident as it always has been.

"Depends on what favor, Glads." You have known this woman since you started your photography career, and she has been setting you up with clients, but now that you have bigger projects, she would only set you up if it was necessary.

"I need you for a shoot. In like 30 min. The one I hired got into an accident and we need a photographer asap." You look at your watch. The pieces you want to use for the Met were already drying, but new ones wouldn't hurt.

"Okay. Send me the address." You ended the call, stood up from the stool, got your leather jacket from the hook, and stepped out of your blackroom. When you got there, everyone was already waiting, and Gladys was frantically pacing back and fort.

"Oh may god! Darling! You're an angel sent from above!" She greeted you as she spotted you when she faced towards you. "I tried to come as fast as I could." You gently placed your equipment on the ground and greeted her back.

"That's okay! I'm so glad you are here! So, our model just got her make-up done, and she already has her outfit on. We need a picture of her walking here, somewhere she's sitting and then one with a car. The car is that one. You can meet our model, she is in that van." She pointed at the blacked parked mini van, not far where you were standing. You nodded at her, and she walked away to do some phone calls.

You knocked on the van door and stepped back a bit, gaze on the ground. "Oh-Hi, Y/N." A familiar voice rang through your ear, which made you snap your head up. "Enrique. Nice to see you again." You gave him a genuine smile. Your gaze shifted to the woman behind him. You saw her shock face, but it immediately changed into a stoic expression.

"Miss Ortega. Congratulations to Wednesday. It turned out great." After the break up, you started calling her by her last name. You thought, a professional approach would be better than people asking how you two got into the first-name basis. The relationship you two had was only known by close friends and family, obviously Enrique counted as a close friend.

"You watched Wednesday?" There was a hint of curiosity in her voice, but her face stayed uninterested. "Yeah, I watched it with my daughter." You smiled lightly. "Sorry, did you say daughter?" Her uninterested face turned into a furrowed eyebrows.

"Goddaughter." You don't know why you had the urge to correct yourself, but when she unforrowed her eyebrows, it made you exhale. You were used to people knowing that Penelope – your Goddaughter – you referring to her as your daughter.

Aside from diving into work while healing yourself, you spent mostly your time at your best friends's house, and when they announced they're adopting, you were over the moon. They didn't just help you get back on your feet but also gave you a different reason to be happy, and that's being a Godparent to Penelope.

There is a hint of confusion and anger within you as to why she reacted like that? She left you. You mean nothing to her. So, why did she look so relieved when you corrected yourself? You shook your head to get out of that state of mind.

"I think we should get this shooting started." You didn't wait for her to reply. You just walked away and got your equipment ready. While you're busy with your stuff, there's a pair of eyes watching you. Never taking them away from you.

"Take a picture. It will last longer." Enrique chimed behind the woman. "I don't understand you. You keep saying you don't love her anymore and that you moved on, but here you are having heart eyes." Enrique made a hand gesture indicating the situation he just saw.

"I don't have heart eyes." She scoffed and rollled her eyes and went back, scrolling through her phone. "Girl. Don't. I know what I saw, and I believe in what I saw. You are still in love with her." Enrique sassied. "Okay, so what if I still love her?! It doesn't matter! Let's say she still loves me. Why? Why would she be? All I did was leave and break her heart." From a far, it looks like Jenna is about to have a mental breakdown.

Sure, she has seen you a couple of times after the breakup, but right now, something is different. The shine in your eyes talking about your goddaughter–is the way you looked at her in the past. Full of adoration and love. Jenna wanted to get lost in those eyes, but it changed as soon as you laid your eyes on hers.

From where you were standing, you could see how frustrated she was and her eyes. You know it's screaming sadness and regrets, but also pain and anger. Anger not towards you, but to herself. She tried so hard to stop the tears. Seeing her like that, something heavy pulls down on your chest. Enrique tried to consult her, but she refused and excused herself.

You watch her walk away the set and turn to look at Enrique. He shrugged and signed you to follow her. You excused yourself from the other staff saying you are going to the powder room, but you actually followed Jenna. Around the corner, you see her, phasing back and forth, shaking her hands–trying to calm down.

You couldn't keep watching, so as soon as Jenna turned around, you engulfed her into a hug. She didn't push you away. She inhaled and relaxed into you, grabbing onto your jacket. "I'm sorry." She mumbled through her sobbing. You didn't say anything. You just stood there patting her back. When she calmed down, she stepped back and wiped her tears. You were about to leave when she stopped you.

"I mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for not telling you about how I feel and what was bothering me. Please forgive." Jenna's voice cracked at the end. You shook your head. "I don't know what to say to you, Jenna. I thought when this moment came, I was ready to face any of your reasons, but I am not. What you did is still so fresh in my memory as if it happened yesterday, but I know I still have the heart to forgive you." You say trying to get out of her grip. "Then let me make it up to you. I promise I'll be better. I'll fix everything." She desperately says. "Jenna. Don't make promises you can't fulfill, and if you break a glass and try to fix it, it will never be the same before you broke it." After hearing that, Jenna finally loosened her grip on you.

"I'll head back to the set. I'll tell them you'll need a minute." You excused yourself. This time around, Jenna watched you leave, and she'll never know when you'll be back in her arms.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader

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mysticficti0n · 10 months

Note

okay B honey I just got a cat (her names Peony my grans favourite flower) soooooo I was wondering if you could do like a small little thing about Y/n coming back home or whatever and she finds Tom cuddling with the cat which he usually complains about but he/she is curled up on his arm and he's resting his head on them half alseep

thank you baby 💕

Omg Peony is an adorable name! congrats on getting her, ofc I can do this!

You do love her

(all my attention will be back soon and and I'm beginning to write part two to Can't help but miss you but I'm taking time to do some request as I have so many and all you guys have such good ideas!)

∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞　

warnings- none just cute fluff with Tom!

words- 549

"yes of course.... look- I'm back home now can I call you tomorrow when I'll be at work and have all the papers and things?... thank you- bye" I sighed cutting the call with one of my clients who called me at exactly 4:59pm, I went to my door pushing the key through and clicking it open and stepping into my apartment, it was a cold day today and I could hear the heaters hum around the house, the tv was on but not loudly but another sound pushed through- snores

I slipped my heals off so I wouldn't wake up Tom, he told me he'd stay home while I went to work to 'keep an eye on the cat' which isn't the first time he's done it but she's not really a kitten anymore. I walked around the corner to find Tom curled up on the sofa resting his head on my cat who lay in his arm fast asleep too, I couldn't stop my heart exploding with cuteness, I ran to my room grabbing the camera and came back snapping a few pictures for my own enjoyment as this cat was usually the bane of Tom's life, every night he slept round (your cats name) would snuggle up to me on the bed meaning he couldn't reach me and if he did she'd hiss at him or when were making food- Tom being the chef himself hates her being within a few centimetres of the kitchen saying "she'll contaminate my cheese on toast Y/n!"

I walked to the back of the sofa, leaning over and pressing a small kiss to his cheek "Tom...I'm home" my hand rubbed down his shoulder making him stir, his brown eyes opened narrowly and a grin came across his face "hi"

"hi" he whispered back pushing his lips out for me to kiss which I didn't hesitate to "how are you?"

"I'm good, long day- you seem nice and cozy with your best friend don't you" I teased seeing the boy look to his arm and sigh "oh I hate this cat- she's so annoying- your cats broken..." I mocked in his voice "sure you hate her?"

"shut up will you, me and (your cats name) have a special bond now and it'll never be tainted" I hummed petting the soft fur covering her body

"so you're stealing my child?" he nodded lifting the cat from his arm to his chest as he lay on his back, the small girl opened her wide green eyes looking at Tom and purring "hey darling girl" I smiled petting her head

"hey no fair she get's darling girl and I just get my name!" the boy groaned "I like you better now darling girl" Tom mimicked petting her

"oh sorry do you want me to treat you like a cat?" he nodded with a dopey smile covering his face "you are such an idiot" I kissed his lips once more before going to change out my work clothes, I kept the door open and herd the small words of Tom

"see she's so mean to me, your the favourite- darling girl, we love her though right? yes we do" he laughed to himself and (your cats name) meows seemed to mean she agreed

#bill kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz imagines #tokio hotel #00s #tom kaulitz x reader #germany #georg listing #tom kaulitz icons #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x y/n #Tom Kaulitz x Cat #2000s

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atinylittlepain · 11 months

Text

Play - A Javi Gutierrez Story

javi g x f!reader

it's not that kind of play, honey.

warnings | 18+ smut and nothing but(t)

a/n | I'm back with another addition to the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign! If you don't know what I'm talking about, where the hell have you been? Just kidding, but fr, go check out the work of @beskarandblasters @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 and @serenaxpedro they've all got some awesome fics out for this campaign!

.................................

“This play, it is a very strange one, no? Oh! Is it one of those– what is it called– interactive performances?” Is this guy for real? It would be amusing if it wasn’t messing up her flow of clients, having to deal with this bright-eyed man with the softest hair she’s ever seen, who has clearly walked into Pandora’s with no clue of what the club is.

“Hon, I’m not sure where you got that idea. But this isn’t a play.” His brow furrows at that, perfect confusion at what she says.

“But the sign outside? I tell you, I enjoy a good pun. If this isn’t a play, what is it?” It clicks in her mind all at once. Pandora’s: Come in and play a while. She has to let out a laugh when she realizes exactly where the man got the idea from.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that kind of play. This is a BDSM club.”

“Oh, oh.” His whole face goes slack with realization, sun-kissed skin going a pretty shade of pink as he swallows harshly.

“I am so sorry. I am, ah, feeling a bit foolish, I have to admit. But I will get out of your hair now, I– my apologies.” So sweet, so polite, and so flustered, she can’t help herself when she brings a hand to his shoulder to keep him from turning and hurrying out the door.

“You could do that, or I could show you just what kind of play we offer here at Pandora’s.” The man opens and closes his mouth a few times, cheeks tinging from pink to a furious flush, and she knows right then that she’s got him for the night.

“Why don’t you follow me, honey? I’ll show you the ropes, and then you can decide if you’d like to leave. Sound good?” He nods, a quick jerky thing that makes his lovely curls bounce.

“Is there– are there going to be actual ropes?”

“There can be– if you ask nicely, of course.”

…

Tilting her head over his shoulder, she smiles, getting to see his name for the first time, signed on the dotted line of the club’s waiver.

“Hmm, it’s nice to officially meet you, Javi. You can call me Molly, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” She takes the paperwork from his hands, making a point of letting her hands brush his, reveling in the way his throat dips and bobs with the contact. So responsive, this is going to be fun. Setting the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, she gets to work collecting the tools she needs for the night, speaking to him over her shoulder as she does.

“Though I’ll be the one in power, you’re the client, honey, which means you have the real control. I’m gonna need you to use your words with me, tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, do you understand?”

“Yes, miss, I understand.” She feels her brow quirk at his choice of words, now standing in front of him with her arms full of goods.

“Miss, I like that, honey. It’s cute. Now, will you get undressed for me, Javi? I’d love to see a bit more of you.” He nods, a lopsided smile on his face as he starts to work through the buttons of his shirt while she lays her toys out on the bed next to him. Quick and eager, he’s left in his briefs in no time flat, a bit breathless under her gaze. He’s pretty, golden skin, strong thighs, and an adorably soft belly that she’d like to sink her teeth into.

“Could I see more of you as well, please?”

“Well since you asked so politely, why don’t you do it for me, darling?” She steps between his thighs, his eyes widening, lips parted as she guides his hands to her hips. Tentatively, he moves one hand up to her cleavage, where the zipper running down her dress lies, slowly tugging it down to reveal her body to him.

“You are– a very beautiful woman.” He says it so solemnly, his eyes raking over her body once she’s slipped her dress entirely off, and she can’t help but laugh at the very serious look on his face, tucking her fingers under his chin to tilt his gaze up to hers.

“That’s sweet of you to say, darling, thank you. Are you ready to lay back for me so we can get started?” He’s very compliant, she’ll give him that, humming an mmhmm as he shifts back onto the sheets, laying out for her as she starts to unravel her set of silk ties.

“Now remember, Javi. I need you speaking to me, telling me what you like and what you don’t. What you say goes, honey.” His eyes are trained on her hands as she holds the tie out between them, giving it a few snaps as she comes to kneel between his thighs on the bed.

“I will do my best to, as you say, tell you what I am liking and what I am not. Though if it is you who is doing it, I imagine I will like most things.” The flush in his cheeks has creeped down to bloom over his chest, a smile that could only be described as bashful crinkling his eyes as he looks at her, a vision that she can’t help but want to corrupt, just a little. She crawls further up the bed, shifting into a straddle at his hips, hovering over the very obvious bulge in his briefs as she leans over him, tie in hands.

“Do you still want this, Javi?” She trails the end of the silk tie over his chest, letting it drag against his nipples, his inhale catching at the sensation.

“Yes, miss, I– I would like what we discussed.” She grins, bringing the tie to settle flat over his eyes, quietly directing him to lift his head up so she can tie it in the back, smoothing her fingers over it once he settles back down, blindfolded and sighing.

“I saw this in a movie once. I thought it to be very intriguing. But I have not had a chance to try it myself until now.” There it is again, that sweet smile of his, and an amusing wag of his eyebrows as she sits back in his lap to take in the sight of him.

“Well in that case, honey, I expect a full report when I’m done with you.” She makes quick work with the other two ties, pressing a kiss to each of his wrists once she’s bound them to the posts of the bed, his pulse jumping against her lips. Moving again to kneel between his spread thighs, she has to pause for a moment, he’s such a vision, his arms framed overhead, black silk blinding his eyes, lips parted in silent puffs of breath. And then, she gets to work.

She starts light, a barely there graze of her fingernails down his chest, over the swell of his belly, grinning at the way his muscles clench and jump at the sensation, before letting her fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs.

“I’m going to take these off, darling. Is that ok?” Back and forth, back and forth, she lets her nails graze along the soft skin hidden beneath his briefs, waiting for his answer.

“Yes, miss– I would, um, like that very much.” She rewards him with a kiss, just below his navel and he responds in kind with a sharp inhale, biting his lip as she finally tugs his briefs down and off his legs.

“Oh, honey, you’re pretty all over, aren’t you?” She likes the laugh that draws out of him, a nervous little thing that fizzles out in his throat when she skates her fingers over the underside of his flushed cock, the muscles in his thighs tensing. She rests her palm over his belly, drawing reassuring circles there as her other hand dips down to cup his balls.

“Just relax, Javi. I’m going to make you feel very, very good.” A broken sound cracks in his chest when she lets her breath fan over his cock, warbling into a groan when she darts her tongue out to lap at his leaking tip. She takes him into the heat of her mouth only once, slipping him down until the head of his cock grazes the back of her throat before promptly popping off of him and pulling away entirely, his wrists tugging petulantly at his restraints in response.

“Patience, darling, the waiting is what makes it so good.” She presses an open mouth kiss to the jut of his hip, lips dragging over his pelvis, just shy of his throbbing length as she lets her teeth nip at the soft pudge of his tummy, enjoying the breathy yelp he lets out when she bites down just a touch harder. He’s getting more impatient as she continues to tease him, her lips pressing everywhere except for where he really wants her, letting out little huffs with each new kiss, each new bite.

“You are a little bit evil, but I think I like it, patrona.” She finds herself smiling against the inside of his thigh where she had just laid another nip, taking in his words with pride.

“Patrona, what does that mean?”

“It is like a boss. That is what you are, no? The boss of this establishment, and of men, I think.”

“Mm, you got that right, honey.” Always a sucker for flattery, she decides that he’s had enough teasing, licking a hot stripe up his cock with little preamble, his thighs going rigid as he lets out a hiss between his teeth.

“Oh, that is– hah– that is very good.” She finds an easy rhythm, bobbing up and down his length, pulling off in between to lick at the head of his cock, one hand cupping and rolling his balls, getting him nice and pliant under her touch. Pleased with the slackened state she’s worked him into, moans rolling through his chest, muscles loose and melting into the sheets, she pulls away to grab her bottle of lube, snickering at the way his head lifts off the pillow like he’s trying to see why she stopped.

“Don’t worry, honey, just gonna start getting you ready for me.” With a smear of lube warmed up in her palms, she gets her hands back on him, slicking down the length of his cock, over his balls, and letting her fingers slip lower as his hips buck up at the new sensation.

“Fuck, I like that– feels so different, so good, patrona.” She spreads him open on her finger, gently pumping in and out as he keens into her touch, a long sigh thrumming in his throat when she adds another finger.

“Look at you, pretty boy, doing so so good for me.” Oh, he likes that, his neck arching with a moan as she continues to fuck him on her fingers, her other hand sliding up and down his cock, thumb passing over his leaking slit each time.

“Aye, patrona, por favor. I– I want more, please.” He tugs limply at his restraints, the muscles in his arms flexing and bulging with the movement, his brow furrowed somewhere between pleasure and prayer.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that, darling?” She punctuates her question with another flick of her wrist over his cock and a thrust of her fingers, making him let out a whine that she’d like to hear more of.

“Sí, sí, patrona, I want it very badly. I’m ready, I swear.” She shushes his pleas with a kiss to his belly, his hips jolting when she removes both her hands from him, slipping off the bed to put on her strap.

“May I– I would like to see you for this part, patrona.” She has to smile at that, tightening the harness around her hips before crawling back onto the bed, happy to shrug Javi out of his blindfold, a shy smile on his lips when his eyes meet hers. He didn’t ask for it, but she undoes his wrists as well, and he sighs in relief, flexing his hands a few times as she settles between his thighs, coaxing his knees to bend around her.

“Need your hips up just a little bit, honey, there you go. Gonna give it to you nice and gentle.” She does just that, one hand planted in the sheets, the other guiding her strap forward as she presses into him, slow and smooth.

“Fuck, you are wonderful, patrona. I–I feel so good.” She’s been called many things by her clients, but this might be a first for wonderful, the praise coaxing her hips into a faster, deeper rhythm that makes him writhe beneath her. His eyes don’t leave her body, trailing from the arc of her hips to the bounce of her breasts with each thrust, up to her face, surprising her with the delicate way he brings his hand to cup her cheek. It’s just a bit too tender for her taste, and she’s quick to throw him off his game, bringing her hand to stroke his cock as she starts to fuck him harder, rendering him speechless and slack beneath her.

“That’s it, Javi, just let it feel good. Are you gonna come for me, darling? Gonna let me have it?”

“Sí, mami, por favor.” She doesn’t have to ask for a translation to know what that means. A few more fluid strokes of her hips is all it takes to unravel him, his come smearing over her fist as she strokes him through it. When he starts to whimper at the sensation, she finally pulls away, jumping into aftercare mode as she grabs him a towel and a bottle of water in one hand, and her handy credit-card reader in the other.

“Here you go, darling, take your time getting cleaned up.” She coaxes him to sit up, getting a few sips of water out of him as he catches his breath, though there’s a weird look in his eyes that she can’t quite place.

“You are an amazing woman.” Oh boy. She smiles, trying to laugh off the intensity of his compliment, though he does that same move again, cupping her cheek, his eyes painfully earnest when she looks at him.

“I would like to buy you an island.” The laugh she lets out at that is genuine, though it fizzles out when she realizes he is dead serious, eyes wide and seeking, his lips quirked in that little dopey smile of his.

“No islands necessary, hot stuff. Just the flat fee of three hundred for the hour will do.” She holds out the card reader between them to make her point, his eyes glancing at it, though he seems unconvinced.

“After the way you just made me feel, it would be an insult to repay you with mere money. Tell me what you want, patrona, and it is yours, I swear it.” She must have gotten him good and fucked out for him to be talking like this, his pupils still blown out as he speaks, cock softening against his thigh.

“Oh, honey, you’re sweet, really. But it’s all just in a night’s work. I want my clients satisfied and my sessions paid for, that’s all.”

“Can I pay to have you for the rest of the night at least, por favor?” That’s more like it.

“Now that is something we could make work. Cash or credit, darling?”

#javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi g fic #javi g smut #javi g fanfiction #javier gutierrez #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #javi g fluff #tuwomt

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al-of-the-stars · 1 month

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I was wondering if you're okay writing an Angel Dust. M!Reader. More specifically Drag Queen Angel Dust. A one-shot if perfect, but you can do whatever you want. You can do this as smut or fluff, it doesn't matter! Have a great rest of your day!!

"See me after the show"

A/n: I was planning to make this yesterday but I'm not familiar with drag and had to do research so here it is! It took me a while but I'm not sure if I got anything wrong or not so if I did, please let me know and I hope you enjoy!

You were a renowned makeup artist in hell. Your name was plastered across billboards, celebrities lined up at your door to hire you. The moment you opened shop again after your job on a movie set was over, the first client to come in was one you never expected. You had worked with many demons before, from hellborns to sinners, even some overlords, but you had always wanted to work with a certain spider demon. Angel Dust didn't usually seek makeup artists and preferred to do it himself. This was a very rare occurrence and you were basically dying of joy. “Hello, welcome! I'll be with you in just a moment,” you said while organizing the last of your brushes. You tried to calm yourself down and finally made your way over to the waiting area to greet your newest client. He was even more beautiful in real life. You shook the thoughts out of your head. You had to keep things professional. As you led Angel Dust to the vanity, you guys made decent conversation. Turns out, the reason he chose to come to your makeup salon was because he had a big show coming up and wanted to make an appointment with someone who could give him a look that would leave the audience awestruck. Who better to go to for such an important task than the most well known artist in all of hell? You guys set up the appointment and when you finally got home, you squealed like a middle schooler who just got his first crush. When the day arrived, you went backstage to meet Angel 2 hours before he was up on stage to do his makeup. When you saw him, he was fixing up his dress. It was sparkly and pink with heart motifs all over it. He looked stunning. While you were lost in thought, he spotted you and waved you over.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Your heart fluttered at the name. He called everyone something along those lines so it shouldn't have really mattered too much but the way he said it, you couldn't help but feel that this time it was a bit different. You went over to the vanity where he sat and set up your supplies. “So just to make sure, you want something that matches the colors and overall vibe of your outfit, correct?” You asked, taking out the right brushes for the look you had planned.

“Yep,” you started on the eyeshadow, a bright, pigmented pink shade that you then added small rhinestones and glitter to to make it stand out. You guys just kept talking and making pleasant conversation until you were finally done. He looked absolutely stunning. You realized how close you had been to him this entire time and you felt the blood rush to your face as you spun his chair around to face the mirror.

“So what do you think?”

“It's perfect! Thanks, doll!” He responded, looking in the mirror gleefully. There was still some time left until he had to be on stage so you guys just sat there and talked. Time just flew by and then, Angel was notified that he had 5 minutes until he was on stage. He got up to get closer to the curtain.

“Meet me after the show, darling,” he said with a wink before going on stage, leaving you speechless.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin #angel dust hazbin x reader

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scrixtcn · 1 year

Text

diamonds in the sky

genre: sugar daddy/ceo!au | strangers to lovers!au | equal amounts of fluff and complicated not quite angst but angsty feelings

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

word count: 12.2k

a/n: coups is sweet and caring but also is perfectly able to throw money at his problems for them to not be problems anymore. also him in any kind of suit kills me.

You knew this would be another one of those nights.

“This way, darlings,” the hotel manager whistles while ushering you and three other girls out of the elevator. “They won’t wait, you know.”

At the very top of the building is the hotel bar, a rather infamous location frequented by the rich and elite 1%. Word on the street had the Starlight bar as the coveted meetup for all sorts of transactions—both shady and open market deals between those seeking and those offering their “services” for a price. You belonged to the unfortunate latter, one slip-up in the contract signing you off as a female escort rather than the aspiring model that had been advertised in the agency’s flyers.

“Can I borrow some lipstick?”

You dig through your silver clutch, coming up empty-handed at hearing your fellow escort/best friend’s inquiry.

“Sorry, Hana, I don’t have any on me.”

The girl on the right hands over hers, and you stifle a giggle at the orange shade that doesn’t fit Hana’s look at all.

“Hana,” you begin slowly, holding out a compact mirror, “You might want to look at yourself before going in.”

She glances at the reflection and screams, the shrill sound startling even the manager. He turns around from his conversation at the bar counter, wondering if everything is alright. Not wanting to start a fuss, Hana nods furiously and tugs you aside, giving dirty glares to the one who offered her the disastrous tube of lipstick in the first place.

“Please tell me you have something—anything—in your bag to save my lips.”

“Well…” You look again and settle on a pack of tissues and clear lip gloss. “Maybe you can wipe it off?”

Letting out a low growl, she takes you on the offer and excuses herself from the group to freshen up in the bathroom. Left alone with the other two girls, you shrug off the questions on Hana’s outburst with an apologetic smile. No need to offer more than necessary to girls you probably wouldn’t ever see again.

Once the bartender announces that the guests in the private rooms are ready and waiting, you start to follow the others, only to be held back by a firm hand.

“One of the clients is arriving late,” the manager informs you, “Can you go to the 3rd floor instead?”

You frown. “This wasn’t what was paid for.

“And why me? Why me and not them?”

“You were handpicked,” the manager answers, giving you a once-over. “Y/N, right? He said you’d be wearing a black off-shoulder dress with frills?”

The exact description of your outfit brings bitterness to your tongue. There was only one person who knew exactly what you’d be wearing tonight—the guy who had gifted you the dress during one of your nights with him the week before.

“Fine,” you grumble, “But tell Jeonghan he owes me double from what he usually pays.”

—

Yoon Jeonghan was a snake if you ever saw one.

You were never able to pinpoint why he was so infatuated with you, always eager to see you whenever your paths crossed during your other “work events”. There were times when he even called the agency to specifically ask for your company, earning yourself the title as “Jeonghan’s favorite” amongst your colleagues. Maybe he did like spending time with you. Or maybe… maybe he just wanted a new toy to play with after he got bored with his other girlies.

As expected, Jeonghan extends his arms for a hug the moment you get out of the elevator to the 3rd floor, a gesture you purposely avoid to show your displeasure at being pulled aside from the group call you had agreed to.

“Who stepped on your tail?” he asks coyly, giving a mock bow to kiss your hand. “Love the dress, by the way.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” you answer crisply, “Let alone pull me aside to cater to whatever scheme you’re plotting right now.”

He laughs, a devilish sound like you just stumbled right into his clutches. “Everything will play out as it always does.”

A card key is tossed your direction before you can press on for more details.

“I need you to keep a look out for my friend. He’s staying in this room.”

You catch it before it falls to the floor and study the card. VIP Suite. Not an ordinary person by the looks of it.

“Why me?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t trust anyone else but you.”

Hearing Jeonghan mention trust brings an unexpected cackle from your throat. Since when was the devil trustworthy?

“I’m serious,” he repeats, turning tail and holding up a hand. “Take good care of him, sweetheart.”

“Wait, I don’t even know how he looks like!”

You watch as Jeonghan leaves, his figure growing smaller and smaller down the hallway. With a huff, you walk down the hall, stopping once you locate the correct room. One swipe of the card key and you find yourself stepping into the biggest space you’d ever seen at Starlight. The room not one of your caliber can easily enter, you find yourself frozen in place until you remember what Jeonghan had said before he left.

I need you to keep a lookout for my friend.

Shaking off your shoes, you step barefoot onto the carpet and wiggle your toes in excitement at exploring the space. Jeonghan never said you couldn’t look around while waiting for his friend.

“Whoa…” There is a whole separate hallway linking to the bathroom and bedroom, the entire suite no different than a service apartment targeted for long term stay. Obviously, luxury took precedent—even the sliding glass doors leading to the outdoor Jacuzzi are shined to perfection, the lights catching glimmers in contrast to the slowly darkening sky. Stepping back inside, you pranced around the open kitchen, where there’s a small stove for cooking next to the fridge.

“Well equipped.”

Midway into digging through the fridge for a bite to eat, you hear the door click open and startle, bumping your head atop the inner ceiling of the icebox.

“Who are you?”

Shuffling backwards, you shake your head and meet the dazed eyes of a drunken man. Tie in hand, his shirt is unbuttoned and to be honest, you weren’t expecting one of Jeonghan’s friends to look so slovenly at the first meeting.

“Hi, I’m—”

His chest heaves, and you have the shock of your life when he throws up directly onto the carpet and the conveniently placed heels you had taken off to freely explore his suite.

God dammit.

—

Seungcheol doesn’t remember a thing when he opens his eyes the next morning, yawning as he sits up in bed. There had been drinks sure, but the exact amount remains a mystery after blacking out last night. How he made it back to the hotel was also a story for another day when he sees the cheerful grin of his friend sitting directly next to.

“You were quite a mess last night,” Jeonghan snickers, handing over a glass of water. “I didn’t know you had it in you to drink so much.”

“I…” Taking the water, he drinks and a flickering memory surfaces in his mind.

“Was there someone else here?”

Jeonghan chuckles. “You really don’t remember what you did to her last night?”

“What do you mean?” Panic settles in his throat and he immediately puts down the glass, grabbing Jeonghan by the shoulders. “What… What did I do?”

“You…” Jeonghan breaks into laughter mid-explanation. “You threw up all over my friend’s shoes, that’s what.”

Oh, shit.

—

Hana hadn’t stopped laughing once she heard about your unfortunate night, irritating you to no end when she brings it up again during weekend brunch with her sister.

“So Y/N goes down to the guy’s suite,” Hana reiterates, waving her fork in the process, “Looking around, and the guy just throws up once he’s inside. All over her shoes, too!”

“I swear, I will knock your mimosa onto the floor if you bring it up again.”

Unfazed by your empty threat, she shifts her glass to the other side and mimics throwing up, an all-inclusive experience with sounds of vomiting and contortions of her face in disgust. Her sister tries to keep a straight face, but you can see the giggles already starting to break through from the tightened lips.

“Okay, laugh,” you sigh, giving in to the inevitable. “Poke fun at my misery after having to walk home in wet and smelly heels.”

Giggles echo around the table, catching the attention of the other guests at the restaurant. You pick up your cutlery knife and angrily cut apart the omelet on the plate, mutilating the yellow pillow of egg with other meats and veggies tucked inside.

“it’s just so funny,” Hana snickers, letting out the last laughs before taking a deep breath and making a zipping motion over her lips. “That’s it, I promise.”

Her sister does the same, promising to leave it at that.

“Did you manage to get his number at least?”

You shake your head. “He was out like a snuffed candle after he finished throwing up all over the floor. I had to call room service and make sure they put it on his tab before I left.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Hana exchanges a glance with her sister and her sister proceeds to take out a business card, sliding it over to you. “Which is why I had my sister get it for you!”

“Huh?”

Her sister pushes up the glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. “I asked my journalist friends and they told me it’s him.”

You pick up the business card and read the name printed in black font.

“Choi… Seungcheol?”

“He’s the CEO of the hotel chain that Starlight is under,” your friend’s sister continues, “Quite a big name, so there’s always someone keeping tabs on him.”

“You should give him a call,” Hana insists, “Get compensation for your shoes, at the very least.”

“I don’t know…” You fold up the business card and stuff it in your purse. “I’d rather not get reminded about what he did.”

“It’s only right he gives you back a new pair of shoes!”

Your phone rings before you can offer a rebuttal, it being no other than the guy who had gotten you into such a mess from the start. You accept the call and hold the phone close to your ear, not giving the sisters a chance to eavesdrop.

“Hi, Jeonghan.”

“Are you free?” his voice chirps through the speaker. “My friend said he wants to apologize for last night.”

“I…” You stand up from your seat, mouthing goodbye to your friends while walking to a quieter spot to answer his call.

“I don’t really want to see him, if I’m being honest.”

Jeonghan whines at your hesitation. “He really feels bad and wants to make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“If anything, you should be the one to make it up to me!” you snap, voice raising outside the restaurant doors. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t—”

“Fine,” he relinquishes, “It’s my fault and I’ll pay triple if you go meet with him. Do it for me, please?”

Mention of the extra pay tickles your taste buds, but you push down the thought with a huff. He takes it as agreement and blows kisses from his end, offering to send his limousine to pick you up after asking for your current whereabouts. He was always like this, agreeing to anything and everything if things went his way. You didn’t like being pulled along to his whims, but didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness to you either.

The limousine pulls up in a matter of minutes, quicker than you expected. Perhaps he had been in the area, the driver offering a quick bow once he recognizes it’s you he’s picking up.

“Young Master Jeonghan said to drop you off at Starlight, miss?”

“Wherever he said to go, that’s where I’m going,” you reply, making yourself comfortable in the back. “He didn’t tell me where.”

“Understood.” He hops back into the driver’s seat and shifts gear. “We will be at Starlight shortly.”

—

“Hey.”

It’s strange how you know which table to go to once you arrive at the Starlight bar, the lone figure before the dry martini somehow pulling at your heartstrings as you slide into the seat next to.

“Do you… remember me?”

He looks up, and you nearly have a double take. This Choi Seungcheol looked nothing like yesterday’s drunken state. Today he is soberly dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, hair slicked back. The silver ring on his pinky knocks against the counter as he taps his hand on the surface, gesturing for the bartender. He proceeds to order a shot of tequila—Jeonghan must have told him your usual go-to drink before you arrived.

“No,” he admits, “But Jeonghan said I threw up all over your shoes?”

The memory brings back unpleasant thoughts. Panic at his passed-out figure by the door after he finished vomiting, frantic calls to room service and emphasizing for them to put the service charge on his tab…

He notices the grimace on your face and apologizes again.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to clean up my mess.”

You wave it off, nodding in thanks to the bartender who brings over the shot of tequila.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he presses on, lifting the martini and consuming half the cocktail in one long sip. “I can make it up to you.”

“It’s just a pair of shoes, no big deal.

“Another shot of tequila, please.”

The bartender holds up an ‘OK’, which makes you smile and you spin to face Seungcheol.

“If you want to make it up to me, Mister Choi, can you treat me to another round of drinks?”

He does a double take at hearing his name, garnering a chuckle from your parted lips.

“It’s not hard to get information about someone as well-known as you.”

Seungcheol cracks a smile at your words. “I didn’t know I was so popular.”

The second shot of tequila makes its way before you, accompanying it a second martini for Seungcheol courtesy of the bartender.

“Cheers? You’re forgiven for throwing up on my shoes, Mister Choi Seungcheol.”

“Just call me Seungcheol,” he laughs, a hearty sound that echoes warmly across the bar when the glasses clink. “But really, this won’t do when I ruined your shoes.”

“Hmm… I can’t think of anything now, so l’ll take a rain check on your offer.”

“Then I’ll have Jeonghan give you my number. That way, you can call me once you decide how you want me to make it up to you.”

◇

You never did call Seungcheol to cash in on his offer, not one to insist on compensation for something as trivial as ruined shoes. Vomiting happened when people drank a bit too much. It wasn’t like those shoes were valuable or even held any sentimental value (they were gifted by a former colleague after she left to sign to a rival agency with better pay and benefits).

Jeonghan had pestered you for a week asking why you never contacted his friend, but you held your ground and purposely ignored his calls whenever he asked about you contacting Seungcheol, rendering you going without pay that week due to not seeing him. Curse the clause in your contract that stated you had to attend individual calls at least three times a week or else pay from group calls would be forfeited entirely to the agency.

“How much longer are you going to play hooky?”

Hana stands by the desk in your room with a bag of chips in hand, digging into the bag while waiting for your response. Crumbs trickle onto the floor and you get up from bed, shooing her out to stand by the door if she had to eat while talking.

“You’re sweeping these up yourself if you take one more step forward while eating your chips.”

She rolls her eyes and reaches for another chip. “You heard me, missy. No pay means no rent. No rent means you and I are going to have to sleep on the streets.”

“I know,” you enunciate, crossing your arms in distaste. “I’ll figure something out before the end of the month.”

“I’m holding you to it,” Hana declares, flicking a chip crumb your direction. “You said you’d figure it out.”

“Get out before I hand you the broom to sweep up my room.”

Once she leaves, you close the door and sigh. The end of the month was coming up in three days’ time. You’re sure Hana isn't the type to save either, so likely you’d have to cover her share (or part of it) as you usually do. Her big spending always end in maxed out credit cards every month, an amount not even help from her sister can cover to pay in full as you liked.

Jeonghan usually more than willing to offer financial assistance, your latest cold war with him had turned him to call for other girls to accompany him to parties or other work events. No way in hell were you going to ask him for help.

Perhaps…

—

“Welcome to Andromeda, do you have an appointment?”

You swallow nervously at seeing the crisp beige wallpaper and red sofas lined around the corners for those waiting to see the CEO to sit at. Everything screamed precision and order, two things you never had in your line of work as an escort. Even the receptionist’s white blouse and black pencil skirt were neater than the scuffed blue denim dress you picked out of your closet just an hour prior.

Talk about two different worlds.

“I… I do,” you lie, crossing your hands behind your back. “Can you tell Seung… Mister Choi he owes me a new pair of shoes?”

The receptionist looks up at you from her computer and you put on your best smile.

“Please? Your boss will understand.”

If there is the slightest sigh from her parted lips, you miss it, digging your nails into your palms as she picks up the telephone and dials into his office. To your delight, she hangs up and proceeds to gesture for you to enter. You nod in thanks and uncross your hands; the nail marks leaving indents on the skin, you quickly rub your palms to soothe your frantic nerves and push open the doors.

Seungcheol looks up from his desk and blinks twice at seeing you in person. A rare sight that has him standing up, mouth widening to a grin when he recognizes you.

“I was wondering who it was that I owed a pair of shoes.”

You smile and take a seat. “I’m glad you still remember.”

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, sitting back down and sliding his documents and files aside. “You could’ve texted me; you have my business card.”

“Can you lend me some money?”

Straight to the point, it catches him off guard and he asks you to repeat it to make sure he heard it right the first time. You reiterate the request for a loan and watch carefully as he leans back in his chair.

“What’s it for?”

“Rent,” you begin slowly, “I have three days before the end of the month when it’s due. And…”

“And?”

“I really can’t think of anyone else to help me but you, Seungcheol.”

His face is expressionless, and you continue in hopes to move him enough to lend a helping hand.

“I’m sorry if me coming here unannounced was rude. Really, I… Jeonghan’s been annoying me and I’ve been ignoring his calls because all he does is ask if I had you compensate me for ruining my shoes that night. In… In my—”

You flourish a hand around the phrase ‘line of work’. “In my line of work, there’s a clause with my agency that states escorts have to take individual calls at least three times a week or else pay is turned over entirely to the management company. I haven’t been paid in the last two weeks and you’re the only one who can help me this time.”

The silence in his office is overbearing, so thick in the air that you nearly make a notion to get up and open the windows until he breaks the silence himself.

“You’ve been ignoring Jeonghan’s calls?”

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble, taking out your phone to show him the call history. “Even have his number blocked.”

The tiniest snort breaks way into a full bout of warm laughter, the same laughter that tickled your insides from your first meeting with him at the Starlight bar. Clearly he is amused by your answer, even delighted at the fact that you’d been ignoring Jeonghan.

“No wonder he’s been sulky,” Seungcheol chuckles. “All because his favorite escort girl wasn’t answering his calls.”

Still laughing to himself, he reaches into one of the drawers and takes out a checkbook. You watch as he grabs a pen from the container on his desk and scribbles an amount onto one of the checks, tearing it out and handing it over once he signs off on it.

“I hope this is enough?”

You glance over the amount written at the top right and hold back a gasp. It was more than enough. Enough to pay for the next three months, enough to pay off Hana’s credit card bill overdue from last month, enough to even treat yourself to some new dresses to wear to work after subtracting the necessary expenses first.

“I…”

“Do you need more?”

“No,” you blurt out, reaching your hand out to take away his container of pens. “It’s… It’s too much.”

An arched eyebrow and his curious gaze pierces straight through you; you fidget a little but proceed to reaffirm your stance on his check.

“It’s too much. I only need enough to pay for this month’s rent.”

“Then consider the rest my compensation for a new pair of shoes.” He gestures to his pens and you quickly hand them back, embarrassed by your rash behavior to someone kind enough to lend money for your troubles.

Picking up the fallen check from across the desk, Seungcheol stands up, offering the much-needed money to you again.

“This check is yours. Even has your name on it and everything.”

Hesitant fingers eventually grab hold of the check and tuck the slip carefully into your cross-body bag. Taking a deep breath, you bow in thanks and he hurriedly makes his way around to hold your hands.

“No, no, don’t do that,” he blubbers, panic settling in his eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to sound mean, really—”

“You’re very kind, Seungcheol.” Rubbing at your eyes, the budding tears of gratitude are flicked away and your lips widen to a grin that uproots the tension and anxiety about making ends meet. “I’m glad I blocked Jeonghan’s number on my phone.”

He laughs at your remark. “Well, it’s not every day I see him sulk and get flustered, so it was worth every penny.

“Are you free tonight, by the way?”

The question catches you by surprise. “Tonight?”

“For dinner,” he explains, “To celebrate being able to pay rent for next month.”

“You want to treat me to dinner with more of your money?”

“Sorry,” you wince, taking a step back, “I didn’t intend to sound so… harsh.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. The hint of the smallest smile dances around the corner of his lips, one that carries a bit more than amusement and awe at your sharp words.

“It’s fine. It means you have nothing to hide from me.

“So dinner at 7pm tonight?”

You nod, tucking the memory of the smile to the back of your mind.

“I’d love to.”

—

Dinner with Seungcheol didn’t just happen that one night, but for (surprisingly) many more consecutive nights. You might have already sampled every single high-end restaurant featured in the local magazines at this rate, candlelight dinners in the presence of one of the richest men in the city with complimentary wine and dessert. Seungcheol also had a habit of greeting you with a gift each time he picked you up from work, the gesture bordering on more than mere friendliness whenever you consulted Hana about it.

“He likes you,” she had said in the simplest explanatory manner, “Maybe he even sees himself as a sugar daddy of some sort to you.”

The term eliciting a nose scrunch and firm shake of your head, you firmly tell yourself that cannot be. Surely it’s anything but that when you technically still owed him money. Why would he want to spend time (and more money) on someone indebted to him?

—

“Bestie, your boo’s calling.”

You look up from the dresser, lipstick in hand. “Who?”

“The one and only Yoon Jeonghan, that’s who.”

Capping the lipstick, you get up and head out to the living room. Hana gestures to the phone still ringing on the coffee table, two pieces of chips in between her manicured fingers. Scooting past her, you scan the screen and a pang of disappointment tickles your bones when you see it really is Jeonghan calling and not someone else.

“Hello?”

“Finally remembered to unblock my number?”

His crisp tone does little to faze you.

“Should I re-enter it to my block list?”

“Well, no.” There’s sniffling on his end, and you overhear a distant sneeze. “I was just checking to see if you really unblocked me like Cheol said you did.”

Tingles tickle your stomach at hearing Seungcheol’s name, but you push it down with a huff.

“You know I’m a woman of my word, Jeonghan.”

“I do. Which is why I’d like you to go out to buy some soup for me right now.”

“What?” You check the time on your phone and it’s already 7:15pm. “I can’t get soup for you. Me and Hana are having a girls’ night out today.”

“Please. You’re the only one who can do this for me.”

“Jeonghan, can’t you just—”

His voice is muffled, and you catch the tail ends of a cough when he resumes speaking into the phone.

“I would stay here to take care of him, but there is a dinner I absolutely cannot miss out on, sweetheart.” Desperation laced in his pleas, Jeonghan’s voice is muffled again and you stand stumped at the cutoffs in the conversation. The phone call then ends altogether, leaving you even more confused when the entire thing sounded like an emergency.

“What the fuck?”

Your phone then pings with an incoming text, complete with pictures of a bedridden Seungcheol next to a mountain of used tissues and the address to deliver the soup to once you bought it.

“Hana,” you begin once you tuck your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. “I can’t go with you tonight. One of my friends is sick.”

◇

You will never forget the look of relief on Jeonghan’s face when he opens the door to Seungcheol’s VIP Suite at Hotel Celestia, a Choi establishment on the other side of the city.

“Thank god you’re here,” he sighs, rummaging into his wallet and taking out two of his credit cards. “Use these if you need anything else.”

Gone before you can even say goodbye, you hold up a hand and wave anyway, closing the door. The lights are on the dimmest setting once you step in, the choice to keep your shoes on a firm one after the fiasco from your first meeting. This time, the suite didn’t hold the luxurious feel it should’ve had for a hotel suite, but rather an emptiness at the lack of another presence besides the coughing heard from around the corner.

“Seungcheol?”

Around the corner, you spot the mountain of used tissues on the floor and see him bundled up in bed. Picking your way through, you set down the container of soup on whatever space is left on the nightstand and slowly place a hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

Somehow you take on the role of a nurse for the remainder of the evening, shuffling from the kitchen to heat up the soup to the bathroom and back after cleaning up the tissue mountain and messy bedroom. Washing your hands diligently after touching all the germs, you pull up a chair and take off the towel on his forehead, feeling his temperature again.

“Not as hot as before.”

As quietly as possible, you lean forward and tap him on the shoulder. Seungcheol stirs, eyes barely open when he feels your touch.

“Jeonghan called me over,” you explain, “I brought some soup, you should—”

He mumbles something you fail to catch, and when he repeats it you realize he’s not calling for you in his feverish state.

Who is he asking for?

Seungcheol blinks, and he quickly shakes his head when he notices you sitting before him.

“H-Hi.”

You offer a wave and gesture at the now-cold soup.

“For you. Courtesy of Jeonghan.”

He nods and you hand over the container of soup, which he drinks straight out of in large gulps.

“T…Thanks.”

Taking the empty container, you nod and set it down before speaking.

“You still have a bit of a temperature, but it’s a lot better than before.”

His eyes more energetic than earlier, Seungcheol shakes his head and looks at you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry you had to… see me like this.”

You cross your legs and fiddle with your fingers, the unknown name bugging your mind. To ask or not to ask, especially when he is unwell.

“Did… Did you eat?”

“Sorry,” you blurt out, standing up from the chair. “I… I have to go.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah, I…” Without looking at him, you grab your purse and hurriedly wave, not catching the last bit as you take your leave.

—

“Rent’s due again, bestie.”

You gesture at the envelope sitting on your desk. “Give that to the landlord when you see him later.”

Hana skips towards your desk and picks up the envelope. A low whistle twinkles through the room at the stack of bills nestled inside.

“You got this from Seungcheol?”

“Jeonghan,” you correct her, “I asked him for a favor and that’s what he gave me.”

“I thought Seungcheol was your new sugar daddy now.”

Picking up a pillow from your spot on the bed, you throw it at her and she quickly dodges.

“What did I say wrong now??”

“He’s just a friend,” you mutter, digging deeper into the covers. “Nothing more.”

“Girl, he was taking you out to dinner every night and getting you all those exquisite gifts. I don’t think that’s something a regular friend would do.”

Poking your head out, you let out a guttural scream and she leaves, closing the door behind her while taking the envelope. No longer in the mood to sleep, you kick the blankets off and sit up. Ever since his sick day, you’d been avoiding Seungcheol like the plague—ignoring his texts, purposely not picking up his calls, using Jeonghan as an excuse whenever he tried to ask you out on the off chance he crossed paths during your other calls. If Jeonghan had noticed you were playing the ghost card he didn’t show it, not one to pry when he was back on your good graces.

A vibration buzzes from your nightstand and you reach over a hand; panic lights up in your eyes when you see the caller id. The phone rings for two more times, then buzzes again, this time from your roommate.

“What is it, Hana?”

“Can you come out here? There’s someone here to see you.”

“Wait, who in the—” You hurriedly get out of bed and change to a set of more presentable clothes. Fixing your hair, you brush out any knots and rush out.

“Is the landlord here early, I saw you take the money…”

Your words fade when you see who is standing next to Hana in the living room.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, holding up two envelopes (the second one equally as thick as the one she took for rent). “He said I can have another envelope of the same amount if I can get you out of your room.”

She scurries away before you can scold her for taking bribes and you sigh, a deep breath echoing across the four walls.

“Why are you here?”

Seungcheol adjusts the collar of his white silk shirt. “You wouldn’t take my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy enough to ghost me but free to spend time with Jeonghan?”

The barb in his words is prickly, and you take a step back when he moves forward.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you murmur, unable to look him in the eye. “I mean, technically no.”

The gentlest of touches rests on your face and you muster the courage to look at him. Concern pools in his eyes as he studies your silence, lips contorted to a frown.

“You can tell me,” he reassures you. “You know I’ve never said no to you.”

The kindness unusually sharp, it digs into your heart and you wince at hearing his words.

“You need to leave.” Pushing him aside, you walk to open the front door and look away. “I can’t do this today, Seungcheol.”

“Wait, but—”

“Please.” You stand your ground. “You need to leave.”

He gives in, head low as he takes his exit. Once he fully passes through the threshold between your apartment and the hall, you slam the door shut and slump to the ground. You didn’t know why you were so frustrated at him over a name. This angry curiosity you’ve been carrying around since that day…

Not jealousy, no. But it festers like an untended wound, threatening to consume your insides the longer you leave it unchecked.

“God, this fucking sucks.”

◇

“Cheol brought these for you.”

You gloss over the Celine handbags, trying hard to not stare at the vintage pink one that had been out-of-stock for weeks. You mentioned it to Seungcheol once as an off-handed comment when he took you to the store to get you a gift, wistfully staring at the empty rack when the saleslady regretfully informed him they were out of that color for the bag. He promised to keep an eye out for it and apparently had taken it to heart, finally managing to get the pink one you wanted so long ago.

“The smaller leather ones are very you,” Jeonghan muses, holding up each one in curiosity. “He knows your taste.”

“I don’t like this brand anymore,” you lie, shaking your head when he offers them your way. “Give them to your other girlfriends.”

He waves his hand, and one of his household staff comes forward to take away all the handbags.

“You know I’ll only keep them here until you’re in the mood to take them home.”

Glaring at his cheekiness, you scowl and he slings an arm over your shoulders.

“What did Cheol do this time to mess up your pretty smile?”

“He… You remember the day he got sick?”

“Yeah.”

“He… He was calling for someone else. It was a girl’s name, but I didn’t recognize it.”

“…Then he still hasn’t forgotten about her.”

Jeonghan notices your tense posture and sighs.

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“But,” you begin, unable to hide the tremor in your voice. “But… Don’t you know a little… a little bit? Can’t you tell me a little bit?”

“I can’t.” Jeonghan releases his hold on you and stands up. “It’s really not my story to tell.”

Not even the puppy-dog eyes that usually worked wonders proves effective in prying open Jeonghan’s mouth, rendering you hopeless while pouting on the couch. He notices and takes your hand, pulling you up from your seat and squeezing your fingers for reassurance.

“Come on, I’ll treat you to dessert instead.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Not even matcha crepe cake? It’s the newest flavor at the dessert place you like so much.”

Unable to resist, you accept his hand and follow him out.

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

—

Maybe deep down you’d already known a man like Seungcheol would have a story to tell. A story he kept hidden from his closest friends, one he keeps close to his heart with vulnerabilities he has only shared with one other person.

You knew you weren’t that person, yet you couldn’t help but want to be the more you ruminated over the mysterious name. The her he clearly still wanted to see again despite their extremely publicized breakup. She, who moved on and was now married to the heir of one of the richest real estate firms in the country. The paparazzi periodically did feature spreads on whatever snippets they managed to snap of the couple’s private life: brunches, cocktail parties, pool fun, outings with their two children, etc. They looked happy, smiles all around.

He had been happy for her. When you first brought up the magazine to him after doing your own research on the matter, you hadn’t caught the look of wistfulness in his eyes then, but now…

Now it made sense. The silence, diverted glances, abrupt changes in topic, it all now made sense.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Startled, you turn your head and find yourself not at home, but in a private room at the Starlight bar. Just short of knocking the cocktail glass off your neighbor’s hand, apologies trickle from your parted lips and he chuckles.

“Jeonghan, you didn’t tell me she’s the airhead type.”

“She’s usually not,” Jeonghan muses, waving a hand in front of your face. “What are you thinking about?”

Ignoring his prying, you turn to his friend and offer another wave of apologies, raising your own glass of water.

“Buy her a drink, Joshua,” Jeonghan nags, “It’s the least you can do for taking my favorite girl away from me.”

“No, it’s okay,” you blurt out, not in the mood to drink tonight. “I’m not—”

“She doesn’t want a drink,” Joshua retorts, swinging an arm around your shoulder. “I’ll keep her company while—”

The door to the private room squeaks open, interrupting Joshua mid-sentence. You look up and freeze, not expecting to see Seungcheol of all people standing by the entryway. Jeonghan notices the growing tension and stands—ushering Seungcheol to sit—but Joshua is oblivious, grandiosely introducing you to his friend (whom he didn’t know you were already on very familiar terms with).

“She’s with me tonight,” Joshua smiles, closing the gap between you and him. “But she doesn’t seem to be warming up to me.”

Seungcheol turns to you with his eyebrows raised.

“Are you and Joshua together now?”

It rubs you the wrong way, the way he asks the question. Why was he so quick to assume you already had somewhat of an intimate relationship with Joshua when you just met the guy today?

Jeonghan spots the fire in your gaze and extinguishes the flame with an interjected “No”, slapping Joshua’s arm off your shoulder and squeezing himself in the middle. One hand rests on your thigh, a comforting touch that helps in stilling the building anger and snappiness crawling up your throat to be spat out.

“Sorry, she’s with me actually,” Jeonghan smiles, “I’ve been booking her consistently since—you know—since you stopped asking for her.”

“Wait, she’s not—”

Joshua holds his tongue after seeing the sharp glance from Jeonghan, promising to call you again as he excuses himself to leave the tense atmosphere in the room. The trio of you, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan now alone, Jeonghan is the first to break the silence.

“I’m going to let you and Cheol have some time to sort out your problems,” he says to you, standing up and shaking his head when you tug at his sleeve for him to stay. “Call me when you’re done.”

You throw a glare at him, one that Seungcheol overlooks as he bids goodbye to Jeonghan.

Not liking the situation one bit, you reach for Joshua’s glass and down the margarita in one go, the burn in your throat akin to liquid courage for the upcoming confrontation.

“You scared off both my clients,” you begin with a huff. “Just because you’re also rich like them doesn’t mean—”

“Then I’ll pay triple for tonight,” The words slide off Seungcheol’s mouth smooth as honey. “You won’t be missing out on the two of them when I can pay for their share as well as mine.”

He scoots closer while you instinctively slide to the left. The gesture brings a scowl to his face and your hands curl into fists.

“I do not appreciate being bought out like that, Mister Choi.”

“I didn’t…” He licks his lips. “You were the one who kept avoiding me!”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you lie, angling your body away. “My schedule has been fully booked each time you reached out.”

A heavy sigh leaves his mouth. Clearly he picked up on the fact that you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

“Can you at least tell me when you’ll have more free time to meet with me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Seungcheol.”

He pauses, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees.

“Care to explain why you think that way?”

You bite your lips, glancing back at him. He is as patient as ever while waiting for you to answer, and that is when you knew you had to come clean for your own sake if not his own.

“I… Who was it you were calling for that night you were sick?”

It’s funny how you can practically see the gears turning his brain, Seungcheol practically an open book to everyone around him. Never one to keep secrets (or someone able to keep a secret), but clearly even those who are usually open books have their own share of hidden chapters within the pages.

“I didn’t know,” he begins carefully, eyes downcast. “I didn’t know Jeonghan had called you to stop by.”

“Are you still thinking of her?”

“…No. She is happily married now.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything the first time?”

He tears his gaze away from the floor, fingers digging into his knuckles as tears pool in his eyes.

“Because I’m scared you won’t believe me when I say I feel nothing for her anymore. I’m scared of how much I don’t want to lose you when I realized I was starting to fall in love again.”

—

Much to Jeonghan’s disappointment, you had gone home with Seungcheol that night, his hand ever so tightly grasping yours while leaving Starlight. Making sure to let your roommate/best friend know of your whereabouts, you send her a quick text that you’d be staying at Seungcheol’s place and she all but replies back with a “:P”. No doubt her dirty mind expected more than just a good night’s sleep.

Nothing happened that was out of your expectations: an offer for a fresh change of clothes, shower, a late midnight snack (he had virtually nothing in his fridge but you weren’t hungry anyway), and sleeping in his bed while he set up camp in his study. You sense he wanted to elaborate on where things had ended in the bar, from the constant side glances and hesitation at even touching your hand when he brings over a clean shirt and pair of gray sweatpants in exchange for the pink pleated mini dress you chose to meet Jeonghan and Joshua in. It’s one thing to hear him out, but another to recharge and clear your mind after such an eventful night with some space and well-needed sleep.

Sleep was minimal, perhaps the enormous size of his bed daunting and keeping you awake with the thought of him tucked away in his study. He looked no better (dark eye bags and large yawns) alongside the messy bedhead and nearly bumps into the bathroom door if you didn’t alert him after freshening up.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

You turn around from your seat by the open kitchen, mug of instant coffee in hand.

“I slept…okay.”

Yawning, he nods at hearing your answer and shuffles towards the fridge. His hair still sticking up on all ends, you have half a notion to get up and run your fingers through his dark locks to smooth it out when hearty chuckles echo across the kitchen area.

“Something wrong?” you ask, getting up and placing down your mug of coffee by the sink.

“I…” Seungcheol turns to face you with a sheepish smile. “I have absolutely nothing in my fridge for you to eat.”

“That’s fine. Jeonghan actually bought me dinner before we went for drinks at Starlight.” You grab the mug and take another large sip. “Plus, I usually skip breakfast on weekends anyway. Coffee is enough.”

The refrigerator closes softly and Seungcheol holds up his hands in defeat.

“Guess I’ll wait until later to eat too, then.”

“What, no, that’s—” You usher him out of the kitchen and towards his room. “Go change.”

“Change?”

“Get changed,” you clarify, “I’ll treat you to breakfast.”

—

You knew fast food was the last thing on his mind when you pull Seungcheol into the McDonald’s at the corner of the street.

“What is this place?”

Your mouth drops. “Choi Seungcheol, are you telling me you have never been to a McDonald’s before in your entire life?”

He returns an awkward grin, interest reclaimed by the large screen for self-ordering.

“You just tap here and then click pay?”

The disbelief is thick in your voice as you mutter away while ordering two Big Macs and French fries, ignoring his murmurs of awe at all the choices available on the menu.

“What’s this one?”

You follow his finger at the Happy Meal. Of course, he would ask about that one.

“That one comes with a toy.”

His eyes light up at the mention of a toy, and you aren’t surprised when he taps to include one Happy Meal into the order. Refusing to let him pay, you beat him to it once the order is confirmed, delegating him the responsibility of finding a vacant table while you wait to pick up the food from the front. The wait is thankfully not too long, and you spot him sitting at one of the tables by the window while looking extremely out of place in his purple dress shirt and black slacks.

“Do you always dress so formally?” you speak up the moment you place down the tray of food. “Even for something as simple as eating fast food?”

“I didn’t know you’d be bringing me here,” he replies, tunnel vision for the red box containing the Happy Meal. “This is the one with the toy, right?”

You nod, hiding a scoff as you watch him tear into the box. His eyes shine at the sight of the blue toy car and its driver, excitement prickling in the surrounding air.

“Wow,” you marvel at the large shell and ferocious jaws of Bowser, the character Seungcheol received in his Happy Meal. “Of all the ones to get from the Mario franchise, you get the one that’s the evilest.”

The shock on his face catches you by surprise, and you can’t find it in you to tease him anymore when he looks devastated at the idea.

“I’m just playing, Bowser’s cool in his own way.”

“He’s going in my office,” Seungcheol murmurs, tucking the toy away into the front pocket of his slacks. “Keep me company during the day.”

“Suit yourself.”

He reaches hesitantly for one of the burgers and unwraps it. You watch his reaction and snort at the look of awe on his face as he takes one, two, three more subsequent bites. It was the first time you had seen anyone so excited over fast food—let alone something as trivial as McDonald’s.

“May I?”

He hovers a hand over the French fries and you hand him the entire container.

“Eat your heart away.”

He must not eat fast food often, judging from the glow in his eyes. The Big Mac demolished in seconds, now it is the French fries that are tossed into the cave that is his stomach. You can feel the curious gazes of those around your table and continue to pick at your own burger, small bites all throughout.

“That was delicious,” Seungcheol hums, leaving no crumb of potato behind. “I can’t believe I’ve never had this before.”

“Fast food is common for people like me,” you laugh, crumpling the wrapper once you’ve finished eating. “It’s not as exciting as you’re making it out to be.”

He follows you like a puppy when you get up and clear the table, tossing the trash and putting the tray away before opening the door for him. The passerby all stare at Seungcheol like he’s an alien, the formality in his outfit sticking out like a sore thumb especially from the entrance to a McDonald’s. You try to walk fast to not catch attention, but the sudden grip on your forearm catches you off guard and you pause.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still here.”

“People are staring,” you sigh, easing his hand off you and interlacing your fingers to his. “Let’s go before they start asking questions about what someone like you is doing near a McDonald’s.”

The walk somehow turns into a window shopping adventure, Seungcheol stopping every few feet to stare at stores that catch his eye. He pulls you in after him despite your protests, making a lap around but not buying anything like he usually does. Clothing, makeup, even the local coffee shop catches his attention like Christmas had come early this year. Each time you humor him by letting him pull you in, no different from the role of a parent monitoring an excited child.

It stings your heart when you realize he was having fun because he probably never had the opportunity for such simple pleasures in life. Eating fast food or window shopping were things of minimal priority to his daily schedule, not like meeting with important clients or managing an entire social hierarchy of employees and upper management as CEO to one of the largest hotel chains in the city. People always say the sky’s the limit, but right now it feels as though there is an astronomical distance between his world and your very own.

So how is it possible for the silver spoon that is Choi Seungcheol to fall in love with you, the dullest utensil in the tray?

—

It would be unfair to assume he wasn’t interested in you.

Nearly everyone said the same: he liked you, he loved you, he clearly saw you as more than a friend or even one of the girls he chose to spend money on. He didn’t act like a mere sugar daddy who dropped thousands on you without breaking a sweat. Seungcheol had pretty much confessed the night he caught you at Starlight, no Jeonghan for you to use a shield to deflect to.

“So do you like him or not?”

You roll your eyes at your roommate, unamused at her habit of barging in without knocking.

“Hana, do you want to take him off my hands instead?”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “I’m not against the idea, but ask anybody and they can see he only has eyes for you.”

Scoffing, you turn your attention back to the open closet and settle on a black mini dress with a contrasting white collar. The bow tie and sleeves adding just the right amount of elegance, you pick it up and show it to Hana, who wrinkles her nose at seeing your choice.

“It’s cute and all, but sleeves?”

“What would you pick?”

She eases herself into the array and sifts through. Fingers expertly parting each hanger, she snaps her fingers once she finds what she deems worthy to wear for the night: an off-shoulder red satin dress with a high slit.

“No,” you refuse, ignoring her objections. “It’s just a cocktail party.”

“Then you gotta look the part! Who goes to a cocktail party wearing something an office secretary would wear?”

Against your protests, your roommate insists on her dress of choice, even to the point of placing herself directly in front of your closet door so you had to physically push her aside if you wanted to switch dresses. Knowing how stubborn she can be…

“Okay, I’ll stick with this one,” you sigh, holding up the red dress. “Black heels good?”

She nods in confirmation, giddiness taking over when she spots your makeup bag on the dresser.

“Can I do your makeup? You’ll catch everyone’s attention for sure once I’m done with you!”

“…Just don’t go too crazy.”

—

Sometimes you wish you weren’t so kind.

There was clearly a reason why your instinctively felt the urge to follow a monochromatic color scheme. The sea of black suits and white gowns said it all, yet here you are in a shade of red that stuck out like bloodstains on a clean towel.

Did she know ahead of time? Impossible when she hadn’t even been invited.

Was the universe out to get you? Most definitely.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Looking up from your glass of champagne, you take the offered hand and squeeze. Jeonghan’s eyes widen, surprised at your iron grip.

“Hey, I’m not the one who didn’t follow the dress code.”

“I was coerced into wearing this,” you groan, throwing up your hands in defeat. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Well, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

Snorting at your half-hearted thank-you, Jeonghan offers a hand and you take it, comforted by his presence as he introduces you to the other guests. Not one to socialize much at these types of meet-and-greets between the elites, you plaster on the politest smile you can muster and let Jeonghan do all the talking. Occasionally you hear your name mentioned and chime in a word or two, but anyone can see your mind wandering if they look closely, costing you your first mistake of the night when your fingers lose their grip on the half-empty champagne glass. The spilled liquid leaves a stain on your shoes, déjà vu eliciting a thin smile at the memory of walking home barefoot while holding a pair of smelly, vomit-clad heels.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, I…” You smile apologetically. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Go that way and then take another left at the corner.”

Apologizing again, you pick up your dress and quickly walk towards the left. Curiosity drips from the onlookers of the red dress flapping about, but luckily no one stops you on your way to the bathroom.

No one except…

“You’re here.”

Your brain comes up empty while trying to think of an excuse to get away from Seungcheol, and he offers an enthusiastic grin at seeing you at the party.

“Did you arrive with Jeonghan?”

“He sent his driver,” you answer, shuffling your feet anxiously. The sign to the ladies’ room is practically two leaps away. “Saw him just a few minutes ago actually.”

“I see.”

Before he can continue, you rush past him and nearly collapse onto the tiled floor once you enter the bathroom—sinks empty and stall doors open. Slamming your hands on one of the sink counters, you take a deep breath and catch sight of your winded reflection in the overhead mirror.

“I look like shit.”

Checking to confirm the stalls are void of others, you give yourself a quick pep talk and take more deep breaths, steadily calming down before fixing your makeup. Another glance at the mirror, and you’re surprised to find Seungcheol still standing where you had left him once you leave the bathroom.

“You’re still here.”

He looks up from his phone, shoulders relaxing before tucking away the device.

“Wanted to see if you were okay when you practically sprinted in there.”

“I’m okay,” you hum, brushing off imaginary dust from your arms. “Just needed some air.”

Nodding, Seungcheol then extends an arm for you to hold.

“May I have this dance?”

You pause. Instinct tells you to pull back, but the earnest look in his eyes is too strong to resist. Slowly, you take his arm and the smile on his face practically lights up the entire room despite the dimmed glow of the ballroom fixtures. Dimmed lights, slowed music for a waltz, the ambiance almost rivals Cinderella’s first dance at the prince’s ball.

But you aren’t Cinderella, and you break away before the magic can end at midnight.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head. “I—”

“Is it because of my ex?” Reaching into his back pocket, Seungcheol takes out his phone and taps on the screen, pulling up a text thread for you to see.

“I was just telling her I finally found someone I want to be with,” he continues, “She wished me good luck right before I asked you to dance.”

“Why me?” you sniffle, holding back the brimming tears in your eyes. “I’m… I’m just another escort.”

“You’ve always been honest with me. That’s more than what all the other girls could ever offer when I’m just another bank for them to extract money from.

“And you even showed me McDonald’s,” he adds with a hearty chuckle, “It was the first time someone has ever treated me to such a delicious meal.”

“Seungcheol, that’s—”

“I love you,” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you for just being you.”

—

The heart knows what it wants. People can get muddled by what they see and what they hear, but the heart ultimately knows what it wants. And in trying to convince yourself otherwise, you had somehow gotten hold of Seungcheol’s heart before you knew you even wanted it.

“Can you please go see him?”

“I can’t.” You bury your face in your hands. “I don’t want to know how he thinks of me after I walked out on him like that.”

Hana rolls her eyes, not understanding your self-induced predicament. “The guy literally told you he loves you.”

“So? He’s someone who can have whatever he wants with a snap of his fingers when I’m just a—”

“Don’t you start calling yourself a nobody when you’re not.”

The remainder of your sentence falls short. Just like her to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“Enough about him, then,” she sighs, taking your hands and swinging them ever so slightly. “Are you certain you want to terminate your contract with the agency?”

“I really can’t do this anymore.” The risk of running into Seungcheol when you were contractually bound to serve others like him is too much for your mental health to withstand. Even though he was totally the type to fill your schedule exclusively for his company so others couldn’t book you, your conscience couldn’t live with the notion of him throwing even more money your way when you technically left him hanging after he confessed his love for you. “I’ll figure something out if things don’t go through, but I really need you to start budgeting and saving for the end of the month to pay for rent.”

“Okay, Mom, I won’t buy new clothes or bags when you have extras in your closet for me to borrow.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake out of her hold and take the lead in heading inside the building that housed your escort agency. To your surprise, the usually empty lobby is filled with boxes and lines of people filing in and out.

“What’s going on?” comes the curious question from behind you. “Looks like a shitstorm in here.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, not knowing where to look at the elevator doors that continue to open and close with movers coming down with furniture and other fixtures to move out. “It seems like the entire place is shutting down.”

“Does that mean the agency is also…”

The two of you exchange a glance and make way towards the elevators, squeezing through the movers to find an elevator heading up rather than down. Once the doors open at the fifth floor, you follow her out and don't know what to make of the now vacant space that used to be the escort agency.

“What on Earth…”

Stripped bare of furniture and other knickknacks such as the familiar plants and backboard listing each escort’s daily scheduled “meetings”, the place reminds you of a freshly renovated office space ready to be leased out for a new term.

“Are we jobless?”

You don’t know how to answer the question, still processing the sight of the vacant agency when low murmuring catches your attention. From down the hallway, you spot none other than Jeonghan and the conniving witch who had conned you into signing the escort contract in the first place walking your direction. Hana puts up her middle finger on sight, but lowers her hand when you usher for her to step out before things get ugly.

“Aren’t you meeting with that one guy today? What’s his name, again, Jun?”

“I can just cancel. He’s kind of too quiet for my taste.”

“It’s not right to bail when he already paid upfront,” you convince her, “I’ll ask Jeonghan what’s going on and update you in the evening.”

“But—”

“I know you’ve been eyeing one of my Celine bags; have this Jun take you on a shopping spree to get you one.”

Already knowing she’s sold on the idea of using her date as today’s ATM machine, you shoo her away and watch from behind a corner once Jeonghan and your “former boss” stop by the front entrance. Picking up hints of an alleged “takeover” and “waste of money”, you hold your tongue until Jeonghan is alone, debating whether to reveal yourself from your hiding place when he places a hand over his mouth and coughs knowingly.

“I saw you from a mile away, sweetheart.”

You stand from your crouched position, wincing at the slight numbness in your legs.

“What’s going on? It’s completely empty here.”

He smiles, tilting his head back at the sight of the empty space.

“I bought the place!”

“You what?”

“Technically, my name was used to buy out the agency,” Jeonghan clarifies, chuckling at the absurdity of cleaning out an entire establishment with his money. “It was a completely one-sided proposal but I can’t believe it still went through.”

“Who asked you to buy out this place?” You try your best to not cry but the water in your eyes is already pooling along the corners. “I… We… How am I supposed to pay for my living expenses if I’m suddenly out of a job?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not a bad thing—”

“What would you know?” you yell, fed up with the whims of the wealthy. “You don’t know what it’s like to live paycheck by paycheck! You and your friends are silver spoons from the very moment you were born! I am sick and tired of being toyed with like—”

Jeonghan reaches a hand into his blazer and thrusts a business card in front of your face, successfully shutting you up when it drops onto your outstretched hands.

“Here’s the contact for the new owner of the building. Go talk to him if you need someone to yell at because that person is not going to be me.”

—

“Please wait here. Mister Choi will meet with you shortly.”

You nod awkwardly, thanking the receptionist after she sets down the requested cup of coffee. Leaving the coffee untouched, you close your eyes, praying your guess on the identity of this Mister Choi will be proven false when you hear the approaching footsteps. Not daring to look up, you open your eyes and grab the coffee mug, nearly staining your white dress with splashes of mocha from the quick swipe of your arm.

“I can have someone bring in a new dress if you need it.”

“Why did you do that?”

A scraping sound against the tiled floor, and you manage to lift your head up at the figure that takes the empty seat before you.

“Do what?” Seungcheol asks innocently.

It’s irritating, the subtle smirk on his face. The corners of your mouth twitch and he notices, leaning forward with his hands clasped together.

“You know what you did,” you grumble, refusing to entertain his antics. “Mister ‘I just bought out your agency because I have the money to’.”

“For starters,” he begins, knocking a hand on the table. The silver ring sitting on his pinky catches a glimmer from the faint sunlight, eliciting the memories of drinking tequila with him at the bar. “I didn’t buy out the building entirely for you. It was a business decision agreed by my board of directors to expand the hotel chain.

“Secondly, the proposed amount for this building and clearing out its tenants has no relation to you when Jeonghan was willing to pay half as a personal favor.

“And most importantly,” Seungcheol murmurs, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing other men just to make ends meet, so I did what I had to.”

You sit speechless, not knowing what to say as he gets up, eyes downcast.

“Even if you don’t choose me, I still want you to be happy. Of course, after I calculate the exact amount of compen—”

His eyes widen at the sudden tug on his sleeve, and you get up from your seat, snaking your arms around him before he can slip away.

“Why do you do the things that you do for me?”

He chuckles, turning around with a gaze full of love and adoration. Paired with the hints of the dimples in his grin, you finally realize he’d given his heart to you long before he even knew he had already done so.

“Because I love you and want you to be able to do the things you want to do. You mentioned you initially wanted to be a model, so I’m planning on turning this building into a modeling agency for you to pursue that dream.”

“Choi Seungcheol, you—”

He shakes his head, pleased that you hadn’t reprimanded him. “My board approved the acquisition, but ultimately I make the final call on how to repurpose the building.”

“I hate this,” you mutter, “I hate you for doing all this for someone like me.”

“You hate me?” he echoes. “Should I make a call to resell the building, then?”

Unsure if he’s joking or serious, you hit him lightly and he takes it with a warm laugh, a sound that tugs fondly at your heartstrings.

“I love you.”

—

“So when’s the wedding?”

You nearly choke on your drink and your best friend/roommate snorts, not understanding your reaction to her question.

“You and Choi Seungcheol have been dating for almost a whole year now. Men like him are bound to have butterflies fluttering around trying to get some of that good stuff.”

So much has happened since the events prior, from the initial meeting over a soiled pair of heels to avoiding him like the plague when you found out he loved you and even bought out your contract from the escort agency for you to be free from their shackles. Not one to take anything for granted, you made it clear to him from the beginning that it was never about the money, but he liked to think of it as an additional way for him to show how much he loved and wanted to take care of you in the blossoming relationship.

“You really should put a ring on it so people know he’s yours.”

“Hana, don’t you think it should be the other way around?” you refute, scowling at her assumption at marriage being a surefire happening. “I mean, Jeonghan still claims I have every right to choose someone else until I’m officially not single anymore.”

“Please, your Seungcheol will be out for blood if Jeonghan tries anything funny.”

You snuff out the cough growing in your throat, fully aware of Seungcheol’s slight possessive streak.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The gloating look on her face says it all, but you take a pause on forming a rebuttal when you feel the vibration of your phone against the nightstand. Sensing you wanted privacy, she closes the bedroom door behind her when she exits and you pick up to a breathless sounding Seungcheol on the other line.

“Are you running?”

“C-Can you meet me now?” he pants, sharp intakes of breath in between each word. “I… I got something… something important to give you.”

“Where?”

“I’m actually—”

The line cuts off before he finishes his sentence.

“Seungcheol?”

No response, and you rush out of your apartment, frantically pushing the button on the elevator that eventually takes you all the way down to the main lobby. He never broke off midway through a phone call, what if—

“Hey.”

You bite back a retort, balling your hands into fists and run at full speed, punching Seungcheol square on his chest when you spot him standing by the bus stop at the corner of the block from your apartment building.

“You idiot! I thought something happened to you over the phone!”

He frowns, not understanding your panic until he offers the cracked phone in his hand towards you.

“I dropped my phone mid-conversation on the ground and the screen cracked. Is this what you’re referring to?”

“Unbelievable.” You pull away, but he grabs your hand just as you fall out of reach.

“Cute,” he smiles, his other hand taking out a small box from the pocket of his white jacket. “Here’s a gift for being so worried about me.”

“You called me out just to give me a gift?”

The raised eyebrow does little to erase the growing pout on his face, and you roll your eyes before taking his gift, revealing a stunning flower-shaped diamond ring sitting within the cushioned jewelry box.

“W-What is this?”

“I’m sorry for not being more formal,” he apologizes, “I had my driver bring me directly to the jeweler when they called and said the ring I wanted was ready for pickup.” Gesturing to his casual white zip-up jacket, blue tee, and matching white pants that completed his rushed morning look, Seungcheol smiles awkwardly and gets down on one knee, catching you completely by surprise.

“I don’t look like a man about to propose, but I really hope you’ll say yes?”

“Choi Seungcheol, this is the most comfortable outfit I’ve seen you in since we started dating,” you laugh, easing the ring out of its box and placing it onto your finger. “I’m not going to say no when you came to me dressed down like this.”

The beaming grin on his face says it all, and you give him a peck on the cheek once he stands up.

“I’ll need to check with my assistant, but if it works for you, we can hold the wedding sometime in… September? Of course, feel free to tell me what ideas you have and I can make it happen. We can book an entire—”

You put a finger over his mouth to stop him from rambling, excitement practically dancing from every inch of his being at the thought of planning the perfect wedding.

“I’m perfectly happy with a simple vacation wedding plus honeymoon.”

“That’s it?” The disappointment in his voice couldn’t be more clear. “Just a vacation?”

“Mhm. Just a simple around-the-world trip will do.

“In fact, why don’t we go right now?”

“Now?” he echoes, “I still haven’t found contractors to revamp the building I bought for you.”

“That can wait,” you groan, checking the sign by the bus stop that announced three minutes before the next bus arrives. “I’m not in a rush to start work when I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts!” The bus rolls closer and closer until it is only one red light away. “You can make your calls to arrange for passports and everything else on the way to the airport, but let’s go before we miss this bus!”

Waving down the bus driver with a furious wave, you take note of the secure fingers wrapped around your right hand. A comforting yet trusting touch, you know Seungcheol is equally on board with the idea despite the initial hesitation at the abrupt proposition to leave everything behind in his hectic corporate world. Rash and borderline irresponsible when he oversees so much in his business on the daily and has an entire pyramid of people dependent on him to make executive decisions, there’s little to change his mind when he’s finally able to go along with what he would like to do for once in his life.

“You know I’ll go wherever you go.”

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #svt #scoups #svt scenarios #seventeen fanfic #scoups fanfic #i have forgotten how to tag this shall suffice for now

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. this is the fourth part of the spicy stuff. 18+ warnings under cut.

word count: 3.1k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

18+ warnings: minho and reader are extremely horny for each other. softdom!minho. subby!femreader. teasing from minho. fingering. oral (f receiving). minho eats out reader. one violent, mind-blowing orgasm. excessive hair pulling. breast play. minho edges reader a ton. orgasm control. slight themes of possession/ownership. reader begs minho for his cock. PRAISE!!!. pet names (babe/baby, darling, sweetness, baby doll, kitten, good girl, baby girl, nothing degrading tho). brat taming is alluded to. controlling minho. lots of dirty talk. minho is just so down bad for reader it's not even funny anymore- 🤓

a/n: since i start my new full time job next mon, i've decided to speed up the uploading schedule for this fic and finish it before the end of the weekend. so please be on the lookout for the final 2 chapters before mon, everyone!! 😇 hope you guys liked it part... and i'm excited for the completion of this little series of mine~ 🫣 also, minho calling me kitten is literally my entire personality- that man could choke me out to death between his thick thunder thighs and i'd still find the life left in me to thank him ardently- 🥵

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With shaky fingers, you grabbed at your boyfriend, clutching onto his thick thigh. As he all but untangled the impenetrable ball of yarn that had been wound inside of your body for so long, just with his fingers alone.

With a deft thumb, he pressed against your clit, slicking his fingers across your lips before dipping into you. You gasped out, unable to find any form of a word as he pulled moan after moan from between your clenched teeth.

“That’s right,” he said in that whispery, angelic-like voice of his, familiar body so close to yours. “Moan for me, baby girl…”

Throwing your head back against the couch’s cushions, you let yourself fall into the pleasure of it all. Of his slim fingers, pumping in and out of you. So wonderfully, so entirely.

It was a feeling that was better than anything you could imagine.

It was better than any other dream you had had about him-

Better than any fantasy you had ever had in the middle of the night, imagining how it’d all feel.

“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he muttered, lips finding the side of your neck and sucking down on the skin there, imprinting bruised kisses into your very love-starved soul.

You gripped harder at this thigh, feeling the muscle ripple underneath your fingertips. “M-Minho,” your voice trailed off into a breathless whisper, as his two fingers curled up and found that gooey, hot pool of energy just inside of you. “Please… more.”

You were already so desperate to feel all of him - to have all of him - and things had only just begun.

Minho recognized this, letting out a dry chuckle, “Look at you, so precious… already drunk off of me and I’ve barely even started.” His cooing at you made you squirm under his hold in masked annoyance.

He pulled his fingers out after that, ripping a strangled whine from you. You turned in your spot on the sofa, about to protest from the absence of his touch. But you stopped in your tracks upon the realization of what he was doing next...

Hand raising towards his face languidly, fingers running across that perfect, red mouth. Fingers that were drenched with you. Then he was parting his lips, slipping the slim digits past teeth and lapping up the taste of you.

You twitched in your spot, feeling the heat puddle in between your legs more furiously than ever before. A flush bloomed across your cheeks, making your mind fuzzy with want and lust and utter infatuation.

Because he truly was, incredibly hot.

And loving.

And attentive.

He was everything you had ever dreamed of and more.

Lee Minho was all of your hopes and dreams and wants wrapped up in a little pink bow and placed in your hands in the form of a kind, local veterinarian.

“You taste so fucking good, you know that, darling?” He mused after he had finished licking his fingers clean of your essence. His pupils were already widening, cheekbones dimming with that certain kind of debauched swarthiness.

And you utterly couldn’t take it anymore.

So you…

Pounced.

Attacking his lips with a newfound ferocity, swallowing down the groan that bubbled up from deep inside of him at your harsh mouth pressing against his. “Stop teasing,” you whined between clashing teeth, as he bit down on your bottom lip, drawing you closer than ever before. “You little bastard.”

He laughed heartily at that, tearing away from you and stealing the breath right out of your lungs as a string of saliva stretched between your lips. “But oh- it’s so very fun to do…” His voice faded off, as his still-wet hands traveled back down to your legs, playing with the drawstring of your pants once more.

“I don’t fucking care, I-”

Minho’s head shot up then, eyes glazing over in unbidden darkness. His mouth turned down into a stark, displeased frown, “You’re not going to be a problem now, are you, gorgeous?”

His silky voice cascaded across your ears, drenching your entire soul in a vat of fiery desire and chilled flames. Suddenly feeling the power and fight drain completely out of you at the way he leveled such a dim stare your way, you merely nodded your head ‘no.’

“Good, I didn’t think so,” he began, and you could feel his hand coming around the waistband of your yoga pants, slowly beginning to slide them - along with your panties - down your legs. “Because if you did end up acting like a brat tonight, you do understand that I would have to… correct you, right?”

You swallowed around the huge lump forming in your throat, wriggling in your place just as your boyfriend completely rid your legs of your pants and threw them off to the side. “Y-Yes, I understand perfectly.” To be honest, you almost wanted to act out. Wanted to be a brat, so that maybe, just maybe he’d get to fucking you a lot quicker than the current pace he was at. But you had a sneaky suspicion that the more you pushed against him, the more he would just push right back and tease beyond belief. Leaving you edged to eternity and not reaching satisfaction any time soon.

So you stayed silent after that, watching with stuttering breaths and reddened cheeks as Minho slinked off of the couch completely. Like a cat, on the hunt for mischief. He slowly knelt in front of you, and even though your legs were squeezed shut, all he had to do was place two hands atop your knees, and suddenly, they were falling open completely. Beckoning him forward, drawing him in without a single word spoken.

“Been wanting this for so very long,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face into the crook of your knee, pressing kiss after kiss to the skin there. At a gradual pace, he began to make his way down either of your legs. “You- sitting there, utterly unraveling in front of my own eyes.”

You reached out to him, fingers carding through his hair as his head inched closer and closer to your centre. You pulled a little bit at his midnight-black roots, forcing him to stare up at you for a few silent beats, “I love you.” You said, tone featherlike and whispery as his teeth caught on the skin of your right inner thigh and bit down slightly.

“Mmhm- I love you too,” he purred against you, mouth growing dangerously near your exposed core. “Now, are you going to be a good girl for me and let me guide it?”

You suffocated on your breath, feeling it catch painfully in your chest as you stared down at him. He was peering up at you, pupils blown wide with so much adoration and devotion. His cheeks were dusted a strawberry-pink colour, his lips already bruised from all of the kissing. The two hands that he had on either side of your hips clasped a little harsher, short nails digging into your exposed flesh rather deliciously.

He was asking if he could take the reins of the night. If you'd allow him to control everything. And frankly, you'd grant him any wish that he demanded, no matter what it was. So permitting him the simple pleasure of commanding you in bed was no small pain on your end.

“Y-Yes,” you gasped out, fighting the urge to moan right on the spot at the way he was looking at you. At the way that he seemed to crack you open - like a clam found on the bottom of the sea floor. With one look, he was searching into the farthest parts of you, prying and understanding and acknowledging everything. “I’m so good for you- so good…”

Your incoherent rambling trailed off into the air all around you that was growing fiery and thick with so much desire. And your mind blanked completely, as his face finally came upon you, perfect lips imprinting a kiss against your soaked folds.

Immediately, your head was thrown back, resting on the couch as he began giving you what you had always wanted. Or at least, part of it, anyway.

Clutching at his roots, you pressed his nose into you more. You heard him whine out in pleasure at the taste of you. At the feel of you, right there, and so very close. He licked a long stripe up the length of your cunt, hot tongue poking at your clit as he reached the top.

He worked there diligently, swirling the tip of his tongue around the sensitive nub, before raking his teeth around it. You were all but a screaming heap of loose muscles and bones, the curses flowing from your mouth as he lapped up your juices again and again.

“Fuck- you’re so beautiful, kitten,” Minho growled out, his deep, rumbly voice vibrating against you and forcing a violent shiver to coarse down the length of your spine. “Love you… love the taste of you so much.”

Then his mouth was nearing your entrance, tongue dipping into your heat and pulling the feeling out of your body entirely. Your grasp on his hair turned taut, as you pressed his face into you, your legs growing shaky from how well he was playing with you.

Every time he got a taste of you, he rasped out a slur of profanities, completely enraptured by everything about you. Your skin blazed, growing so warm it felt like you were sitting outside on a hot summer day. And your cunt all but throbbed underneath his skillful movements, just aching to find some form of release.

And when you felt one of his hands move, so that his thumb was pressing against your clit, circling and circling, while his tongue continued to slip into your hole, suddenly the room turned soft at the edges.

Mind dimming,

Thoughts clouding,

You could think of nothing else - focus on nothing else - but him.

And the way he was pleasuring you so well.

“I-I’m going to come-” You whimpered, the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes as he pushed you further and further off the edge.

But he didn’t let up, even amidst your confession.

And instead, be continued with newfound vigor.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

His stern command seemed to travel up your core, pooling in your stomach. Before it was washing your entire system with a brilliant light of red, unadulterated passion that made you come undone completely.

All at once, you were yanking on his hair harder than you had ever dared, teeth clenching as you screamed out in pure, mind-blowing bliss. Minho continued working on you, thumb tracing your clit while his lips laved up your taste and his tongue teased your entrance.

You felt your back arch up and away from the couch, as you plummeted down the cliffside, racing at full speed with the violence that your orgasm tore through you. Small tremors shook in your legs, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Minho helped you ride out your high, laving up every single drop that fell from your shivering walls.

Because you had wanted him for so long.

And even still, you wanted his cock to be the thing that your walls were fluttering around.

When your heart rate began to calm down from the furious pounding that it had endured for quite some time, you cracked your eyes open and peeked down between your spread legs to see a smirking Minho. He had a pleased look on his face, a mixture of his drool and your juices coating the entirety of his nose, chin, and lips.

Reaching you, you ran a few fingers across his mouth, cleaning him off as best as you could from your colossal explosion just moments earlier. “You look so pretty when you’re aroused, baby,” you murmured, flashing him an easy smile.

Minho frowned up at you, shaking his head slowly, “First of all, I’m not pretty- and second, you’re prettier.” He gave you a wink, as he wiped his fist across his lips and rose to meet you halfway.

He slotted his waist in between you, and you curled your legs around his hips to accommodate his new position. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his tongue. It was lewd and dirty and so very hot all at once.

When you broke the kiss to take a few gulping breaths, you said, “Yeah, but you are… the prettiest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” You pressed, knowing that it would annoy him. But you liked toying with him. With his feelings and his quick wit and his sometimes short temper.

“I’ll show you pretty.”

Then you had no time to react as Minho was grasping hold of your baggy t-shirt, yanking it up and off of your form. Upon revealing that you had been braless the whole time, he let out a tiny, strangled whine. You caught a short glimpse of the situation in his pants, and how his cock irrevocably stiffened against the soft cotton fabric there.

“These are so pretty- your tits,” he praised, tentative hands reaching out to caress warm palms across your pert breasts.

Your mouth fell open with silent bliss at how good it felt- to have him touching such an intimate, hidden part of you once more.

“Wanted to touch them for so very long,” he started, fingers ghosting over either of your nipples, before circling back around and pinching down on them. Your chest rose and fell quickly with your rapid breaths, as you followed his every move with your eyes. “Wanted to suck on them for so long now.”

Instinctually, your hands were finding their way into his hair again, carding through long, dark locks just as his face neared your exposed flesh. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the middle of your sternum, before pressing light kisses to the skin surrounding one of your breasts. All while his hand was busy playing with the other.

“Every night, when I’d play with myself, I’d imagine that it was you fucking my tits so well,” the confession fell from your lips in a quiet gasp, as his teeth grazed over one of your puckered nipples. When his tongue swiped over it once, twice, three times, your head fell back again, spine arching towards his touch.

Minho’s free hand held onto your hip roughly, nails digging into the skin there as he all but attacked your tits. Biting, pinching, sucking. His hot tongue lit something deep inside of you, causing something strangled and crazed to stir within the confines of your soul.

“Holy shit- you’re so gorgeous,” Minho grunted, gravelly voice cascading out across your skin and sending a fit of butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach. “Love the way you react to me… doing so well for me, baby doll.”

You squirmed under his hold, head thrashing in elation as he moved his mouth and focused on your other breast. The burning sensations that he was drawing from you with just his mouth alone made you delirious.

Made you love drunk,

And insane.

Craving so much more.

More,

More-

More.

You wanted so much more of him.

He was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of. Even if you overdosed, the high you were desperately chasing was surely worth the wait.

You pressed his face closer into your bosom, reveling in the way that his mouth roved over you with practiced ease. And when he came up for air from between your gooseflesh-dimpled mounds, he was a breathless and flushed sight to behold.

“You think you’re ready, baby girl?” He rose between your legs, capturing you in a frenzied kiss that sent wave after wave of glorious ecstasy to course through your veins. You felt one of his hands detach from your hip then, trailing back towards your legs and resting there, just close enough to feel the warmth and wetness radiating off of your core. “Think your pussy is ready for my cock, hmm?”

You choked on a desperate sob, leaning forward and pressing a feverish kiss against his mouth. You were but a mere shaking form of limbs, controlled just by his fingertips alone. Eyes shuttering closed with the painful breath that you took from the tightness in your chest - from the edging and heightened arousal and your previous release.

“M-Minho,” you found yourself pleading out to him, voice a little wobbly from all of the building emotions and feelings deep inside of you. “Y-Yes, please, need you so fucking much…”

He peered up at you, swarthy eyes flashing with a playful kind of mirth, “Then you shall have me, my darling sweetness.” Then he was tipping into you, placing a fervent kiss on your heated forehead.

You held on tight to his proud shoulders, heart fluttering at the sense of his toned muscles rippling under your fingertips as he moved the both of you. As he hoisted you up from the couch, helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he leisurely made his way into your apartment's only bedroom.

It was all so languid and calculated.

His palms, digging into your hips,

Slim digits, imprinting light bruises into your skin there as he carried you all the way.

And the entire time, he never broke your gaze.

Held it there.

Silently,

Knowingly,

Understandingly.

Acknowledging all of your past longings and ambitions.

And realizing that all of it - all of the pinning and long nights - was finally coming to a head.

Because finally, the two of you were going to be as close as could be to one another.

Flesh against flesh,

Body against body,

Moving in synchronization.

You were the murky night ocean tide,

And he was the brilliant half-moon shining high in the starry-lit sky.

Pushing,

Pulling.

But just gently enough that you felt his tug.

It was heavenly.

Lovely,

Attentive.

And you never wanted to stop feeling the way he made you feel, ever again.

Wanted to lock up everything in the pit of your very soul, burying it for a rainy day, or when the world was ending and it was only your memories of him that remained.

Because for so long, he had been but a mere blur of color in the background. A calm, shadow of blues and blacks and whites that stood there, just off to the side, observing and helping without even being asked to.

But finally, finally- he was no longer in the background. And now, the entire focus of the painting of your life was centered on him.

The movement of everything,

The tone of everything,

Revolved around him.

And his unique ways and his smile and his laugh and his touch.

It was all so perfect and romantic and…

Meant to be.

To be continued

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sanjoongie · 9 months

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Blood Whore

Submission #1 for Arousal August held by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband and @taehyungisminee

💋Pairing: Enhypen, Heeseung x Reader (f) 💋Au/trope: vampire au, sex worker au 💋Warnings: blood/biting, neck kink, choking, penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie, cum eating 💋Word count: 953 💋Rating: 18+, MDNI 💋Synopsis: Heeseung decides to pay for a session with a Blood Whore: someone who provides blood and pleasure to a vampire. But instead of being the dominant one in the bed, Heeseung pays for a different session…

💋Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland my darling betas. @flowerboykun @beomgyusbabygirl for listening to me scream about this concept forever ago 😍 ~Arousal August Master list | Next☕~

Your hand wraps around Heeseung’s throat carefully as he fucks you from above. His eyes are red, having already taken blood from you from the crook of your arm. He pants eagerly as his airways are restricted and when you release, his eyes roll into the back of his head. The feeling of you clenching down on his cock while choking him is everything he needed this evening, the dark and sultry light of your room where you take clients.

“Does it feel good, Seungie?” You ask coyly as his thrusts become stuttered. “Feels good to get choked?”

“So good,” the vampire whines. So good, in fact, his eyes swirl, indicating he’s using his powers, and he rewinds time.

You both relive the moment when he hovers outside your room, wringing his hands anxiously.

“Be welcome and enter, Heeseung,” You say out loud, dispelling the vampiric inability to enter a room without being invited.

Heeseung’s beautiful eyes wander around the room and then finally lands on you. Your palms lie flat on the bed, leaning back slightly, watching him watch you. “Did you--” He pauses to lick his lips, “You’re aware of what I need this evening?”

“Of course,” You dip your head in acknowledgement, “I am whatever you need for the evening, Master.”

Heeseung takes a few more steps forwards, stopping in front of your heeled feet. “Please, call me Seungie.”

You blank hard to mask your surprise. Of course, you knew that he had requested to be the one dominated, to be the one played with, but this much submission from a master vampire was almost unheard of in your line of work.

“Come sit beside me, Seungie,” You pat a spot beside you on the bed and Heeseung’s pupils are blown at the nickname already.

You turn his body slightly once he is seated, nose running from the slope of his lovely shoulder to the sensitive skin of his neck. He shivers at the feeling of your nose grazing his skin and whines. “Please. More.”

“Patience, baby,” You murmur.

One of your hands cups the side of his neck and you place chaste kisses, following the path of his veins and muscles in his neck. Heeseung only leans further, allowing you full access to the skin of his neck. The irony that a vampire had a neck kink, but on the receiving end, did not go over your head in the slightest.

“Bite it,” Heeseung whispers under his breath.

With no hesitation, you do what your client requests, biting gently down on his neck. Heeseung cries out. Your eyes shoot down to his crotch and you see that there’s already a wet spot there. “Do you need me to take care of you, Seungie?”

“Please,” Heeseung whispers.

You help him discard his pants, his lengthy cock springing eagerly free from them. It’s nothing for you to lay back on your bed and crook your finger for him to come to you. Heeseung crawls between your legs, humping your bare thigh and crying out at the stimulation.

You put a hand on his hips to halt his motions. “You’re going to come outside of me?” You mock frown, “You’d deny me the pleasure of your cock before you can even bite me?”

Heeseung quickly shakes his head. “No no no.”

You grab the base of his cock and angle your hips so that he can smoothly enter you. You’re already wet, from the foreplay and from some carefully applied lube before Heeseung even entered the room. Once he is inside of you full hilt, you offer him your arm, which he eagerly but gently bites down on, holding it to his mouth. He groans as the blood hits his tongue and he swallows the life-giving blood down. He kisses the inside of your elbow almost tenderly before finally releasing you.

“Such a good boy,” You hum at him and Heeseung smiles like an angel above you at the praise.

Now back to present time, Heeseung’s thrusts are starting to get more erratic. “Gonna come, please, gonna come,” he whines.

“You gonna make a big mess inside of me, Seungie? Gonna give me a creampie and eat it up afterwards?” You speak so sweetly yet dirty to him. You start to choke him again, not giving him the chance to respond.

When you release his neck again, he’s gasping for air but he looks beyond happy and satisfied. “I’ll do it all, just let me come inside of you.”

“Go on,” You encourage him.

You restrict his airways once again, as Heeseung searches out his high. One of his final thrusts tips you over the edge. You let go of Heeseung’s neck, causing him to come as well. You both find your sweet release, gasping and groaning and you feel Heeseung pump you full of his cum.

Heeseung pauses only for a moment to catch his breath and then he pulls out of you. He wriggles his way down your body, putting revenant kisses on your body where your skin is exposed, but ultimately landing with his head between your legs. He eagerly laps at your inner folds, scooping up his cum and yours into his tongue and cleaning you properly. He moans and hums against your folds, almost encouraging his cum to seep from you as you only get more wet from his verbal enjoyment.

“Did I do good, Mistress?” Heeseung wonders, licking his lips of the remnants of your time together.

“A little too good,” You admit with a tiny laugh.

Heeseung’s eager smile shows again. “Sit on my face and restrict my airflow that way?”

Seems like Heeseung’s kink isn’t restricted to his neck, as it turns out.

~Arousal August Master list | Next☕~

#arousalaugust #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #cultofdionysusnet #enha smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #reader x heeseung #arousal august event #topaz's work #❂enha

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Dirty Work 51

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms, trying to comfort yourself as you wait. The front door opens and the only harbinger of your visitors are their footsteps. The grim pall of the house swallows them up as they shuffle over the doormat.

You don’t look over as their figures appear as shadowy blurs in the edge of your vision. You’re too humiliated to face your guests. Not truly yours, but Loki’s. Like everything else; this house, the very couch you sit on, the clothes you wear. Isn’t that what he’d only just berated you for? Taking it all so ungratefully.

“Darling,” Frigga’s the first to speak as she approaches, almost sheepishly, “my, I’d say it’s lovely to see you both but you look dreadful.”

You wince as she nears and shrink down, bending your legs as you long to curl into a ball. You hug your knees and curl your shoulders. She hovers over you, turning to speak to the others.

“You must open the curtains, it’s awfully gloomy in here,” she demands.

Loki mutters but at a grunt from his father, he acquisces. You stare at the black pants as he tears open the drapes, the rod ringing with his efforts. Another figure looms close. Odin shifts and places his hand on the armrest behind your shoulders.

“I see all is in a state of fine order,” Odin proclaims dryly, “you have this poor thing hanging from the troughs–”

“Father,” Loki sneers as he faces the room again. He steps forward, trying to tidy his wild curls, made even more defiant by his neglect. You notice his attire; his shirt is untucked and clashes with his tan trousers. “I will not be lectured.”

“Oh, dear, look at her face,” Frigga lowers herself to sit on the edge of the sofa and touches your arm kindly, “her dressings need changing.”

You avert your eyes and bite down on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten your nose and the peeling bandages. All that wasn’t as dire as the walls.

“Mm, and that isn’t my fault, mother. It isn’t I who would injure her thus. Rather your golden child,” Loki spits. “If you’ve come to argue the point further, I haven’t the time to hear it.”

“Son,” Odin girds, “do not rile yourself with presumptions. We’ve come to make sure you are well, as any decent parents might.”

“Hm, because you’ve always been so eager to visit, father,” he scoffs.

“Eh, Loki,” Frigga squeezes your arm before she stands again, “we thought to share some news to you. In person as it were. You wouldn’t answer the phone but we do believe you deserve to have it straight from us.”

“Oh, what is it now? Are we celebrating the solstice?” Loki folds his arms and lifts his chin, “you can check us off as not attending, thank you.”

“Now, don’t be an ass,” Odin growls, “if you would hear us, you might not have the urge.”

“Why should I listen to you, eh? Did you listen to me? Did you hear me when I walked in bruised to the gills? Did you hear me over that lout’s lies?” Loki snarls, “you made no move to stop me going but here you are, pouting and begging forgiveness.

“Well, let me make it clear, you and that cretin you call your eldest son, will not entangle yourselves in another of my marriages. It will not happen. I told you that morning and I meant it. He is no brother of mine and if you continue to pander to his misdeeds, then you will count yourself two children, not three.”

You tweak a brow and tilt your head as his rant swirls over you. Marriage? Surely, he only misspoke.

“Would you listen?” Odin’s voice booms, echoing around the room as he steps around the couch and punches his palm. “We do count only two children; you and Hela.”

“Right,” Loki says unconvinced, “certainly, you will do your best not to let me share a table with him again. We can pretend nothing happened. That he did not accost my wife. Just as before, it is under the carpet as we stomp it into submission.”

“Wife?” Frigga murmurs in confusion and glances at you. You feel her gaze but don’t meet it. You’re just as confused.

“I mean it,” Odin insists and turns to look at you, “I am ashamed that my son would hurt you, dear. Brute as he is, I cast him out. He is banned from the house and wiped from my ledgers. Should you wish it, I would gladly testify to his guilt.”

You don’t reply. Which son does he mean? The one who chased you through the night or the one locking you in the dark?

“Thor is not welcome in this family anymore. If you hadn’t run away…” Odin faces Loki again.

“Oh, forgive me for my skepticism, father,” Loki grimaces, “you’ve not exactly earned a lot of trust from me–”

“Nor you me,” Odin counters.

“You never gave me a chance,” Loki hisses, “very well then, thank you, oh, great father, for practising an ounce of good judgment.”

“Boy,” Odin wags his finger at his son as he steps closer.

“Boy?” Loki exclaims, “get out. Now.”

“Loki,” Frigga screeches, “enough. We’ve come all the way here to apologise to you and… her, and you are being insensible. Would you hear us?”

Loki rolls his eyes. He keeps one arm across his chest and bends the other to flutter his fingers dismissively, “you kept him in my life. You begged me to look past his slights for years and refused to see them until someone got hurt.”

“Yes, we were neglectful. Willfully blind,” Frigga says sadly, peeking back at you, “seeing you that morning, and now, the bruises, and her… we… we are very sorry and we can understand that it might be too late for all this but we only want to be heard.”

Loki is quiet, roiling as he breathes loudly. He swallows and sniffs, “yes, you should look at her and see what he did to her.” His lip twitches, “and if I had not been there, imagine what he would have done–”

You close your eyes as you feel a weight over you, feel the suffocating heat, hear Thor’s sinister tone, ‘little maid’.

“Stop!” You throw your hands up as your eyes snap open, “please stop, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Frigga spins and once more rests herself on the couch’s edge, “you don’t have to. Please, you’re safe. He won’t bother you again. I’ll be sure of it.”

You knot your fingers together and twist until your knuckles hurt. You can’t look at her, at any of them. You shake your head and shrug.

“As you can see, she is not ready for company,” Loki asserts.

“What I see is she’s being shrouded away in this crypt,” Frigga rebuffs, “she requires sunshine. She needs healing, not paranoia.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been through,” Loki accuses, “how can you know what she needs?”

“I have eyes,” Frigga snips, “darling,” she speaks to you, “would you like some tea in the garden? Just you, I wouldn’t want to infringe.”

You gulp and rub your neck. You nod, “yes.”

“See?” Frigga pets your knee kindly before she stands again, “I won’t tread upon your toes, son, you get her the tea and see her to the garden.” She sidles aside to stand with her husband, “and then you will explain to me this whole marriage business.”

You glance over at Loki, the same question nipping at your ears. Was he confused? Why did he say all that? Marriage, wife? No, prisoner and warden, that’s what it truly is.

✨

Slowly the doom recedes. The warmth of the sun beams down as you keep your finger hooked in the handle of the tea cup. You let the steaming brew go cold as your eyes devour the scenery. The greens, the violets, the indigos, and pinks. Colours all around.

You suck in deep breaths of the spring air, tasting the last dregs of dew and the floating pollen. You hear the council of sparrows hiding in the bushes and watch the pair of doves bobbing across the grass. Bees buzz between the blooming stems and insects flit back and forth through the air. The seasonal renewal is underway as a whole new world awakens.

Beneath the serenity, there is fear. This won’t last. This is just a brief respite from your desolation. A flicker of light in the dark.

So you bask in it as much as you can, for as long as you can. You can’t help but peek over at the french doors and wonder about what’s happening behind them. What is being said? Are Frigga and Odin still there? Is Loki still angry?

You cup your chin and take a sip. This is all you ever wanted. You only wish he would have listened to you. Why must someone else talk sense into him? Why can’t he just hear you?

Your vision hazes as you drift into the peaceful hue. The spring swallows you up and mutes your worries. You cling to that moment, knowing the end will come sooner than later.

The doors open and pierce the spring soliloquy. You look over as Loki steps out. His shirt is tucked in and he’s tried to comb his hair. Still, he looks out of sorts. His eyes are circled darkly and his cheek tics as his jaw clenches.

He watches you as he nears the table, standing across from you as he extends his long fingers to the iron surface. He takes a breath and looks around. He retracts his hand to rest on the back of the chair.

“May I?” He asks.

His request surprises you. That he would even want permission. After all, this is his home, all of this is allotted to you at his whim.

“Sure,” you sit back and let go of the teacup.

He drags the chair out and lowers himself. He bends his arms over the table and his head swivels again, as if searching for something. He clears his throat and turns straight. He stares at you as you peer down at the table.

“It’s beautiful out,” he comments, “the tulips are coming in.”

You nod, “yeah, they’re pretty.”

He exhales and shifts in the chair. He taps his fingertips then weaves his fingers through each other. He stills his fidgeting.

“How is your tea?”

You look down at the cup, mostly untouched. You raise your eyes to meet him and purse your lips.

“It’s fine,” you answer, “what’s going on?”

He circles his thumbs around each other and pushes his shoulders up before forcing the tension out, “I thought I would… come enjoy the garden with you, pet.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“Oh,” he echoes staunchly. “Unless, I am disturbing you?”

You shake your head, “I thought you wanted me to go inside…”

He frowns and lowers his chin, “I…” he begins then unclasps his hands and sits straight. He rests his elbows on the armrests and his cheek strains, “I want you to be safe.”

You nod and look at your lap as you think, “your parents said Thor is gone.”

“Yes, so he has been cast out. For how long, I can’t be certain,” he sighs, “but he is not my only worry.”

“What else—”

“If I’d not discovered your escape, you would’ve fallen and hurt yourself worse.”

“Loki, I… I’m sorry but I couldn’t–”

“And you do not eat when I bring you food. You hardly sleep.”

“What about you?” You toss back as you raise your head.

His lips thin, “yes, what about me. I am just as guilty in all this, I see that now.”

You’re quiet as you consider his admission. It’s a rare moment. Not exactly victory, but a consolation. As much as you can hope for.

“I appreciate all you have done but I… don’t want to be a burden anymore,” you say, “if that’s how you feel about me, I think we’d both be better off if I left.”

He goes rigid and his throat tightens, “pet…”

“Or maybe I could just be the maid again. We could go back to that. That would be okay.”

He huffs and hangs his head. He brings his fingertips together as he seems to argue with himself. Slowly, he lifts his head, “no, that simply won’t do.”

Your face falls, “please don’t lock me up again.”

Your eyes gloss as you pout, begging him wordlessly. He winces as his mouth slants, one way then the other. He mulls on your plea.

He tilts his head one way then the other, stretching out his neck. He slips his elbows off the armrest and grips the chair, pushing himself to his feet. He rolls his shoulders straight and rounds the table. He stops beside you and lowers himself down to a knee. You watch him, confused.

He takes your hand and draws it over the side of the chair. He holds it in his, stroking it as he peers up at you.

“You cannot be a burden or the maid, and you certainly may not leave,” he says, “you are going to be my wife.”

You blink. You’re not sure you heard him right. He squeezes your hand and you look down at his grip.

“Loki?” You babble.

“I haven’t picked a ring, I’m sorry,” he pulls your hand to him, leaning in to kiss it, petting it, “but perhaps you might help in that.” He puts his other knee down and moves even closer, “we will have a lot of planning to do, won’t we, darling?”

He angles to lean his head against your arm, keeping his hand on yours. You’re paralysed. He’s proposing to you but there isn’t any room for your rejection. Like all other things, it’s a command. You have to keep yourself from answering, ‘yes, Mr. Laufeyson.’

You look down at his dark tresses and let out the breath racked beneath your ribs, “I’ve never been to a wedding.” The statement is hollow and numb. You don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles and lifts his head to grin up at you, “well, how exciting that you’re first will be your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #maid au #au

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