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lorelune · 2 months ago

Text

inversion

|| rin itoshi x reader || E/18+ || angst with a happy ending || wc: 7.2k || ao3 ||

Preemptive grief defines your relationship with Rin. Heartbreak is in the nature of your connection. You are forced to reckon with its end.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: eeeeeee this piece is part of a trade i'm doing with beloved @rabbbitseason :3c they asked for angst + rin and i am here to deliver a bruisy piece 🙂‍↕️!!!! he was an interesting (read: slippery) character to chew!! but very fun as well :3c thank you to @suguwu for beta reading this piece and talking through rin's character as well!!! jun's invaluable feedback rlly helped bring the piece together. please read and enjoy something a bit achey my kind reader 💗

CWs: angst with a happy ending, gn reader with afab anatomy, rin is assumed to be 20+ and playing professionally, f receiving oral, missionary, some possible abandonment issues for the reader

You do not mean to fall in love with Rin Itoshi.

Distinctly, you did not want to fall in love with him. Because he is probably not a good lover, nor does he want to be a lover at all. It’s a poor combination. Being enamored with him is a poor way of being.

It’s unfortunate that you have found yourself in this position— hopelessly in love and irrevocably attached to him.

...

Drizzle falls from the sky in a mist. It’s been like this for days, a haze of light rain with thick fog that rolls in during the mornings. You’ve almost gotten used to your hair frizzing up and returning home damp from any outing.

It’s unpleasant. But then again, everything is unpleasant at this moment, so the rain is the least of your worries.

Rin Itoshi is on your front stoop.

There’s a little cement step there that he sits on. In front of your door, just behind him, is a welcome mat. A large, ceramic cat is set just next to the door. As you walk up to your home, grocery bags in tow, you cannot see your normal, friendly guardian.

Instead, all you see is Rin Itoshi.

Stopping in the little walkway up to your small home, you let the rain drench you. Rin looks up from the ground with an expression between a scowl and a pout. His hood is drawn up over his head, but his hair still looks wet. The tips of his shoes are soaked through. Even from a distance, you can tell.

You sigh.

“You’re home late,” he says. His words get eaten by the ambient sounds of the city, and the pittering of rain on nearby roofs.

You raise your arms, trembling with the weight of your haul. “Groceries.”

“Hm.”

You frown and Rin rises.

He takes your bags, taking them from you and easily looping them on a single forearm. He moves aside so you can slip past him, to your door, now able to see your fat-bodied kitty cat protector (who really isn’t doing much protecting at the moment—) and give him a nod of acknowledgement.

Rin makes a sound behind you; a huff. He’s amused. You contend with kicking his shin but decide against it.

Like a lost, wet puppy, Rin follows you inside.

There’s a pair of house slippers for him; there has been for months. The fuzzy fabric of the slippers is patterned to look like big, pink cat paws. You purchased them for Rin as a joke, a gag that you didn’t expect to get a rise out of him beyond a heavy blush, and yet he took to them immediately. His pair sits next to your own slippers like the two belong next to each other.

Rin shuffles behind you.

(How many times have you done this?)

You turn on the electric kettle and put away the groceries Rin has carried inside for you. You mentally plan out your meals for the week and concurrently catastrophize about what the fuck to do with the man in front of you.

He leans against your kitchen counter. His outer layer has been shed, all he’s in now is a (somehow, still damp) white t-shirt and his warm-up joggers. Rainwater still clings to his bottom lashes, dew-like. You lean forward, cupping his face to brush the moisture away. His cheeks are clammy, still so chilled.

(It’s all too tender.)

“You’re cold.” You frown. “Go sit down. I’ll finish making tea.”

“I am sitting down.”

“Leaning isn’t sitting.”

“Close enough.”

You sigh. “I meant in the other room, preferably with a blanket.”

“I’ll wait.”

You sigh, “Fine.”

It’s not worth arguing with Rin.

Rin is so— so— frustratingly single-minded. Motivated in a single direction to a fault. You’ve long since learned that attempting to sway him, regardless of how sensible and sensical of an idea you have, is fruitless. If it doesn’t align with what he has already decided he is going to do, he simply won’t change. It’s something rather immutable about him.

His nature is as stubborn as his thoughts.

(Loving him is so difficult; you wish that you didn’t.)

Rin grabs two mugs (your mugs) while you fetch the tea. It’s the same selection as it always is— your cup of ginger and honey, and his plain peppermint.

You only settle once the two of you make your way to the couch, side-by-side, covered in the worn quilt that Rin likes best. It’s a tawny mix of grey and tan yarn. You picked it up from a thrift store years ago. You never would’ve thought that it would become such an integral part of a pathetic, mutual routine.

Rin is stiff beside you. One glance at him tells you that he’s chewing on his words. He doesn’t tend to— to do that. He doesn’t mince anything that flows from his brain to his lips. Your stomach rolls with a sense of unease.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

(It never is, not really, when this routine is being completed.)

Rin looks at him. His gaze is piercing, crystalline. It lances you. “I’m leaving.”

You know this already; you aren’t supposed to.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“... For how long?” This you don’t know.

“A while.” Rin's hands ball into fists on the tops of his thighs. “Half a year, at least.”

“I see.”

(You feel your world begin to cave in.)

An eerie quiet settles over the room. The rain patters outside, streaking your windows in droplets, obscuring the greater world. It makes it feel like all that exists is you, Rin, and the lucid knowledge that your connection has nearly run its course.

You swallow; it’s audible. “Where to?”

“Europe.”

“Europe’s big. Countries—?”

“Germany, Italy, and France,” replies Rin. “Maybe more.”

The back of your eyes sting. “I could visit?”

“I’ll be busy.”

“... Could you not make time?”

(Could you not make time for me?)

“I don’t know.”

“Hm.” You feel something cold and dreadful coat your insides.

Your tea is cooling down, steam hardly rising from the mug now. You take a sip of it, and hold the mug in both hands, grasping onto the warmth that radiates off of it. The ceramic of the vessel still holds heat, enough to scald your palms. Yet, you don’t put it down.

This big, unspoken thing lingers between you both. It writhes, swirls, like it always does when you enter this routine. There’s always been an impending end date to your connection, even if neither of you could quantify the time you had left together. Rin's career, his ambitions, his nature to not just excel, but crush and break in tandem, have always floated above your dynamic.

This thing would immolate eventually.

(And you along with it.)

...

You end up in your bedroom, the gloomy day sliding into a thickly dark night. You’re not even sure if the moon is out. The room only glows with light from a few soft lamps. The spray of them catches the angles of Rin’s face well. Even with age, his face hasn't hardened all that much. He still has pudge in his cheeks that he can’t shake. It makes him look younger, more innocent, like there hasn’t been a thing in him, forever, threatening to devour him as it craves to brutalize others.

Another part of your routine commences once you enter your soft, kindly-lit bedroom. Sex— of some sort. Today it feels bad. You’re not sure what’s coming other than grief.

Stripping feels like a funeral march. The drizzle that continues to fall outside may as well be a dirge.

Rin pulls his shirt over his head and off. It’s a quiet affair today, though typically it isn’t. On a more normal day, when you aren’t witnessing your romantically entangled decay in real-time, there’s banter. You might rib Rin, he may respond with his own barbed remark that you find a bit silly. It’s fun, despite Rin’s perpetually bruised demeanor.

Today, though, there’s no humor. No jesting. All that’s left is the unfathomable depth of— something behind Rin’s eyes and the ache in your chest that you’re afraid will kill you.

You kneel on your bed, left only in a sweater, goofy-looking socks, and panties. The stupid satiny kind that you think is kind of uncomfortable, but you know Rin enjoys. He leaves his boxers on, coming to rest on his own knees across from you.

Your eyes feel damp, you feel stupid, and can’t make yourself look at him.

“Don’t be a crybaby,” he tells you.

You scoff, the sound warbly and your voice watery. “Like you’re any better.”

(Rin isn’t the crybaby notably. You think he gets close to it sometimes. Maybe that’s just your own wishful thinking.)

(You want Rin to crack; it would make your own fissures less shameful.)

Rin kisses you then like he can hear your thoughts, and kissing you hard on the mouth will extract them from your brain. It does, in a way. He’s warm and familiar. You love him so terribly.

You cup his cheeks in your palms, still aching from your mug earlier. You don’t care. You couldn’t make yourself care as you lean into him, pitching your weight forward. For all the things Rin isn’t good at, he is good at catching you. He bears the weight of you easily, wrapping an arm around your waist and securing you with a hand on the nape of your neck.

He’s so solid. Bigger than he appears. Firm muscle over firm muscle, he’s so entirely unyielding beneath your hands. There are so many parts of him that contradict each other; it’s what drew you to him in the first place. Rin Itoshi has always been a spectacle for you to untangle and know, even if, at first, it was just to satiate your own curiosity about the foul-mannered, enigmatic man he appears to be.

Unfortunately, now, you have untangled Rin. The essence of him has been unraveled in your hands, laying across your palms like sheets of satin fabric— the kind that catches the light and almost shimmers in sun rays and moonbeams alike. Rin is so much more fragile than he appears, tough at some angles, but so bruiseable at others. This knowledge is held by you so intimately, you cherish it, what else can you do?

It’s damning. It’s made you love him.

You stifle a noise against his lips and fall into him more.

In a single motion, Rin has you on your back, laid beneath him while he straddles your hips. He doesn’t stop kissing you. If anything, the leverage has him leaning into you more deeply. It’s suffocating, the weight of his body and him over you. Like it’s bearing down into your soul.

Rin licks into your mouth and you let him.

It’s almost gross when he kisses you like this. Filthy— dirty. He practically plunders the inside of your mouth, running his tongue over the back of your teeth, pushing it against your own, spit dripping out of the corners of your mouth. If you felt like you could be properly romantic with Rin, you might even say it’s a claiming act.

But you can’t be romantic with Rin. Because this doesn’t matter. The physicality you share serves the function of physical release and gratification. You love him and it is useless that you do. These are immutable facts.

(Facts that you hate, despise, and loathe. Why can’t he love you—? Why can’t he— just understand?)

You growl against his lips and shove at his chest.

“Just—” You sigh, turning your head to the side. You can’t look in his eyes or you’ll immolate. “Fuck me already, okay?”

Rin wordlessly presses his forehead against your temple. His hands claw into your hips. He’ll leave bruises, but they’ll never last the six months that he’ll be gone for. You’ll be a distant memory to him by then, you’re certain.

Something awful and far too hot is boiling in your chest.

“No,” says Rin

“No?”

“No.” He repeats, dragging his nose down to your jaw, then your throat.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to yet.”

“Well, get a move on then.” You scoff. The watery quality of your voice has shifted to something sharper, angrier.

“What’s with you?” He sighs out of his nose and it makes you flinch. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like this—” Rin tugs your jaw to face him and holds you there. You’re stuck looking into his eyes, azure and shiny like polished stones. Full of something you can’t name, lest you break your heart further.

(Your delusions are both damning you and saving you.)

Your eyes water; maybe you are a crybaby. “Fuck off.”

Rin kisses you hard again, flattening himself to you. He’s a cage like this, where you can only take what he gives you and—

(Rin gives you everything. Because that’s how he is with things he cares about.)

You feel like you're melting into the duvet as you desperately claw into Rin’s scalp, raking your hands through his hair. A pathetic noise bubbles up from your throat, pours from your mouth into Rin’s, and he takes it in kind. He always does.

(He shouldn’t be reliable, but he is.)

It’s hard to think when he kisses you like this. Rin’s physicality is consuming, like he’s attempting to crush you and absorb you into him. It’s an intoxicating type of connection; it’s part of why you linger within your entanglement. In the moments you’re under him, intertwined with him like this, god, touching at all— you can’t do anything but think of Rin and his attention.

You kick him because he’s leaving— he’s leaving you and he isn’t letting you follow.

Rin grunts at the impact, even though you don’t kick him all that hard. You nip him at the same time—

You’re so angry.

All the dread in you is angry, bitter like bile, and white hot. Preemptive grief, loss that you have to start swallowing before Rin isn’t even out of your arms.

“I hate you—” You tell him against his lips.”You’re awful. You’re the worst—”

Rin breaks away from you in an instant, slamming you back on the bed by the shoulder in a single, decisive motion. It makes your head spin.

“You don’t mean that.”

“And what if I did?” It’s not convincing, your voice is wobbling too much for it to be. You stare up at him, lips curling.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh my god, says you—” You roll your eyes. “You’re the brat here. Just— fucking kiss me—”

“No.”

“Then fucking leave already—!”

Rin holds you steady by the jaw, bowing over your body. You can’t look anywhere other than him. It’s consuming, like you’re being engulfed by a rushing tide.

“Stop. It.” His words are clipped, filled with his own anger. His grip is too tight; you fear he may crush you.

“Choke.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum.”

“So what if I am?” you laugh, the sound too high and airy to be comfortable. “If it bothers you so much, just leave already. It’s not like you want to be here. Does passing time in my bed make it go faster for you, Rin? Getting your last taste of this before you fuck off and leave—?”

“That’s what this is about?”

“What else would it be about!”

Your voice breaks and you close your eyes. God, you don't want to cry, but it feels unavoidable now. All of Rin’s attention, potential vitriol, judgment, and rejection is pointed at you. You might as well fucking die.

Rin is quiet over top of you, like a dark, stormy cloud in its last moments before a thunder crack. Heat lightning crackles between the two of you, but nothing strikes the ground yet.

“It’s better for you to stay here,” he says eventually.

“Why do you think that?” You sound exasperated.

Rin’s quiet again, then speaks like he’s seated at a confessional, and not over your hips.

“You shouldn’t be around me too much when I’m playing,” Rin confesses and squeezes your jaw. “It’s bad enough here. All I’ll be doing is playing soccer—”

“And that’s what you want, right?”

“Yes—” Rin admittance hits you in the chest and you have to let out a steadying breath, so you don’t shatter right there. “And you can’t be there for that.”

“Why?”

Rin lets go of your jaw and you open your eyes.

His own jaw is tight, his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. His eyes are wet, almost like there could be tears threatening to spill into his lower lashes. Maybe you’re imagining it.

“Trust me.” His tone is a bowstring. You’re both ready to snap. “Please.”

A whine echoes from your throat, out of your control.

(You love him and you hate seeing someone you love hurt—)

You can’t help yourself. You tug him down by the shoulders and into you, so he can lay over your chest. He lets you, so easily, and tucks his face into the curve of your neck. He hides there, arms wrapping around your middle, so tightly that you’re sure that you’ll ache there the next day.

It hurts, it hurts— not the pressure on your ribs, but having the atypically unsteady presence of Rin in your arms. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to cuddle, Rin is clingy, especially after sex, but it is odd to see him this visibly upset. It hurts because he’s hurting. It hurts because he’s choosing to leave and telling you not to follow, despite... everything. It hurts so deep in your chest, that you let yourself become so involved and in love with him.

You bury your face in his hair and shake.

...

Rin is bad at protecting people.

It’s a given, knowing his nature and the fact that he had an older brother closely looking out for him for most of his life, makes his ineptitude at protection make sense.

He clearly wants to be. He has the strength and tenacity to bare his teeth and claw, but you don’t think Rin knows which way to direct his fear and grief— whether to inflict wrath on himself, the aggressor, or the person he actually means to protect.

You can’t blame him. Some things, Rin only understands in theory and not in practice. Rin is so highly attuned to feelings but so absolutely atrocious at empathizing. You think— with you— he tried. He even succeeded at points, which makes your own heartbreak feel all that more infectious and virulent.

Your back is laid out over your duvet, your legs cradling Rin’s hips. He has three fingers in you, stretching you out with as much care and intention as he can muster. You can tell by the furrow in his brow, the peek of his tongue sticking out from his lips. Pleasure burns in your core, but the sensation is eclipsed by a well of fondness and grief, drowning you.

Rin slides onto his stomach and hikes your legs over his shoulders. He takes one of your hands and places it into his hair. You knot your fingers into the soft texture of it and tug. He likes when you do that, when you try to take from him. Rin shudders between your thighs, huffing a breath into the pudge of them. He nips.

On another night, you’d scold him and give him a playful amount of grief for it.

Tonight, you want him to bite you so hard that you bleed and scar.

(Would he? He’s so scared of hurting you, even if he doesn’t say it. He is hurting you. A sick part of you wants him to do material harm to you, so you’ll have something tangible to remember him by. An imprint of his teeth in your thigh would be too romantic, maybe. Too much to ask for.)

Rin kisses up toward your cunt, taking his time over the outside of it. He breathes in the scent of you, long and hard, a few times. A wishful part of you hopes that he is committing it to memory.

“Hurry up,” you snap.

“No.” Rin keeps fucking denying you. Haste would make this hurt less. You could speed things up to the inevitable end where Rin Itoshi has thrown this— you— away and you are left alone. Instead, he prolongs it. Instead he is carving a piece of you out, in the shape of himself, the wound never to fill as cicatrix and heal.

You drag him closer by the hair and grind against his face—

“Impatient—” he says against your cunt with a growl. His arms wrap around your hips, holding you down and in place, keeping you from squirming.

It’s needed as he drags his tongue over your cunt, dipping the tip of it into your hole before landing on your clit. He laps at it, at you, humming and groaning as you tug at his hair. The motion you’re allowed lets you just barely grind against his face. It’s not enough contact. You want more, need more, but Rin is only giving you so much.

“God,” you breathe out. “Fuck you.”

Rin practically growls, the vibration of the sound against your sex makes your back arch, a pretty, croaking sound dripping from your throat. He dives into you with more fervor, digging hand-shaped bruises into your hips.

The pleasure comes to you like licks of a flame, just as scorching as they are whimsical. Your toes curl as Rin’s sucks your clit. There’s finesse in his actions. There didn’t used to be, at the start of things, but now Rin knows your body so intimately—

(It feels crushing to know this will be the last time—)

It feels like you’ve been struck.

Never again— this is it—? The last time he’ll be in your bed, between your thighs, in your arms. You’ll never get to share this proximity with Rin Itoshi again. Not this version of him, anyway. You know what the journey that he’s about to embark on will do to him. The Rin that you know won’t exist for much longer, and—

The version of himself that he’ll return as won’t be yours.

(And he won’t give a fuck about you, will he?)

It feels— like you’re going to die. Preemptive grief for a still-living person feels selfish. And yet, you can’t breathe suddenly, even with Rin, present, between your thighs, lavishing you with (fleeting— fleeting!) attention.

You rip your hand from Rin’s hair and cover your face. You can’t look at him. You can’t. Tears are dripping from the corners of your eyes, soaking into your hairline. Your breathing speeds up, painful and raw. Rin is still between your legs.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looming over you once more. You can feel his shadow, more than you can see it.

He grabs your wrists and tries to drag them away from your face. When you don’t budge, he pries them down to your sides. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that you could hide from him.

“Just—” You breathe, staring into the shadows thrown onto your bedroom wall. “Keep going. Please. Ignore me.”

“The last thing in the world I can do is ignore you right now.” Rin squeezes you, less for comfort and more to remind you that he is there. “Don’t be unreasonable.”

“I just want to get this over with—” Your voice wobbles and you squeeze your eyes shut. A sob is trapped in your throat, breaking in an ugly sound. Your wrist jolts in Rin’s grip, desperate to try and hide the noise.

You want to hide this from Rin.

If Rin wants to hide the ugly, poisonous part of him that comes out in his career, you want to hide the lovesick one that has infected you. The one that is shattering, in real-time, at the idea of Rin leaving your bed cold, forever.

“I want to take my time,” Rin tells you. “Let me?”

“And I want you to just get it over with—” You repeat, a sob finally breaking from your lips, fully. Rin noses into your cheek. “Finish breaking my fucking heart already, Rin. Then you can hop on a plane and I can block your fucking number.”

There’s a stall. A beat, then two, followed by a third.

Rin is shaking on top of you.

“Would it be that easy for you?” He speaks with gritted teeth.

Would it?

(No, it would actually be so hard for you to cut Rin off so swiftly. Even if you blocked his number, you’re bound to see him in the news. You don’t even follow football all that closely, but he’s such a household name these days that you’re sure to encounter news of him and his accumulating accolades.)

(If not, you know his teammates. Rin begrudgingly introduced you after the lot of them crossed paths with you enough times. You have a few of their phone numbers. Rin’s mother has your contact information too, from the time that Rin spiked a high fever and you needed her specific oyaku recipe. She messages you photos of her garden now, and asks if Rin’s alright.)

(And none of that is even acknowledging the personal, emotional wreckage that cleaving Rin from your life so swiftly will leave behind.)

“No,” you say.

Rin takes a steadying breath, his breath too warm against your cheek and down your jaw.

“You said,” his voice maybe wobbles, you may be imagining it, “that I’m breaking your heart?”

You laugh, something horrible and pained. “I thought that was obvious?”

He pauses. “Maybe it was.”

God, he’s so shit at this kind of thing.

“You’re awful, you know that?”

And you cry.

You’ve become so fragile in the past few weeks. Imagining this day, these exact moments of fleeting intimacy, like doing so could prepare you in any way for the pain that’s now tearing through you. The fear of losing him is being actualized, and you’re making it worse, pushing him away like this. But what would happen if you held him closer when it’s so clear that’s not what Rin wants?

You tear your wrists from Rin’s grip, taking a great amount of effort to flip and attempt to crawl across the bed. Crying like this makes you feel awful and ugly; you want nothing more than to hide. Rin is frozen, motionless, above you at first, letting you writhe until you get onto your tummy, squirming and clawing your way out from under him.

Then, he bears his weight down on you. He gathers your wrists up again and pins them to the bed on either side of your head. It’s a single moment of strength that immobilizes you flat all over again.

“Rin!” You mean to shout it, but instead, it’s a cracking sob that you have to muffle into the duvet.

He gathers your wrists in a single hand, and pets your hair, like you so often do for him. He rubs circles on your shoulders as you wail into the duvet. Bucking him off doesn’t work, he’s an unrelenting presence, sitting on your lower back, almost laid over you. It’s hard to breathe.

(A sick part of you likes this. Knowing that your blatant pain and struggle are being acknowledged by Rin, held and quelled by him, soothes the part of you that craves his attention so terribly. You love him so much, you feel guilty for these feelings just as much as you feel elated by the touch and care he is providing you.)

“It’s okay,” he tells you. He is not a being meant to comfort, the words sound wrong coming out of his mouth. “It’s okay.”

“You know it’s n-not!”

A fresh wave of tears pours from you. You’re soaking the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he doesn’t apologize either. “If I could give you what you want, I would.”

The sob that you scream into rumpled bed sheets is like thunder that splits the sky.

...

Rin fucks you like he loves you.

He kneels between your legs, holding your hands, thrusting into you at an unhurried, almost reverent pace. Slow and deep, busting up your insides. You’re stretched around his pretty cock beautifully; he told you so.

Each cant of his hips knocks a teary breath out of you. You— you haven’t stopped crying. You’re not sure that you ever will.

Rin kisses you despite the tears and snot, licks your cheeks and mars your neck with mark after mark. His teeth dig into fragile flesh, biting and sucking like he could be eating you, rather than bedding you. It’s a shift in his demeanor— he’s not normally this desperate. Maybe your shattering has made him more lucid to your coming loss.

His hands slip up the backs of your thighs, resting behind your knees. He bears his weight down on you, folding you in half easily. It pushes his cock deeper in you, maybe too deep, but you relish the pain anyway. The pressure of him forces a sound of you, aborted and frail. When you try to cover your mouth, muffle yourself, Rin is pulling your hand away to kiss you.

Rin swallows down every sound, every breath, every bit of you that he can. You press back at him with as much desperation as you muster. He takes and takes, regardless of your tears and jagged edges.

He curses under his breath, tilting his forehead against your own.

“C-Close?” You ask, another involuntary sound being punched out of your lungs.

“No—” He shakes his head.

“Are you lying?”

“No—”

“I’m unconvinced,” you manage to grit out, a bubbling sob creeping up your throat just after.

Rin growls, something in his chest, and thrusts harder, like he’s trying to carve out your insides.

“I—” Rin’s words choke off, pressed against your lips, a frantic edge to it. “I don’t want to be done yet.”

You both freeze.

Rin’s as deep in you as he can be, his hips pressed to your pelvis. Every bit of his weight is bared into you, into your cunt and flesh. He’s breathing in deep, hurried breaths, sweat beads on his brow. You’re grasping his shoulders, digging your nails into him as his words hit you.

“You—” You laugh and cry in the same breath. “You don’t mean what I think you mean, do you?”

His grip on you tightens. His expression is cloudy, his focus solely on you (what a terrifying thing to be on the receiving end of—)

You continue speaking, feeling a creeping amount of panic, “You— you mean sex right? You want to k-keep going?”

“If I said yes to that, I’d be lying.” Rin thrusts into you, hard and fast. You arch your back against the duvet.

“S-So you don’t want—”

“I want to keep fucking you,” Rin corrects, easily. He pushes you down into the mattress like he’s trying to crush you, pulverize you. “I don’t want to be done fucking you.”

“God,” you hit his shoulder with your fist and the force of an angry kitten. “You fucking suck, Rin.”

“I’m sorry—”

“ — Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

He kisses you again, this time softer. More kind, but still like he wants to eat you.

You finish like that, with his lips laid over yours, with the tempest of loss having consumed you. Rin heavy over your body and heart, pleasure having snuck up behind him enough that tension has coiled in your gut. Your orgasm washes over you slowly, in waves, and you’re sucked down into the sensation with darkening vision and curling toes.

Rin kisses you through it, cursing as you tighten around him. He didn’t— he didn’t use a condom.

“Inside—” You beg him. “Inside— please, please—”

Rin listens to you, bowing over you and pushing your knees up to the sides of your skull. A choked sound leaves his lips and you swallow it down with your own keen. A gush of warmth follows, and you shiver with the heat and fullness of it.

Rin fucks you through his orgasm, muscles drawn tight as he fucks you deep and slow. He only stops when his cock is too soft to continue, and you’re both shivering from overstimulation.

His cock drags out of you, wet and chilling in the still air. You whine at the loss, the panic and grief of this all hitting you again.

You don’t have much time to spiral, as Rin is gathering you up his arms, rolling away from the soaked sheets. He holds you tight, chest-to-chest. His hand is in your hair, and he grabs yours and places it on his own. Reflexively, you scratch his scalp and tug him closer.

You’re both quiet for a long time. The rain hasn’t stopped, dribbling on, but it doesn’t feel as grim now, more sedating. Your eyes go half-lidded.

“Can you clarify?” You ask Rin, peeking up at him. “What you meant before?”

(“I don’t want to be done—”)

“Hm.”

“God—!” You laugh, headbutting him. “You do suck.”

He squeezes you, so hard that a sound is forced from your lips.

“So you want to keep fucking?”

“It’s more than that.”

“Fuck, Rin—”

“Shut up.”

“Still figuring it out?”

“Something like that.” He muffles the words into the top of your head.

You’re not sure where your grief sits then. Maybe it’s gone, and your release was just that— release. It makes you laugh again, into Rin’s chest. You squeeze him like doing so will keep him here, in this moment, for a little longer.

Rin wordlessly squeezes you back even harder.

...

You and Rin don’t talk much once he goes to Europe.

You lose your mind right after he leaves, obviously. Screaming, crying, not throwing up, but pretty close to it. His house slippers get thrown in the back of a closet (rather than in the trash because, despite everything, you have hope—) and you rot for several weeks.

It takes a while for you to be close to normal.

Your routine with Rin had been a regular occurrence. Maybe once a week, sometimes twice. Not having it to count on unmoors you and makes you lonely in a way that feels unwelcome and raw. There’s a piece of you missing, just like you knew there would be.

You get a few texts from him. A photo or two of monuments he encounters with a few choice words—

[Rin]: I thought you would like this

You’re going to fucking kill him.

You’re never sure what to reply, so you tend to keep things brief. Your last encounter made you question your understanding of your relationship so profoundly that you don’t know how to proceed. There’s... certainly more than you expected, but upon Rin departing for Europe, so much had been left unsaid. How do you begin to broach that— is it even your place to?

You don’t bring it up. You don’t call him, you leave the wound he left alone, and it aches a little less each day. Still gaping and empty, but less raw maybe.

It’s late one evening when you receive a call from a random, international number.

You ignore it at first, thinking it’s spam, but they recall you several times, and you pick up on the fourth attempt.

“... Hello?” You ask into the receiver.

“Oh, hi! Is this [name]?”

“It is— who is this?”

“Oh, it’s Isagi— I’m one of Rin’s teammates from Bluelock. I’m not sure if you remember me, but we’ve met a few times!”

You have— Rin has a serious chip on his shoulder about Isagi, which has been made to be an incredibly comical fact when realized Isagi is one of the most genuinely kind, polite people you’ve ever encountered.

“Oh yeah, it's nice to— um, hear from you. What’s up?

“Ah, yeah! I apologize for the abrupt calls. I’ve got something to ask you that’s kind of time-sensitive— if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” You swallow. “Is... everything alright? Is... Rin okay?”

“Oh, yeah! He’s totally fine. Maybe a little hungover, but fine.”

You straighten up and withhold gasp. “Rin drank?”

Rin has refused alcohol the entire time you’ve known him. He swears it affects his performance.

Isagi laughs on the other side of the line. “Oh man, you don’t even know. I’ve never seen the guy with any alcohol in his system before either, and I kind of get why. He really is a lightweight.

“I imagine... and this has to do with why you called?”

“Yes, actually—” Your phone chimes with a new message from Isagi. “Is this you in the photo?”

The photo is of another phone, specifically of its lock screen. The time on the photographed phone screen reads [01:11]. The lock screen is a photo of you.

You’re sleeping, clearly, face half-smushed into one of your pillows. Mascara smears under your eyes and hickeys are bruised up and down your throat. From the location of the marks and makeup, you know this is from the last night you saw Rin. Your chest feels tight.

“What the fuck.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, oh my god.” You had no idea Rin took this photo— and it’s his fucking lock screen? That fucker only had the generic, preloaded graphics displayed on his phone the entire time you knew him.

“I thought so— sorry, it’s kind of insane for Rin to have a photo like that—”

“It is, yeah.” You run a hand over your face, switching your phone to speaker and rubbing your cheeks. “How does this relate to you calling?”

“Well,” says Isagi, “Rin’s been playing like shit.”

“He has been.” Oh my god, has he. Like actual garbage. You’re not sure you should admit that you watch Rin’s games religiously, because at this point it’s a bit pathetic of you. But you do watch them live if at all possible, otherwise you purchased some stupid European streaming service to catch the recording as soon as possible. And because of this, you know he has been playing sloppily. You’ve been... blaming jetlag. Or something. Adjusting to the European diet or whatever.

(Not the vestiges of your relationship still, miraculously, affecting him in any way.)

“It hasn’t been great. We won our match yesterday, but barely. And we went out drinking which was good for morale! But maybe not great for Rin. He drank a bit too much and got a bit weepy.”

Your stomach drops. You can see where this is going.

“He kept talking about missing someone but didn’t say any name. And when we saw his lock screen... we kind of put two-and-two together.”

“Great deduction. Aren’t you known for that?”

Isagi laughs, sounding good-natured. It makes you smile. It’s nice to know Rin hangs out with good people who aren’t all dour and weird like him.

“Something like that. Anyway, his birthday is in a few weeks, and me and a few of the other guys thought it would be a good gift for him to fly you out and surprise him.”

You stay silent, attempting to suffocate the spark of hope that traitorously stirs in you.

“Isagi.” You fold your hands and put them vertically to your lips. “Have you met Rin?”

That makes him laugh, “I have, I’m probably around him too much. But he’s been weird since we started the season here. If you visited, the team would cover everything. Our coach even offered to arrange rooms for you at the hotels we’ll be at. If you don’t want to room with Rin, anyway—”

“Rin and I aren’t together.”

“Damn.” Isagi clicks his tongue. “Does he know that?”

Maybe you’re an idiot. Maybe Rin’s an idiot. Maybe you’re both idiots.

“I should ask him, maybe.”

“He’s never been the type to do things in halves, you know.”

“Trust me, I’m very aware of that.”

Isagi whistles and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away. If you could let me know in the next few days, that would be great. You’ve got my number now that I’ve called, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in touch.” You swallow. “Thanks for reaching out, Isagi. I appreciate it. And— thanks for keeping an eye on Rin too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Someone needs to while he’s here. Let me know what you’re thinking, feel free to call if you need anything too. Or want me to spy on Rin for you.”

“Will do,” You laugh, light-hearted for the first time in weeks. You exchange goodbyes and you drop your phone onto your lap.

...

Oh my fucking god.

You know several things immediately— you want to go. Desperately, actually, especially with the knowledge that stupid fucking Rin Itoshi has you as his fucking lock screen? You need answers, if nothing else. You won’t settle for a very sad, weepy fuck this time around.

You also know that you should not surprise Rin.

So, you act before you can convince yourself better of it. You scroll to your messages with Rin and craft.

[you]: hey, i hope you’re doing alright. your teammate (isagi) just called me and invited me out for your birthday to surprise you. but i know you well enough to know that if i surprise you like that you will either kill me, isagi, yourself, or all three of us.

[you]: i wanted to touch base before i gave isagi an answer

[you]: i’d love to see you

[you]: and we should talk too.

Rin almost immediately sees the message— the freak has read receipts on. A bubble indicating he’s typing appears, then disappears.

A call from him comes in. You nearly drop your phone as the screen lights up your face and vibrates.

With a steadying breath, you answer.

“Hello?”

“What did Isagi tell you?”

You snort. “That your play sucks and that you’re a weepy drunk.”

“He sucks. Don’t talk to him again.”

“I have to, so he and the rest of your team can buy me tickets and a hotel room—”

“If— if you want to come, I’ll buy your ticket. And why would you need a hotel room?”

“So I have somewhere to sleep.”

“Is my bed not good enough for you?”

“Are you implying that I’d sleep with you?”

“...Yes.”

“Damn,” you fall back onto your couch with a laugh. There’s an odd coil of relief that’s unspooling in your chest. You could cry again. “Is that alright?”

“I— I wouldn’t want—” Rin so rarely loses his words, it shocks you to hear when he does. “Yes. It’s fine. I can meet you at the airport too.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet?”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

There’s a poignant moment of silence that passes between you two. You can imagine Rin now— it’s the morning where he is. He probably is nursing both a bottle of water and that electrolyte drink he prefers— he likes the blue flavor the best. He’s probably in his warm-up clothes, preparing for his meticulous morning routine.

“I’m excited,” Rin says, stilted but there. “To see you again.”

Something warm burns in you, frail but burgeoning.

“So am I.” You wipe your eyes and laugh. “Don’t break my heart again, Rin, I swear to God.”

“I won’t.”

He says it with enough conviction that you believe him.

#lore writes #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #ANYWAYS!!! :3ccc #this piece was so interesting like #had not thought about rin in the ways i was required to for this piece :'^)#and it was very gratifying and so fun!!#thank you bitti for asking for such a piece and i hope you enjoy dearest!!!! 🩷

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urbeachboy · 3 months ago

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consider : you, who are too aware for your own good . .

you, who’ve recently moved to Gotham, a 19 year old uni student working a part-time job at a local café, trying desperately to make ends meet. you really don’t bother with all that vigilante and supervillain junk, always get home before 12:00 and stick to crowds.

but after a close call, getting nearly mugged and yet saved by a certain masked vigilante- red robin, maybe, judging by the red and the big yellow R on his chest- you think, ‘hey, this looks an awful lot like that one rich kid of Bruce Wayne’s.” and in an adrenaline-induced daze, you blurt out just what you were thinking; “You’re Tim Drake.”

He was only silent for a while (it was difficult to read him, even without the eye-mask- though you hadn’t seen him without it. It’d be much easier if you did) before he’d brushed you off with a small laugh and left you to walk home. Let’s say he kept a close eye on you that night.

The next morning, you woke up after a horrible dream and a terrible headache. The first thing you do; go to your phone, search up ‘the Waynes’. Compare each image of each individual to each image of each vigilante frequenting in Gotham and.. oh god. You’ve been proper enlightened. Will the cops be after you? No, you won’t tell anyone! They have no reason to!

Maybe the vigilantes will be after you.

..No! They’re meant to help people. They wouldn’t do something like that. Not to you.

However, the lack of danger in your path and the pitter-patter of footsteps on the roofs (the ones that are closer to the ground, at least) each night while walking home, sounding different everyday (though there’s almost a pattern. Mondays, they’re barely there, but you know it is. And it’s not belonging to one pair of feet. Tuesdays, they’re almost airy, but quick. Not like they’re running, more like they’re walking faster. Wednesdays, they’re a bit heavier, like the person’s a bit bigger, but that can’t be right. Thursdays, they’re familiar. Fridays, they’re like the tuesdays but they’re definitely running. And Saturdays, they’re not there. You think they’re not, at least- but you can feel the eyes boring into your nape, and you’d like to trust your instinct.) beg to differ.

Now, on a scale of one to ten, how absolutely fucked are you?

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greenorangevioletgrass · 1 year ago

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tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?”

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile. And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…”

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too.

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved.

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered.

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter, “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

#art donaldson #divorced!art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #divorced!art x reader #art donaldson fluff #eeeeeeeee im so h-word physically and emotionally for him #ava writes #challengers fic

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quillsandcravats · 1 month ago

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The Doll from Dover | A.B. x fem!Reader

Summary: Anthony returns home from a trip with gifts for you, your children, and your unborn babe...including yet another doll for your doted-upon daughter. You tease him, but he insists no present is too much for his little girl. 🧸 Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!wife!Reader Rated: G Word count: 1.6k Warnings: reader is pregnant, parenting, other than this is pure and sweet fluff Requested: Yes

Bridgerton House buzzes with a quiet excitement as news travels from the servants' quarters to your family: the Viscount has come back. Edmund II, affectionately known as ‘little Edmund’ to his Grandmama Violet, waits impatiently near the front door of the estate, peaking out of the large windows. He gleefully waits, practically bouncing in anticipation, as he spots the carriage making its way down the cobblestone drive. He reaches down, his tiny fingers fiddling with the edge of his knee-high socks, a furrow of concentration etched across his boyish face. At just six years old, he feels the weight of responsibility, eager to emulate his father’s grace and dignity. The spinning top, a vibrant swirl of colors, lies neglected on a nearby table, a gift from Uncle Benedict that usually commands his full attention. But today, he sacrifices its joyful whirl for his father’s return.

The door opens, and little Edmund grins wide, spotting his father immediately. He idolizes Anthony deeply — and feels an aching absence when he's away. Edmund cherishes the moments spent with his Papa in the quiet of his study, pretending to write his own ledgers in a childlike scrawl. In contrast, his father diligently works on the genuine ones. He is often reminded that one day, when he grows big and strong like Papa, he will occupy the same desk. The six-year-old offers a swift, polite bow before darting forward and melting into a tender embrace in Anthony’s waiting arms.

“Hello, my boy!” Anthony smiles, squeezing Edmund II affectionately before placing him back down. Anthony recalls being held by his own father like this, filling him with a wistful, bittersweet feeling.

He hears the tiny pitter-patter of her feet on the pinewood of the hallway, bringing him out of his nostalgia.

"Papa!" Charlotte giggles, her three-year-old voice ringing out joyfully. Anthony is overcome with love at the sight of her - a flurry of ribbons and curls. He lifts her into his arms and twirls her around, prompting loud laughter from his daughter.

“There is my little lady,” He gently kisses her forehead, cuddling her close to him. Charlotte takes in the comforting scent of her Papa. She leans back, placing two chubby hands on his cheeks. He beams warmly in response, gazing into the eyes that mirror his own. “I missed you much, my darling girl. I hope you and Brother have been good while I have been gone?”

“Yes, Papa! I was the man of the house, just like you said to be,” Edmund says, holding up his head proudly, hands behind his back just as he sees Anthony do repeatedly.

He places Charlotte back down as the servants discreetly take his coat and gloves. A footman stumbles in behind him, swaying as though he is tipsy, desperately attempting to peer over a towering stack of cumbersome boxes. One box teeters precariously, and in a heroic yet clumsy effort, he lunges to catch it, all while trying to maintain his gracefulness and suppress a bead of sweat that threatens to betray him.

Anthony barely turns, “Oh, Ephraim, please take the packages to the drawing room.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Anthony holds Charlotte’s tiny hand while Edmund eagerly runs into the drawing room to see which fantastical box is his. The Viscount never forgets to bring gifts home for his family when away on business.

The afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the drawing room as you sit in a high-backed chair, concentrating on your embroidery hoop. The needle moves deftly through the fabric, creating patterns of flowers and leaves. The creak of the door disturbs the quiet, and you glance up, curious to see who enters.

“Mama! Mama! Papa is back from Dover!” your son announces. “And he has bought parcels! Many!”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head in amusement as Ephraim carefully places everything on the floor. His weariness is evident. With a respectful bow, he addresses you, "Lady Bridgerton."

"Thank you, Ephraim. You may go now."

Then, you see your husband enter with your daughter by his side, and your heart fills with warmth. Oh, how deeply you love Anthony Bridgerton.When you first fell for him, it was more akin to puppy love. But now, you have watched him grow into a strong Viscount and an adoring father. He has become everything he ever promised to be - and you take great pride in being his Viscountess.

He approaches you with a gentle smile, bending down to softly kiss the back of your hand. You giggle, feeling like a young debutante being courted for the very first time.

“Wife.”

“Husband,” you beam.

Anthony’s lips curl into a tranquil grin as he reaches out, pulling you into a warm hug. The scent of his cologne, a subtle blend of cedar and citrus, envelopes you as he leans in for a tender kiss.

“Yuck,” Edmund chirps, occupying himself with the spinning top he had been playing with again. You and Anthony glance at each other before splitting your sides with laughter.

“My Dear, it is delightful to see you.”

“I have missed you so, Anthony. We all have.”

“Do come; gifts await each of you,” he announces, gesturing toward the pile of wrapped items.

You sink into the sofa's plush cushions, watching Edmund settle himself cross-legged on the carpet, a spot he always claims. Charlotte climbs up beside you, her legs swinging freely above the floor, unable to reach it with her tiny feet.

Anthony gives you the first box. "For my Viscountess," he says, watching eagerly as you take it in. The present is wrapped exquisitely in thick paper and tied with a bow in your favorite color. You smile as you gently undo the wrapping, placing the ribbon beside you. A delighted gasp falls from your lips as you behold what is inside — a fine hair comb with a delicate scroll-like filigree design. It is embellished by a beautiful sapphire, bordered by two salt-water pearls.

Next, Edmund is handed his box. He does not take as much gentleness as you, tearing the paper impatiently. He holds up his gift, getting up to run over and give Anthony another hug. The toy knight in his hand carries the scent of fresh-cut wood, mingling with a faint hint of varnish and paint. “A brave fellow for my brave boy,” your husband announces. Edmund examines it with awe, smiling wide at his father.

“He is wonderful, Papa!”

Anthony picks up the most prominent package and sits next to Charlotte. The bundle is carefully wrapped in soft linen and tied with a luxurious silk ribbon that glistens in the light. He gently assists her in opening the gift, his fingers working together with her tiny hands to unveil the hidden treasure within. As the wrapping falls away, it reveals a stunning porcelain doll. The doll's face is delicately painted, her features artfully detailed, with brown curls cascading down, mirroring Charlotte’s own. She even wears miniature stays and a muslin gown styled in the elegant French fashion, complete with intricate lace and tiny, perfectly placed buttons. The doll embodies a sense of grace and charm, a perfect little companion for a highborn girl, brought to life with exquisite artisanship.

Little Charlotte’s eyes light up wide, and she immediately clutches the doll to her chest. “She shall sleep with me tonight!” she declares with all her authority. Anthony nods and plants a soft kiss on her head.

“Do not forget to name her Charlotte.”

“Oh, I shall name her y/n. Like Mama!” Charlotte retorts, running a hand over the doll's shiny curls. “She is pretty like Mama, too.”

Your heart glows as you place an adoring hand on your chest, leaning over to give your daughter the tiniest peck on her cheek.

Anthony then presents a final, more delicate package—a handmade baby bonnet—for your soon-to-arrive child. He gently places his hand on your belly with a sense of wonder.

“For the little one, not yet arrived, but never far from thought.”

“Oh, Anthony,” you smile, holding the teeny hat. “It will be perfect.” You place your hand atop his. Just then, you feel the faintest feeling - like a flit of hummingbird wings inside your abdomen, followed by a swift kick to your ribcage. “Ah!” you pant with a soft laugh.

Anthony’s eyes go wide as saucers, realizing that he has just felt your unborn baby move. “Well, someone has taken a fancy to their gift.”

Later, in your private chambers, you sit on the plush velvet stool, drawing a brush through your hair with deliberate strokes. A smile tugs at your lips, and your eyes glint with mischief as you tease him, your voice laced with affection and a hint of challenge.

“Do you suppose she shall remember the names of all her dolls, My Lord? I believe we’ve reached fifty.”

Anthony slowly unfastens the buttons of his waistcoat. A soft titter escapes his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement at your words.

“Fifty-one, in fact. And each entirely necessary.”

Your eyebrow arches upward as a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. “Entirely?”

Now clad only in his breeches, Anthony approaches you quietly from behind. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace, his chin on your shoulder. Together, you both look into the mirror. You set your brush aside, your fingers curling around his forearm, feeling the warmth of his skin. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, hanging onto this moment. His voice, when he speaks, is delicately adoring.

“She is my only daughter. My little girl. And this one came from Dover. It would have been most unkind to return without it.”

“If this child is a girl as well,” he murmurs, planting a soft peck on the crown of your head, “I shall be compelled to procure an entire nursery of dolls.”

You chuckle murmuringly, leaning back against his chest. “You’ll raise a house of spoiled daughters,” you admonish facetiously.

“I should be the most fortunate man alive, then.”

I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSLATED FOR ANY REASON WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

Anthony Taglist: @whatcjdidnext @i-do-not-care-bear @enchantedbytomandhenry Taglist Form!

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton #jonathan bailey #bridgerton fanfiction

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wonustars · 10 months ago

Text

Rain or Shine Cafe

Ⱄ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader Ⱄ wordcount: 10.5k Ⱄ genre: fluff, cafe coworkers au, suggestive

Ⱄ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

Ⱄ summary: with no umbrella in hand on a rainy day, you felt like your life couldn’t get any worse. losing your glasses while it’s pouring cats and dogs, well maybe your life really was the worst. thankfully a faceless stranger was there to pick up your glasses and hand you his umbrella. you weren’t able to ever thank him for his act of kindness, but the sweet memory stays with you for awhile.

Ⱄ tags/warnings: cafe coworkers!soonyoung and reader, dancer!soonyoung, reader wears glasses, set in vancouver canada, they develop feelings quickly, reader is a little type a, mentions of other svt members, mentions of alcohol, hoshi tiger agenda is very present, allusions to sex, making out, grinding, groping, heavy petting (thth host voice activated), if anything is missing here lmk!

Ⱄ note: it's finally here!! this is my fic for the world tour @svthub collab hehe. thank you to my two lovely beta readers @junkissed and @highvern who helped me so much (ily both sm) ♡!!!!!! and also to the svthub members who helped me when developing the banner for this fic :) i hope you all enjoy this fic because i loved writing it and hoshi is just so silly. its all fluffy and cute and no smut which is a first for me but i hope it's still enjoyable for u all hehe. talk to u soon - anna ♡

Today was one of those days. The birds don’t sing in your wake, the sun doesn’t shine as bright. You weren’t sure what had been the catalyst to such a terrible day; maybe it was forgetting your umbrella, losing your glasses under the gloomy sky, or the rain that pitter-pattered against the pavement and mocked your misfortune.

It wasn’t until a faceless stranger entered your blurred field of vision, offering their umbrella and picking up your glasses. Before you could even thank them for their help, they whisked away so quickly that it was like they were a figment of your imagination.

That small kind gesture had stuck with you for days, wondering if you would ever be able to meet them again. You desperately wished you could see what they looked like, but from the softness of their voice to their gentle touch, you had a feeling that their personality was just the same.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Working a shift at Rain or Shine Cafe is always the highlight of your day, especially after spending so many hectic hours at your university. The cafe was always serene, the customers were kind, and you liked how calming it would get once the Vancouver rain started to pour in. The droplets hit the glass windows in a rhythmic pattern that could probably put you to sleep if you allow.

Rain or Shine Cafe was like your little haven from the busy city and university town. You were working the evenings while your boss, Seokmin, would cover the mornings. It was a little bit complicated with only the two of you, but you didn’t mind. You liked being the only person during your shift, it meant that you were practically your own boss.

It wasn’t until the day that Seokmin decided it was time for a new hire, your safe space seemingly turned upside down.

“Y/n, I’ve hired a new person, you’ll have to train them okay?” Seokmin informs you the moment you clock in.

Giving him a defeated sigh, you knew it was time for a new coworker to join you. Although you hate the idea, you feel bad at how hard Seokmin works in the mornings, and on the rare occasions when you’re sick, evenings as well.

“I don’t know Seokmin… are you sure I should be the one training them?” your tone wavers, if anything the owner would be able to do a better job than you at training the new hire.

“What! You’ll do great, you’re my best employee after all,” he gives you a reassuring pat on your shoulder.

With furrowed brows, your eyes bore holes into his back as he headed back to his office.

“I’m your only employee!” you shout back while he can still hear you.

The idea of having to train a new person after spending so much time finding your rhythm while working at the cafe doesn’t particularly thrill you. With many many prayers to the universe, you just hope they aren’t a pain in the ass to deal with.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

Soonyoung wasn’t sure what to expect on his first day, and he was especially nervous because he’d never worked at a cafe before. Although his coordination is great when it comes to dancing, he isn’t so confident in his coffee-making skills.

The moment he walked through the door, he saw your face shining against the afternoon sun, his heart beating so fast he thought he might have to go to the doctor for a serious case of heart palpitations. He can’t help but curse at himself silently, knowing that he is going to be extra nervous because of his extremely pretty coworker.

As he approaches you he starts to feel a sense of familiarity bubbling at the bottom of his stomach. Wondering if he’d seen you around before, but he quickly scratched that idea knowing that there are millions of people living in the Greater Vancouver area.

Clearing his throat he tries to get your attention as you delicately refill the pastry shelf with almond croissants and bagels. Your eyes turn towards the figure in front of the counter, assuming it’s another student from the university wanting to order.

“U-uh hi,” Soonyoung blurts out, his pillowy cheeks turning red under your gaze.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” you ask him, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you two.

“Oh! I-I’m not here to order, I’m the new hire?” He tries to explain, but you can tell he feels a little unsure about being here at the cafe.

“Oh. Soonyoung right?”

“Yeah, that’s me, but uh- you can call me Hoshi,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

The words ‘play it cool’ keep repeating in his mind as he continues to talk to you, not wanting to make a bad first impression with his gorgeous new coworker.

“Ah, I see, Hoshi,” you say apprehensively while nodding your head, yeah I’m not calling him that, you think to yourself.

Seokmin told you that the new hire would be coming in for his first shift today, but he didn’t mention anything other than that.

At first glance, Soonyoung wasn’t the type of person you expected Seokmin to hire. His dark clothing, bright blond hair and piercings along his ears didn’t scream “barista”. The aura around him screamed men’s fashion influencer just from the way he dresses. Although his clothes were casual you could tell there was still thought put into his outfit, from the baggy dark wash jeans to his graphic tee and earrings.

“How about you come around the counter and clock in so we can get started,” you add as you finish placing the pastries on the display shelf.

Scratching the back of his head he walks over only to hover behind you, a meek expression washes over his face.

You turn to him with a quizzical eyebrow, not sure as to why he’s just standing there like a lost child in a supermarket.

“H-how exactly do you clock in?” Soonyoung mumbles while twiddling his thumbs.

“Seokmin didn’t show you where to clock in?” You question him.

There was a part of you that had a feeling that you might have to teach him every little thing around the cafe. When Seokmin told you the new hire was coming in today, you were hoping that they would at least have a little bit of background knowledge.

“U-uh no he pretty much hired me on the spot and told me to come in today,” he mutters, feeling a little embarrassed by your judgement, “this is actually my first job ever.”

“Ever?”

“Yeah, so I’m not sure why he even hired me, but I needed a job so I didn’t turn it down,” he continues, the blush on his soft cheeks becoming more apparent.

You sigh deeply, this shift is going to feel a lot longer than you initially thought. Knowing it’s his first job means that you’ll have to train him a little slower. As you walk to show him where to clock in you silently pray that he’s a fast learner.

Soonyoung can tell that you’re not excited to train him, and he feels bad that he doesn’t have the experience to be good at his job right away. But he’s determined to learn quickly, not wanting to disappoint you or Seokmin.

He spent most of his time in university being able to pay for his expenses from his dance scholarship and the little money he was given from his parents, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to fund his trip for his and his dance troupe’s upcoming competition.

They had entered a national competition taking place in Seattle and although the commute was only a two-hour road trip, there were so many other fees that he couldn’t afford unless he found a way to earn money. Plus if he wanted to fund both his dance trip and tiger collection, it was either he get a job near his school or he would have to resort to selling feet pics online. But getting a job at the cafe seemed like the safer and more logical option.

“Well now that you’ve clocked in, this is your apron and the tag that Seokmin made you,” you inform him while handing him his things.

Soonyoung doesn’t say a word, only nodding while listening to you explain how everything works at the cafe.

“First we need you to learn all the drinks that we serve,” you explain, pushing the double doors that lead back to the main room of the building.

“Okay, I can do that, it can’t be that hard right?” Hoshi shrugs, trying his best to act nonchalantly to mask his nervousness.

…

“Wait-No! That’s wrong,” your voice raises in panic as you watch Soonyoung put a fresh shot of espresso into the plastic to-go cup.

Freezing, his eyes go wide as his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and you start to scramble with panic. The plastic started to shrivel from the heat of the coffee.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would melt!” he exclaims, pouring the contents into the sink.

It had been an hour of teaching Soonyoung how to make the drinks that were on the cafe menu, and he had somehow made a mistake every single step of the way. Thankfully today is a slower day in the cafe, allowing Soonyoung to observe your routine on serving customers.

“It’s fine, how about we take a break and I'll show you how to use the oven to heat the pastries,” you sigh with defeat.

Soonyoung’s face drops a little because he knows that he’s disappointed you. He wishes that he was good at his job the same way he is with dancing but his naturally good coordination and reflexes can only take him so far.

“If a customer asks for a pastry they can have the option for them to be toasted in the oven, you just need to use the tongs and place them onto the rack,” you explain, demonstrating the steps that you would usually take, “then you don’t want to set the timer for more than twenty seconds or it’ll burn.”

Soonyoung nods along, trying to follow your instructions closely, but he can’t help but get distracted by your features. Your hair is tied up, and glasses perched on your nose as you try to concentrate. He knows that it’s important to pay attention but he can’t help but feel attracted to you. There was a certain familiarity to you that he couldn’t seem to pinpoint. He hasn’t felt like this about someone he just met ever, and it’s not helping that you’re the one teaching him how to do his job properly.

If he could stare at you during his whole shift instead of working, he would.

“Does everything make sense so far?” you pull him out of his thoughts, staring at him expectantly.

“Yeah, the pastry stuff seems like the most simple thing so far,” he comments, watching you put the croissant into a bag to eat after you’re off work.

“How about we go back to making more test drinks? Just so you can get the hang of it,” you offer, wanting him to get more practice just in case it’s a busy day the next time he comes in for a shift.

“Sure, you’re a great teacher by the way, I’m just new to all this,” he comforts you.

“Thanks, and don’t worry too much, you’ll get better with time,” you pat his shoulder.

You give him a smile of gratitude. The past few hours had you doubting your knowledge, patience, and teaching skills all at the same time. But his words of reassurance make you feel him warm inside.

The way Soonyoung’s cheeks puff as he smiles makes you giggle. There was something about his soft features that made him so endearing, which made you feel a little bad for raising your voice at him earlier while he was trying to learn.

Sure, he’s not the smartest when it comes to working at a cafe, but you have faith that he’ll be able to learn as time goes by. From the looks of it, Soonyoung seems determined to do better, that or he’s faking it. Either way, you owe it to Seokmin to show him everything you know.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“So…” Seokmin looks at you expectantly while you get ready to start your shift, “how was it?”

“Well… he’s definitely new,” you sigh as you put on your apron and clock in.

Seokmon gives you a concerned look, he felt a little bad for handing Soonyoung over to you knowing he had zero experience working in a cafe, but he trusted you, his best (only) employee to be able to train him well.

“Everything went well though, right?” he asks you, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You can’t help but laugh at the way he follows you to the counter, wanting to hear every detail about what happened during your last shift.

There wasn’t much to say other than the fact that Soonyoung wasn’t very good at his job, but you don’t want to be an asshole and rat him out when you could tell how eager he is to do his job properly. Instead, you decided to lie to your kind, and very naive boss.

“Oh he’s perfect, honestly you made the right decision in hiring him,” you force a smile.

Seokmin’s eyes light up with excitement, you could practically see his imaginary tail wagging back and forth with happiness. He trusts you so much that he never thought to hire anyone else, meaning this was a big step for him and the cafe. You could already start to feel the guilt seep into your nerves as he stared at you with so much trust.

“Really? Oh, thank god, I was so nervous when he told me he’s never had a job in his life before, honestly Y/n, I’m so happy and I’m sure things will–” Seokmin is cut off by the jingle of the bell above the door.

Both your heads whip around as Soonyoung enters the cafe with a bright smile along his lips, refreshed from the last time he was in and ready to work a real shift this time. His clothing was more appropriate for work, a simple black tee shirt and black pants, his blond hair reflecting with the sun, giving him a halo effect.

You wish you had met Soonyoung in different settings, then you would be able to admit how attractive he is. If only he wasn’t such a clutz, then maybe you would have a full-blown crush on him.

“Afternoon Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles at him.

Fridays were always the busiest days at the cafe, even during the evening. You're just hoping that the odds were in your favour and Soonyoung actually retained all the information you told him last time you saw him.

“Afternoon everyone!” he exclaims cheerfully.

Waving at him you watch him descend to the back to clock in for his shift, your stomach churns with anxiety because you aren’t sure how well today is going to go.

“Okay Y/n I’m off, you’re in charge as always,” Seokmin declared before leaving.

…

About half an hour into your shift, the pace of the cafe started to pick up and the line was starting to get longer. As the clock hit three-thirty, all the university students started to pile into the tiny building.

You were starting to sweat and because Soonyoung still doesn’t know how to make all of the drinks you put him on cashier and pastry duty. It seems to be the only way that you were able to get through to all the customers in a timely manner.

“Is there really only two of you?” A male customer whines at the back of the line, clearly annoyed by the wait.

“Yes, unfortunately, this is usually the busiest time of the day for us,” you try to explain politely, but your anger issues start to creep up onto the surface.

The overstimulation from the heat of the coffee as well as the chatter of customers was causing your patience to thin. You didn’t want to have to argue with anyone today, especially because you had a newbie working with you.

“Could you at least hurry it up?” He scoffs, eyes rolling with annoyance.

You don’t reply to his complaints, because if you were to start talking you would probably end up starting a fight mid-shift.

“Dude, you can’t talk to her like that,” Soonyoung retaliated, obviously annoyed with the whiny customer.

“What’d you say to me?” the customer fumes, coming to the front of the counter.

The two men size up each other while you stand there a little shocked at how fast Soonyoung was to defend you.

Soonyoung scowls as he stares at the asshole who was yelling at you. He wasn’t expecting people to get so angry over coffee but he wasn’t going to let someone disrespect you.

“I said, you can’t talk to her like that,” he seethes, looking at the customer up and down with his chest puffed out, “if you’re so sick of waiting then go somewhere else.”

“You know what I will. I don’t want some slow bitch making my drink anyways,” the customer retorts.

“Fuck you! And don’t come back!” Soonyoung yells at his descending figure and turns at you silently asking if you were alright.

His soft eyes had your heart palpitating, you never took him for the type of person to defend you from mean customers. If you weren’t fully attracted to him before, now you are. There was something about the way his demeanour had changed while trying to protect you that made you look at him in a different light.

…

By the time it was closer to the end of both you and Soonyoung’s shift, the amount of customers coming in slowed down considerably, allowing you to rest after what had happened earlier.

The sun was down and it was nearing eight in the evening. While you were cleaning the counters and organizing for the morning shift, Soonyoung was mopping the floors and putting the chairs back in order. He looked peaceful as he was cleaning, you couldn’t help but stare.

Soonyoung’s jawline is sharp as he appears to be deep in thought, and you allow yourself to admire the way his biceps flexed under his shirt as he swayed the mop back and forth. The veins along his forearms popped with each movement he made, you practically had to pinch yourself in order to not get caught ogling at him.

“Uhm, I just wanted to say thanks for earlier, you didn’t have to do all that,” you speak up, catching his attention, “I appreciate it.”

Soonyoung chuckles while shaking his head, giving you that same smile he did on the first day. The one that made his eyes look like a cute emoticon, and his cheeks puffy as if he were a hamster.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, I wasn’t going to let that asshole talk to you like that,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Yeah I know, but still, thank you,” you reiterate, heat starting to creep up your neck as you recall the way he acted earlier.

“Of course,” he continues to smile before he says something you didn’t expect, “also, I know we’re not all that close, but me and my friends were going to go to the bar down the street. Do you want to join us?”

Your eyes widen in shock, an answer flying out of your mouth before you can even think properly, “Sure!”

“Okay, cool!” his eyes lit up at your acceptance to his invite, “we’re going to watch one of my friend’s shows, so you can meet me here again at like, 10 pm?”

“Are you sure they’re okay with me coming though? I don’t wanna impose,” you ask with uncertainty.

“Yeah, of course, they’re chill,” he reassures you before going back to finish his task.

Turning around you silently scream at the thought of going out with Soonyoung, being able to talk to him off work hours, it made you blush deeply. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way all of a sudden as if you weren’t constantly annoyed by his clumsiness just a week ago, but you’re not opposed to the feelings of your developing crush on your coworker.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

This was the first time in Soonyoung’s life that he had been wrecked with nervousness. Not even when he was performing on stage did his nerves get the best of him. You were just so pretty, and the more he worked with you, the more he wanted to get to know you, to interact with you outside the cafe and learn more about your personality.

“Soonyoung!” he hears you call out for him, forcing him to look up from the pavement.

His heart beats out of his chest, and his palms start to sweat. Your hair is down and frames your face. As you start to get closer he allows himself to appreciate the view in front of him. The moonlight shining above, the stars twinkling beautifully and yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

Your outfit suited you so well, a short skirt, an oversized graphic tee and a pair of knee-high boots. So this is what you look like outside of work, Soonyoung thought to himself. He already found you attractive in your work clothes, with your brown apron and baseball cap. But seeing you like this made his mouth go dry, forcing him to gulp like a starved man.

“H-hey! You look really good,” he stutters and he curses at himself silently from how nervous he is.

“Thank you, you too,” you blush, a timid expression falling on your face, not being able to meet his eyes as you play with the keychain on your bag.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, his head nudging in the direction of the bar.

You nod with a smile, following his steps toward your destination. With clammy hands, you grip the strap of your bag while you and Soonyoung walk in perfect harmony. This is the first time you’ve gone for a night out in a while, and your body is filled with nervousness and excitement at the thought of being able to spend more time with Soonyoung.

…

“Hoshi! The show is about to start, what took you so long?” a brown-haired man calls out, walking towards the two of you.

His eyes widened with curiosity, realizing that Soonyoung hadn’t come to the bar alone tonight.

“And who is this?” he asks, observing you closely with a glass of beer in his hand.

“Y/n, this is Seungkwan, Kwan, this is Y/n,” Soonyoung introduces the two of you, and you can only reply with a shy wave and smile.

“I see,” he mutters, taking a sip from his glass.

Seungkwan’s eyes are boring holes into your face and it causes your cheeks to heat up.

“She’s my coworker at Rain or Shine,” Soonyoung adds, before giving Seungkwan a pointed look.

Seungkwan, although usually friendly, is very intrigued as to why you were brought over to hang out with Soonyoung and their friends tonight. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for Soonyoung to bring anyone new to Vernon’s shows, especially a girl. He concluded that you must mean something to Hoshi, and not just because you’re his coworker.

“Ohh okay, it’s nice to meet you,” Seungkwan smiles and that allows you to let out a breath of relief that you didn’t realize that you were holding, “but we should get to our seats, the show is about to start.”

There’s a collective agreement and the three of you head over to a reserved table that’s located closer to the stage. It must be a perk to know the band that was playing because it had the best view in the bar.

As you reach the table you meet with a few more people sitting around talking and drinking. Your naturally introverted attitude increases tenfold when your eyes lay on the group of men talking loudly and laughing with each other.

“Soonyoung’s finally here! And he’s brought a friend,” Seungkwan announces, his back facing you and you don’t catch the way his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

The group’s conversation is cut off and they go over to greet you and Soonyoung. They were all so tall and attractive, you didn’t expect it at all. But it somehow makes sense that someone as good-looking as Soonyoung would also have good-looking friends.

“Y/n, this is Chan, Mingyu and Minghao,” Soonyoung introduces you, pointing everyone out one by one.

“Hi, I work with Soonyoung at the cafe,” you greet them with a small wave.

The three men smile at you warmly before you sit down, and Mingyu is the first one to talk to you. You’re awestruck at how attractive he is, his wide smile and sharp teeth poking out added a charming factor to him that you wouldn’t notice if it were anyone else.

“Hi, did you want something to drink?” he asks you, his voice husky and warm.

“A diet coke and rum is fine,” you tell him and he nods before getting up and heading to the bar.

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention back onto Soonyoung who seems to be deep in conversation with Chan. Seeing him laugh and talk with his friends is new to you, and it makes your stomach flutter at how concentrated he is.

“No I can’t give you the leftover pastries, stop asking me, I literally just started working there,” Soonyoung groans as Chan begs him for leftover almond croissants.

A giggle escapes your lips as you watch how desperate Chan is for a free croissant, you’ve never seen someone so passionate over bread before.

“I can give one to Soonyoung next time we close, we always have leftovers,” you chime in, giving Chan a warm smile.

Chan practically lights up with excitement and Soonyoung rolls his eyes at the fact that his younger friend is somehow always able to get what he wants. You can’t help but smile at how eager he is over such a simple thing.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that,” Soonyoung looks at you.

He watches as you give him a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting the bar lights. There are so many things that he got to learn about you today. The way you get shy meeting new people, yet you’re kind and willing to get to know his friends. You were tugging on his heartstrings and he didn’t want to stop getting to know the little things about you.

“Yeah, it’s fine, Seokmin always lets me bring some home after my shift is over anyways,” you wave your hand, letting Chan know that Seokmin is a chill manager.

“Really? Thank you Y/n,” Chan gives you a look of gratitude, going over to hug you. Laughing at his sudden burst of affection, you pat his back while telling him it wasn’t that big of a deal.

The lights in the bar started to dim and you see Mingyu coming back with your drink. He places it in front of you and says not to worry about paying for it. There wasn’t much arguing coming from your side, who are you to refuse a free drink? Instead, you thank him and pay attention to the band coming out onto the stage.

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to your ‘beautiful stranger’? Did you ever find her?” you hear Chan ask right before the band performs.

There was a pause in the air and Soonyoung’s words were drowned out by the music. You are grateful for the fact that you couldn’t hear his answer. Honestly, you didn’t want to know what he had said in response. Instead of worrying over something you had no right to worry about, you allow the music to take over you. Paying close attention to the melodic singing flowing through the speakers.

…

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight, I enjoyed it,” you break the silence on the walk home to your apartment.

Soonyoung offered to walk you home and you refused but he insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly if you walked alone at this hour. The time was nearing one in the morning and you were able to meet the rest of his friends after the show. They were all nice to you, except for that first moment with Seungkwan, but he warmed up shortly after.

The descent to your place was relatively quiet, the two of you admiring the Vancouver skyline and high mountains. Sometimes you forget that you live in such a beautiful place, a city that never sleeps. You watched Soonyoung appreciate his view and you smiled inwardly at how content he seemed.

Watching him interact with his friends earlier warmed your heart, he looked so happy being around them it made you forget how bad he is at his job, and that he’s a little clueless when it comes to working at the cafe. You felt bad about getting angry with him so quickly, but as you started to understand him more, you realized that there’s more to him than his clumsiness. He’s a bright person, he has the resemblance of a ball of sunshine. Always smiling, eager to bond with his friends, to laugh and to make thoughtful memories.

You realize how much you had envied him in that moment. It’s easy for him to get along with everyone, and the fact that he’s able to go out without overthinking the smallest things. You just wanted to be as carefree as Soonyoung.

“It's no problem, I wanted you to come, and they all loved you!” he chirped, eyes turning into slits from a wide smile. You blush at his outward personality.

“Well, this is me,” you motion toward the entrance of your apartment building.

You were a little embarrassed at its homely nature. All the nicer apartments surrounding your tiny building. But you couldn’t help but think that it had a charm to it that the modern buildings in Vancouver didn’t have.

“Have a good night Y/n,” Soonyoung grinned as you two stood there, the breeze flowing through your fingertips while you stared into his sparkling eyes.

“Have a good night Soonyoung,” you repeat him, and he doesn’t say anything else, pulling you into a hug.

Soonyoung wasn’t sure if you like to be hugged, and he was hesitant at first, but with the way you were staring at him, he couldn’t help but want to hold you. He understands that you aren’t that close, but he knows he wants to get to know you more.

As he holds you in his arms, he breathes in your scent, and it’s addicting. You smelt like a rainy day, reading books against the window sill and drinking a warm cup of tea. You felt like home to him, he finds it odd that he thinks of you that way so early on in your friendship, but he can’t help it. Soonyoung doesn’t want to deny his growing feelings for you.

Although you were surprised by his actions you didn’t hate the way his arms felt around you. Strong and muscular, holding you tight while you breathe in the scent of his cologne. He smelt good, like roasting marshmallows over a campfire, or a beach day where the sun warmed your skin in the best way.

There's something comforting about Soonyoung’s demeanour, his personality, his everything. Why was he so nice to you? Why did he express so much interest in someone he barely knows? You didn’t know and you were too shy to ask.

He pulls away and opens the first door to your building for you, making sure you enter safe and sound. But before you could get to the door with the lock he asks you a question.

“Uh, Chan and I have a dance showcase coming up next weekend, did you wanna come and see me perform?” Soonyoung asks while blushing.

“I’d love to!” You answer back, and he just nods, letting go of you so that you can go up to your apartment and rest.

“I’ll text you the details! Good night!” He yells from down the sidewalk, arm flailing to wave goodbye. You can’t help but giggle at him, your cheeks heating up at his goofy personality.

As you enter your apartment, your mind travels back to the question Chan had asked Soonyoung before the band started performing. Who was this beautiful stranger that he was talking about? It made your stomach churn at the possibility that Soonyoung wouldn’t be available if you decided to tell him about the crush you’d developed. Sighing at the thought, you try to not let it affect you. You’ve only known him for a short time, and there’s no reason for you to feel jealous of someone you’re not even sure that he knows.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

“How was your weekend, kiddo?” Seokmin’s presence welcomes you into his cafe, giving you a dazzling smile.

“It was fun, me and Soonyoung went out with his friends,” you blushed as you recollected the time you got to spend with him.

Seokmin walks up to you, his eyes panning over your body, eyebrow quirked up. He taps his chin acting as if he’s in deep thought before moving closer, sniffing you and you almost slap him square on the cheek. But he’s quick to avoid your hand.

“I smell a crush!” He points his finger at you, his tone accusatory.

“What?! Pfft, I don’t have a crush,” you deny his allegations, but your forehead starts to collect sweat out of nervousness.

You didn’t think that Seokmin would put you on the spot like this, but it would feel awkward to admit that you have a crush on your coworker. Who just so happened to start working here less than two weeks ago.

“Don’t lie to me, I can smell it on you! You have a crush,” Seokmin sang, dancing around you teasingly. Poking at your cheeks like you were a grizzly bear he’s trying to provoke.

“Okay! Okay. Maybe I do have a crush, but it doesn’t mean anything,” you sigh, admitting your feelings so that your boss, nearly ten years older than you, would stop prancing around like a lunatic for all the passersby to see.

“Why? What if he likes you back,” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you cringe at him.

Leave it up to Seokmin to disregard professionalism in the workplace. If anything he was more like your surrogate dad that liked to be filled in on the latest drama.

“He doesn’t,” you deflate, moving over to clock in and put on your apron.

You know for a fact that Soonyoung couldn’t like you back, his mind was too preoccupied with much more important things, and some other girl who he doesn’t even know.

“What are you? A mind reader?” Seokmin teases you, not wanting to see you pretend to be so apathetic.

Of course, you couldn’t read minds, but it was clear that Soonyoung’s interest lay somewhere else. You don’t even know what to say to Seokmin at the moment, how do you even explain your feelings properly? Yes, you have a teeny crush on your coworker, but that’s all it should be, right? It wouldn’t be realistic to date him.

The chime of the bell hanging on top of the door breaks your thoughts, “Good afternoon to my amazing boss, and my amazing coworker!”

Soonyoung is practically skipping through the door with delight, and it makes you smile. He always seemed so cheerful coming into work. It warms your heart.

“Ahh good to see you Soonyoung,” Seokmin smiles, watching his figure disappear into the back.

He turns to you and makes a face, his eyebrows wiggling while his lips widen into a shit-eating grin. Seokmin can’t help but tease you, he finds it cute that you have a crush on Soonyoung. In all the years that you’ve been working for him, there hasn’t been a time where he’s seen you so smitten over a boy.

You roll your eyes at him, shooing him away before Soonyoung comes out and realizes why your boss is teasing you.

…

Once Seokmin had left, you and Soonyoung were left to fend for yourselves. Although today wasn’t as busy as the last time you were working with each other, it wasn’t a shift with Soonyoung if there wasn’t at least one thing that went wrong.

You were minding your business, restocking some of the supplies in the storage room. As you were peacefully putting new syrups on the shelves, there was a high-pitched scream coming from the front part of the cafe. Your eyes widen at the sound, and you come rushing to the counter.

“What happened?!” you stumbled in, your chest heaving as you tried to get to Soonyoung as fast as you could.

“I-Uh-,” Soonyoung seems to be at a loss for words, you can he the audible gulp before he continues, “there was a spider, and I tried to kill it but I lost it.”

A wave of relief washes over you as you realize that no one is hurt and the building is not on fire. Your eyes travel to where he’s crouched behind the counter, hands gripping the marble while his eyes peek over to observe the spider crawling across the floor. You can’t help but laugh at how terrified he is over a small insect. Instead of cowering away in fear beside him, you walk over to where the spider had begun to crawl up the leg of one of the chairs.

“Y/n be careful! You could die if you get stung, and then we would have to call 911, and what if you don’t make it? I’d feel so guilty, I would carry the weight of my guilt as I grow old, we would hold memorials for you–Oh." His sentence comes to an abrupt stop as he sees you grab the spider with a tissue and place it back outside onto the pavement.

“It was just a daddy long legs, no need to be afraid,” you reassure him.

Soonyoung sighs in relief before standing up, patting down his clothes to get rid of the imaginary dust. He wipes his forehead as if he were the one to take care of the insect problem.

“If there’s anything else wrong just call for me, I’ll be in the back,” you announce, hoping that would be the first and last incident for the day.

Soonyoung nods, giving you a thumbs up as you walk into the back. You let out a breath of relief, giggling to yourself, recollecting the memory of him crouched behind the counter. The redness on your cheeks doesn’t seem to fade at the thought of him cowering over a small spider.

No matter what Soonyoung does, you can’t help but find him endearing. And when he’s not, you find him undeniably attractive. How does this happen? How does one guy who once annoyed you turn into someone who has you completely flustered? It feels odd falling for someone so fast, and you’re just hoping he’ll feel the same. Especially because no one has had this effect on you before.

The more you think about your budding feelings for Soonyoung, you’re constantly reminded of the fact that he’s searching for someone he thinks is his soulmate. You’re apprehensive, but at the same time, he might never find her. So what’s the point of trying to fight these feelings knowing you’re competing with someone he isn’t sure even exists?

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

There were tingles all over your body. Today was the day of Soonyoung’s dance showcase. Although you were excited to see him in his element, you were still nervous. It’s only been a month since you two met and him working at the cafe, but even then, you still feel like a stranger to his outside life. You weren’t sure why he invited you, but you’re grateful that you’ll be able to witness this side of him.

As you make your way into the auditorium of his University, you find yourself in awe at the amount of people in the crowd. It was obvious that his dance team was well-liked at his school, causing admiration to bloom within your chest.

Looking around for a familiar face, you spot Seungkwan and Mingyu sitting in the front row that’s reserved for close friends and family for the people on the dance team. You make eye contact with them, their hands motioning for you to come and sit with them.

“Y/n! You came, Soonyoung is going to be so excited,” Mingyu exclaims, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

You laugh at how excited he is to see you, your cheeks turning red at the mention of Soonyoung. As you pull away, you say hello to Seungkwan before taking your seat between them.

The three of you make a little small talk until the lights start to dim and the spotlight glows against the stage. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you spot Soonyoung walking onto the stage. His hair and makeup were styled, his outfit complimenting his muscular arms perfectly. You’re thankful that the background music was loud enough, hoping that neither Seungkwan nor Mingyu heard the enormous gulp you took the moment your eyes laid on their best friend.

“Good evening everyone! Thank you all for coming to our showcase tonight, I hope you enjoy the performances we prepared,” Soonyoung speaks into the mic, his eyes gleaming under the bright stage lights.

Your breath is caught in your throat once again, Soonyoung’s confidence exuding from where he stands. He looks so handsome under all the bright lights as if he’s born to be on stage. To dance or to entertain, he has the charisma to make the audience laugh and cheer for him.

You’re hot in your seat, your hands starting to sweat as he continues to charm the crowd.

“Everyone has worked so hard for this, and you all get a sneak peek at our performance for the National Dance Competition taking place in Seattle!” He informs the crowd, his smile widening as he unveils his dance troupe's little secret.

As he walks off stage you can’t help but stare in awe, anticipation swirls in your stomach as the lights start to dim once again. The dancers fill up the stage, indicating the start of the performance and you can see the outline of Soonyoung’s frame from where you sit.

Soonyoung’s eyes blaze in the stage lights as the spotlight is cast on him. The dancers are behind him in their rightful positions as the music starts to play. With your mouth agape, you watch his body flow with the music. The strong bass of hip-hop flows through the speakers with every move Soonyoung makes along with his dance crew. The rest of the crowd sits there cheering them on while you’re left speechless.

The serious gaze he holds, as he dances, makes your knees weak, especially because you can tell how passionate he is about his craft. He was made for dancing, born to tell a story with his limbs as they move languidly with the beat of the song.

As the routine comes to an end you can’t help but feel lucky to see Soonyoung in his element. Far from the man who you’ve witnessed make the most silly mistakes while working, he’s so different on stage. Although you’ve come to appreciate his presence at the cafe, seeing him dance instills a profound sense of pride in your stomach.

With each passing second the dance routine comes to a close, Soonyoung spots you in the front row as he continues to move on stage. His eyes widen as his gaze sets upon you before sending you a flirtatious wink. He goes back to facing the centre of the crowd, your whole body enveloped in heat.

The song ends and you’re left sitting there with shocks of electricity passing through your entire body. Your crush on Soonyoung has turned into something deeper.

…

Your palms sweat profusely as you stand at the entrance of the auditorium, an almond croissant in one hand and a bouquet of yellow flowers in the other. While you stand and wait for Soonyoung to come out of the dressing room, your mind is filled with thoughts of his performance. The image of him on stage doesn't leave your thoughts, not even for a second.

“Y/n!” You hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your light daydreaming.

Turning your head in the direction of the voice, your eyes land on Soonyoung, his tall figure making its way over to where you are. Your breath is caught in your throat as your gaze focuses on him. Bareface but his hair still styled, he looked breathtaking.

“Soonyoung! Hi, you were amazing up there,” you tell him breathlessly.

He smiles bashfully at your compliment, his cheeks turning red at your appreciation. Soonyoung doesn’t take compliments well as it is, but when it’s coming from you, he becomes even more flustered. The twinkle in your eyes never leaves as you smile at him.

Pulling you into a hug, your shoulders tense in surprise at his sudden burst of affection, but you don’t hate it. You don’t mind how he likes to express his gratitude towards you. Instead, you embrace it, relaxing as his strong arms hold you close. You don’t ever get tired of how good he smells. Warm, bright, and comforting, like the sun personified.

“Thank you for coming, you don’t know how much this means to me,” he mumbles while his arms are still wrapped around you.

Your face buries itself deeper in his chest as you hear him talk, wanting to hide your already burning face from him. He makes you feel like you’re important like he would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t show up tonight.

Pulling away, Soonyoung smiles at you, the same smile that reaches his eyes in the most adorable way. And then he notices the bouquet of flowers that are held tightly in your grasp. His eyes widen, cheeks red, he’s never received flowers in his life before, but he’s happy you’re the first.

“Is that for me?” he asks, and you nod shyly, “thank you! You didn’t need to get me something, I invited you remember?”

“I know but I wanted to thank you for inviting me, think of it as an advanced congratulations when you win the dance tournament next month,” you say as you hand him the bouquet.

“Also, the croissant is for Chan, I know I promised to get him one,” you add.

His laugh rings through your ears delightfully, finding it cute that you make good on your promises. Even the smallest things like getting a croissant for his best friend, he admires everything about you. The fact that you’re so earnest and willing to share so much with the people he cares about. He falls for you more as each day passes.

Soonyoung knows it hasn’t been long since he’s met you, but he doesn’t care. He knows that he likes you, that he wants to take you out, shower you in all his love and affection, and do whatever it takes to see you smile. He doesn’t care about time unless he can spend the rest of it with you.

˚∗˖⁺⑅ ˖⁺⑅˖◛

When Soonyoung asked to hang out after his dance showcase, you couldn’t help but happily oblige. The way he looks at you, how he shows that he wants to spend time with you makes your stomach flutter. How could one possibly say no to someone like him?

As you two walk over to his apartment, your palms begin to sweat again, even with the cool Vancouver breeze that flows between you. You think about how close you two have gotten since that first day in the cafe, and you can only smile to yourself. He makes you feel wanted, like there's more between you than just friendly coworkers.

Although you want to tell him how much you’ve grown to like him, there's a part of you that still holds back, just because of that little comment Chan made all those weeks ago.

“We’re here!” Soonyoung announces, stepping into the front entrance of his apartment.

It’s considerably nicer than the one you live in, making you feel slightly intimidated by the high-rise building. You tried not to let it show, but you didn’t fully realize how different you two were until now. He’s outgoing, a ball of sunshine. You tend to prefer living in solace, keeping to yourself whether it be at work or school.

“Your place is nice,” you comment as your eyes follow the expanse of the building's height.

“Thank you! Let’s get inside, I think it’s about to start raining,” Soonyoung ushers you in, already noticing the way the clouds start to thicken in the evening sky.

The ride up to the elevator is peaceful, you two enjoy each other's company in silence while you continue to admire the building. As he leads you to the front door of his apartment, your breath gets stuck in your throat once more. You knew Soonyoung was a stylish individual, but you didn’t think that a person in university had much knowledge of interior design.

In short, you found his home to be comforting, the furniture and decorations suited his personality perfectly. It felt warm, it felt like a home.

If only you knew, that Soonyoung was just as nervous as you. His heart beats faster as your eyes look over his apartment. He cleaned it this morning in hopes that you would say yes to coming over. Otherwise it would’ve embodied a pig stye, and he couldn’t have the girl he has feelings for thinking that he was a slob.

“Your place is beautiful, Soonyoung,” you mumble as you continue to look around.

“Really?” He acts shy, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah! I like it, it suits you,” you turn back to him, flashing him a warm smile that makes his cheeks heat up.

Soonyoung releases a breath that he didn’t realize that he was even holding, happy to know that your first impression of his home is positive. Usually when he has his friends over they tell him it can get a little messy, especially when Mingyu visits. His best friend is always helping him clean up the place because of his natural tendency to declutter any space he’s in.

“Do you wanna watch a movie? Or maybe just talk…?” Soonyoung stutters a bit, his head all over the place because the girl he has been crushing on is in front of him. Not while his other friends are around, and not in a workplace setting either.

He doesn’t know how to act when you’re around, he’s typically not a shy person, but when you’re around all his thoughts fly out the window.

“Uhm, talking is just fine with me,” you laugh at how red his face has gotten.

There was an obvious tension in the air and it was hard for you to ignore, but you’re just happy to be alone with him. For once, his friends weren’t here or Seokmin, it was just you and Soonyoung.

He grabs your hand as if he had no control over his actions, guiding you over to his couch. You two sit there, a little closer than what would be considered friendly for coworkers. His eyes twinkled against the ambient lighting.

“What did you want to talk about?” you ask innocently, trying to ignore the rising tension between you.

Soonyoung shies away from your gaze, your eyes becoming the size the saucers the more you stare at him. He wants to tell you how he feels, although he isn’t sure that you feel the same. He wants to take his chance with you while it’s still in front of him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I’m actually really nervous but I just need to say it,” he lets out another puff of breath, trying to calm his nerves.

The beating in your chest increases with each word Soonyoung says, and you don’t know how to feel. You’re nervous too, but you want to hear what he has to say. You feel his hand over yours, squeezing it softly. He’s not sure whether it's to soothe himself or you, but it's working.

“I like you, I know we didn’t meet that long ago, but every time I see you I get so happy, and I love how all my friends like you, and you’re just so beautiful, I can’t keep it to myself anymore, but if you don’t feel the same–,” He blurts out, redness crawling up from his neck to his cheeks once again.

Before you could even register anything past the words ‘I like you’, you pull him into a hug, which is not something normal for you, but Soonyoung is the exception. You can’t help but want to hold him in your arms, your own personal ball of sunshine that has been crafted specifically for you.

“I like you too,” you whisper in his ear as you hold him close.

Soonyoung gasped in surprise at your declaration, and you could practically feel him vibrating in his seat with excitement.

He pulls back from the hug with the biggest smile on his face, eyes brighter than the stars that have been covered by the rain clouds swirling outside his window, “You do?”

“Yes, I do like you back,” you giggle while intertwining your fingers with his, “but I’ve been holding back ever since that night at the bar.”

Soonyoung raises an eyebrow, trying to rack his brain as he thinks of every moment that happened between you that night, but nothing comes to mind.

“Wait why? What happened?” He asks, curious as to why you two have gone this long without confessing to each other.

“It was something Chan said…” you trail off, staring at how your fingers are laced between his.

“Fucking Chan,” he curses at his best friend, “what did he say exactly?”

“Well he didn’t really say anything, but he just asked you a question on the stranger who you’re convinced is your soul mate or whatever,” you shrug your shoulders, trying to act like such a simple thing didn’t torment you for weeks.

Soonyoung eyebrows raise even more and his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, and he starts to connect the dots. He didn’t think that would be the reason you hadn’t told him. If anything, he thought it was because he was not very good at his job at the cafe or that you just weren’t sure about your feelings.

“Oh, that… well I got over it a long time ago. It happened at the front of the cafe, this girl lost her glasses and it was raining and everything. I didn’t see her face because she walked away so fast I didn’t get a chance to act on it.” He recalls the moment between him and the stranger, “I was going in for my interview with Seokmin so I picked up her glasses and gave her my umbrella.”

Sitting quietly beside him, your heart plummets to the bottom of your stomach. This whole time, the person who helped you on what you considered one of your worst days to date, was Soonyoung? You aren’t even sure what to say but it's almost laughable. As if the universe had known that you two were meant to meet one way or the other.

“Soonyoung, that was me,” you reveal to him, and his eyes widen.

“THAT WAS YOU?” He practically jumps out of his seat, hands now placed on your shoulder, inspecting every corner of your face, “now that I think of it, your glasses do look familiar.”

Bursting out laughing, you can’t believe that he would react in this way. He looks like he’s just been let in on an ancient secret, “to be fair, I didn’t know it was you either, I’m practically blind without my glasses so I didn’t see your face.”

“Oh my god, we’re meant to be,” he mutters to himself, his hand covering his mouth in shock.

Soonyoung is elated, to say the least, he gave up on his beautiful stranger the moment he laid his eyes on you. But to find that you are his beautiful stranger. Well, now he knows that he can’t ever let you go.

“I hope you know we’re locked in for life now,” he stares at you earnestly, taking both your hands in his and you look at him quizzically, “Sorry baby, but we can’t disappoint the universe after all the hard work they put into our love story.”

You giggle at him, even when it’s just the two of you, he’s just as silly. That's what you like about him though, the fact that he makes you laugh and smile practically on command. You’ve never laughed this hard with anyone before, Seokmin probably being the only exception, but you don’t want to think about your boss right now.

“Baby? Eager aren’t we?” you tease, and Soonyoung blushes hard, moving away from your peering eyes as he lets go of your hands.

“I can’t help it, you’ll just have to get used to it,” he shrugs, acting nonchalant, but you can see the way he side-eyes you, wanting to still see your reaction.

“Does this mean you’ll take me out on dates? And all the other couple stuff,” you whisper in his ear, your hands circling his bicep as he faces away from you.

“W-well duh! Of course, I’m gonna take you on a proper date, I need to show you how good of a boyfriend I can be!” he exclaims and another giggle slips past your lips.

Squeezing his muscular arm tighter, you can feel his pulse increasing under your touch, “boyfriend? When did I say anything about you being my boyfriend.”

Those few words break his act and he turns to you in shock, he looks like a deer in headlights. Soonyoung is embarrassed about how ahead of himself he’s gotten but he doesn’t want to date anyone else either. If you’re not going to become his girl, then he’d rather just give up on dating altogether.

“I want to be your boyfriend, like really really bad, but only if you’ll let me,” he declares, eyes piercing into your soul with all seriousness.

Watching his demeanour change once more makes you gulp involuntarily.

“I want to be your girlfriend, like really really bad,” you echo his words.

Gasping, Soonyoung can’t contain his happiness, pulling you into a tight hug, and showering your cheeks with kisses. Giggling in his arms, your stomach begins to hurt at how much he can make you laugh in such a short amount of time.

Your body heats up at his affection, feeling the way his plush lips press against your skin. You haven’t felt something like this in a long time, but the fact that it’s Soonyoung makes it better.

Getting up from the couch you stand in front of him, and he’s confused as to why you pulled yourself away. Did he take it too far by kissing you like that? He can feel the apprehension rising within himself as he stares up at you.

“Do you wanna show me to your room?” You ask, and Soonyoung has never stood up so fast in his life ever before.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his bedroom. As he opens the door you're met with at least twenty different tiger stuffed animals staring at you. Soonyoung on the other hand isn’t phased at all, if anything, he takes pride in his plushie collection.

“Do you… collect all of these?” you ask him, and he just smiles and nods.

You decide to have a conversation about the plushie collection another day, but you do find it cute that he’s into something seemingly harmless.

Sitting on his bed, he doesn’t take his place beside you right away. Instead, Soonyoung carefully turns each tiger plushie around so that they’re all facing away from his bed. He turns back at your figure sitting on his mattress, a shy smile across his lips.

“Can’t have them witnessing what we’re about to do y’know,” he giggles before turning the last tiger around.

Once he is finally done, he jumps into the bed and smothers you tightly in his strong arms. You’re not over the whole tiger thing, but at least he’s happy, you think to yourself.

“Now where were we?” He looks at you, eyes still glittering even in the dim lighting of his room.

You shake your head and smile at him, pushing him down so that he's lying with his back against the bed. Each of your legs moves over his hips, hands feeling up his chest.

Leaning closer, you two share your first kiss, and it’s everything you’ve hoped for. The two of you move together in perfect sync as he grabs your sides tightly.

“You’re a good kisser,” you mumble against him, and he just smiles as he pulls you into another kiss.

His hands move lower on your body, your skirt hiking up your thighs as he grips at your flesh. Your skin is so soft, and he can’t get over how sweet your lips taste. Soonyoung knows if he were to miraculously die now, he would die a very happy man.

Soft moans leave your mouth as he gropes your ass under your skirt, feeling the way your lack of clothes leaves more for him to grasp at. He can’t stop touching you, exploring your body like it’s his and his only to discover. The fact that you even agreed to let him be your boyfriend was enough for him, but also getting laid on the same night, well, Soonyoung could really die a happy man.

The kiss becomes heated with each second that passes, but Soonyoung just wants to let you know how much he likes you. You invade his thoughts relentlessly, not that he’s opposed to it at all. But he likes the way you smile at him every time he tells you how much he wants to be with you.

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispers to you, your smile widening even more.

“I’m happy you’re mine too,” you repeat his words again, giving him the same reassurance he gives you.

Out of all the people you could fall for, you’re happy it was your clumsy coworker with an oddly large tiger collection. You’re thankful for the fact that out of all the people, he was the one to help you on that rainy day. Even when it’s gloomy outside and the clouds cover every inch of the sun’s rays, Soonyoung still glows under the grey sky. Rain or shine, you want him no matter how good or bad the weather is.

Ⱄ a/n: if u want more of them please lmk hehe, and if u liked this story please leave a like or a reblog hehe it is very much appreciated :3 thank you ♡ p.s rain or shine is an actual ice cream shop in bc heheh

Ⱄ perm tag-list: @christinewithluv @todorokiskitten @peachescreamandcrumble @minwonfairy @oneandonlyluvv @ihrtmingyu @tigerhoshii @sleepzyy @luveveryonewoo @thepoopdokyeomtouched @chan-s-laptop @aksweet7 @leah-rose03 @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @gyuguys @crystal-rhyming @jenoxygen @hoshhhiiiii @babigriin @bouclesdefeu @mingyuecstacy @iluvseokmin @odevote118 @wonvsmile @suga-bitch @chickpea-jimin @lar3ine @bias-recs @hanniebub @iluvmingi @vapidlynn @aaniag @yogurttea @blurr3db3rry @lovejoshua @woozixo @drunk-on-dk @noiceoofed @angelfeverdream @leahhhher @hanniebwii @yuyunhoo @whowantshota @hannniiiiiehae @afslme @writingbarnes

#svthub #svthub.collab #seventeen fic #hoshi x reader #hoshi fic #seventeen x reader #hoshi fluff #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #seventeen #svt fic #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}

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cheriden · 10 months ago

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「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 1 。。。

"You're so pretty, I love you. Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as Beomgyu chants the phrase louder like a prayer. "

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits (whom you have a crush on) is too sweet in bed

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, mdni!

.ᐟ tags 。friends with benefits, unrequited love, praise kink, missionary so they can argue, a lot of teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it and get tested!), creampie (on pill!), miscommunication, beomgyu's an idiot

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.04k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。reuploaded because i'm fucking stupid. i do think ppl can be fwb without feelings but mc is a lovergirl for today ☝☝, not really proofread, semi-rushed, beomgyu is kinda dumb, no happy end (yet?)

At some point this arrangement has to end. You know that. He knows it; moreover everyone who knows that you’ve been sleeping with Beomgyu says it. You’re also aware that you should be the one to end it; A friends of benefits situation hinted at by Beomgyu, leading to a proposition started by you.

He comes over more frequently, showers you in more affection, in addition to subconsciously doing little habits lovers would do. As the patterns start to weave with your everyday life, you start to wonder who gains the most out of this agreement. Of course, such matters shouldn’t be weighed, especially between friends. He gets his release out of a glorified, whiny, pussy mitten, and you get to take a sneak peak of what it would be like to be his.

It’s not like you’re gonna get more than that.

Naturally, this thought process circulates your mind a lot, its conclusion always left as a draft or with a conflicting thought. Listening to the pitter-patter against the glass pane, you reason with yourself while you send him a text and sink into the bed, thinking, “The aftercare is nice, plus things have gotten stressful lately.”

All the inward bickering with yourself never lasts, because in the end, a full five minutes pass before three’s knocking on the door. With a heavy mind and body, you drag yourself to the anterior of the studio to unlock it.

On the other end is a panting brunette, glasses skewed and hair disheveled. Beomgyu brings his hood down, leaves his keys on the shabby table up front, kicking his shoes off beside it. You step away from the door, with him trailing behind you meekly. No words are exchanged, contrast to the obnoxiously loud string of filth when the two of you hook up. Once you enter the bedroom, you immediately fall onto the bed, propping yourself up to the headboard. You study him expectantly, moving to your right and replacing your weight with his own. He scans the room, playing with the hem of your shirt. “You got new sheets.” He starts, voice soft and low while he rests into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “They’re really soft.” With a hum, you move to get on top of him, your legs entrapping him. Simultaneously, you set your weight down on him slowly, and he seals his eyes with a small jerk from his hips. “You really came over to talk about my sheets?” The brunette gives you a small smile, cocking his head to the side. “You seriously texted me just to do nothing?” The other returns, sitting up to meet your form.

He latches his lips onto your neck, trailing it upwards to kiss the sharp of your jaw. “You’re assuming.” you comment, biting down on the inners of your bottom lip to fend off sound. “We used to hang out all the time before we started fucking.” He stops his kisses to peer at you, his mouth covered in sheen. “You texted me saying, ‘Wanna do it?’ I don’t think I was that far off from what you were planning.” You nod your head, lifting the ends of his shirt, bringing his face back into your neck. In turn, he brings his arms up the small of your back, caressing it before detaching himself once again. “You don’t have a bra on.” He says, like it’s some sort of otherworldly fact. Raising an eyebrow, you respond, “Well yeah, it’s my apartment. Nobody’s home and my top’s frilly enough to hide everything.” He nods, planting a swift peck on your lips, he gives you a bright-eyed smile. “It suits you.”

You don’t know if he’s teasing, or if this is part of the foreplay. You recall wearing the exact same top half a decade ago to see a movie with Beomgyu alone, loose and brand new with a skirt that sat right above the upper quartile of your thigh. You told yourself that it would be the day you confessed to him, or tried to get him to do something in the theater. Instead, he giggled at you, smoothening the sides of your frayed braids, telling you that you dressed silly and clean. You weren’t sure what he was implying about you, but the red hue that had painted on your cheeks that stayed throughout the whole run-time of the movie was enough to get you to quit wearing that top outdoors out of embarrassment.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, pushing the bunched up shirt around you, pulling it above your head. “Nothing” you mumble, yelping when he flips you, hovering above you as he begins to tug at the garter of your shorts. Lifting your ass, the other pulls at the fabric in one swoop. “Don’t get distracted and ignore me.” He pouts, hooking your underwear while the knuckle of his middle finger grazes over your core. “Couldn’t possibly forget,” you huff out, subtly lowering yourself onto his digit, “you’re too annoying—” Cutting yourself off with a gasp, his tongue replaces his finger, giving kitty licks over the cloth. “I’m so annoying I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of this.” He gloats in between breaths, left hand intertwined with yours as the right has its hold on the skin atop your pelvic bone, thumb rubbing circles and drawing patterns. You keep quiet, concentrating on suppressing your noises and grabbing the brunette’s hair. Pulling his face into you, he retracts, kissing the sides of your underwear. “Beomgyu,” you hiss, yanking his head up to study him. “Don’t be a prick.” The brunette gives you another pout, slowly bringing the garment to level with your knees. “But you’re cute when you’re squirming,” he pauses, trailing kisses up to your belly button. “You're also hot when you’re mean.” With a scoff, you shove his head away, and he returns to face your heat. His tongue prods at your entrance; you curse, grinding yourself onto it. “You’re impatient today,” he remarks, rubbing the apple of his cheek against your lower abdomen. “Stop playing around,” You bite back, grasping onto his hair to keep him in place, “you’re not usually this taunting.” Beomgyu sneers, pressing his nose on your clit. “Taunting you? Can’t I just want my baby to feel good?”

The term of endearment causes you to jolt against him. He chuckles, vibrations shooting up your body, draping an arm over your eyes. “Does my baby like it when I call her that?” He asks, to which you nod unconsciously, body writhing as your whines get pitchier.

Beomgyu gets off on your praise, gets off on seeing just how much you need him. So it's obvious that his next course of action is to stop contact with you altogether, pulling himself back, smirk plastered on his face. “Say it.” He coos, frotting the fabric of his jeans over your bare cunt; the texture makes you writhe. “Say you like being called baby, and that you love it when I go down on you.” A sense of protecting your dignity washes over you. You turn away with your mouth shut as he moans over you. “Never.”

The other picks up speed, and you clamp the back of your hand against your lips to prevent a whimper. Beomgyu shrugs, paying no mind to your stubbornness. “Guess I'll have to force it out of you.”

He’s cocky now, but the more he rubs against you, the louder and sloppier he gets. “Don’t cum in your pants over dry humping me, Beomie.” You mock. In return he ends with one last slow grind. “Shut up.”

He relents, mouthing the opening of your core again and lapping it in circles—prying it open with his fingers, tongue moving to suck on the tip. Toes curling, you grip at the headboard as he eats you out. His hips buck at the sheets beneath him, ruining the cloth he was praising a few minutes ago. “I’m close,” you sputter, grip on his strands tightening with little regard for his breathing.

Beomgyu—the brat that he is, halts the process once more, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “Are you serious right now? Do you not want me to cum?”

He purses his lips as if in thought, leaning to spread kisses over your clavicle. “Tell me that—” “You groan, throwing one of the smaller pillows at him. “Be for real. I’m not doing that shit.” The other pretends to sulk, hands working his way through your body and massaging your breasts. “Fine. Tell me what you want then, since my princess is so impatient and temperamental. You moan at the new nickname, and he doesn’t fail to notice. “I’ll call you all the names you want if you just tell me what you want.”

He’s back to teasing your entrance. Defeated, you tell him as fast as you can, “Need to cum, need you in me.”

Beomgyu tuts, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word?”

“Now.” You hiss, glare sharp. All he does is smile, kissing you one last time. “Okay, only because you’re so cute and you need me.” You’re not given the time to act all snobbish about his words, thoughts cut off by the sudden moaning at your cunt, Beomgyu trying and succeeding at pushing all your buttons as he sends you to the edge. A long moan exits you as you ride your orgasm out on his face, seeing spots of white as your mind tingles in pleasure.

The brunette kneels to undo his bottoms with your help, with you kissing the bands of the underwear and carved bone. “Like I said,” he sighs, hands on your shoulders to push you back into the mattress, “Impatient..”

He curses as the tip of his dick runs through the lips of your pussy, rutting it slowly. “You’re so hard,” you coo, cupping a cheek and working his dick to press on you, “You look like you haven’t fucked in—ever.” He whines at your ridicule—but it spurs him more, bucking his hips faster against you.

Beomgyu’s lids are heavy and his jaw is slack, grunting. “Look at me,” You start, his eyes finding yours as he whimpers, “I thought you were proving just how much I needed you?”

He says nothing, staring at you intently. You ask, “What do you want?” He moans, grinds deeper and paces wider. “Need to fuck you so bad," you tilt your head, encouraging him to say more.

“Please.”

You give him the go ahead, and he wastes no time in sliding himself in, his desperation making him seem too excited and clingy. You let out a small laugh, though it’s not long before your prideful smirk is displaced by the other’s mouth. By your command, he thrusts swifter with more depth, moaning into your mouth.

Your lips leave his, watching the line so spit snap, falling over his own, pink and swollen. “You look so pretty, my baby.”

It’s so confusing to you, intense in a way that it gets you going, yet also in a sense that it’s heartbreaking. You savor the moments he calls you his, even if it's only for a moment.

“You’re so pretty,” he pants against your temples, short for breath. He clenches his eyes closed, rolling his hips into you at a painfully slow pace. Your heels dig at the lower portion of his back, urging him to focus on fucking you fast and hard. Beomgyu on the other hand has a different idea in mind. He pulls back, detaching your arms from his, observing the shaft of his cock work its way into your sopping wet cunt. This whole scenario is obscene, dick outlining your stomach when he buries himself into you, pussy clamping on his member, the wet sounds paired with your cries get him off further. “Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, elbows back down near your sides while you cling yourself onto him once more. Thrusts hastier and needier than the last, he mutters something mindlessly—loud enough for you to hear.

“I love you.”

Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as he chants the phrase louder like a prayer. You feel the sting of tears building in your eye sockets. Chalking it up to overstimulation, you direct all your energy to hinder it, but you can’t multitask, the bruise forming on your lips finding a break as you squeeze your eyes shut. Soon enough you’re vocal, something in the middle of wailing and moaning. “Beomgyu,” you sob, yanking his tugging his head back to meet your gaze, “I’m—” Drool trickles down your chin; he swipes it away with his thumb, trailing it with quick open-mouthed kisses. “You’re so pretty.” He repeats, smudging your tears on the sides of your face. “Always pretty when you go dumb on my cock.” He moans, rhythm quivering and sights set on getting you to come one last time before chasing his own release. “I’m close, gonna fill you up.” His thrusts fasten in urgency, hissing when you scratch his back and scream his name, your back arching off the mattress. Your hips set its pace to his, and soon enough you come to the feeling of his own, hot and thick as lava against your walls while the both of you ride out your orgasm.

Regulating your breathing, you wipe your tears before he pulls his head up to gaze at you directly. He looks properly fucked out, but pulls out slowly with kisses across your face to distract you from the feeling, settling beside you instead of keeping on top of you.

A slurry of emotions plague your mind all at once, an aftershock that feels like it hit the ground too fast, too soon.

It’s overwhelming—not the good kind of overwhelming you should be feeling when someone tells you they love you, because you know Beomgyu didn't mean it like that. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes you want to gut and lobotomize yourself, cursing about the fact that you’re feeling such mental and emotional torment over something so trivial.

Mind clearing up a little, you slide the thin duvet up your form; you sit up and clear your throat. “I think we should stop doing this.” You say slowly. The room is still, save for the heavy rain and whirs of the flimsy standing fan. His gaze frantically runs up your body, focusing alternating between your eyes and nothing in particular. His Adam's apple bobs vertically, yet all that comes out of his mouth is one word that teeters on a whisper. “What?” Locking your gaze with his own, you take a shaky breath, “People think we’re dating, Beomgyu. I don’t want this,” you gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is, to get in the way of me finding a potential relationship.” He sinks deeper into the mattress, Gaping at the ceiling. He asks, “Is this so bad?” View following his—you stare at the barren overhead, replying monotonously. “It is if I want to find a loving partner.” “I mean for people to think that we’re dating. Would that be the worst?” He interjects, the air from your lungs thinning out when you stutter. “Piss off.”

He scoffs, sitting up to match your posture. “It’s not that big of a deal. You get horny, we have sex. That’s it.” You lower your head to shake it. “It is to me. You may not have a problem sticking your dick in anything that moves, but I want to feel wanted.” The bed creaks as he inches his body closer to yours. “Fuck you. I—” You lean back, widening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t start. This is different. I want a loving, meaningful relationship.” “That’s bullshit.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Fuck you.” You spit, beyond aggravated. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it these past months.” He retorts; you start clenching the plush blanket at your sides, knuckles turning white. After a few beats, you speak up again. “I think we should just be friends.” You watch him gnaw at the lower half of his lips, nodding his head. “Wait, Is it because I said that I love you?” He starts, “because, I don’t ‘love you’ love you. That was a heat-of-the moment, middle-of-sex ‘love you’.”

You render yourself taciturn, silence thickening as time passes. You hold yourself back from saying words you know you wouldn’t be able to take back, Fixating on counting the droplets resting on the window. His hands sneak up and move your face to look at him, coaxing his forehead against yours after planting a delicate peck on the wrinkles.

“I don’t love you. Promise.”

Beomgyu brushes his lips on the corners of your own, thumbing circles gently across your cheeks. “You have nothing to worry about.”

His grasp on you has gone icy and numbing, matching the cool of the downpour as your mind tunes into its melancholic static.

since this is a reup, i've decided to take the results from the deleted post, which was a landslide vote anyway. thank you to those who helped me reach 200+ notes and who reblogged, i would have lost this fic otherwise:)

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

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borkunlimited · 3 months ago

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Take Your Time, Miss Deer (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 4

In a tailor shop tucked in the calmer side of the N109 zone is a little room where all clothes of many different designs come together under the delicate hands of an unassuming deer living in the den of all sorts of beasts and sitting on them is the dragon who wears your clothes.

Your many interactions with Skye, Mr. Sylus’ messenger or-

-Sylus is waiting for you to finally figure out he is playing his own messenger.

A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic

Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey, Self-Harm

Chapter Summary: Horns. Antlers. A long tail with smooth scales. A short tail. If those are gone, then both of you are almost the same, right?

Author's Note: Some lines have references to existing media. I have been playing Disco Elysium every now and then with a dash of Reverse 1999. Still going with the main themes tackled by Beastars and BNA though but you know, I really do love certain lines from these games that I just want to put it in here as well.

Enjoy!

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

4: My Dearest, Generous

A little downpour has visited the N109 zone today.

It was close to the afternoon when you heard the soft pitter patter against the windows of your studio that is steadily increasing intensity within each passing minute and you immediately rushed to close them one by one, not wanting water to get inside and ruin the patterns and the fabrics you have prepared to sew for tomorrow.

You were about to close the last window when a small, dark figure zoomed past you, spreading droplets on the wooden floor.

It looks like your odd little crow friend has decided to take shelter here at your studio.

Daisy settled on one of the armchairs, shaking the excess rainwater that clung on its feathers, letting out an indignant caw before preening itself.

“I know. It is quite sudden,” you chuckled softly, locking the last window with your ears flicking away little beads of rainwater that clung on your fur.

Daisy seemed to also agree and it let you remove the damp good luck ribbon you have made for it. It is a little worse for wear now so maybe it is time to make a new one.

Perhaps something more stylish? The image of your crow friend wearing a scarf made you smile. Very fitting because it is becoming colder but for now, another good luck ribbon with the color it prefers should do.

“It’s alright. I won’t throw it away,” you assured it when it hopped along with you, worried where you would put its cherished item.

Will you repair it? Mephisto thinks you can.

If its master can repair its circuits easily then it thinks you can do the same. You seemed very capable of fixing everything after seeing you stitch together large tears on the twins’ jacket before so it also means piecing back its worn ribbon should be easy to you.

For Mephisto, it doesn’t matter if its good luck charm is slightly damaged (What do you mean it's hanging by a thread?) All the affections you have poured into that ribbon will always be there no matter how it looks and it feels rather naked now that you have removed it.

Your finger grazed against the old wood of the cabinet while you hum absentmindedly, counting the number of the rows of shelves that store everything you need to sew any of your clients’ requests.

‘Oh, dear stranger journeying to a far off land, how many days must pass till I see you again?’

Third column from the left of the cabinet. Above where you keep the little boxes of buttons of various colors, all neatly organized, and then you finally pull out the drawer to retrieve a box inside of it.

Your crow flapped up to your sewing table, watching you set the item and it hopped in excitement.

Mephisto knows this particular box. This is a box where you store all of its trinkets it gave to you (Fine, and its master’s too.)

It was one of the few belongings you brought along before you left the place you once called home with your father.

A little gift to you when you were young by an old hybrid couple after you knitted them scarves. You never quite remember their faces anymore but even then, the memory of their gratitude lingered, the playful pinch on your cheeks when you handed them their scarves wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Do you want me to play it?”, you asked Daisy, opening the box to reveal the various precious ores and gemstones resting together with the dried flowers your crow has brought for you.

All of it, hidden in one place, little memories preserved and forever cherished.

Mephisto let out a beep, a yes, its optics adjusting to take a recording once again of this little moment that it may or may not hold over its master’s head (Again) upon its return to the base when the rain subsides.

You nodded in approval, tying around Daisy’s old ribbon around one of the horns of the little black dragon figurine sitting inside the box then turned the key.

A soft melody began playing and both you and Daisy watched the black dragon spin among the field of red blossoms painted in the background as if it was chasing the white ribbon on its horn, a lonesome game but still fun while the two of you looked back at your reflections on the small mirror.

Mephisto pushed the top of its head under your chin, nuzzling you and you laughed softly, petting its back while you listened to the gentle lullaby.

“Quite a downpour, don’t you think?”

Your heart skipped a bit, the lullaby cut short as you immediately closed the box, pushing it near the pile of fabrics beside you.

These impromptu guests of yours always catch you off guard. Perhaps it comes with their innate trait of being able to make their presence hidden until they choose to reveal themselves.

Or so you thought.

The door shut with a soft click, your surprise visitor making his way towards you and your eyes widened. His footsteps were quiet, almost like Skye’s and twins’ but how is it possible? How is it possible when you and the person standing across your table are certainly alike, are of-

-the same species.

You nodded slowly, and Daisy hopped between you and your visitor, silently assessing this newcomer, one of the many who had made themselves comfortable in your studio.

“Louis,” the deer hybrid said, raising his hand for you to shake which you returned, telling him your name in return but not like you need to tell him, he already knows about you anyways. Everyone who has transactions with Sylus is fully aware of who you are.

The seamstress who dresses all the wolves of this den in sheep’s clothing.

The deer fiercely guarded by the dragon kept in this hidden corner of the N109 zone.

The object of Sylus’ affections.

Or, from people who harbors deep hatred to Sylus-

Sylus’ well-seasoned meal.

“What brings you here, Mister Louis?”, you asked politely, your hands on your lap. You haven’t seen this deer before.

Is he a new resident here in the N109 zone?

He is well-dressed, clearly wealthy, and the cut of his clothes fit him well.

His eyes lingered on Mephisto and he knew that this was the little heathen made by Sylus to carry out his commands. One of his three errand runners as people said who goes about doing his dirty work on his behalf.

That dragon really does keep a close eye over you, doesn’t he?

It was almost concerning. A predator hybrid and prey hybrid spending too much time with each other spells trouble. Is Sylus fattening you up? A meal reserved for a special occasion?

“I heard you are Sylus’ personal tailor,” he said, walking around your studio, studying the clothes on display.

“Yes, but more like his lead tailor,” you corrected him, your eyes watching him closely. It has been so long since you have met your own kind. Is it comforting? Maybe, “He still has other tailors as well.”

“Did he come here often?”

“Oh, never.”

“Never?”

“Yes, he has yet to pay us a visit.”

His eyes narrow slightly at you. The word in the streets is that you and Sylus are seen together more often and people have claimed that he is very forward on his affections to you, how his tail wrapped around your waist, and even how he gazed at you as if when you tell him to jump, he will ask how high you want.

“He only sends his people here,” you continued but you caught the subtle hint of confusion in his gaze and then you added, “Good people.”

Good people?

A brief look of surprise crossed your visitor’s face. Did he hear that right?

You think those wolf cubs, that crow between you, and Sylus of all people are good ?

Maybe it is true that every hybrids like you and him indeed lost their instincts when they stepped here in the N109 zone which is why your lot has to look after each other just in case, just in case that the beasts who reside here decide to remove their masks and hurt you just like how the humans did outside.

Because you prey hybrids are just so damn pitiful.

“It didn’t cross your mind that they would hurt you?”

“Everyone who entered this room didn’t.”

“There will always be the first.”

“I trust them more over the humans,” you replied. His concern is valid, of course, and Mister Louis here isn’t the first prey hybrid who expressed his worry over you being friendly with any of your visitors.

Your father is a different case, though, who is specifically worried about Skye.

Skye, of all people.

Skye who never crossed the line when he was here. Skye who doesn’t have to stay but chose to. Skye who helps you if he doesn’t have to.

But you know their concern stems from reality.

Humans.

Predator hybrids.

Prey hybrids.

That’s how the hierarchy goes. That’s how it has always been. Your kind stood in a delicate balance, docile enough in the eyes of the humans that you are taken advantage of often and weaker than the weakest predator hybrid as long as they have fangs to nip and claws to scratch.

“We’re deers by the end of the day.”

“I know but even then, it doesn’t make much difference.”

If anything, predator or prey, you are all just animals in the eyes of humans.

Tainted blood.

“I appreciate your concern, Mister Louis,” you added politely, giving him a small smile. “But it wouldn’t be fair for us to judge them easily when they haven’t harmed any of us here so far.”

Louis studied you closely. You genuinely do believe that all of you hybrids are equal.

How naive. How idealistic.

It will take centuries or more for prey and predator hybrids to get along and another more for hybrids and humans.

But then again, your father did mention to him you would rather run towards the nearest predator hybrid when in danger than seek help from a human.

“You’re an odd deer, Miss,” he chuckled softly.

He pushed a small package towards you wrapped in old newspaper.

“But just so you know, I heard dragons play with their prey before they eat them alive.”

────────────────────

Sylus adores the subtle signs of affection every time he is visiting you.

The faint blush on your cheeks when he stepped in to observe what you were doing. How you automatically shift closer when his tail is wrapped around your waist or when you listen to his words, your ears flicking while you pay attention.

His species in particular are naturally warm yet he only grew to understand the value of another person’s warmth every time he is with you and if he only can pull you closer, it is an irrevocable fact that you will be the warmest treasure he ever had held in his hands.

Not because of the blood pumping on your veins.

But because of the peaceful grace you have with you.

The deer doesn’t need to step out of her meadow if anything. He had already stepped foot on your paradise under the sunlight that passed the trees and if he can, he doesn’t want to leave the only place that treated him with sincere kindness.

Today, Sylus has been eagerly looking forward to his visit despite the sudden downpour.

As if a little rain would stop him from seeing his favorite deer and as usual, he is not one to be in your shop without gifts for you.

He gave your father an easy smile and the older deer simply nodded in return, a polite greeting, when the dragon hybrid passed by him.

Thirty steps from the entrance of your shop to the hallway and another set of ten from the hallway to your studio. Oh, Sylus can’t wait to see his hardworking darling and he was halfway to your studio when he stopped, his ears picking up your sweet voice from behind the closed door and well, well, what’s this?

His eyes narrowed, picking up the scent of another guest. Another deer hybrid just like you and-

-A male one.

Your voices were muffled by the walls of your studio but he would always recognize the always gentle and polite tone you used when talking to anyone.

Then, the door opened and Sylus immediately piece together the identity of the newcomer you were just talking to earlier.

He isn’t one to forget the name to the face, afterall.

A young upstart in the N109 zone trying to make a name and recently, the little birds had told him that this one is creating a small association for all prey hybrids living here, not that Sylus minds.

He caught the familiar scent of fear from the male deer hybrid but this one was able to put all of his apprehension under a nonchalant expression laced with subtle defiance.

This gaze is all too familiar to him at this point.

This visitor of yours does not like him.

“I was told you had never set foot in this shop,” the deer hybrid started, not looking away from Sylus.

Brave, perhaps there is a reason why this one managed to reel the leashes of all the predators following his orders but he has a thought that this particular hybrid will be a little nuisance.

“And what exactly have you been told?”, Sylus asked casually, studying the newcomer. A good looking one but he is aware your father wouldn’t set you up with anyone, not when the older deer had gotten the message loud and clear that he is pursuing you.

“The miss said you only send good people in this shop,” the deer hybrid answered, as if piecing together your words and Sylus’ presence, “That Sylus himself never set foot here. Not even once.”

“Is this miss lying, Sylus?” the deer hybrid continued, letting go of the door handle, “Or are you deceiving the poor girl?”

“You’re quite a detective, aren’t you?”

“I took it as my responsibility to look after people here who get too cozy with predators like you.”

“Are you implying I am going to snap and attack her one day?”

“There are too many cases of your kind that did,” the deer hybrid countered.

These answers, these excuses.

The same lines recited by predators who thought they could reel in their natural instincts and not harm the prey hybrids they claimed they love and adore.

“Oh really? I suppose you have a solution for that? Locking my sweetheart away just to make sure she is safe from the big bad dragon,” Sylus replied, taking a few steps forward but the deer hybrid did not seem to falter.

Sweetheart.

So the words are true. Sylus is indeed courting you in his own twisted way.

“No, my solution is not drastic,” the male retorted, walking towards him until they were shoulder to shoulder. “You still seemed a reasonable man so just a word of advice-”

“-Pursue your own kind and leave her alone.”

The newcomer walked away but Sylus can’t shake the audacity of this upstart.

Why?

Why do people think that he can’t love you or be loved by you just because of your differences?

If you removed your antlers and he cut his horns, both of you would have been humans and no one would bat an eye.

Sylus took a deep breath, the faint scent of rain still clung to his hair and clothes, calming him down slightly and even when the smell of your previous visitor hung about, he could still shift through all the mixed scents and pick up the aroma of cotton and wildflowers.

The scent of you.

It was more than enough to soothe him and then, he opened the door to your studio, ready to see you.

The tension that lingered on his interaction with your previous visitor breaks, in this room, in the garden of fabrics and threads where there is only the two of you, the world is a distant away.

The ocean of chaos in his heart slowly subsides.

In this little piece of paradise, a small voice emerges. Yours .

The dearest thing he wants to hear for his remaining days.

“Skye, quite a rain we are having, don’t you think?”

If all the precious metals and minerals he had ever owned merged together, its value will not be able to measure up on the fondest smile you wear when you see him.

Warm like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

“Well, it certainly did not stop me, didn’t it?” he remarked, all the words the deer hybrid said to him fading in the background and your voice is the only sound he can hear.

He watched you move around your desk, coming close to him to examine him and he chuckled softly when you had to stand by your tiptoes to do so.

“Are you wet? Do you want me to get a towel for you?”, you fretted about.

“You’re so considerate,” he replied, his hands reaching out and settling on your waist to steady you, “But I’m fine, little doe.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have really come over. You might get sick,” you pointed out, looking up to him.

You’d be surprised how far his constitution goes as a dragon but then again, he does love being doted by you.

“I’ll be fine, sweetie.”

“You could always turn down Mr. Sylus. His gifts can always wait.”

“But bringing his gifts to you is the only task I do enjoy.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Skye?”, you asked while he brushes the threads hanging on your antlers.

There are so many things he wants to ask from you. Those kisses you give freely to the twins and Mephisto, to hold you close and take in your comforting scent, and for you to finally call him by his real name but his requests, his pleas overflow, the words lost in his tongue and only then what matters is you, you, you.

Just you.

“Just keep doing your own thing, hm?”, Sylus replied, tapping your nose playfully.

“How about you help me and Daisy then?”, you asked, and you were so quick on pulling a chair for him, setting it beside where you usually sit on your sewing table, “If you don’t mind being my second assistant for today?”

His eyes fleeted on Mephisto which is busy shifting through the pile of fabrics you have laid out on the table. His mechanical crow really does enjoy spending time with you from the looks of it and he caught the absence of that familiar white ribbon you tried around its neck.

Had his companion managed to lose its valuable treasure already? That seemed unlikely. He had seen Mephisto snap at another crow once who tried to pull it off its neck.

“Just tell me what to do, darling deer.”

“Daisy and I are making another good luck ribbon,” you said, sitting on your chair and you patted on the chair beside you, an indication for him to do the same which he gladly did.

Oh, is that how that little item is called? No wonder Mephisto is very attached to it.

“A good luck ribbon?”

“Yes, to keep Daisy safe.”

“Well, isn’t Daisy a lucky bird to have you, miss seamstress.”

“I’ll make one for you as well, Skye”, you smiled, and the idea of having Mr. Sylus’ bodyguard wearing a ribbon in one of his horns sounds quite appealing to you. He would very much resemble the dragon figurine inside the music box you have beside you and he will be more approachable, you are sure.

“Are you saying I need good luck, sweetheart?”, he replied but he was already shifting through the fabrics laid out in front of him together with Mephisto and he already had a color in mind.

Afterall, he had always loved the color of your eyes. Warm, welcoming, and eager. He certainly wouldn’t mind a ribbon of that hue tied around one of his horns.

Your ears drooped slightly on his response, “You don’t want one?”

Oh, he doesn’t need luck.

Not when he already has you near him but how could he resist that cute pout on your face? This little tactic of yours, even if you are not aware of it, always works so well that he always finds himself abiding to whatever you would say.

“Don’t give me that look, Miss Deer,” he gently chided you and tapped your nose, “Of course I want one.”

Your tail wagged just slightly upon hearing his reply. It always gives you a sense of purpose when people say they like to receive gifts from you and since you are now making him one, maybe you should sew one for Mr. Sylus as well, a little token of gratitude for all the gifts.

“Do you think Mr. Sylus would want one as well?”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

“What color do you think he would want?”

“Red,” Sylus replied, an idea already forming in his head after you are done with this project while he fiddled at the edge of the fabric that shares the color of your eyes, “Definitely red, sweetie.”

Daisy hopped near you, dragging its chosen fabric by its beak and Sylus shifted closer to you, your shoulders touching and ready to take any instructions you would give him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the sewing part.”

“Just say the word, miss seamstress.”

Certainly not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon with you.

────────────────────

Sylus had always detested the horns sitting on top of his head.

Monster.

Among the thousand curses and more he has been called, the word had always carried a certain weight every time humans and hybrids alike had laid eyes upon him.

His kind is a rarity these days, a dying breed after being hunted and culled like livestocks when the humans had deemed they are a threat.

How many times had he sawed them off? He only lost that habit when he realized that they always grow back, more pointed than ever and-

-If he can’t convince his hunters he meant no harm, then it is time to prove their fears right.

The blood drips from the blade, into his face, and then into the white tiles of the bathroom. In this world overflowing with laughter mocking him from being the last of his kind, he had decided to level the playing field and carve a utopia for himself that slowly grew, a twisted safe haven initially meant for fiends such as him.

Then, on this land of despair, a small patch of paradise had taken root. Clearly impossible but certainly, without a doubt, a miracle.

Sylus then realized having horns isn’t too bad. A grotesque reflection of your elegant antlers, a bad imitation, but one of the similarities you both share.

“I am glad you love it, Daisy,” you clapped your hands, watching your odd little bird hopped about and turn for you and Skye, showing off the little ribbon you have sewn together.

His mechanical crow is more than pleased and Sylus is already sure it is about to show it off to the twins for receiving a new gift from you.

It has become a little competition between those three and they don’t need to know that their boss is more than aware their contest involves who gets the most kisses and pats from you.

And here he is, sitting at the bottom of the list with the lowest score even if he isn’t technically part of that game.

“Do you want me to put on yours as well, Skye?”, you asked him.

“Just try not to tie it too tight, darling deer,” he said and he bent his head slightly, enough for you to reach his horn.

There was a shiver that ran on his spine when your fingers grazed his horn while you carefully fastened the ribbon around it and he let out a small whimper.

It was a gesture of trust but you wouldn’t know that, not when it was common for you deer hybrids to touch each other’s antlers.

But it was more than a gesture of trust.

Afterall, Sylus is more than aware that his kind only allows closed family to touch their horns and-

-Their mate.

He almost sounded pathetic in his own ears and for once, he is afraid to see the look of pity on your eyes. Here is your liar, Miss Deer, he wants to tell you but he wouldn’t deny there is a hint of fear that eventually you will realize ‘Skye’ and ‘Mr. Sylus’ are one and the same.

Would your fond gaze turn to fear by then?

“Oh, did I put it on too tight?”, you asked when your ears picked up the sound he made.

It was not pity that he saw but a flicker of concern if you have hurt him and oh, his sweetheart, always so caring. What did he do to deserve your kindness?

Too tight? Hardly. Your touch was so gentle, so unfamiliar yet he yearned for more.

“No sweetheart, you haven’t,” he replied and then you let out a small laugh when he pinched your cheek.

“I am glad,” you nodded and you studied the bow closely placed at the base of his horn. You should put more ribbons on him because it certainly made him look less threatening.

Maybe then, your clients wouldn’t have a heart attack if you and him had to go again to do a delivery run soon.

“It really looks good on you, Skye. People would believe you are a nice and friendly dragon now.”

“Perhaps I should wear ribbons more often then,” he joked but your ears seemed to perk up at his comment, and he caught the anticipation in your eyes at the prospect of making him more bows.

You nodded, and he froze slightly when you rub your antlers against his horn where the ribbon is tied in approval, “That sounds great. I can’t wait to see you in them.”

How many years has it that Sylus had long for such affection? To be treated gently and not as a lesser animal? Now, all of those wishes, his yearning for love that he thought he will never have, were slowly fulfilled unknowingly by you and he closed his eyes, rubbing his horns back to you.

“And I can’t wait to try out more ribbons for you, sweetie.”

“I hope Mr. Sylus will like what I made as much as you do, Skye.”

He may have stayed longer than usual today, especially when you ask him to only leave when the rain stopped. The sound of the downpour, the soft conversation between the two of you, and the sewing machine humming filled the room and even when evening fell, he watched you still push through, making your patterns, until you accidentally dozed off mid-conversation.

Little deer always forgets she is in the company of a beast.

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his hand lightly grazing the fur from the base until the tip, fleeting, not enough for you to even stir and the red gemstone that adorn your hairpin twinkled for a moment, like a wink.

Sylus left Mephisto with you, who almost looked like a plushie with you curled up against his companion and he set the gift he had brought for you near your hand holding the pencil.

Perhaps this is the start of another small game. A back and forth. A gift from him in exchange for a little trinket from you this time but Sylus will have to see.

He tied the red ribbon you said to give to ‘Mr. Sylus’ upon his return around the leather strap of his watch before he left your studio.

A small smile formed in Sylus’ lips when he took one glimpse of you before leaving.

If you opened your eyes, you will see that your Mr. Sylus is already more than pleased.

────────────────────

It was such a relief to see the boss returned to the base all too pleased with himself.

Luke and Kieran never found out what actually ticked him off last time he had visited you and their little investigation never arrived on a conclusion because you just looked at them confused when they tried to ask you if you and the boss had a little misunderstanding.

“Do you think he got upset because I asked for a piece of his lemon tart?”

They decided not to press on further, not wanting to upset you (Also because you offered to share the box of macarons they stole given to them begrudgingly by that cute, feisty sheep hybrid.)

They welcomed him in the base as routine but mostly because they are excited to see their father boss once again and he is usually more forgiving with their little antics every time he sees you, their tails wagging in excitement.

(Not that they blew up something again. They have been good while he is away for once. This whole sewing hobby is really taking up their free time.)

Yet, when Sylus went past the double doors of the base, they caught a scent quite strong that clung on him.

The scent of cotton and wildflowers.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other, a flicker of understanding. Is that why the boss is happier today?

“Boss, why do you smell like Miss Deer-”, Luke was about to ask but let out a yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes yet even then, the question had already made its way into his ears.

“What are you two on about?”, he asked, a small smirk tugging on his lips. He knows these two wolf cubs had a superior sense of smell, an already inherent trait for wolf hybrids amplified by whatever the humans did to them before arriving here in the N109 zone.

That little gesture of yours where you rubbed your antlers against his horns is supposed to be an affectionate one, fairly common among deer hybrids who are known for being very friendly to those they like.

He is still wearing the little ribbons you made for him which he had not removed until now but he is more than aware you have unknowingly left your scent on him.

Not that he minds, anyways, especially when he had also left his on yours as well.

He had to give these two points for asking him bluntly unlike your father who had given him an odd look when he exited your shop but he is sure you will be able to clear everything up.

You are not one for lying after all.

But these wolf cubs have no sense of subtlety. So nosy.

“Did you and Miss Deer had-”, Luke let out another yelp when Kieran stepped on his toes again, “Can you stop that, Kieran?”

“I am not giving you allowance for you both to sniff on my clothes,” Sylus said dryly.

The two looked at each other, their tails wagging harder. They wouldn’t dare do that knowing full enough the boss retaliates during their sparring sessions and it wasn’t their fault when their noses can smell up to miles.

“Come on, boss,” Kieran said, the two walking with him deeper into the base, “We aren’t animals.”

“Actually, it is pretty much stronger around your horns,” Luke piped and his eyes widened slightly, noticing the ribbon fastened on the base of his horn and another one in his watch.

The twins looked at each other, their eyes studying the neck scarves you have gifted them.

The boss had finally received a gift from you just like they did.

“You both are acting like animals.”

But the little scratch he gave them on the back of their pointed ears betrayed his words.

Little gremlins.

────────────────────

Author's Note: Yes, I borrowed Louis from Beastars. He is absolutely necessary in the world building of this story even if he will appear here just ONCE. What did Louis left at Miss Deer's table? What is Sylus' gift? These will all be revealed in due time.

Will there be a side story with the twins? Maybe, maybe. We will see how the stars will align in the coming months.

Anyways, this is so fun to write. I try to write in between my free time and sometimes I just woke up at 2am because the ideas JUST HAD TO COME AT THAT TIME.

AO3

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Side A / Side B

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus #hybrid au #love and deepspace sylus #lads hybrid au

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