#but i have to work at cash register and remember their orders and help in the kitchen if there’s not a lot of people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mooishbeam · 6 months

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『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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kirarifutari · 1 year

Text

enhypen as fast food workers (enhypen ot7.)

GENRE .. !? enhypen ot7 headcanons i guess... pureee crack, comedy

WARNINGS .. !? not proof read, swearing, for shits and giggles don't take anything to heart lol

WC ..?! approx 852

NOTES.. ?! okay pls blame @dazed-hee for putting this thought into my head and helping me w this... i cannot believe i sat my ass down and wrote this,, yes i just got off work ... anyway i hope u enjoy this goofy little piece pls like + reblog to support!!

heeseung

actually does his job properly LOLLL

he's so good at it asw he is never ever stressed 😭😭 he never complains either he just gets shit done ?? like you'll be on shift w him and magically you don't have to do anything ever bc somehow he has it under control…?

all the customers love him asw LMAO he's the type to remember regulars 🙏

god sent everyone needs a heeseung to work with, he's even nice to the rude customers but is not afraid to be a little passive aggressive bitch 🤧

he never talks badly about anyone so no one ever shit talks him?? but if you ask him ab drama he'd be like “not naming any names but…” 😭

jay

he is exactly like heeseung except when is jay ever NOT stressed

he is internally crying every five seconds over something and every time a customer complains about something you can see the light in his eyes die little by little 💀💀

he doesn't even care what anyone else is doing he's just so caught up in doing his job he doesn't realise that he's doing everything himself… more utc!

if you catch him on a good day tho you can hear him make fun of customer orders 😭 “who the fuck orders 3 hamburgers past the age of three years old…”

let's you do whatever you want bc hes too busy dealing w the emerging grey hairs 🙏

jake

the best person to work your shift w for a good time hands downnn

he's so funny he will make you cackle every five seconds,, you'll be taking a drive thru order and you'd be trying so fucking hard not to laugh into the mic 😭 he will fr start SINGING in ur ear goodbye

super friendly w customers and will literally start a conversation ab the most random things ?? “bro did you just order this family box?? you eating that yourself? that's crazy, mad respect” 💀

dawg does everything all at once, making burgers, taking orders, handing out food, changing the bins ??? yet somehow he's the one goofing off the most ?

sunghoon

doesn't know how he landed the job tbh… everyone expected him to be unemployed the rest of his life 🔥

HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO COUNT CHANGE W CASH 😭 bro tries his hardest but is always fumbling around fr,, our maths legend

the type to be like “hm? i can't hear you” “what did you say? “yeah just gimme a minute” he is TOO CHILL he's so unserious ab this job he clocks on and does nothing half the time 🙏 he'll say he'll do what you ask him too but... you both know he won't xoxox

somehow he's still one of the managers favourites and gets good shifts every week…

if a customer yells at him he'd be like “yeah give me a second” and then just gets someone else to deal with it LMFAO 💀

sunoo

THE BIGGEST SHIT TALKER having a shift w him is so good, he somehow knows everything that's going on w everyone ??? fills you in w all the gossip fr.

he's rly bubbly w all the nice customers and is one of the nicer employees to work with but if ur on his bad side … 💀💀💀

like if you annoy him as a customer he will hand you order wordlessly and look you up and down HE DOESNT CAREEE BROOO 😭

if anyone ever blames him for doing something wrong on shift he literally will just be like “that wasn't me tho 😄😄” biggest liar and everyone knows it but no one cares cus we all love him 🫶

sunoo will definitely be the type to buy you food on his break or give you free stuff when you clock off 😭

jungwon

would be the biggest gas lighter LMFAO

“oh you ordered a double big mac and not a regular? yeah on our register it's gone through as regular so i don't know what you want me to do, you can pay for another one tho!” 💀💀💀💀

bro gives so much sass to rude customers he does NOT gaf, he does it all w a smile on his face too like “sorry about that but we can't do anything to fix it 😊”

he’d be so chill w his co workers asw, he would really care if everyone's messing around but somehow w him on shift everything goes oddly smoothly…

working w him is so fucking funny cus he will never take no for an answer w a customer he will keep pushing until they LEAVE 😭

niki

LMFAOOO okay this kid fucking hates his job LOL

will spit in a customers drink because he can 🙏 he will not take shit from anyone and he knows no one will fire him bc they're understaffed 😚

plays the best music and always has kitchen speaker aux !!!

if you ask him to remake a burger or help you with something he'll either give you a blank stare or a “no, i won't.” and then do it for you anyway 👊👊 he is such a little menace but he doesn't care

w annoying ass customers he will literally start arguing w them STOP

would go viral on tiktok cus some customer was filming him being rude but everyone would be siding w him bc niki is always in the right godbless.

#ser writes !#enhypen x reader #enhypen ot7 #enhypen #niki x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #heeseung x reader #sunoo x reader #jay x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #im past the point of caring this is too funny to me #yes i work at a fast food joint and yes i hate my job

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knowiloveyoubabe · 10 months

Text

Beautiful Baker Boy

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: fluffyyyyy Summary: Beautiful baker boy meets lovely florist (gender neutral Y/N)

The summer sun bore down on Y/N’s back as they bent over the outside display, silently cursing the lack of clouds in the sky. They rub the back of their neck, where the blistering beam had strangely focused, gently moving around a few bouquets with their other hand.

They step back, hands on their hips, slowly scanning the small display in front of the tiny flower shop.

“That’ll do, I guess.” They mutter to themself, using the back of their hand to wipe some sweat that had started to collect on their hairline.

“Y/N, darling!” Their elderly boss, the shop owner, calls out for them from inside the store.

“Coming!” Y/N hurries inside, their mind still on the flower display.

“I’m heading out soon, love. I don’t want to be late meeting the missus, I still have to swing by the bakery!” His wrinkles become more prominent as he smiles, wiping his hands on the apron wrapped around his waist. Y/N’s hand found its way over their heart as their own smile grew.

“Will you be okay on your own for the rest of the day?” He asks, removing his apron and reaching for the special bouquet he had arranged for his wife of over four decades. Y/N nods their head, smile beaming.

“Of course! Don’t worry about me, you trained me, remember?” They brush their sweat-dampened hair out of their face, admiring their mentor and the love he had for his wife.

“I know, darlin’. Thank you,” His smile lines deepened along with his crows feet as he pats them on the shoulder, nursing the bouquet with his other arm. He nods his head at them, “See you tomorrow!”

“Alright, have fun!” Y/N calls out after him as the door shuts behind him with a ding of the bell.

Soon after their boss left, the day fell into a bit of a lull. They got a few things done around the shop, helped a few customers, all in an attempt to avoid the behemoth task of organizing the flowers in the back room. But the minutes ticked away like hours and Y/N felt as though the boredom would soon drive them crazy. They groaned as they got up off of the stool behind the cash register and dipped into the doorless back room where they began sorting out the orders. Y/N had barely made a dent in the work that needed to be done before they peeked at the time, noticing it was almost time to close up shop.

“Hello?” Y/N heard a familiar voice from the front, confused as to how they didn’t hear the bell signaling that someone was entering the shop. They peek their head out of the room to catch a glimpse, their heart jumping to their throat when they see the back of the customer's curly head.

Oh God. Panic set in when they realized who the sultry voice belonged to.

It was Harry, the beautiful baker boy who worked just across the street. Y/N had developed an almost delusional crush, Harry having made many an appearance in their maladaptive daydreams during the slower days at the flower shop. Since the first day they met, Y/N hadn’t been able to get him out of their head. So one would think that they’d be prepared for his weekly visit to the flower shop. “Coming!” Their voice cracking, deepening the blush already settling on their cheeks. They pray that they look somewhat presentable when they leave the back room, their eyes instantly meeting with his.

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiles, his lovely green eyes scanning their face.

“H-Hey, Harry.” Y\N wipes their sweaty palms on their apron, trying not to stare at the tattoos on his tanned arms. “Already time for your weekly bouquet?”

Harry chuckles, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I just closed the bakery, thought I could also drop off some of these.” He reaches into his large tote bag, pulling out a brown paper bag. The smell of freshly baked bread and parmesan cheese filled the air in the tiny shop as Harry placed the bag on the counter next to the register.

“Cheese buns.” Y/N says breathily, unable to hide the smile spreading on their face.

“Your favorite!” Harry’s dimple deepens as his smile widens. Y/N’s heart raced in their chest.

“You remembered?”

“Of course, it was one of the first things you said to me.” A slight blush appears on the beautiful man's cheeks as he nudges Y/N’s shoulder. They both laugh lightly as they recall Y/N fumbling over their words as they ordered from the bakery for the first time. The cute boy behind the counter had been wearing a sleeveless shirt with a bandana in his hair, flour on his face and arms, and a dimpled smile.

Y/N shook the image from their head, worried they’d embarrass themself even more.

“You gonna look around?” They changed the subject quickly, clearing their throat. Harry nods, putting his tote down on the counter next to the bag of cheese buns.

“Yeah, but please, don’t let me get in your way.” He lays a gentle hand on Y/N’s arm, sending a chill through their body.

“You’re never in the way.” Y/N spoke softly, biting at the skin on the inside of their cheek. Harry’s lips parted slightly, almost as though he was about to say something before clearing his throat abruptly and smiling, a faint blush appearing on his tanned cheeks.

“I-I should close up the shop.” Y/N looks away from his gaze, trying not to lean into the warmth radiating from his body.

He gently squeezes their arm before releasing his soft grip, allowing them to maneuver around him, to the front of the shop.

Y/N brought the display inside, cleaned up, and stored everything where it belonged, all while watching Harry from the corner of their eye.

“Alright, I think I’ve finished.” Harry announces as Y/N finishes up the last of their tasks. They meet him at the register, catching a glimpse at the beautifully curated bouquet.

“Sunflowers, white spray roses, yellow billy balls, and mini hydrangeas.” He lists off each flower in the bouquet.

“Woah, look at you! You should be the one working here.” Y/N giggles. Harry follows suit, their giggles filling the small shop. Harry hands Y/N the bouquet as they joke about how funny it would be if they switched places, Y/N at the bakery and Harry at the flower shop, discussing the disasters that would ensue. As Y/N sorted through the bouquet, wrapping it up in the nicest brown paper in the shop, a realization hit them.

“Wait, Harry,” Their eyebrows furrow, turning to face him, “These flowers, they’re my-”

“Your favorites.” He bit his lip, picking at his nails nervously.

“My favorites.” Y/N repeats breathlessly. Harry rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, both of their bodies unmoving.

“Your partner is really lucky.” Y/N says, smiling thinly and inhaling sharply, turning back to the task at hand. Their hands shook as they attempted to tie the twine around the wrapped bouquet, their brain on overdrive. Their mind was so loud, they barely heard the shuffle of Harry’s feet as he got closer, towering behind them.

“I don’t have a partner.” He whispers, barely loud enough for Y/N’s ears. Their body stills, as does the air surrounding the two. The silence between them thickened, the tension swelled.

“You don’t have a partner.” Y/N cuts through the silence, not daring to turn around. Harry’s hand cupped their elbow, tugging lightly, almost begging them to turn around and face him. Y/N hesitated, terrified that he may hear their heart pounding against their chest.

“Y/N…” His voice soft and deep, beckoned them to face him. Y/N inhaled deeply, slowly spinning around, Harry’s hand still cradling their elbow. Their eyes meet, the tension becoming heavier as Harry licks his lips, parting them.

“Can I kiss you?” He rasps, his eyes trailing down to their lips. Y/N wasn’t sure if they couldn’t find the words or if they were just unable to speak, nodding their head, entranced. Harry released a sharp breath before his other hand found its way to Y/N’s jaw, pulling them closer, his lips meeting theirs. Y/N snapped out of their trance, wrapping their arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. There was a hunger between them, one they were unaware was present in the other. Soft hands pulled and caressed as they released the pent up tension. It seemed as though they were the only two in existence, Harry held Y/N like they could disappear without a trace any second now.

Tap Tap Tap

Startled, they release their grip on one another, Y/N’s face whipping in the direction of the person tapping on the glass door of the shop. A middle aged man with brows furrowed and an annoyed look stood beyond the glass, a hand on his hip.

“Excuse me, are you open?” He yelled through the glass. Harry snickered, used to the irritable side of the service industry. Y/N groaned, signaling no to the man.

“No, we’re closed!” They exclaim, tapping their wrist with their finger, as if they were tapping a watch. The man on the other side of the glass huffs in frustration, rolling his eyes and walking away.

“Cockblocked by the service industry, damn you capitalism.” Harry giggles, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. They laugh, their hands finding their way to his arms as Harry dips his face closer, laying a gentle kiss on the top of their head.

“Let me take you to dinner,” He mumbles in their hair, “I’ve been dying to take you out.” He pulls back, looking at their face. Y/N bites their lip, nodding, in stark disbelief that this is happening. Harry smiles, grabbing the finished bouquet and placing it in Y/N’s hands, leaning in and laying a sweet kiss on their lips.

“Wow, I’ve got a date with the beautiful baker boy.” Y/N mutters against his lips, causing him to smile and bump their nose with his.

“And I’ve got a date with the lovely florist.”

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mockerycrow · 1 year

Note

I literally just want anything Rudy x Reader or Alejandro x Reader 😩

I Wanna Know What Love Is (Rudy x GN!Reader)

masterlist

Summary: You work at a local coffee shop that Rudy frequents and he works up the courage to ask you out on a date.

A/N: THERE IS NOT ENOUGH RUDY CONTENT!! thank you for the request, anon. <3 let me know if my translations are wrong. btw, yes, the title is a song. Reader is implied to be Mexican.

WARNINGS: Pure fluff!

Rudy doesn’t think it’s fair; the way you look, the way you act, your unnecessary kindness. Part of him knows it’s customer service, it’s a part of the mask you must have for your customers—a similar mask he must hold for the people he faces as well—but he couldn’t help the way his gut tightened at your smile.

Rudy’s never really had crushes like that before, maybe he’s had a few hookups here and there, a consistent sexual partner once or twice, but he never actually found anyone romantically enticing. You’ve had a quite few good talks with Rudy when you were less busy, usually at the end of rush hour. He’s learned a bit about you during those times; your favorite color, some of your hobbies, a few names of your close friends that he doesn’t really remember at the moment, and some other minor things.

Rudy can’t help but feel so.. attracted to you. He finds himself antsy to get to this little coffee shop, knowing you’ll be there. You told him you don’t work Thursday’s or Friday’s, so he doesn’t end up going, but you don’t need to know that. Rudy was never much a coffee person, but he’ll fake it every time for you to make his drink. He became a regular and you immediately picked up his drink choices.

“What will it be today, Rudy?” You grin, leaning your hands on the counter that has the cash register resting on it. You’re wearing your uniform; black polo, blue jeans, an apron and a company hat. Your fingers push at the pen at rests just at your fingertips absentmindedly. Rudy thinks he dies right then and there. He’s never heard his name sound so good coming from someone else; let alone his nickname. He didn’t even have to ask you to call him Rudy. “Straight black,” He murmurs in response, taking out his wallet. You hum as you watch him feel around for his wallet and you wave your hand. “No es necesario, señor.” You reply, pushing yourself from the counter.

Rudy’s eyebrows furrow and look at you, pausing his movements. “It’s on the house.” You simply gives him a smile before you walk further behind the counter, leaving him dumbfounded. A simple motion such as that shouldn’t be sending your heart pounding, but it is. He quietly walks over to the other counter where you would collect your coffee if you had ordered. Your smile and your words are sending him into a spiral, and he know that shouldn’t have much of an effect on you, but again; it is.

You interrupt his thoughts by placing the double plated paper cup in front of him, causing Rudy’s gaze to snap to you. And of course, he feels his cheeks burn as he can’t hold back a soft smile. “Gracias,” He murmurs quietly, holding eye contact as he takes the cup from the counter. You nod and grin, your tone a teasing one. “You’re so basic with your coffee choices. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re coming here just to see me!”

Rudy’s heart dropped to his stomach, his smile faltering ever so slightly. How did you kno—

You laugh and wave it off. “Ah, cálmate! I’m only messing with you. Maybe I could expand your tastes later with some Kahlúa.”

“I’d like that,” Rudy blurts out.

Oh shit.

You blink at him and giggle quietly after a moment. “Yeah? You would?”

Rudy clears his throat, trying to ignore the ache in his chest from his heart rapidly beating at an abnormal pace for too long. He nods, a nervous smile coming to his face. “Yeah, maybe, uh.. we could do something together? ¿Puedes hacerme esa bebida especial?”

You don’t say anything for a moment and Rudy is fully convinced you’re about to laugh in his face—wait, are you blushing?

You bite your lip as you grab a napkin and take a pen out of a pocket in your apron, writing something down.

His eyebrows raise as he realizes it; you’re accepting his offer for a date.

You slide the napkin over to Rudy, that big, yet shy smile remaining on your face. ‘Pink looks good on you.’ Rudy thinks in the back of his head, loving how your blush outlines your cheekbones. He looks down at it and he scored your number. He looks back at you with a similar grin to yours.

“I’m off tomorrow. Text me whenever and we’ll see if you can hold your liquor, yeah?”

Yes, definitely yes.

No es necesario, señor. = No need, sir./It’s not necessary, sir.

Gracias. = Thank you.

Cálmate! = Calm down!/Take it easy!

Kahlúa. = A Mexican coffee liqueur, typically made into ice coffee.

¿Puedes hacerme esa bebida especial? = Can you make me that special drink?

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garfunklefield · 22 days

Text

Irony

Barista!Yuji Itadori/Megumi Fushiguro Warnings: college au, coffee shop au, fluff, humor, tall yuji, short megumi, ambiguous ending Word count: 2782 DESC: It's not gay to write sweet little notes on a cute emo boy's coffee cup every day, right? RIGHT???

I wrote this in one sitting because I'm DERANGED

Every single day he’d come in here and order the same thing. A black coffee then leave.

Yuji was freshly out of college, trying his hardest to make ends meet in the only way he knew how, making coffee. It was a weird skill he had picked up from his grandfather, doing a majority of the cooking and cleaning. He cleaned up after him, watered plants, and made him coffee. From a young age, he learned how to make exotic drinks without even batting an eye. When he found an ad for a barista position at a local coffee shop, he didn’t think twice about it. It interested him slightly, although his actual major had nothing to do with making drinks. He needed a way to pay rent that didn’t physically bore him, so he didn’t mind waking up early to open or staying late to close. Hell- even working every single day! All for one reason.

“Hey, idiot!” A hand waved in front of his face as he was busy cleaning off the counter. He glanced to the side and saw Nobara Kugisaki, his coworker impatiently glaring his way, “We have a customer!”

Itadori went to speak but pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew better than to argue with her this early in the morning, especially over something she could easily solve. But, he liked Nobara. Even if she was pushy and loud, she could have a sweeter side to her that no one else got to see. I mean, he never even saw it. Yet, he knew it was there waiting to be uncovered.

He set down the cloth and shimmied over to the cash register, “Hey how can I help you?” He spoke, pressing a few buttons to get the machine ready. The boy hadn’t looked up yet to see who he was going to be dealing with, he really hoped it wasn’t any of the annoying regulars. Having regulars was fine! Aside from the ones who’d sit and talk for hours on end, trying to show you their vacation photos or lame pictures of their kids!

The man before him cleared his throat, “A black coffee, please?” That voice was unfamiliar, but instantly rang as safe to Yuji. He looked up and saw something perfect before him. Black locks of spikey hair jutted out in a few directions, all neatly pushed behind the boy's ears. Dark blue eyes, examining him through heavy rows of eyelashes. And lips, that were unwavering. Not even a polite smile, just a line. Yuji had never seen someone so beautiful before, it nearly took away his breath! I mean, guys can appreciate other men's beauty, right? So he tried not to find the fact he was turned to stone weird.

“Um, hello?” He narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing down as well.

The barista’s eyes widened and he smiled sheepishly, snapping himself out of his haze, “Sorry! Black coffee. Can I have a name for the order?” It was customary to ask for a name for every order, but now it felt so … intimate. The man’s eyes were boring deep into Yuji’s soul and making him really regret not shaving his day-old stubble this morning.

“Tch,” he looked off to the side, a sudden wave of annoyance flooding his features, “Megumi.”

Megumi…

Megumi.

The pink-haired man had never heard that name before, but he was trying his hardest to have it ingrained in his memory. Like a good barista would! There was no reason why he wanted to remember it for later! Not like he was going to google his customer- what?

“Alright, Megumi,” he grinned, “Here or to go?” He pressed a few buttons on the cash register and it made a ding, signaling it was ready for payment.

Megumi put his card down on the reader and thought for a moment, taking in the scenery of the small coffee shop, “To go.” Oh. Yuji really hoped he’d stay. With that, he made the simple order and handed it off. Not without doing a small doodle on the side of the white cup. It was just a little cat along with the words “Have a nice gay Megs!” Maybe it overstepped, and maybe it was weird, but he’d never know unless he did it.

~~~

Yuji wouldn’t consider himself weird, or perverted, or a stalker. So he found it strange he sat in front of his laptop after closing the shop, googling the name Megumi. First, it was a general search to see what the name even meant. His brows raised when he saw “Blessing; Grace” as the meaning behind it. Then he went on his least favorite social media site, Instagram. He hardly used it because everyone from his college still followed him. It would’ve been a pain to start a new account and even more of a headache to delete everyone he disliked. So instead, he opted to hardly use it. The last post he made was almost three years ago, showing off his graduation gown with some cheesy quote.

He clicked on the search bar with his thumb and typed out the name, waiting for the result to pop up. If they had any friends in common, which he doubted- I mean Toyko is a big area -he’d pop up. If not… he wasn’t sure if Megumi was even a common name to begin with, so maybe he could find the boy. The first result was a forty-year-old woman on a different side of the country than them, although she was pretty.

Kind of like Jenni- NO! Back on topic!

The next was an art account, featuring a lot of hyperrealism. But, no face attached. He continued to scroll past the many Megumi’s who weren’t his Megumi, although it was purely for a curious and platonic reason, but found nothing. He decided to move to Facebook. Yuji wasn’t sure why he was so hellbent on finding this guy. It wasn’t like he was ever going to see him again. He worked in a small coffee shop in the heart of a large shopping center; Tourists came in all the time, along with people from different areas of the country. There was a chance he’d never see this guy again. He could have just been a pretty face in a sea of people who he drew a funny face for.

Facebook was a dud, and with that, he closed his laptop in defeat. Maybe he really wouldn’t find this guy after all.

~~~

Yuji didn’t have high hopes for the next day. He never expected to see that face again, so he tried his hardest to burn it in his memory for as long as he could. Nobara must have seen him pouting, since she wasn’t as hard on him as she typically was. She gave him a silent yet supportive nudge on the shoulder and motioned to the door as it swung open. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, standing up to his true height. It was odd to have a customer this early, as soon as they opened. But he didn’t think much of it. Sometimes it would happen, someone being up at 7 AM and dying for a cup of coffee. It didn’t matter to him.

The boy walked up to the cash register and tapped a few buttons, looking up as he spoke, “Welcome, what can I get… for.. you…?” His voice trailed off when he saw Megumi staring back at him. His face was the same, stoic and cold, although his eyes were betraying his cool demeanor. They were wide, flickering from each of Yuji’s features until they landed back on his eyes.

There were so many things Yuji wanted to ask him, so many things that could come off as creepy and stalkerish. So many things he decided to lock in a vault and never utter. Instead, he smiled and cleared his throat, “Hi Megumi, welcome back!”

Megumi blinked a few times, “You… remember me?” One of his eyebrows quirked up in a bit of confusion. Although, his face didn’t really convey emotions, it was his eyes that showed he was shocked. It was his eyes that showed anxiety and confusion. Did he not expect to see Yuji when he worked every single day? Well, it wasn’t like he knew that.

“Well, yeah!” Yuji smiled, closing his eyes effortlessly, “I drew you a cat yesterday.”

“You… did,” he slowly nodded his head as he spoke, “Um. A black coffee please?”

“A guy who knows what he likes,” Why did I say that? “Coming up!” Stop talking! Now! Forever!

Yuji let the boy pay and began to make his drink, “For here or to go?” He already knew the answer. Megumi replied to go, as he did the day before. It made the barista a bit sad, he wasn’t sure why. Most customers didn’t have time to sit and sip coffee, so why would he be any different? It wasn’t like there was another reason he wanted him to stay. It wasn’t like he wanted to talk to him, pick his brain, make him smile.

He finished the drink and grabbed his marker, doodling a little flower and handing it off to him. The boy took the cup and glanced down at the cup, an irritated look crossing his features. He didn’t look at all pleased to see the drawing, but he said nothing to protest it. Without saying goodbye, he pushed the door open and left silently.

“Okay, what gives?” Nobara’s small head appeared in Yuji’s peripheral vision and made him turn his head, then drastically look down to see her frowning dramatically, “You totally have a crush on that guy.”

“I do not!” He instantly retorted, crossing his arms over his uniformed chest, “I was just surprised to see him back here again.”

“Uh huh, sure! Oh hiiii Megumi!” She mocked, grasping her hands together and pressing them into her cheek dit-zily, “Gee, you’re a short emo guy who knows what he likesss!”

He frowned, “Back off. I didn’t say it like th- Stop batting your eyelashes! I don’t do that!”

“You so did!” She laughed, moving her hand to point at him, “You’re into gay emos! He probably listens to MCR and wishes he could kiss Gerard Way!”

Yuji blinked a few times, “Gerard… Okay stop making up weird names, Gerard isn’t a real name,” he gave her a knowing look, “That’s just like onomatopoeia. Not real.”

Nobara went to insult him but he waved a hand in the air, “Listen, I’m all for gay L gay B, you know, but I’m not gay. I just think he’s pretty. A man can appreciate another man’s eyelashes without it being weird!”

“...You looked at his eyelashes?” She pressed her lips together, cheeks turning a bit pink as she held back some serious laughter, “No-no. Noticing how long a guy's eyelashes isn’t gay, Yuji. You’re so right.” A little giggle escaped.

“Thank you!” He smiled, totally misreading how that conversation went.

~~~

Megumi was still coming into the coffee shop, but he always looked so displeased when the barista would draw silly things on his cup. A look of uncomfortable annoyance always crossed his face whenever he’d pick it up and read the note. It was always along the lines of “Have a nice day Megs!” or “Good luck today!” Nothing ever personal or weird was written on there, nothing to make him uncomfortable. So, why did he look so constipated when he’d read it?

Yuji decided a week or so later that he’d not write anything on there, see what would happen. See if maybe instead of an uncomfortable look, he’d get a smile. It was useless to hope a man who looked like he hated fun and rainbows would ever smile for a barista he saw every day. Did I mention that? Yeah no, Megumi continued to come in every day when the shop opened, would get his cup, look like he wanted to die, then leave. Every day. Every day.

The day Megumi came in, the barista was opening by himself. He stood by the back wall behind the counter, wiping down the dry-erase board calendar to put on the new dates. A new month had passed and he got tasked with drawing on something new to signify it. February was hearts and June was rainbows. As it neared October, he thought a pumpkin would be fitting. It was shitty, as all his drawings were, but that’s what made it charming. That’s why this whole coffee shop was charming, it had a level of shittiness no corporation could give you.

He didn’t realize the raven-haired boy was standing behind him, patiently and quietly watching as he hummed to himself. It wasn’t even a good song, just something he had heard on the radio on his way to the shop. It was stuck in Yuji’s head and he decided to make the most of it. He caught himself humming louder, singing some words gently before turning on his heel and promptly freezing.

“Oh.” Was all he could muster out as Megumi just stared at him. There wasn’t a smile or an ounce of amusement on his features. He looked bored, with a weird look in his eye. Something he hadn’t seen before, and something he couldn’t dissect.

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side. Okay, maybe he did find this amusing. And maybe he was good at hiding it.

“Sorry,” Yuji responded sheepishly, walking to the counter and pressing the buttons on the cash register, “Black coffee?”

He nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Itadori didn’t want to make his embarrassment worsen by saying something stupid, so he opted to keep quiet as he made the drink. He already knew his customer's answer, so he chose the to-go cup. And instead of writing anything on it, he handed it with a polite smile. He wasn’t expecting Megumi to pick up the cup and turn it to its usual spot, for him to look suddenly so … hollow. Almost dejected.

His eyes searched the white for a few moments before he turned his head to the side to look at the barista who made it, “Um… you…”

Yuji looked back at him and raised an eyebrow, “Something wrong?”

“Are you …” he paused, “Okay?”

Now he was really puzzled, “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Megumi’s face morphed into a small frown, “I’m fine, yes, but are you okay? You didn’t do the, um,” he looked down at the cup and motioned to Yuji with it. He looked almost… distressed? “The um, cup thing.”

The barista blinked once. Then again. Then several times. Oh. He had definitely misread his customer's facial expression. Was his irritated, kind of constipated look, really just how he was? It was hard for him to grasp that someone could make faces they didn’t mean, portraying a whole other emotion than what they felt. However, in that moment he figured Megumi was wearing his heart on his sleeve and showing his true emotions, unintentionally.

Yuji extended his hand, “I thought you didn’t like it. You always made, uh, like, a face when I did. So I stopped,” the other boy placed the cup in his hand and he pulled it back cheerfully. He found the marker and began to write, looking up, “I didn’t realize you actually liked it.”

His words were supposed to be cheerful, so he tried to imagine Megumi smiling at that. Instead, he looked away and frowned tightly. A light blush formed on the apples of his cheeks and spread to his nose, making him appear like an angel. A very pink angel.

“Not liked, but… used to,” he glanced back at Yuji, and when they made eye contact for a split second, he looked away, “I don’t think I make a face.”

“You’re making it right now,” he looked down at the cup and kept writing, trying to hide it from his customer.

The boy cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, taking one hand to cover his upper lip, “No, I’m not,” he grunted out, through apparent gritted teeth.

Yuji smiled, handing him the cup after a few minutes of scrawling, “It’s okay. I thought it was cu- funny.” A narrow save. A very narrow save. He pressed his lips together before making a small popping sound with them, “Have a good day.”

Megumi went to speak but he took the cup, looking over the mounds of writing. The side of his lip twitched as he brought his other hand down. And there he could’ve sworn he saw it. The hints of a smile.

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tadahoni · 6 months

Text

A House in Nebraska

movie! Mike Schmidt x f! reader

part one

synopsis: After the events of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Mike decides it's time for a change. Whether that means just a visit to Nebraska or fully uprooting him and Abby to move back home could possibly be a decision that rests in your hands.

warnings: (kinda?) angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers trope, mentions of loss, emotional vulnerability, not FNAF lore accurate, not proof-read

A/N: omg hey guys, I know I haven't written in eons, but I just went through a major depressive episode, and Ethel Cain has been helping me a lot through it. So when the Five Nights at Freddy's movie came out and a whole Nebraska plot point was introduced, I just. (╯°□°)╯( ┻━┻. So enjoy! I might continue with more chapters if y'all enjoy it :3

It was hard for Mike, to return back to the little town after so many years. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but when would he be? After learning about what really happened to Garrett and getting back on his feet after the whole pizzeria incident, he wanted a fresh start. Besides, he wanted to make sure Abby was safe. He was older and smarter, and definitely more aware, so if he was going to do anything in Nebraska, it was making sure that he didn’t make the same mistake with her that he did so many years ago.

It wasn’t official. Of course, Mike couldn’t uproot their entire lives and cause another stressful event after the duo had just endured one of the most traumatic times of their lives. But after getting closure on his brother’s disappearance and working on himself in therapy (per Vanessa’s recommendation), Mike felt ready to visit the old town he grew up in. Whether he moved here or not was still up in the air.

The old diner he used to frequent as a kid was still intact, and since Abby had been begging for a hot dog since their arrival, Mike thought it was time to make a pit stop for lunch.

Upon entering the rinky-dink diner, the familiar bell jingled above him and the two were seated by a middle-aged woman. She set two menus on the table, and she talked about whatever specials the diner had that day. Her raspy smoker’s voice became mere background noise as Mike scanned the restaurant, the memories flooding in. He remembered celebrating a friend’s birthday in the corner by the exit, and a family dinner in another booth by the bathroom. It was all bittersweet, maybe a bit too much. Overwhelmed, he contemplated getting the order to go so he could book it out as fast as possible until his eyes landed on you.

Everything in this town was still a blur to Mike, so he wasn’t sure if it was a figment of his imagination or if he actually saw you. The diner’s old uniform suited you really well, considering how aged it was. Your hair was pulled in the messy sock bun that the other waitresses sported as well, and Mike would have brushed your presence off as something we were imagining if it weren’t for the way your eyebrows furrowed at the cash register; the same way they did when you were both young, when you would concentrate on your homework or a video game you were both playing.

Mike was brought out of his trance as the woman seating him and Abby coughed up a lung, then spoke “Y/n will be with you shortly.”

The feeling of enchantment that Mike was feeling suddenly turned to pure terror. He was fine looking at you from afar and wondering if it was you behind that counter. But now he knew it was, in fact, you. And he was going to talk to you.

Mike felt guilty- he hadn’t contacted you in over ten years. You probably didn’t even know about Abby. He couldn’t do anything about it now- the raspy-voiced woman had already made her way over to you, nodding towards the table and walking away. He barely had time to prepare as your gaze met his.

It was like a bomb went off in his chest the way Mike’s heart started pounding. You didn’t seem to recognize him immediately, but there was definitely a twinge of recognition behind your eyes.

As you approached, Mike was sure that digging his head in his menu was the best course of action. However, upon peeking over the top of it, he realized that he had forgotten one crucial detail:

Abby was smart, and judging by the way she was staring at her older brother, she had absolutely figured out that something was wrong.

Before Mike could even mouth anything to the 10-year-old, you had already approached the table.

“Welcome to The Red Brick Diner, can I take your-”

“Mike was looking at you. Do you know him?”

Dammit, Abby. After casting a warning glance at his smug-faced little sister, Mike peered over the menu at you.

This time he was absolutely sure it was you. Despite being several years older, he could still see the youth in your eyes and the same curve in your lips when you smiled.

“Mike Schmidt?” you greeted him warmly, your smile curling to its full potential. “I thought that was you! I haven’t heard from you in years!”

Nervous energy coursed through Mike’s body, and he was almost certain he forgot to breathe. Here he was, sitting right in front of his childhood best friend, someone he hadn’t spoken to in a decade, and he had no idea how to even say hello. But he managed.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He chuckled, a weak smile making its way to his mouth. A little sneaker kicked his shin, and he jumped before glaring at the offender.

“Right. This is my little sister, Abby. Abby, this is (y/n), she was really good friends with me and.. Yeah.”

Everyone knew what happened to Garrett, it wasn’t a big town by any means. But everyone knew better than to bring it up, and Mike was relieved when you brushed off his slip of the tongue and held out your hand to shake Abby’s hand.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Abby,” you beamed, and all of a sudden the confidence Abby had just moments before to completely freak Mike out was gone and she shyly reciprocated. You turned back to Mike and pulled out the notepad from your apron, clicking the pen that was already in your hand. “Here, I’ll take your orders and give them to the chef, then I can come back and we can catch up,” you spoke before pausing and looking back up at Mike. “...if that’s okay with you?”

Now, Mike already knew the answer to this question was “yes.” However, with the influx of emotions and memories that had plagued his brain, his thoughts were muddled, and the simple task of speaking was now ten times harder. “Uh… yea! Yes, that’s gr- good! That’s great! Yea.. I’d like that.”

You smiled and took the order, and before you left the table to put in orders, Mike was met with another shin kick. Abby looked at him, miming a scribble on the table. Wondering where her sudden shyness came from, Mike looked at you once more. “Do you happen to have a kids' menu? Like one of the stupid sheets with the crayons?” “They’re not stupid Mike!”

You laughed out loud at the sibling back-and-forth, and Mike felt his heart leap at the familiarity of the sound.

“We do, I’ll bring one back with me when I come back,” you replied, writing one more thing down on her notepad before making her way back to the kitchen.

Mike, watching you leave, took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to expect, and he certainly was worried whether this would affect his decision to move here. But he had to do one thing before his mind was filled with thoughts of you.

“Ow! Mike!”

“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it, Abs.”

#mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson

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callsignrascal · 2 years

Note

Oooo could I request a rooster x reader soulmate au where the reader is a bartender at hard deck and has multiple people hitting on her, so she doesn’t think anything of it until she realizes Rooster’s her soulmate? Sorry if that’s not the best prompt or doesn’t make sense!!

Iridescent

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Bartender!Fem!Reader

Summary: In this world, your soulmate’s first and last name is written on your left wrist. Reader is bartender at the Hard Deck, nearly desperate to find her soulmate. Little did she know that her name was etched into the wrist of a Navy pilot.

A/N: thanks for my first ever request anon :oo i was a bit confused with the prompt but i hope i did it justice !! so sorry the soulmate part is a bit boring of a concept though haha …

Warning: drinking, bad grammar, unedited :)

no use of Y/N

The San Diego breeze flew through the open patio door of the Hard Deck. It was a cool set off to even out the California summer heat. With the bar’s AC fighting to stay alive, it was much appreciated.

“Slow night?” You asked Penny as you stepped behind the bar, tossing your bag next to the cash register. You grabbed your apron and secured it around your waist as Penny maneuvered around you, preparing drinks for some customers.

“For now,” she replied, “but it’s only 5, you know how it is.”

You’ve been working with Penny at the Hard Deck since she bought the place. As much as you enjoyed working with her, this wasn’t a permanent position. Penny was generous enough to put you through the work so you could pay for college in order to pursue your major. Your work schedule wasn’t too draining either, you had the leeway to choose your own shifts. Because of this, during the school year you were able to pick up shifts whenever possible. Lucky for Penny, it was the summer so she had your help daily.

You watched as some Navy sailors trickled in wearing their service khakis. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, the bar was the unofficial official stomping grounds for pilots. Hence, the name. In fact, both you and Penny came from Navy lineage. Penny being the daughter of late Admiral Benjamin. Your father did not rise in the ranks nearly as much, but still gave you the military brat lifestyle. Being raised on base, it was no surprise you’d find familiarity in the bar.

As you delivered a drink to a customer, you caught sight of a man at the other end of the bar flagging you down. You quickly took the money on the counter before you made your way to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” The man was a regular, so you didn’t mind the nickname. If you were nice enough to him, he tipped real well.

“How are you doing, Hangman.” You flashed him and his friend standing next to him a quick smile. “Coyote.” Very rarely did you call your pilot patrons by their real names, often opting for their call signs instead. “So, what will you two be having today?”

“I was hoping for you, but I know you’re not on the menu.” Hangman flirted with his signature smirk.

You laughed. “I’ll let you know the moment I am.” You were used to customers, including him, flirting with you. You had a pretty face and you knew how to use it. It’s part of the reason Penny hired you, brought in good business. And you could handle a couple hours of being hit on by sloppy drunks if it meant you could make your rent and student loans.

They gave you their orders and you jogged back to the bar to grab them. Looking over at Penny, you noticed her talking to a guy her age wearing an older leather jacket adorned with military patches. While she was friendly to most of her customers, this one was different. She leaned over the counter to talk to him and abandoned the wine glass she was cleaning. Eyeing his wrist, you saw the familiar name etched into his skin, ‘Penny Benjamin.’ Your eyes widened at the sight. This must be Pete Mitchell. Penny had the matching soulmate mark on her wrist.

You remembered the conversation you had with Penny around the time you started working at the bar. You had seen her soulmate mark in the iridescent color instead of the normal black, which indicated that she had found him. You had assumed it was Amelia’s dad considering he was no longer in the picture, but Amelia had her father’s last name, and it wasn’t Mitchell. Questioning her about it, all she said was that they met when she was younger but he wasn’t ready. Of course, you regretted asking as soon as you did.

You quickly eyed the name on your own wrist, sighing at the dull black color it stayed. You envied everyone who found their soulmates and stuck with them. The thought of being with someone who was completely meant for you is a dream. Considering you work at a bar, it shouldn’t have been hard to find your soulmate, right? People come in and out all the time. But you knew it was wishful thinking. Sometimes you wondered if your soulmate was even real. I mean, what kind of name is ‘Bradley Bradshaw’?

After handing Hangman and Coyote their drinks, you made your way back behind the bar with Penny to treat the customers sitting there. You had your usuals of course; the same men every week who would come in to drink and engage in small talk. You knew that they probably also liked to look at the two of you, which came along with the job. Most of the guys knew what the boundaries were though. They knew you’d flirt and talk to them just to get a nice tip out of them. You also knew that all of that worked well.

Before you knew it, you heard The Bell ring. You looked at Penny with a raised eyebrow but she just stared down with a smirk at the (supposed) Pete Mitchell. He didn’t look like he would disrespect a woman or the Navy so you weren’t surprised to see his phone laying on the counter. You chuckled at the exchange and got back to work.

As the night got livelier with promises of a free round, you and Penny rushed about behind the bar; taking orders, making drinks, and most importantly; sweet talking your way into more tips. It was an easy job with a crowd like this. Most of the patrons that made up the Navy crowd were men afraid of commitment, making it easier to flirt your way up to bigger tips.

With a glance to the door, you feel your heart jolt straight out of your chest. Walking in like he owns the place was the prettiest man you’ve seen in your life. He wore civvies, a faded old Hawaiian shirt over a wife beater, but you knew without a doubt that he belonged to the group of military that huddled near the billiards. You observed the pride in the way he held himself that could only scream Navy. Or maybe it was the 80s pornstache he had on. No civilian would wear that so confidently.

Penny walked up behind you without you noticing, “He looks like your type.”

Out of shock you spluttered, “What- what do- what do you mean?” It came out a lot more panicked than you wanted it to.

“Don’t know,” Penny’s eyes widened as she looked past your shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find out because he’s on his way over.”

”Shit, already?” You panicked a bit, but when you turned around and saw him walk over you tried to muster up some fake confidence. “Hi! What can I get for you?”

The mustache man raised an eyebrow at how fake your greeting was. He chose to ignore it, though, “Right now, just a Moscow Mule. But maybe your number later.” He winked at you.

“Real original, sailor.” You matched the raised eyebrow that he wore when you first spoke.

“Pilot, actually.” The man leaned on his elbows atop the counter as you started on his drink. “The name’s Rooster.”

“Rooster? That’s unfortunate.” You teased, knowing that it was only a callsign, but you were a bit disappointed. You were wishing he told you his real name, in the hopes that it was scrawled on your wrist.

Rooster got up off of his elbows to wave his hands, “N-no. It’s just my call sign, like in the Navy we’re given-” He cuts himself off when he looks at your amused face as you shake his drink. “But you knew that. You work at the Hard Deck. Surrounded by military personnel.”

That ripped a giggle out of you. His embarrassed face mixed with him rubbing the palm of his hand on the back of his neck was enough to keep you happy for the rest of your life. Little did you know, was that your laugh had the same effect on him.

“Here you go, Mr. Rooster.” You pushed his drink across the counter to him, using his callsign to tease him.

He picked it up, taking a sip. “Thanks, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“I don’t think I threw it.” You smiled at his expectant face. “You can call me Gertrude.” He gave you his callsign, you gave him a fake name.

“Gertrude?”

“Gertrude.”

He obviously knew it was a fake name, but decided to settle with it. “Okay… Gertrude. I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later, then.” You repeated. Rooster then walked off to meet the group that was now with Hangman and Coyote.

Penny bumped you as you stared off at him. She giggled when she caught your dazed face. A silent conversation went on between you before you both went back to the bustling customers. On this particular night, the bar began to pick up later on, customers trickling in and filling up the seats. You and Penny kept busy preparing drinks, talking, and laughing with each other. You glanced up at one point, watching the door as more customers entered the bar.

You and Penny were pretty occupied tonight, and while you wanted to make small-talk with the new guy for some reason, you didn’t have much of a chance now. You and Penny moved behind the bar, doing your usual thing as you mixed drinks and retrieved beer for everyone. Penny halted her work every now and then to talk to Pete. But she wasn’t the only one distracted. You often stopped to look up toward the pilots who have been congregating at the pool tables. Truthfully, your eyes always shifted to Rooster and you caught yourself each time, wondering why you couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Hey,” Penny started as you worked on an order, “That man has not stopped watching you since he walked in.” She bit her lip, nodding toward Rooster as if to draw your attention that way.

“Yeah, I was beginning to think he was just here to check out the goods,” you laughed as you thought about how he hasn’t ordered much alcohol despite being at a bar.

“Well, go give him the goods,” Penny replied, elbowing you lightly.

“Penny Benjamin!” You gasped. “Just because your estranged boyfriend came in doesn’t mean you have to meddle in my love life.”

“Hey, I didn’t say to sleep with him,” she defended herself, “I’m only saying that he likes what he sees and that means you’re getting paid tonight if you flirt a little.”

“Yeah, I know that. But we’ve got a pretty full bar. It’s not the night to focus on one group of guys that may or may not even tip.”

“He’s just your type,” she said in a sing-song voice, ignoring your statement. You followed her eyes over to the pilots, again letting your focus fall on Rooster. She was right at least, he really was cute.

You turned away. “Yeah,” you replied, “but he’s military. We both know how that could end up.”

Penny clicked her tongue, “Don’t let my misfortunes deter you from your fate.”

“Fate? What-” Before you could turn around to look at her, she was already attending to another customer. You rolled your eyes playfully as she moved over to Pete again and continued what you were doing.

The bar was pretty slow now, everyone already having drinks in their hands. You started wiping up glasses and spilled beer. Your head shot up when a bunch of customers complained about the jukebox being unplugged. Soon after, you heard The Bell ring once more. What surprised you was that it was towards Maverick again. Laughing at the indication that he wasn’t able to pay for the round of drinks. You watched with an amused smile as Hangman, Coyote, and a third pilot threw him out of the bar.

Instead, your attention was grabbed by a Hawaiian shirt sitting at the piano. The rest of the patrons crowded around him, so it was hard to see, but you pulled yourself up to sit on top of the counter. With everyone distracted, you and Penny were able to watch the show without anyone asking for a drink.

Rooster sat at the keys starting to play a song you’ve heard a hundred times.

Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis.

Your dad was a Navy sailor in the 80s, of course you recognized the song. But he played it so expertly that you swore he’d be able to play upside down and with his eyes closed.

He sang the song proudly, like it was second nature. You were shocked at his ability to command a crowd. Throwing his head back and belting out the song. You moved to get a better look at him.

Singing the lyrics, “Kiss me, baby…” He locked eyes with you. He played the interlude waiting for something. And you knew what it was. You threw him some slack and blew a kiss to him from your position at the bar. He shivered, acknowledging that he caught it. “Ooh…that feels good, baby.”

You laughed as he continued his song, making eye contact with you for nearly the whole thing. His Ray-Ban caravans slid down the bridge of his nose letting you see his eyes for the first time since he came in. The warmth of his eye contact made you heat up like the drink it shared its color with. You were sure that your skin had changed its hue because you felt like you were burning up. It wasn’t unwelcome, no, not at all. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it.

But before you knew it, the song was over.

–

The night went on, and hours later you still had a few of the pilots sitting mingling at the pool table along with a handful of other customers. You helped a few strays here and there as they stumbled into the bar, but for the most part, the night had wound down and the place was pretty dead. You figured you’d check with Penny to see if she wanted to check out early to go talk to the dude she threw out earlier. However, you stopped at the sight of Hangman and Rooster walking up to the bar counter through your peripheral vision.

“Bartender,” one of the men said. You turned back, sort of unamused that they were calling you by your profession and not the fake name you gave them.

“Well, that was rude. I do have a name, you know?”

“Well, you didn’t give me a name during introductions,” Rooster said.

“I did, actually. I said to call me Gertrude.” you replied.

“That’s not your name,” he smirked at you, “I know that’s not your name. That’s a fake name that women give out to creeps in bars.”

“Well, can you blame me?” You questioned, motioning around you to indicate that you were, in fact, in a bar.

“No, I don’t. I bet you meet a lot of creeps working here,” Rooster bit his lip, studying you as if he were trying to figure you out. You caught on to the way he looked you up and down briefly, lip still caught between his teeth.

“They’re not all creeps,” you replied as you leaned in closer to him, elbows now resting on the counter as you met his stare. You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if he might be hitting on you given the way he bit his lip as he watched you. If nothing else, you could at least encourage him to drink more and tip more if you made yourself look interested.

“I bet you’d tell the non-creeps your real name,” he said, watching your reaction. It was definitely a test, either you let him know he wasn’t creepy and tell him your real name, or you refuse to offer up your name and convince him that you definitely thought he was a creep; which you really didn’t want to do. He didn’t seem like a creep, none of these guys did. But past experiences with customers made you think carefully about your response.

“Well, then she thinks I’m a creep too.” Jake added, taking the last long drink of his beer. You remembered that you gave him the same fake name when he asked for yours the first time.

You laughed lightly at him as he slid you his empty bottle. “I don’t, but sometimes I wonder.”

The men ordered another round of beers and you delivered. You stepped back once they had their drinks, now working on cleaning up since the place had slowed down a bit, just a little. You listened as the men chatted, enjoying their drinks and recalling the missions they went on. All within their military clearance, clearly. You went about your business, letting them take their time. You only hoped that if they kept you here any longer, they’d tip you well again. At least they were mellow people. They mostly just talked and laughed, leaving you as you prepared to close up for the night.

But, it wasn’t long before Rooster came back. “You closing your tab now, Roo?” You questioned, putting the last pint glass you were cleaning up into the cupboard above you.

“How’d you know?” He asked, pulling out his card from his wallet.

“Work here long enough and everything becomes predictable.” You took his card as he offered it. “Thank you.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.” You lied and turned to the register.

Everything he’s done today has been a surprise. For one, was ordering a Moscow mule. For two, playing Jerry Lee Lewis for the whole bar. One thing you definitely did not expect was the name on his debit card.

“Something wrong, bartender?” Rooster asked from the other side of the register. He looked over to see you holding his card.

You stood there frozen as you clutched his card in one hand. Your other hand stayed paralyzed above the numbers of the cash register. The silver, raised letters on his card contrasted against the deep red of the Navy Federal Credit Union card. ‘Bradley Bradshaw.’

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Oh shit. Did you say that out loud?

You quickly punched in all the things needed for him to pay, not to mention giving him a generous discount. After what seemed like forever, to the both of you, you walked out from behind the register. Now that there was no cash register blocking your view, you could see Bradley’s confused face.

Hopefully this will help him to understand. You passed his card back to him with your left hand, your wrist pointing face up for him to see. You watched as Bradley’s face contorted from a very muddled one to a blissful one. He stared in awe at his name on your wrist changing colors.

“My name’s not Gertrude.” You giggled. “But, I’m sure you know that.”

Then, in a similar manner, he looked into your eyes as he took his card back with a big dumb grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Was all he could muster out. Looking at his wrist as he took his card, you saw your first and last name etched into his skin. “It’s nice to meet you, ‘Not Gertrude.’”

“And it’s nice to meet you, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.”

Both of your wrists burned as the names turned into an iridescent color. Neither of you could even begin to care, though. Too distracted by the feeling of euphoria in your chests.

“So… when do you get off?”

Before you could answer, you heard Penny yell from the other end of the bar counter. “Right now!” Making it obvious that she witnessed the whole interaction.

You looked around, hoping no one else did. But it was clear that, in fact, the whole bar did. Thankfully, it was only the rest of the pilots and a handful of others who were probably too drunk to remember it the next morning. You put your head in your hands, laughing out of embarrassment.

Bradley made eye contact with his squad as they wolf-whistled and cheered at him. He chuckled at them and looked down at your bright red face. How lucky could he have gotten to have you as his soulmate?

Recovering from your embarrassment, you turned to look at Penny. “You sure?”

She nodded vigorously. “Of course, sweet pea. You go have fun,” Winking, she continued, “but not too much.”

You were about to revert back into a tomato before Bradley chuckled. “Thanks, Penny.”

“Of course, Bradley.”

And the shock was back. “Wait, so you knew the whole time?” You asked Penny.

Penny giggled and shrugged. The crazy lady. She knew from the moment you showed her your soulmate mark. She was friend’s with Goose before his unfortunate passing, of course she would know his son. But you didn’t know that.

She watched as you grabbed your bag from next to the register and headed out. Not before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Penny gently hit you with her rag on as you lifted up the bar counter to leave.

Faintly, she heard your conversation on the way out.

“Your parents must’ve had a twisted sense of humor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Oh, okay, Gertrude.”

“You know that’s not my government name.”

“You could’ve come up with something better.”

“…”

“I hope you learned how to throw a right hook before going to elementary.”

“Oh my god.”

#top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfics #top gun fanfiction #rooster top gun #rooster #rooster x you #rooster imagine

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charmercharm3r · 2 years

Text

Can You Blame Me

HJS

Masterlist

wc: 10.6k

Synopsis: It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him you’re leaving him, he’ll always be at your feet. And you know it.

warnings: smut, switch!jisung, switch!reader, sexual explicit content, cheating, unprotected sex, face sitting, ass slapping, coming untouched, good ole' rough turned soft in bed type of thing, let me know if I missed anything else!

Part 7 of my 8 part series based off the album, “It Was Good Until It Wasn’t” by Kehlani, where each member of Stray Kids will have a song dedicated to them and whatever toxic relationship I can come up with.

Jisung hates you. Always has and doesn’t think he’ll ever stop hating you.

He hates your cheerful attitude, your shiny hair that bounces and reflects the sunlight, your sweet voice that he can somehow pinpoint from across the room every. Single. Time. He hates how you never seem to have a frown on your face and how quick you are to help anyone that needs it. He hates the halo of white that never dulls no matter how many insults he throws at you, how you never get mad at him for it and never insult him back. He hates you with his entire being. But mostly, Jisung hates that all the things he despises about you is what he wishes he were. It was just a trick of luck that he’s also head over heels in love with you, not that he’ll ever verbally admit it.

Your paths seemed to cross rather often, completely unplanned. Working in the university’s library coffee shop meant you ran into loads of other students, however, Jisung had a regular routine that somehow aligned with your work schedule perfectly. He’d attend his first morning music theory class, catch the shuttle across campus to the library where he’d order his usual iced coffee, talk shit with his least favorite barista– you– then take a nap on the fourth floor until his alarm woke him from his slumber for his next lecture.

Neither you know how the banter started, you didn’t think you treated him any differently from other customers. Looking back, Jisung assumes he was having a bad day and your perkiness just rubbed him the completely wrong way and stuck with him ever since. You’d picked up on his lack of friendliness towards you rather late, not realizing some of the things he’d say under his breath and you accidentally heard was meant to bruise your ego, so you’d reply with something funnily sarcastic. Jisung would give you a strange look and walk away wondering if you were purposefully killing him with kindness or just flat out the densest person he’d ever met.

Today didn’t feel any different when the early afternoon came around and Jisung sulkily walked into the library cafe. You weren’t working the cash register this time but rather actually making the drinks and handing them off. The other barista taking his order didn’t realize he was a regular, having to actually remember his order and read it off to her made him stutter, “er– large iced– something? I think– uhm–”

“Large iced americano with an extra blonde shot,” you’d said over your shoulder to the cashier. Jisung’s eyes went wide upon hearing your voice, not realizing he was staring. “Don’t worry. I got you, you big brooding wolf.” When you shot a wink in his direction, he’d almost crumbled completely. He couldn’t find it in him to respond, hastily sticking his card into the reader to pay and shuffling into a corner to hide.

It annoyed Jisung beyond the comprehension of words, he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you call out his name to pick up his drink. In fact, he’d taken several minutes to even realize that it was ready. Finally coming up to get it, you were no longer there. Jisung had wanted to at least tease you for being so obsessed with him that you had his order memorized and he couldn’t even do that. He was about to leave when he noticed something scribbled on the side of the cup.

Your phone number and the dorkiest (cutest) smiley face he’d ever seen was drawn beside it. Jisung almost crushed the cup in his hand when from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you leaving the library. With no plan, no idea what he was going to say, he ran to catch up to you. There was a sudden rush of people entering while he was trying to exit and almost lost sight of you.

You weren’t stupid. You’d known that Jisung wasn’t serious about any of the degrading and– probably– mean things he’d say. Something was telling you he did it to get a rise out of you, doing that thing that school boys did because they had a crush on a girl and didn’t know how to deal with the feelings that came with it. So you’d let it slide, let him talk down to you and hopefully make him see that no matter how often he did it, you didn’t care. Nevertheless, he was still attractive as fuck. There was no denying that Jisung was hot and he knew it, which is why it became even more fun of a game to not let him see you sweat.

The tables turned today, you caught him off guard and took advantage of that. It could’ve gone one of two ways, he’d text you or he’d run in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go like either of the two. You’d left in such a hurry after seeing him read your phone number on his cup that you didn’t realize he was chasing after you. Slipping through the crowd was easy, but you weren’t prepared to be run over with a bulldozer in the process.

Jisung fought against the current trying to reach you, just as he’d caught a break and dashed your way, someone cut him off. He lost his footing and crashed into you like a freight train. You were shoved forward and landed face first into the grass, all the while Jisung’s entire body weight crushed you beneath him. He didn’t even have the grace to save his coffee, tossing it somewhere nearby as he became a human boulder. As soon as he’d realized what just happened, Jisung clambered off of you and rushed to help you up.

“Oh– oh my god– oh my– this is not how I wanted this to go–” he slurred his words together in a hurry, the adrenaline making him lift you from the grass with little to no effort and dust the dirt off your clothes.

In all honesty, you were fine. Winded, sure, but other than that, unharmed. You couldn’t help but let this dark and gloomy man dressed head to toe in black readjust your outfit and get rid of any signs that he may have just shoved you into the floor. It was rather endearing. With no words, you just stared at him with delighted eyes.

“I– I’m sorry– seriously, I’ll pay for your laundry. Do you live on campus? I’ll wash them for you. Are you okay? Did I hurt you too badly? Shit, I’m sor–”

He rambled, pulling a loose leaf from your hair when you finally grabbed his forearms to make him stop. “I’m okay,” you smiled nicely. Jisung took a moment to reboot, short circuiting under your gaze before tugging away from your grasp.

“Yeah, well– serves you right. Getting in my way like that,” he cleared his throat and dusted off his own pants. Rolling your eyes, you reached down to pick up the now empty coffee cup and shove it into his chest, walking in the direction you were originally going.

For the second— third, fourth(?)— time that day, Jisung stuttered. He’d blinked away his confusion and followed. You weren’t walking very fast, nor looking back to see if he’d come after you, but he still felt his face growing hot at the idea of having a normal conversation outside of the cafe. So he walked next to you in silence, looking down at you occasionally and catching a few milliseconds of you looking back before his shyness got the best of him and turned away. Without thinking of anything but your presence beside him, he’d tossed the empty cup into a trashcan in passing, finally mustering enough courage to speak. “I’m not brooding.”

“No, brooding is too nice,” you tilted your head up at him, a sly smirk curling the corners of your lips. The sun made your lipgloss glint, looking just that much plumper. How had he never realized how much you blush? The prettiest dusty pink tinted the tops of your cheeks and glowed under the natural light.

“I can be sweet,” was all he could come up with.

“Really?” Stopping dead in your tracks, you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

Something had shifted in him, you could see it in the way he couldn’t look anywhere but between your eyes and lips, flittering and quick. He was no longer giving you the cold shoulder, but rather leaning in every time you spoke. But for some reason, this just made you want to tease him more. “What, no snarky come back? Not gonna make me pay for your spilled drink?”

Hundreds of scenarios played out in Jisung’s mind. He hated how even when you were taunting him, you said it in such a polite manner. He wanted to (gently) strangle you, call you stupid for assuming that he’d automatically be a jerk. But he also wanted to kiss you and call you (lovingly) dumb for thinking he’d ever truly mean the rude things he says. “Actually, I want to show you something. Are you free later tonight?”

His invitation took you just as aback as you had to him earlier at the cafe. Jisung smiled triumphantly at your sudden loss for words. Swallowing the lump in your throat and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you said, “yeah. You have my number,” and began to walk away.

You had to hold yourself back from jumping in the air with joy, while Jisung was scratching the back of his head with a stupid smile on his lips. You were rounding the corner out of sight when he looked down at his hands and found them empty. “Shit.”

Out of sight. He ran after you again and all but slid around the corner of the building.

“Dumbass.” A sharpie twirled between your fingers as you leaned against the brick wall, waiting for him to realize the same thing you had.

Jisung was at a loss for words again, dumbfounded as you pushed off the wall and skipped back towards him. The feeling of your skin on his for the first time almost had his heart skipping a beat, taking his hand in yours as you slid the sleeve of his jean jacket up. Jisung hoped you couldn’t feel him trembling while you wrote your number on his wrist. It was the doodled heart next to the last digit that knocked the wind from his lungs. He could only watch your pretty fingers cap the marker and stride off without another word.

You’d just reached your dorm as your phone chimed, an unknown number texting you a time, building, and room number. When you replied, all they said was, brooding and sweet can create beautiful things.

That night was the first time you’d visited him at the studio, certainly not the last. When you questioned him why you were here at 10 p.m. with almost all the lights off besides a few decorative and– hardly– tasteful LED lamps that provided ample mood lighting, Jisung fired right back at you, “you never asked me what my major was. Music production, just so you know.” It suddenly made sense why he needed all the caffeine.

Looking around the room, there wasn’t much. Where he sat, there was a desk riddled with various boards that had even more buttons on them all connected to his laptop, which was also hooked up to the TV that hung above his head. Behind that, a leather couch that looked less than comfortable minus the accent pillows that you could tell was placed there by whatever other person had the same idea as you did– this place was a man cave.

Jisung smirked at your anxious twisting of the doorknob as you stood still in the doorway. “Sit,” he gestured to the couch. Raising an eyebrow at him, you listened, shutting the heavy metal door behind you and sitting quietly. “Good,” the praise slipped from his tongue just as he turned back to his laptop. You wanted to roll your eyes, not that it’d do any good if he couldn’t see it.

“What did you want to show me?” Your voice was much softer than when you would bicker at the cafe, smoother now that there was no bustling of caffeine-deprived college students.

He stayed quiet for a second, typing and clicking away until he spun abruptly to face you. “Wanted your opinion on something. Be honest–”

“I always am.”

“What did I just say? Be honest, sweetheart,” he blinked at you slowly, assessing the way your nose scrunched in disbelief.

“Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“I’m saying, say what you actually think. Not what people want to hear.”

You bit your lip back, finding it sort of funny how quick Jisung was with his words. When the corners of your lips twitched upwards, so did his, making a triumphant smile spread across his face. He bared his pretty white teeth in a sly manner, knowing he had the upper hand. “How long have you been waiting for that one?”

“Mmm, a while.” The giggle that escaped you resulted in one from him, as well. You’d never heard him laugh, not a real one, at least. How gentle he sounded, if you weren’t so used to insult after insult, you’d have mistaken him for a ray of sunshine. It was comfortable, the silence that followed as he dragged one file from his laptop to the TV screen.

It dawned on you that you hardly knew this boy, how much could your opinion truly mean coming from someone who hadn’t the faintest idea of the inner workings of music production? Like he could smell the hesitancy dripping off you, “I need unbiased ears.” He snuck a peak back at you from over his shoulder, waiting for your approval to continue. When you nodded and sat back, Jisung repressed another smile and clicked play.

The song began with single piano notes and his voice speaking as though from over the phone, slightly muffled and sensual. “Just tell me ‘bout you,” the lyrics sang softly, then the backtrack began to pick up into something a bit more energetic but still… sad, in a way. There were no more lyrics, just the melody and rhythm that made you tilt your head. Jisung was now half facing the couch, partially out of nerves that you’d hate it and the other part because it was you judging his music. You stared up at the screen as you watched the recording fade to press-to-play position again when Jisung anxiously cracked his knuckles.

“You said you wanted honesty,” you subconsciously kicked off your shoes and brought your knees to your chest. Jisung nodded, twiddling, bouncing his knee lightly. “I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

When you didn’t continue, he urged, “that’s it? You just liked it?”

“It’s cute–”

“Cute?!” Jisung cut you off before you could keep going with your review. “Of all things, you say it’s cute? Please think about expanding your vocabulary,” he scoffed, swiveling back to face his computer.

“If you’d let me finish,” you grabbed the back of his chair and forced him to turn back to you again, “it’s cute.” The look of annoyance and disbelief littered his expression as he sighed. “It makes me feel like those coming of age movies where you see someone from across the room and just sort of…” Your words trailed off, unable to describe the sensation that you felt listening to it.

Jisung’s features softened, already feeling guilty for jumping the gun on you. Instead of repeating that, he waited and listened. “It’s like there’s a filter on it.” He almost burst into flames at the blush that rushed your cheeks again.

“Filter?”

“I can’t really explain it,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair back and pulling your knees closer. “Y’know– the color palette over the scene when the two love interest’s eyes lock for the first time? It’s not sparks, but just a kind of–”

“Filter.” The way he repeated the word made you stop to look at him, only to find Jisung already staring back with pupils larger than plates. You told yourself it was just the dim lighting, your mind was playing tricks on you. He wasn’t getting closer, he was just trying to read your lips as you talked.

“Y– yeah,” you choked. Jisung didn’t stop, slowly rolling in his chair to knock his knees against the edge of the couch. You could feel his body heat radiating against the small part of you that was near him, already becoming flushed in the temperature yourself.

He hates you, he reminds himself. He hates you, you hate him. He hates you, he hates you, he hates you.

So why can he smell your perfume and feel your breath tickling his skin?

“It–” you lost your train of thought, eyes only concentrating on how soft his lips looked. “It makes things look…” he suddenly brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your head to gaze into his eyes. “Prettier.”

The feeling of his lips pressing against yours knocked the air from your lungs for the second time that day. Warmth spread through your body even hotter at the contact, knuckles going white as you restrained yourself from pulling him in closer. Jisung didn’t rush, didn’t do anything but simply place his lips on yours and yet, you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones.

It took everything in him not to shove you further into the couch. He could feel you tensing as soon as he’d laid a finger on you, almost afraid that you’d vanish into thin air if he went any further. So he pulled away, albeit reluctant. The sound of your lips disconnecting almost felt like an awakening of some sorts, the nervous look in his eye replacing the one that was so confident before kissing you. You left him speechless when you reached out for his neck to pull him in again, hungrier this time.

A newfound fire burned in your stomach when Jisung matched your energy into the kiss, tangling your hands in his air as he unlocked your legs and positioned himself between them. When his teeth nipped at your bottom lip for entrance, you gave it to him instantly. It was breathless, not sloppy but not coordinated, either. The two of you danced around one another as if on eggshells, not wanting to push too far. Your hands dropped lower, pulling him deeper and mindlessly slipping one under the collar of his shirt to wrap around his shoulder, nails raking the skin as you silently begged for more. That was all you did when Jisung suddenly tightened his grip on your thighs and pushed you away in one swift motion, shoving the chair into the desk as he stood.

Lips swollen and out of breath, you wanted to shrivel up into the couch and never be seen again. His expression was unreadable, not seeming angry but certainly not pleased. Whether it was out of fear or exhilaration, you didn’t know what possessed you to ask, “did I do something wrong?”

“Did you–” Jisung paced in the cramped space between the desk and the couch, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You could never do anything wrong.” It came out more sarcastic than he intended, making you wince at his sudden change.

The question ignited something in him, an existential crisis of sorts that caused him to tug at his own hair. If he hated you before, he loathed you now, not even bothering to hide it as he attempted to compose himself. Jisung forced himself to slow his heartbeat, leaning against the edge of the desk and taking deep breaths. He finally turned to look at you, catching your stare on his forearms. Tracing where you couldn’t turn away from, he noticed his veins protruding down to his hands that were harshly gripping the table. Jisung felt himself smiling, almost forgetting about his outburst and letting out a soft chuckle. Your eyes glistened, glazed over as you found his. “You’re perfect,” the words were all but spat.

A sigh of confusion left your lips, “you’re giving me emotional whiplash.”

“You’re too perfect. Stop it. Stop being like that.” He let himself slump into the rolling chair again, suddenly drained of energy.

How were you supposed to take that? It wasn’t like he was confessing his love for you or proclaiming a vendetta against you, no. He was simply stating that you were perfect– whatever that meant. Still, you wanted to know more. It seemed as though he was in a mood for talking, now. “You’re not making any sense,” your voice stayed quiet.

“And you always make sense.” Jisung slowly spun so you were looking each other in the eyes again. Just a single look from you and adrenaline rushed through him. “I’m sorry,” his gaze dropped to his lap.

The puppy dog look he sported made you want to hug him, kiss him more, though maybe that wasn’t what he needed right now. So instead, you took notes from him and tipped his chin up with your finger, forcing him to look at you. Keeping your tone low, “I don’t understand. But that’s okay.��

You let him walk you home after that, let him plant a kind kiss to your forehead and feel him slip something into your palm as his lips met your knuckles before skipping away into your building. As soon as he was out of sight, you looked at what he’d left you.

A harddrive, unlabeled other than a single music note. Smiling, you tucked it into your pocket for safe keeping.

That was almost a year ago. Giggly, shiny, perfect you that he all but ruined in more ways than one. The way he reacted to your first kiss should’ve made you turn tail and run, but no. The savior complex in you wanted to try and fix him, make use of the potential that he showed every sign of having. Granted, he was great at first. There were many wonderful dates, he asked you to be his girlfriend, you did everything together. The two of you were the typical sun and moon relationship, he hated everything but you and you couldn’t help but be an absolute angel everyone despite that. Little did you know, that would be the beginning of your downfall.

Four months after Jisung officially made you his girlfriend, you agreed to work the cafe over winter break for some extra cash, also giving Jisung an excuse to stay on campus and work more on music. However, with the new semester came new employees. You were instructed to train the new hire, Felix.

Felix was handsome, sure. He was also clueless on how to make anything on the menu and needed to be taught from scratch. Not that you minded, business was slow since most of campus was on vacation. That gave you the opportunity to teach him in depth and let him take his time.

Jisung visited you often, spent more time in the cafe so that he could just be in your presence as you worked. He enjoyed watching you from afar, liked seeing you being your bubbly and helpful self.

Early on in your relationship, you’d also learned Jisung had a thing for pictures. He was obsessed with taking your picture or recording you doing the most mundane of tasks. That also meant he was even more enamored with pictures in the bedroom. Sex was common in your alone time, you being the one to rile him up most days just so he could fuck you six ways into next week. You somewhat took advantage of how quick he was to get annoyed. Blame your high sex drive.

Sex at your dorm, his dorm, sex in the (public) studio of the music department, wherever he could get his hands on you for teasing him so blatantly. Jisung had racked up more than enough pictures and videos to keep in his spank bank, safely locked away.

Ultimately, it was also the same banter that attracted him to you that was the catalyst for your never ending string of arguments. It was always Felix– because how could it not? Your new coworker was just that handsome and as kind as you were, Jisung found it impossible that you weren’t attracted to him.

You’d never picked up on your boyfriend’s jealous tendencies until after the second semester started up again. The more students that started coming back to campus meant the heavier your schedule got. More school work was being piled on top of your hours at the cafe, also including spending more time with Felix. There never seemed to be any other reason for your arguments other than your pretty black haired coworker. Either he was too close to you, you two talked too much, he made you laugh a lot, it was always something.

Jisung had come into the cafe for his usual nap at his new unassigned (assigned) table, you brought him his coffee and a kiss on the forehead. He smiled as you skipped back to work, looking at the cute doodles you still drew for him on his cup. It was things like this that reminded him of your love, however he couldn’t help the overpowering feeling of watching Felix place his hand on the small of your back to get around you. There was nothing else that happened to make him angry, nothing to make the jealousy arise within him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the boy, annoyed that his freckles decorated his cheeks and nose and how nicely his hair was always styled. In a way, Felix reminded Jisung of you, genderbent.

Twenty minutes later, your boyfriend would usually be KO’d with his head against the table, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from your coworker. Jisung didn’t even try to hide it, you realized and looked back and forth between the two. Felix didn’t seem to notice, which you were grateful for. It irked you, but you couldn’t tell why. He was making that same face he did when he invited you to the studio for the first time, awestruck as he reached for his phone and opened up the camera app, Jisung snapped a picture of the boy.

You couldn’t have dragged Jisung home any faster after you got off work. “Slow down, babe, you’re gonna tear my arm off,” he said as his footsteps stumbled to keep up with your pace. Even as you were speed walking back, you managed to slip your hand into his jacket pocket, intertwining your fingers together. Jisung squeezed your hand reassuringly, but you didn’t respond.

“Baby?” He nudged your shoulder with his, looking down at you as you walked towards his dorm.

“Do you like Felix?” The words left your mouth faster than your brain could process them.

It was like two worlds colliding, the anger he felt for you all those months ago and now the emotions he couldn’t quite understand as he watched you interacting with your coworker. None of it made sense, so his answer was at least honest, “I don’t get it.”

“Do you always take pictures of him when I’m not looking?” Your tone was that of dominating, not upset, which confused Jisung more. You weren’t the dominant type by any means, so the way you spoke to him now caught him completely off guard. When Jisung stuttered, you kept going, “be honest now, sweetheart.” The words flipped butterflies in his stomach, but not in the way they usually did. Jisung felt caught.

“No– I mean– yeah, no I don’t. Are you– are you mad?” It was entertaining, hearing him struggle to keep up with the interrogation.

“I won’t be if you show me the picture.”

Jisung stopped walking all together, taking your intertwined hands out of his pocket and tugging you back. His mouth was slightly agape, “what?”

“You heard me. Show me the picture.” You could feel his hand tremble at the request. But still, he indulged you. Pulling out his phone in his other pocket, Jisung kept looking up to make sure you were serious. The winter wind made his hair sway lightly, only adding to the dramatic effect of him taking his time to show you what you wanted. When he did, you all but stole the phone, flicking through his camera roll without a single protest from him– as if he wouldn’t have lost that argument either way.

It wasn’t like the pictures Jisung took of you. When he captured your image, it always was in moments where you were the least suspecting, not paying attention as he saved moments where he thought you were the most beautiful. The picture of Felix, upon further inspection, was almost fabricated. Zooming in, you could see the slight turn of his eyes to the camera, like he knew he was being watched. However, neither of you would’ve caught it if you hadn’t looked closer.

For some reason, you weren’t upset, handing the phone back to your boyfriend and taking his hand again. Jisung was silent, confused as you started to lead him back to the comfort of his room. “That’s it?” He treaded lightly.

“Mhm,” the smile on your face when you looked up at him told Jisung otherwise. But he didn’t push it, if you were going to drop it then who was he to challenge that?

If you weren’t so busy, maybe you’d have noticed the shift in your relationship. Maybe you did and just didn’t care enough. Maybe you would’ve seen your boyfriend taking your pretty black haired coworker under his wing, bringing him back to the studio late at night the same way he did with you. He was being kinder to you, bringing you flowers at work and buying you little things that reminded him of you. You should’ve known then once Felix started avoiding you at work, going as far as requesting to change his hours so they were the complete opposite of yours. If you cared more, maybe you’d have been more hurt.

Jisung always wanted what he couldn’t have, even extending to what he emotionally couldn’t bring himself to accept. He’d figured out half way through the second semester that he hated Felix, too, only because he and you were so alike. That made him want the boy even more. So he started off with making small talk with the barista, escalating into inviting him to work on music together. Jisung was never the best at keeping secrets from you, living on a strict honesty policy. When Felix kissed him, he ran back to you instantly. How wrong Jisung was, Felix wasn’t you. You’d never do anything to hurt someone else like that.

You threatened to leave him, obviously, however it was a weightless threat. He’d fallen to his knees as tears streamed down his face, cheeks lips growing puffy from the rapid blood circulation. Jisung gripped at your waist and held his face into your stomach, drenching your (his) shirt as he begged for you not to leave. “He kissed me! I– I swear! As soon as it happened, I left. I’m so– so– I’m sorry, I love you.”

He just made it so difficult to leave, you’d never seen him cry like this before. Your made-of-stone boyfriend was having an absolute breakdown, shaking and choking on his own saliva as you could do nothing but run your fingers through his hair. You stared blankly at the door of his room, not sure if you should get away or soothe him. It was like this a while longer, Jisung trying to catch his breath as he gripped so tightly to your hips that you couldn’t move an inch.

Eventually, he let you go enough to sit on the bed, still kneeling on the ground between your legs. The touch you let yourself indulge in had him cradling his face into your palm, tugging your calves to trap him in tighter.

Jisung didn’t look at you like he did that first night or how he looked at Felix. It wasn’t awestruck or dumbfounded, nothing like he was a child tasting chocolate for the first time. Now, as the stream of tears dried down red on his skin and his lips trembled slightly, all he wanted was to please you and worship the ground you walked on, show you that there would never be anyone else.

“It was a mistake.” Your voice snapped him from his trance. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. Jisung quickly nodded, cupping his hand over yours to keep you from removing it.

The hum you let out as you moved to caress him with both hands made him close his eyes, following your guidance to sit up higher mindlessly. Jisung being taller than you, he was just about eye level despite him being on his knees. Your fingertips ghosted around his face, grazing his lips, nose, cheeks, pushing back his hair from his forehead. He all but purred at the attention. “You’re such a pretty crier,” you confessed, smiling gently down at him. He didn’t open his eyes, attempting to control the single tear that wanted to fall again. Failing, Jisung held tighter onto your hand, still shaking. “He’s really pretty, too. Isn’t he?”

What were you getting at? Admitting to your crying boyfriend that you thought the coworker of yours he just kissed was pretty? After just telling Jisung he was pretty?

Jealousy is a powerful thing.

Jisung slowly opened his eyes again, eyebrows knitting together. “W– what?”

“Felix,” you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “He’s really pretty.” Stunned, Jisung couldn’t fight to keep you sat on the bed, watching from his spot on the floor as you sauntered over to his desk, picking up what he could only tell to be his phone. Everything was happening in slow motion to Jisung, your bare legs standing in front of his face again as you found the same picture of Felix that sparked this entire situation.

You didn’t bother showing the picture to Jisung. For all he knew, you didn’t even have the image opened. But that was the thing— he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything at this point, except for how much he wanted to make you feel the immense love he’d come to realize was all for you.

It crowded his chest, pushed his all too full heart into the palm of his hands and laid it at your feet, inches away from being stomped on.

So no, you didn’t show him the picture. It was all in good manner, though. He didn’t deserve to see the beautiful catalyst for your relationship’s strange dynamic shift.

“I— I don’t know what to say.” Honest, as always.

“No, of course not. You just run and kiss those you’re confused by, don’t you?” Jisung winced at your words, shrinking into himself more than he already had. His gaze ran down your legs until it hit the floor, not moving as you slowly tracked around his limp body.

“I’m not mad, baby.” His fingers twitched, not fully convinced.

Less to his knowledge, you were playing around with the camera settings on his phone, unsure if you wanted to use the flash, maybe the different filter settings? You twiddled his phone in your hand as you stood behind him, holding your finger over the capture button. With no warning, you gripped the back of his hair, yanking his head up and shoving the back camera of the phone in front of his face. The flash was blinding to both you and him, hearing the shutter go off and toss him with almost no force into the side of the bed.

It was cruel, you knew that, to be giggling at the vulnerability your boyfriend showed you as you examined the picture. His cheeks were extra puffy, eyes bloodshot and teary. The feeling was exhilarating, finally understanding his fixation with photos.

You created this image. You put him on his knees and made him beg, weep for forgiveness. Granted, the kiss was definitely his (and Felix’s) fault. But in the end, he always came back to you and this bed. The same bed you were now ordering him to sit in the middle of.

He did so without question, angrily sniffing and palming away a stray tear.

“Did you enjoy it?” The smile playing across your lips only irked him, knowing it was a loaded question. Jisung didn’t know how to answer you, especially when you couldn’t take your eyes away from the phone for just a second to look at him.

“Did you?” You asked again, raising an eyebrow in his direction. The weight of your side glance crushed him into the mattress, forcing a weak reply, “no.”

“No, baby? Why?” You stood at the foot of the bed now, shirt just barely covering your ass and thighs, making it hard for Jisung to keep his attention on your smug face.

“B— because he isn’t you.”

This answer pleased you, finally tossing the phone onto the corner of the bed and letting all your attention fall onto him. Countless times had Jisung been able to stare you dead in the eye long enough to make you squirm, but not now. The tables have turned dramatically, and now he was the one cowering under the pressure.

Tilting your head, you smiled your sweet, wonderful smile that made his stomach erupt in giddiness. Only now there was a lingering wicked feeling behind it. He knew he was in deep shit when you kneeled onto the bed and began crawling up the length of his body, forcing him back into the pillows. By the time you were face to face again, you’d refused to sit on his lap the way you usually would.

In fact, you’d refused to touch him at all, barely letting your thighs touch to keep you steady over his hardening crotch. Your hands kept you hovering above his lips, pinning him to the bed without laying a finger on his smooth skin, even when that was all he wanted.

All Jisung wanted was to feel you, touch you, have you tell him he’s yours and only yours. He wanted you to be mad about him kissing Felix and make him beg for you not to leave him. He wanted to know you still cared the way he knew you did back when you scribbled your phone number onto his arm (which he didn’t wash away for days because it was all he had to remind himself that you wanted him).

“He isn’t me, baby,” you’d repeated the words back to him, the nickname making his cock twitch in his tight jeans.

Jisung nodded in agreement pathetically quick, “he’s not.”

“No,” one hand came to run over his cheekbone, feather light, so soft he wouldn’t have felt it if he weren’t already so desperate. “And you won’t kiss him again?” Again, disgustingly fast he agreed with you, this time just a whimper leaving his lips.

You bored into his eyes with such an intensity that it made Jisung feel like he had to look away, embarrassed in more ways than one. As soon as he did, your gentle touch turned into a steel grip on his chin, forcing him to stare back at you.

“You’re mine, sweetheart.” Jisung crumbled into you, adoring the feeling of your skin on his despite how harshly you gripped his face. It was all he needed to hear before falling into your trap again.

“I’m yours.”

How easily the words slipped off his tongue, how he’d say them again and again until all you saw was him. Ironic, considering he was the one with the wandering eye. Even so, Jisung was selfish, but so were you.

The smirk that didn’t leave your expression told him that, coming in just enough to graze your lips over his, Jisung’s words catching in his throat as he awaited your kiss.

He’d closed his eyes in anticipation, wanting the sweet relief of his breath being taken away by the taste of your lipstick. And when it didn’t come, he opened them again to find you merely looking at him, reading him. Jisung gulped nervously.

“So greedy, baby.” The tip of your nose tapped against his as you whispered. “You just had a kiss and you still want more?”

Jisung whined again at the mention of his mistake, to which you let out a dark giggle. “I’m sorry,” he choked.

“I told you. I’m not mad.”

“Then why are you treating me like this?” His teeth grit as his emotions continued to run wild.

Raising an eyebrow, grip still firm on his chin, you sat back fully onto his now aching erection, the plopping sound of your bare ass hitting his clothed pelvis making him cringe in both excitement and anxiety. He let out a strained groan at your full body weight sitting on his lower section, heat from your cunt just covered in panties radiated through the fabric of his jeans.

The handle on his chin loosened and became soft, thumb softly running over his lips as your face pulled away from his. “Because I can.”

Throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut, Jisung let out a more impatient moan. As soon as his mouth opened, you took the opportunity to shove your thumb past his lips, so far in that he gagged. Still, he closed his mouth around your digit. And when he did, you allowed him the smallest bit of mercy, grinding your hips into his enough to get his chest to rise and fall quicker.

The roughness of his jeans against your cunt felt better than it should’ve. You were supposed to be angry with him, be upset that he just admitted to cheating on you even if it was unintentional.

But had it really been unintentional? He’d been leading Felix on for god knows how long. If anything, it was bound to happen and yet, you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it. The slick from your arousal was just too slippery, you couldn’t help the tumble in your tummy when he tried to roll his hips harder into yours. What a pleaser Jisung always was.

He started off slow, swirling his tongue around your thumb and eventually sucking on it, taking whatever you gave him. The whine he let out as he let himself enjoy his new role elicited one from yourself, Jisung’s eyes snapping open upon hearing it. Pupils dilated as if he had just stepped foot into a nightclub, you bit your lip to hold back the moans wanting to slip. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you more— not yet anyways, not without using him while he was in this new headspace.

Halting your movements, you pulled your thumb from his mouth, a string of saliva following it down to where you rested your hand around his neck. With the slightest squeeze, you said, “I’m gonna use you and you’re gonna like it.”

Jisung nodded, “yes, yes,” black eyes pleading for you to continue.

“Say it.”

The command went straight to his cock, “please— use me.”

With his consent, your hand around his throat squeezed tighter, bending over to kiss the spot beneath his ear. The sound of your lips trailing across his skin sent Jisung reeling further into a submissive headspace, wanting to be played with, used, abused. He also knew you could never do that to him, that fact being the only thing keeping him remotely grounded to the small piece of dominance that lingered in him.

Letting you continue to kiss him everywhere (except his lips), Jisung relished in the feeling of you slowly taking away his breathing while your other hand rode his shirt up, exposing the skin of his stomach. How hot to the touch he could feel himself to be, your cool fingertips raising goosebumps along his flesh. The difference in softness of your lips compared to the grip on his neck made Jisung’s head spin, slowly but surely becoming due to the lack of oxygen. If he were to black out, he’s glad he’d be able to do it to the feeling of your kisses being peppered across his collar bones.

You’d let go of his windpipe to slip his shirt over his head, Jisung letting you undress him. He wished you’d move faster, finding your hips and pushing down to grind into his erection again.

You weren’t one for violence in bed, at least when you had to inflict it. Instead of the slap you wished you were capable of giving, you pinched his cheek hard.

Tears began to well in his waterline again, “ow! Why?!”

“Who gave you permission to touch?” He stopped his hands from guiding your cunt across his hard on, opting to leave bruising fingerprints into your waist instead. The frown that crowded his lips made you lean into his neck again, laying down more kisses that distracted him from the aching in his pants.

He was getting lost in the pampering, even if all you were doing was leaving short pecks over his chest and torso. It was exhilarating to him, nonetheless. Jisung loved how all it took was the littlest bit of your attention and he was on his knees time and time again.

Your fingers hardly brushed over his hardened nipples, making him cry out and shove his head deeper into the pillow. The palm of your hand made its way between your bodies, pressing firmly into his cock much rougher than you ever had before. Jisung couldn’t control the convulsing of his body, folding and whimpering.

“Sensitive now, are we, baby?”

Though you didn’t linger here for long, making your way back up to sit on his contracting stomach. With both hands, you slid your fingers into his hair and relaxingly carded through it. It’d felt like a breath of fresh air, the moment you took to let Jisung regain his composure before following through with what you had planned.

With eyes just as watery as they were before, he pleaded, “kiss me please.”

He just seemed so desperate, so in need of your lips that he looked as though he might die if he didn’t get a taste. But you found beauty in that, the neediness, the aggravation and frustration that came with not getting what you wanted because once you did, it was that much more satisfying. “No.”

“Please,” he begged again. To which you responded, “no.” Another whine sounded from him, but not in a bratty way (it was definitely bratty), but more like he was containing a sob that wanted to pour out.

Just when he thought you were going to lean in for a kiss, you dodged his lips and planted one on his forehead before standing up to strip your panties off. Jisung was easy enough to distract, holding the front of your (his) oversized shirt between your teeth while you slowly slid them down your legs. His eyes fixated where your arousal made the crotch stick to your cunt, went and potent with just how horny for him you truly were. He stopped whining after that, after getting a whiff of just how needy you were, too.

And when you climbed back on top of him, dragging your soaking core over the center of his chest and pushing his shoulders back to lay completely flat, Jisung became as pliant as he’d ever been. He let you cage his head between your thighs, let you keep the shirt ridden up just enough for him to see the swell of your tits but not the whole thing, let you control his head with a heavy hand in his hair.

Your cunt was shoved into his face, yet still so far as you refused to sink onto him fully. You could feel him fidgeting with his hands, unsure of where to put them. Taking pity on him once again, you reached back and placed them in the crevice where your thighs met your hips, instructing him not to move an inch. Jisung showed his gratification by nuzzling his nose into the bit of your clit he could just barely touch.

“Be good and maybe I’ll let you fuck me,” you said through your teeth. You internally debated even letting him pleasure you, knowing his lips had been somewhere else. Knowing he’d never truly leave you didn’t ease the pressure in your chest now that you were about to ride his face. The way he begged you to kiss him made it feel all the more real.

The promise of getting to fuck you made Jisung nod, adjusting his grip on your thighs as you slowly lowered yourself onto his face.

At first, you didn’t let your entire weight down, doing your best to focus on the feeling of his mouth surrounding your bundle of nerves in a split second. It took you another minute to relax as he began sucking and toying with your clit, finally letting yourself fall onto him. Even with your cunt practically suffocating him, Jisung still pulled you in deeper, as if he couldn’t have been close enough.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding into his face as he stuck his tongue out and let you control the rhythm. One hand reached for the headboard while the other held his head steady. Thankful for the shirt muffling your cries of pleasure, you rutted back and forth against him, shivering when Jisung moaned and the vibrations rippled through your body. His fingers pressed incredibly hard into your thighs, wanting more, needing to suckle your clit as if it were his lifeline.

You didn’t let him linger in one place too long, not wanting him to necessarily be the reason you come. You were doing all the work, animalistically rubbing your wet core across his tongue and nose while he laid there and took it. Of course, the blissed out expression he held was a factor for your high, but feeling him squirming, unable to sit still was the catalyst. You only slightly turned back to see him bucking into the air, into nothing as his own horniness took over his lower half. Untouched, you could see the dark spot spreading wider over his still hard cock. He moaned and worked his tongue faster upon noticing you stop, as if he knew that you’d just realized he could come just by letting you sit on his face.

The smug way his eyes peered up at you, the knot broke in your stomach and your high washed over you, falling into the headboard as your thighs clamped around Jisung’s head in a shaking, blinding orgasm. You cried out his name, only making his own hips stutter into the air again as he gripped your cunt closer to his face. It only prompted you to move from your post orgasm bliss when he took in a deep, struggled breath.

Rolling off to the side, you slumped against the headboard, tired and fucked out even though your boyfriend beside you was still running on pure adrenaline.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, standing from the bed to kick his jeans and boxers off in record time. His cock was still hard, covered in his own cum and smearing it more as he tugged, letting out a deep sigh as he finally relieved some of the tension.

“What’re you doing?” You slid down the bed, eyeing him up and down as he towered over you. His eyes didn’t leave your body as he lazily continued to work himself up again.

“I was good, wasn’t I?” His tone was more challenging than before, knowing he’d been more than good.

“I didn’t say you could—“

“You didn’t, but I am.” Jisung released himself to reach for your ankles, pulling you down the bed and making your shirt slide over your tits, fully exposed to him.

You were planning on fucking him either way, but you loved when Jisung took what he wanted. And what he always wanted, was you.

Laying spread out for him, too tired and emotionally exhausted to be the brat he loved you to be, you let him manhandle you onto your stomach. With ease did Jisung kneel behind you at the edge of the bed and hike your hips up, lifting your right leg and keeping it suspended in the air as he aligned himself with your entrance. You were more than relaxed and capable of taking him, the act of preparing to be stretched the furthest thing from you mind when he was brushing the head of his cock against your overstimulated clit.

Wincing at the feeling, you twisted your upper body to be able to look at him, eyes half lidded just as his were. Jisung teased himself a few moments longer before gently pushing his way past your entrance, slick and already clenching for him. He didn’t look away from

your face as he bottomed out, allowing you time to adjust. And when you were ready, you moaned out.

Jisung balled the back of your shirt into his fist, more leverage for him to fuck into you. Wrapping your leg around the outside of his waist, he began thrusting at a painfully slow pace, almost as though he was scared of going any faster. That was, until you just couldn’t help running your pretty little mouth.

“Fuck me like you mean it, before Felix gets to know how both of us taste.”

All of Jisung’s inhibitions disappeared, rutting against you like a dog in heat because that’s exactly how he felt; like a dog. He was no better than one, kissing another man then running back to his girlfriend and letting her use him like all he was was a pair of dick and balls. He fucked you like there was no other sensation he’d ever live to feel, like he were to perish as soon as he pulled out of your warm, wet walls that only sucked him in deeper.

As tired and angry as you were, the harder he fucked you, the more difficult it became to stay mad. Deep down, you knew he would never go anywhere and that he didn’t mean to go as far as kissing someone else. You knew your boyfriend better than anyone, and that it was a fluke. He made a mistake, the way he let you treat him tonight was his way of making up for it. The domineering nature you always invoked in him was also another way of telling you he was sorry, because the care and softness that came after was always the sweetest poison.

Such as now, Jisung pounded into you as though he didn’t care whether or not you reached your second high, but you knew damn well that wasn’t the case. You’ll finish one more time at the least before he did, he always made sure.

“All that talk, and for what? To get fucked stupid.” One hand gripped to your elevated thigh, the other on the verge of ripping the shirt you still wore, Jisung let out a moan from within his chest, leaning over to place a few messy kisses to your cheek.

“You’re in charge, sweetheart,” he huffed, “but no one will ever fuck you like I do.”

Practically throwing your leg down, he released the grip on your shirt and hiked his leg up to plant firmly next to your hip. He only slowed for a second to really take in the feeling from the change of angle before jack hammering into you, this time not pulling out fully as he entered you again and again. The constant stimulation from the scooting motion he was making had you tumbling head first into your second orgasm, so close yet so painfully far.

“Fuck— so fucking tight, always so tight for me.“

Your lack of response wasn’t because you disagreed with him, but rather because you agreed entirely. Jisung was fucking you stupid, physically and emotionally. You felt like he fucked your emotions inside out every time you stepped into his bedroom, the same way he did your guts. How stupid of you to think he was going to lay down and take your brief moment of physical dominance.

Watching as he raised his hand and brought it down to meet your ass, you whined out in pleasure as he left one, two, three more on your reddening skin. The pain was too good, too fitting for the situations that took place, that have been taking place. Your cries for more, harder, made Jisung halt mid thrust and bring his hand back down to soothe the handprint he’d left.

“Wh— why’d you stop?” you whispered, trying to get a better look at him.

“Baby, if I hit you any harder the neighbors are gonna call the cops,” his expression turned soft, concerned. Instead of continuing, Jisung pulled out and lightly guided you onto your back. Only after stripping you of your shirt to leave you both completely naked, did he lean in close.

You’d denied him your kisses for so long, he forced himself not to cross that boundary, stay a safe distance away so he didn’t get the urge to devour your lips (even though he always did). But your arms wrapped around his neck, kneaded through his hair so expertly, your scent engulfed him and made his senses go into overdrive. Jisung didn’t even have the mind to think about his aching cock until you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him in so he easily filled you to the brim again.

So torturously aware of everything that he was capable of, that you were capable of, you didn’t let him go, just letting your lips brush against one another as he stayed sheathed inside you. “Fill me up before you kiss me,” your words no louder than the softest whisper.

If there was one thing about Jisung to be remembered, it was that everything he felt could be soothed with a kiss. Want to make him stumble on his words? Kiss his hand. Want to make him choke on his drink? Kiss his cheek. Want to make him fall in love? Kiss his lips, gently and passionately.

However, that only applies when it’s your kisses. And your kisses are his reason for anything, at this point.

Which is what got him to move his hips again, this time slower and more languid. He was no longer in a rush to reach his high, but rather to make sure you felt every bit of him. As much as he craved your kiss, he wanted to savor you, feel you as much as humanly possible.

But you were already so close, realizing that it wasn’t pain you wanted to feel, but Jisung. You wanted to be just as close to him as he wanted, too.

The pace at which the two of you could go from hating each other to wanting to melt into one another was appalling, dizzying in the same way that Jisung’s thumb brushed over your clit. The motion dragged an uncensored, purely lustful moan from your lips, causing you to clench incredibly tight around your boyfriend’s dick, already on the verge of coming himself.

It only took another few circles of his thumb to get you to convulse and throw your head back, exposing your neck to him as your second high flushed your senses silly. The tightness, the surge of your arousal flushing his cock inside you made him come hard, spurting his seed to mix with your own lingering orgasm. Both your bodies held onto each other for dear life, his head buried in the crook of your neck as you pulled mercilessly on his locks. It was like a perfect mold, fit only for the two of you.

It took a few silent moments for your breathing to return to normal, Jisung keeping his face nuzzled into your hair and wanting to drown in your scent. However, one more craving needed to be fulfilled.

Tapping his shoulder lightly, he lifted his head to meet your gaze. “Kiss,” was all you said as you puckered your lips.

He took you in with no hesitation, hand coming up to cup your face, pulling you deeper into it. It was sensual, smooth, caring as your lips moved together in sync.

Jisung thought back to his kiss with Felix. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, most of all, uncomfortable. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to kiss the other boy, he definitely did. But the kiss itself didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like how your first kiss together was, he’d realized that there was no one else that could encapture him with a kiss the way you did, all that in spite of how much he disliked you at the time. How was he to love a person he didn’t want to kiss all day, every day, until the end of time?

He almost didn’t let you go after your lips finally touched. “How are your lips still so soft after all the shit you talk?“ he joked, smiling into your skin.

As much as you wanted to retort with, “because I don’t kiss anyone that gives me the littlest bit of attention,” you didn’t. You couldn’t when he was showering you with soft touches and sweet words. Before you could think of with a real comeback, he was lifting you to the bathroom, flaccid dick still inside your sore pussy. It was only when he lifted you higher to slip out did he release you on top of the open toilet.

Jisung ran around the bathroom gathering wipes, mouth wash, water, anything else you needed while he instructed you to pee— making it very clear he wasn’t listening, not that you cared much. He’d even returned with a fresh pair of panties. “I— I don’t really want them tonight,” you admitted. You still wanted him, every bit of him without the barrier of clothes.

Picking up on his quickly, he planted another kiss to your lips before walking out to let you clean up. Though, he returned not a minute later to help you wipe down your body and drag you back into bed.

It was when the tension had finally dissipated, both naked and tangled in one another when Jisung spoke again. “Don’t ever leave me,” his voice was hoarse and weary.

“Don’t kiss anyone else.”

“After this, I don’t think I could even if I tried.” You giggled lightly at his honesty. With his chest to your back and arm draped over your stomach, you couldn’t find it in you to think any deeper about his confession.

You thought back to his phone that rested at the foot of the bed, the picture of him you took earlier, the single picture of Felix that was still in his camera roll. “No more pictures of him, either.”

Neither of you had to say his name to know who you were talking about. “Can you blame me?”

You stiffened for a moment in his hold, hoping he didn’t feel it. Even after the tears, torture, begging he did, he didn’t regret it. Taking the picture, at least. It was a small but effective jab to your heart that he probably didn’t realize he took.

The best you could come up with was, “I can. Because I didn’t get to kiss him first.”

A/N: FINALLY BACK ON TRACK!! moved back into college so now I can finally get this series back up and running (even tho there's only one part left after this one heheheh)

this one took me soooo long to write it's actually embarrassing. I hope the idea of this one was sort of obvious- the purposefully ignoring the green (red) flags and sex as a way to avoid real confrontation. I kinda just threw Felix in there on a whim. either way I hope you enjoy!

Feedback, comments, anything and everything is appreciated!

-momo <3

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mncein · 1 year

Text

it's far from annoying.

pairing: huh yunjin x female reader

genre/things: fluff☁️, café worker!reader, photographer!yunjin

plot: yunjin annoys you for fun but helps you to be happy after doing something you weren't expecting.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

it was just your ordinary day working inside this all-night café. not many customers have arrived since the day was pretty busy, except for your girlfriend who were just stopping by just now.

"hey yo!" you heard the bell ring and the voice of your girlfriend calling out to you. you quickly looked up to see that cheerful smile of hers.

"hey, what brings you here? don't you have any photography to work on?" you asked while wiping the counter, she stomps and huffs.

"so does this mean you don't want me here?" yunjin slammed her hands on the marble counter, getting your full attention all to her.

"no! not like that... i just remembered you told me that you have a few things to work on and i just really didn't expect you to be here." you laughed softly, and then you put your hand over hers.

"ugh, this again? last time you told me that you'll order something different if you visit here this week." you rolled your eyes and grinned at her, yunjin crossed her arms and scoffed.

"that's fake news, i never said that! plus, you're still making it even though you reply like that," she claims and reaches out for the money to pay for the drink. you took it from her hands and put it inside the cash register. and then you moved to the coffee machine and brewed yunjin's chosen coffee.

you weren't aware of her taking photos of you with her newly bought camera to use for her work. she took multiple pictures of you before you were done. but when she looks at you with a smile, it dropped when she saw you look gloomy after.

"hey, hey.. what's wrong? why the sudden mood change?" she asks in a pleasant and a hint of teasing tone.

"there's not that many customers coming in today, and i think it's because of a new café that just opened near the office buildings yesterday." you sighed sadly, yunjin looked at you understandably. yet she didn't fight the urge to take a picture of your cute sad face. once you looked down, you heard a click coming from yunjin's direction..

"ha! gotcha! look how cute you are!" yunjin squeals at the photo she took on her phone, she didn't use her camera for this one because she'd like this photo to stay in her gallery forever.

"yunjin! you're so annoying!" you whine, thinking that you look ugly in the photo she took (nah guys yall are pretty<3). and so, yunjin had a perfect plan to help you with what has been bothering you.

"anyways, i should probably get going, clients must be waiting for me." yunjin didn't forget her drink and a sweet kiss from you before leaving all happy.

a few moments later, a few customers arrived. of course, you were happy but still, the number of customers today is small compared to the past few days. but soon, a few turns into lots! and lots of customers were coming in that you need assistance from the other staff members.

the day went very quickly after you worked hard this day. it's just felt so magical like your girlfriend leaving attracts many people to come in and get their drinks. oh how lucky you are that you have a girlfriend like yunjin.

you quickly packed your things and went out to see your girlfriend standing beside her car parked in front of the café. she opened the car door for you and smiled, you gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. once you were both inside the car, she started driving to the condominium where you both live for now.

"i have something to tell you." yunjin smiled.

"and what is it?"

"i posted things about the café and encouraged people to go there and have a drink just to be served by a beautiful employee like you." yunjin admits, proud of what she did. you barely believed her, but when you checked her Instagram account and you saw the post she made that includes a clear photo of the café and the drink she ordered then a picture of you smiling.

"i, i wasn't expecting this yunjin..." you smiled at her. she laughed at you and teased you how you're so cute when you're like this.

"you're so annoying that i can't stop loving you." you sighed and giggled.

"and that's just how i love you." yunjin laughs with you, you then gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"you were so annoying earlier, but now, it's far from annoying."

#kpop #le sserafim #huh yunjin #yunjin #le sserafim x reader #huh yunjin x reader #cein's le sserafim

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sasusakucoded · 6 months

Text

tw: abuse, violence

Sakura works at a café owned by an old lady. Every morning, she gets up early to help the owner with some tasks. She prepares the pastries and the things needed to make coffee and specialty beverages.

A new customer arrives. Sakura lives in a small town, so everyone knows each other. This is the first time that she sees this man.

Sakura: Ohayo gozaimasu!

Man: Hi, can I have a large cup of cappuccino?

Sakura: Sure.. Do you want anything else?

Man: *looks at the menu board* And a tamago sando please.

Sakura: *uses the cash register* That will be 700 yen.

Man: *takes his wallet and pays*

Sakura: Thank you! Which seat do you prefer? I will serve it to you once ready.

Man: *looks around and points at the table in the corner*

Sakura: *nods and starts preparing his order*

---

The man becomes their regular customer. He comes as soon as the café opens and orders the same food everyday. He is always their first customer. Since he always orders cappuccino, Sakura makes sure to give him new coffee art everyday.

Sakura: Here's your coffee. *smiles and places the cup on the table*

Man: Thanks. *notices blood on her finger; about to touch her hand* Your finger—

Sakura: *flinches hard*

Man: *stands up* Sorry! Sorry.. I— I didn't mean to startle you.

Sakura: *bows her head* I'm— I'm sorry too.. I didn't mean to react that way.

Man: Th-There's blood on your finger..

Sakura: Oh! Thanks.. I'll— I'll cover it with a bandaid. *bows again and returns to the counter*

---

Whenever Sakura brings his order, she chats with him a little. It's good that the next customer comes in another 30 minutes to 1 hour. That's enough for them to get to know each other.

---

Sakura: Can I work tomorrow [Sunday]?

Owner: It's your day off, Sakura. *frowns* Don't tell me you got back with him.

Sakura: No, no.. I didn't and I swear I won't.

Owner: Then what is the reason?

Sakura: I— I want to— Remember the guy who always comes as soon as we open? His name is Sasuke.

Owner: Yes. Oh, you have a thing for him?

Sakura: N-No.. Nothing serious.. I just enjoy talking to him.. That's all..

Owner: Fine. If that's really the reason then I approve.

Sakura: Thank you so much, grandma!

---

Sakura and Sasuke become closer. They both feel that there's something going on between the two of them. Sasuke invites Sakura to hang out after her shift. To say that she's excited is an understatement.

Sasuke: Sakura. I want to be transparent with you and I want you to hear it from me..

Sakura: *nervous at the change of Sasuke's tone* Sure.. Go on..

Sasuke: I'm.. I'm an ex-convict. And for that reason, I don't think I deserve you.

Sakura: B-But you're here.. That means you're acquitted..

Sasuke: Yeah, but still..

Sakura: I trust you.

Sasuke: Aren't you scared of me?

Sakura: I know I should be because of what you just told me.. But I'm not.. I'm really not.

As much as her reaction is shocking to Sasuke, he's happy that she accepts him. On Sundays, they spend her day off together at his apartment.

Sakura: *yells* Sasuke, I think you have a message.

Sasuke: *washing his hands* Can you answer it for me?

Sakura: I— I can see your phone?

Sasuke: *confused* Yeah. The passcode is 0723.

Sakura: /thinks/ And he gave me the passcode too? *goes near him* It's from Naruto.. "I received the package. Thanks"

Sasuke: Okay.

Sakura: *accidentally elbows the glass with juice* I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! I'll be more careful next time! Please, you can hit me if you want!

Sasuke: *goes near her* Sakura! Sakura.. It's okay..

Sakura: *tries to pick up the broken pieces quickly; gets cuts*

Sasuke: Hey, stop! Sakura! *holds her hands*

Sakura: I'm sorry.. I'll never do that again. *bows her head as if offering it to him*

Sasuke: *doesn't know what that's for; caresses her head* It's okay..

Sakura: *confused but gets up when Sasuke almost lifts her*

Sasuke: *takes her to the sink* Wash your hand.. I'll just get bandaids. *sees she's looking at the mess* Don't worry about it. I'll clean it—

Sakura: No, I'll do it! I must clean it.

Sasuke: You're my visitor, remember? I'll clean it up.

---

As days pass, it becomes clearer to Sasuke that there's something wrong with Sakura. Whenever they go out, she would ask him about her clothes. If it's too short, too skimpy, or ugly. It's like Sakura asks for his permission for everything. He keeps on telling her that there's no need to ask but he thinks it's a habit of hers.

He also realizes that she's still wearing a long bandage on her arm. She has been wearing that ever since they first met.

Sasuke: Sakura.. That wound of yours.. That must be deep? You've been wearing a bandage for weeks now.

Sakura: Y-Yeah..

Sasuke: Where did you get it?

Sakura: Um— When—

Sasuke: Sakura, you can tell me everything. I thought we promised each other to not keep secrets?

Sakura: Yes, I'm sorry! *bows* Hit my head please! I made a mistake! I should've kept my promise..

Sasuke: Why do you always do that? I never understood why you kept bowing when you make mistakes? Is that it? You want me to hit you?

Sakura: Yes! Y-You love me, right? If you love someone, you'll correct them.. You'll hit them so they'll remember—

Sasuke: That's pathetic. Who said so?

Sakura: M-My ex..

Sasuke: Your ex hit you regularly?

Sakura: It's okay. It was my fault. I was very clumsy. He hated it. I deserved to be punished. And he loved me–

Sasuke: If that logic even makes sense, then why haven't you hit me ever? I made mistakes too. Don't you love me?

Sakura: I love you! Th-That logic only applies to women..

Sasuke: That's wrong. *shakes his head* Did he cause that wound? *points to her bandaged arm*

Sakura: *nods; tries to not cry*

Sasuke: Sakura.. *hugs her* Please, I want to know everything. *sits her down*

Sakura: *shaky voice* My ex.. He was nice at first.. But day after day, he became irritable. He wanted everything to be perfect. Regardless if it was my fault or not, he would hit me..

Sasuke: Sakura..

Sakura: And that's okay! Most of the time it was my mistake. I— I'd take the beating if that made him feel better.

Sasuke: What did he do to you exactly?

Sakura: Sasuke, I'm fine now..

Sasuke: I need to know.

Sakura: *pauses* He— He would hit my head if I made small errors. He would smack my face when he was frustrated. One time he was so mad because he lost at a computer game that he threw the console hard on my back. It— It hurt.. But that's okay because—

Sasuke: Sakura, you know it's not okay.. *touches her arm* This.. It's because of him, right?

Sakura: Y-Yeah.. I— I wanted to break up with him.. When I was about to leave, he took a knife and tried to hack it on me. He was trying to chase me. I was able to shield myself using my arm and escape.. I went to grandma's house to ask for help. I was bleeding but I didn't feel the pain until I was at the hospital.

Sasuke: *clenches his fist* Tell me his name.

Sakura: *takes his fist and opens it* He's— He's in prison now.. Grandma helped me to report him.. I'm okay now..

Sasuke: Clearly you're not.

Sakura: Hm?

Sasuke: You get startled by the littlest things. You ask for my permission for everything. Sometimes you stutter when you're nervous.. You still believe it's okay to be hit. You are clearly traumatized, Sakura. *holds her hand* I haven't told you why I was convicted—

Sakura: *nods* You don't have to, Sasuke. I— I trust you.

Sasuke: No! Don't trust people easily! Listen. My mom was also abused by my stepfather. And like you, she thought it was okay. But unlike you, she didn't survive the attack.

Sakura: Y-Your mom was killed by her abuser?

Sasuke: Yes. And I stabbed him to death.

Sakura: ...

Sasuke: I was acquitted because the jury decided that it was self defense, which was true. But regardless, I would still do the same for my mom.

Sakura: I'm— I'm sorry to hear that..

Sasuke: I'm glad you were able to walk away. I'm pretty sure your ex was willing to kill you too.

Sakura: Yeah.. It wasn't easy.. After some time, I realized that I don't really love him.. That I was just staying because I didn't want to get physically hurt further. I started working 7 days a week to see him less.. But that frustrated him more.. So, he hit me more when he saw me. I was so stupid for believing that he's doing that because he wants to correct me—

Sasuke: He just wanted to hurt you. If he loved you and wanted to correct you, he should've helped you with your actions.

Sakura: *smiles* Sorry.. I didn't even realize how I acted..

Sasuke: I told you, no need to be sorry. And you're a victim.. You need time to heal..

Sakura: I really thought I'm okay now.. But..

Sasuke: Maybe not yet fully healed, but you will get there. I'll always be here, Sakura.

Sakura: Can I— *hugs him* I was about to ask you again if I can hug you.. It's hard to cut habits.. But I'll try from now on.

Sasuke: Yeah.. *hugs her back* Take it slow.. You don't have to rush..

Sakura: *cries* Thank you.

#abuse tw #violence tw #sasusaku au #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fanfiction #from ask #ty anon #sscoded no 281

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year

Text

Content

Part 1 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~1.2K

masterlist

Y/N POV

"You just don't get it, Y/N. I'm tired. I am tired of coming home every single day and pretending to love you."

And just like that, I shoot up from my nightmare. Is it still a nightmare if you don't have dreams anymore, and the hell actually happened? I look myself over, and yep me, and my oversized white t-shirt are covered in sweat. I reach over, unplug my phone and look at the time 6:16 am. Greeaaaaat. I groan in frustration and shovel myself out of bed. I don't bother showering because what's the point of it all? Nothing says content like living with depression.

By the time I throw on my flannel, jeans, white vans, and make it out of my studio apartment, it's already 6:45. Just in time to rush to the train.

I don't mind the ride into the city. I keep to myself, so no one usually bothers me plus, you make it easier when you have the entire phone and airpod set going on, and it's New York, so people know how to handle themselves.

Right now, I'm trying to keep up to date on whatever news Twitter News thinks I'll enjoy. As I scroll down the feed, I spot something of interest. An article titled:

MCU STAR ELIZABETH OLSEN SPOTTED LEAVING SET OF THE DOCTOR STRANGE SEQUEL CRYING AND YELLING AT...

"Max lives for this kind of stuff." I awkwardly state out loud.

I wasted no time and sent it to my best friend and co-worker, Max. As I continue scrolling and scrolling, I find myself struggling to stay awake. So I close out of Twitter, open Spotify, and play my angsty/pop 2000s hits playlist. Nothing like Gives You Hell by The All American Rejects to start your morning.

Thirty minutes of songs later, a stop at Penn Station, and a ten-minute walk, I've finally made it to my place of work. Working in a coffee shop isn't for everyone, but it calls to me even on my days off; I find myself here... Like today.

As I enter our small coffee shop, I notice how it is filled to the brim. Is this normal? No. But days like these make the cash tips worthwhile, especially when Max is busting her ass on bar. Her red hair tied up into two buns with the coffee-stained graphic tee combo is always one of my favorite looks.

Max spots me as I shimmy my way to the employees-only section and playfully rolls her eyes. I reach down, grab my tips from the previous days of work and shove the amount, however much it is, into my pocket. Max walks by me to throw some pitchers into the back.

"It's been nonstop." Max tells me.

"How fun!" I cheerfully respond, earning a disgusted look from Mad Max.

"Excuse me! Sorry-Sorry Excu-. I just have to make my way! Please-sorry!" The plead from a struggling customer catches our attention. Max walks back to the front to continue on drinks as that one customer squeezes her way to the register. To Alec.

Alec is one of our newer employees, and he's not bad, but I can tell this type of day is stressing him out.

Customer

Before Alec can even greet or remind the customer that there is a whole system of ordering called 'waiting in line,' she speaks. Now it's a little hard to hear over the people, music, and espresso machine, but I do manage to catch what she says:

"Hi, I'm really sorry, but I placed a pick-up order yesterday for checks watch twenty minutes ago, and I can't afford to wait any longer. So if I could just pay for it, pick it up, and go, that would be very helpful."She smiles, but I can tell she's not messing around. I look from her to Alec, and oh no, he's a deer in headlights. Max notices and looks back at me. I nod and head over.

Alec seems to get the message and backs up as I creep my way onto the register.

"Hey, so I understand you have an order with us?" I state, putting on my best face as I pull out a binder of call-ahead to-go orders. "Do you remember what the order or the name on the order was?"

"Yes. The order name was Liz." She proudly says. Though I can't see her eyes, I feel like I'm being looked all over.

I shuffle through our orders, and sure enough, three down, Liz. "Okay, order for Liz. 6 94oz coffee boxes, two boxes of a dozen croissants..." The more I read the order, the bigger my eyes get. I can't believe this! "And lastly, one vegan chocolate chip cookie." Liz gets a big toothy grin at the vegan cookie bit. "Anything else?"

Liz doesn't immediately respond and is smiling, caught in her own world.

"Liz?" I lean in.

"Huh? No, thank you!" She quickly responds as if embarrassed.

"Alright, well, slide your card when ready." I say in a less than enthused manner. I look to the other two around me. Max mouths 'what the fuck' as Alec, bless his soul, is trying his hardest to grab everything for this order. Man, this dude is really trying to impress this Liz chick.

I hear the chirp of the receipt printing. I tear it out and hand it over to Liz. "If you could just sign it at the bottom and no pressure to leave a tip, but it doesn't kill to be nice."

"Couldn't agree more." Liz says as she grabs a pen and marks on the paper. I'm too busy watching Alec struggle that by the time I turn back, Liz is gone. And the customer behind her is not a happy one.

Even though I shouldn't have, I helped with the morning rush. A part of me knows I did it because the thought of being stuck inside my house is a death sentence, and anything to take my mind off Naomi helps.

Once the dust settles, Max rushes over and gives me a huge bear hug.

"Oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved us today!" Max finally pulls out of the hug.

"For real, thanks, Y/N! And sorry, I kinda froze out there it's just once I saw who-" Alec begins what I can only assume is a ridiculous apology.

"No worries, man. It happens to the best of us." As I make my way past him and onto the other side of the counter, I give him a thumbs up. He gives a shaky one back.

"Hey, did you see that article I sent you?" I ask Max.

"Oh shit, not yet. But are we still on for a movie tomorrow night? Maybe I can finally get you to watch the MCU?" Max holds her hands up as if she's praying.

"The MC - Who?" I sarcastically ask.

"The MCU!- Oh, you're fucking with me. Very funny, Y/N!"

"Always am!" I give Max a cheeky smile before plopping myself down at my favorite table. Oatmilk Latte in hand.

Part 2

#fanfic #elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen #coffeshop #coffee #westandfriends #redsuit #OTIWEO #y/n #elizabeth olsen x y/n #so much angst it’s actually crazy and disgusting #angst #crying #this is a long ride please stay with it

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Text

✦ 𝟎𝟎𝟑 ✦ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @/cafekitsune for the divider!!

Series’ Masterlist // Wattpad Vers.

(A/n) // Apologies for the short chapter! I’ll make it up to you guys in the next chapter!

Content Warnings // 775

Word Count // Mentions of smoking, heavy mentions of kidnapping…

I actually met Nicholas a few weeks ago, it was only when I was talking with Vash is where I truly met him…

The door chimes as you enter the little bakery, “Welcome back, (Y/n)!” Your friend Meryl stands behind the counter, hands on her hips as a proud smirk was plastered on her face, “Another late craving? What are we trying today? Cupcake? Coffee? Shake?”

“I’ll take a few slices of strawberry cake, oh and three vanilla cake pops, please.”

Meryl laughs, “You got it.” Walking away.

You took the table closest to the register, unlocking your phone and scrolling through your socials.

But it wasn’t long before someone else came into the shop, “Hey Wolfwood!” Meryl’s back remains turned to him as she finishes your order.

“Hey Meryl.” The man called Wolfwood greets back.

“I’ll be right with you, just give me a sec.”

“It’s cool.” Popping a lollipop in his mouth, “Take your time.”

He dressed in a suit, lazy at that. No tie, his shirt is almost wide open, hair disheveled, and wore sunglasses. Even though he was a good few feet away from you, the man reeked of cigarettes, it made your nose scrunch up at the bitter smell.

You look back at your phone before he could catch you staring, feeling his eyes linger longer than they should. You can see out of the corner of your eye that he was ready to say something…

“(Y/n)! Your order!” Meryl calls out, smiling and waving, “Here you go.” Handing you the order when you reach the register.

“Thanks, Meryl. How much?” You ask before taking the paper bag.

“It’s on the house.” She responds.

“Meryl.” You said sternly, “What did I say about giving me free food?” You playfully shake your head, “Here, at least take this.”

She pouts, finally taking the cash, “And you know I hate it when you give me free money.”

You laugh, “It’s on the house.” Taking the bag and leaving, the door once again chiming.

Meryl comes back, “So, what can I get you, Wolfwood?” Waiting for him. But he remains staring at your figure until you’re no longer in sight, “Wolfwood? Hello~!” Waving her arms around, trying to catch his attention.

“That woman… She a regular?”

“You could say that, she’s my friend.” Meryl answers before gasping, “Are you interested in her~?

Nicholas’ face bursts red, “No! I was just wonderin’ who would be in a bakery so late.”

“It’s literally the afternoon and look where you are.”

“Oh please!”

“Are you gonna order anything or not?!”

“Relax and give me a minute!”

“I’ve given you plenty!”

NOW - 3:13 PM

You and Meryl stand in the shooting range, you turn to her, “Here you try it.” You hand Meryl her newly purchased pistol. You place your hands over hers and fix her posture, “Remember to relax and focus on your target… You’re shaking.” You commented.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I never held a gun before.” Meryl sighs, “But I wouldn’t ask you of this if I knew I couldn’t hold a gun.”

“Why is it that you asked me to help you?” You remove your hands which lets Meryl drop her aim.

“I’m worried is all.” She answers, “Considering the bakery I’m working at opens later in the summer and I’m working night shifts, I sometimes don’t feel safe at night.”

“It’s shitty that we can never feel safe where we are.” You sigh, ““It becomes even more difficult if we have to suspect the people we’re dating if they’re main goal is just to kidnap us. Or worse.”

“That’s dark.”

“I know.”

Meryl aims again, “Relax your shoulders, breath. You have to learn to control your fear because the kidnapper isn’t gonna give you time.” She then holsters her pistol and whips it out, “That’s good. Now shoot.” Pointing to a cardboard cut out.

Leg. Shoulder. Arm. Stomach. Crotch. Neck. Head.

“Not bad for your hundredth try.” You joke.

Meryl scoffs, “Don’t exaggerate… It was my ninety fourth try.” The two of you burst into laughter until she calms down, “So (Y/n), have any plans tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yep.” Popping the ‘p’.

“What?! Why?!”

“I got a full schedule considering my boyfriend is coming back from England.”

“Oh right! What was his name again?”

You playfully roll your eyes at her, “His name is Livio.”

“Is he worth it?”

You shyly play with your fingers, “You know my car?”

“Wha- Don’t tell me he was the one who bought it?!”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, talk about being rich. Does anyone else know?”

You shake your head, “It’s our little secret.”

Taglist // @themaskismyface , @jasperthechaosgremlin ,

#x reader #x female reader #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #trigun meryl #trigun vash #trigun wolfwood #trigun x you #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #vash the stampede

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 years

Text

Having Ningguang as a regular at your Coffee Shop

Characters: Ningguang x gn!reader

AU: Barista!AU

Warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: The original request by @bluesandpiper contained 6-7 AUs with different characters, but since I don’t want to keep you waiting until I’m finished with all of them, I’m just going to post them separately whenever I’m done with one.

I hope I got Ningguang right, she's not exactly a character that's too easy for me to write, so if I did something wrong, just tell me and I'll try again

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ningguang

While you couldn’t exactly remember when or why you started making small-talk with Ningguang each morning as she ordered something to drink, it quickly became part of your morning-routine, your chats starting to resemble small-talk less and less with each day until they turned into actual conversations.

Before long, days where Ningguang didn’t visit the Coffee-shop started to feel like they were missing something—or rather someone. Your co-workers, not missing your less happy behaviour, quickly put two and two together, causing them to tease you about your “crush” while trying to persuade you to do something about it. And while you weren’t too sure if they did it because they cared or simply due to the lack of other interesting things happening, their words started echoing in your head every time Ningguang walked through the door.

As you finally finished setting up everything and flipped the sign outside of the door, signalling to whoever passed the building that the shop had opened, you let out a long-drawn yawn. While staring your shifts early wasn’t something you weren’t used to, you still couldn’t help but wonder why your boss was so stubborn about opening at least an hour before the competition. Sure, the amount of customers was large enough to justify continuing to do so, but they still weren’t comparable to the number of visitors later in the morning.

While you were still too busy silently wishing you had went to bed earlier the night before, you almost didn’t notice the door open, only to let out a small sigh of relief when you saw that it was Ningguang.

“Oh, good morning, Ningguang! You’re here earlier than expected”, you greeted, trying your best to cover your tiredness up with a smile, only for Ningguang’s silent stare to make you realise that she had long noticed.

“Work”, she stated, causing you to silently thank whatever gods were out there that had made her decide not to mention it while simply nodding in response. When Ningguang eventually made her order, you weren’t all too surprised by her ordering 2 cups of coffee—something she used to do from time to time—what you were surprised though, was her offering you one of them immediately after paying.

“You do look like you need it more than me, or am I wrong?”, she asked, although the small look of amusement on her face made it obvious enough that she already knew the answer.

“Thanks…”, you sheepishly answered while making a mental note to wash your face with cold water the next time you were on break, taking your first sip a few seconds after Ningguang, only for the two of you to quickly move on and have your usual chat. That was, until you were interrupted by the sound of the door opening as the next customer entered the shop, causing Ningguang to take a brief look at her watch before ordering another cup of coffee.

And while that would normally have been the end of your interaction until the next time you met, you couldn’t help but feel as if your conversation had been cut short, causing you to quickly scribble your phone number on the cup, something that’d probably cause you to lie awake at night and cringe later that day, handing it to her and receiving her money in turn.

But as Ningguang walked out of the shop and you were about to put the money into the cash register, you noticed a small piece of paper among the coins, slightly blushing once you made out the numbers written on it, realising that it also was a phone number, only for your thoughts to eventually get interrupted by an order.

And while you finished your shift as if nothing happened, the small piece of paper never left your mind.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #ningguang x reader #ningguang x you #ningguang x y/n #ningguang imagines

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yuritord · 1 year

Text

VINEGAR DOPPIO X READER

It was a fine Sunday morning, and Doppio was where he commonly found himself; sat in his favorite cafe with a cup of coffee. It was overloaded with sugar and creamer, just how he liked it. But as he sat there, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the new server. Typically Doppio knew most of the workers by name, as he was a very frequent costumer. But, today, he couldn’t seem to recognize the person standing behind the cash register.

They were average height, but there was something about this server that was still eye catching. Maybe it was their hair, maybe their eyes? Maybe it was simply the way they talked, perhaps it was the way they smiled at Doppio after he ordered. No matter what it was- it was intriguing. Intriguing enough that Vinegar found himself coming to this small cafe more often then he ever expected. His wallet cried, but he refused to stop- Whether he pretended to be working, or just bought a small pastry, he found some excuse to see the face he’s come to love.

About two weeks had passed before Doppio finally said something. It was small, but hey; a “So- How’s your week been..?” from a quiet voice was better than nothing at all. He was greeted with that warm, endearing smile he’s grown to adore. There was a small giggle, “My week? Really?”

“Um.. yes! Your week. How- How was it?” he asked again, his voice starting at a fair volume and slowly turned to a whisper.

“Well, my week was just fine, thank you for asking! How was yours, sweet tooth?”

“Sweet tooth..?”

“Oh! Sorry- You always order such sweet drinks… that’s how i remembered your orders in my head- Sorry if that’s.. weird..”

“Oh! No, no it’s sweet! I… I like it.”

They exchanged smiles; Doppio sat back down at the table in the corner of the cafe. He smiled down into his cup- The sun shining down into the light brown liquid. He bit his lip, holding back a small laugh- Though there was nothing truly funny happening, he was simply so happy to have finally gotten to say a few extra words to the server.

The next Sunday when Doppio went in, he ordered just a coffee- But when his name was called, he found his drink plus a muffin and a… note? When he looked over to the server, they just gave him a small, almost mischief-filled smile. Doppio felt his cheeks grow warmer as he went to his seat. He ate the muffin and began reading the small note- It seemed to be ripped out of a larger notebook. He almost choked on his muffin as he began to wrap his mind around what he was reading

“Hey sweet tooth! I’ve noticed you staring at me a lot- Maybe i’m getting the wrong vibe… but you seem cute!

XXX-XXX-XXXX”

When Vinegar looked up to the counter, he didn’t see anyone. He quickly grabbed his drink and left the building; phone in hand. Doppio was practically shaking as he typed the number in. The pink haired male was excited but also anxious- what if he wasn’t what they were expecting? what if he wasn’t good enough? what if his boss called him while he was trying to talk to them??

Too many thoughts, too many fears- But he had a mission.

“Hi! This is Doppio. Or, Sweet tooth? I hope i put the number in right!”

He turned his phone off and began speed-walking, fear taking over his feet. Soon enough he was back outside his apartment building- The young adult’s phone had vibrated minutes ago, but after walking so fast and with so much on his mind, he didn’t notice in the slightest. But back at home, taking his shoes off, he saw the new text.

“OMG hi! yes!! this is the server hehe :P my name is (Y/N)! sorry if this was weird!!”

“Oh no it’s not weird at all!! i didn’t know u saw me staring, im sorry”

“It’s okay! i dont mind, its kind of sweet! If i was uncomfortable i wouldn’t have given u my number. Doppio huh? that’s a cute name!! i like it!”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you! So- besides working.. what do you like to do? you seem interesting!”

Their conversation seemed to last for years, both ends smiling with pure serotonin. The last text had them both ecstatic- an agreement to a date. They’d meet up at the coffee shop and then walk to a nice restaurant nearby. Doppio and (Y/N) were beyond excited- Vinegar was practically radiating joy.

#doppio #vinegar doppio #doppio x reader #jjba #jjba part five

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nuoyipeach · 1 year

Text

Brutal

Nakamoto Yuta X Park Sooyoung

warnings: violence, blood

tags: @yutahoes

"Dare to walk through our lands again?" his soft yet cold voice ran shivers down the man's spine, even as he was held in up in a chokehold, his feet dangling in the air. "Being nice doesn't cut it for you people, does it? You gotta see me mad?" Yuta stared at him, eyes dazed yet his powerful gaze remained, like some kind of psycho. He throws the man back onto the ground, and watches as he tried to scurry away.

"Osaki." the younger member stepped forward at Yuta's demanding voice. "Send this one back to his place, maybe they'll remember who they're messing with."

"Yes sir." Shotaro answered, saluting for fun before calling over the other to help pick up the tortured man's body and carried him away.

"Damn man." Jeno remarked as he picked up the man by his feet. "You should be embarrassed, you look like you got beat up by 5 men." the two young ones laughed.

"Should we leave a note?" Shotaro suggested, which they both decided on doing. As they put the man in an open box, Jeno wrote and left a nicely folded note in the man's grasp.

With much love, Nakamoto himself sends you an amazing art piece made by him and only him

They laughed at the mocking letter, before signalling for the driver to start their journey.

This was the kind of person he was. Nakamoto Yuta wasn't just feared for having the biggest yakuza team, or having members and alliances from overseas, or having had control over the most amount of land in his prefecture.

He was feared solely for his brutal strength, especially in his hands. Hands which on their own were responsible for the hospital fees of thousands of people. He never fought for joy, he only fought threats. And he wouldn't kill anyone, he'd harm them enough to be hospitalised for days, as he figured the pain was a good enough punishment and reminder never to mess with him or his people.

Such example was today's, when some members had walked by a local bakery in his lands, and noticed a ruckus inside. They immediately went in, and the owner ran to them on his knees, begging for their help against a man trying to harm his son working at the register. Jeno and Shotaro knew exactly how to deal with this, and ordered everyone to leave the shop, and in no longer than two minutes tied up the man and took him to Yuta.

While they now drove the man back to his own yakuza, Yuta sat in his office and called in another member. "Little Huang." a young man entered, and Yuta could hear the teasing laughs behind him from outside as he trudged inside. "Take this money and give it to the bakery." he placed a wad of cash, then another one. "And bring a cake, make sure he doesn't reject payment for it. I'll send him instructions."

"The cake is for?" Renjun asked grabbing the money.

"Bring it back to me."

>>>

Renjun did as told, and Yuta soon drove home with the small cake box in the passenger seat. He reached the yakuza neighbourhood, and then his house. It definitely stood out within the neighbourhood, somewhat of a small mansion, especially with how much extra security surrounded the house itself despite the ones around the neighbourhood already.

This was where all the members and their families lived, a little hidden away from the general public for maximum privacy, and high on safety as well. They didn't have hired guards, rather took shifts by themselves while having cameras watching every part in and outside the gated neighbourhood, also watched by the members.

He parked the car in his front yard, and could see the front door open as he prepared himself to get out. Suddenly, the cold face switched into the warmest smile ever as he caught sight of a woman stepping out of the house. He grabbed the cake box and headed out towards her, opening his free arm wide.

"I'm home baby." he cooed and pulled her in for a hug, nuzzling her neck in the process. "I missed you so much."

Sooyoung pushed him out, hands on his chest, and looked him up and down. "I don't see anything, but something tells me you bloodied up someone." she asked cocking an eyebrow. He smiled nervously, pouting his lips asking for a kiss. She sighed and gave in, giving him a quick kiss before letting him inside.

She noticed the box in his hands as he put it down on the table, her eyes lighting up instantly. Yuta noticed it and smirked, motioning her over as he opened the box and took out the small cake inside, the writing on it making her heart flutter, her husband's arms snaking around her waist from behind and swaying their bodies with their bodied attached.

"Happy birthday my love." he said softly, kissing her neck. "Thank you for spending another one with me, as my wife."

Sooyoung turned around to him, hands around his neck, smiling at her husband. "I plan on spending every birthday with you." she pecks his lips. "Who else is going to buy me cakes every time?"

Yuta laughed at her, closing in to her ear. "I'd buy you cakes everyday." he kisses under her ear. "I'll spoil you with all the money I have." his kisses moved down her neck. "I say it all the time don't I?" she whimpers feeling his teeth on her skin. "I own these lands, the people listen to me." his hands slowly snaked under her shirt, grabbing her hips. "But I only listen to you, you own me, my love."

Sooyoung grabbed his hair and pulled him away from her neck, smiling at each other as if they're both intoxicated. "Let's cut the cake first and eat it." she said, chuckling when Yuta pouts and let's her go.

>>>

Yuta sits in his chair and watches as his members come in and drop the few men they caught. Another thing about his yakuza, they had eyes everywhere. Even someone as common as a preschool teacher would report anything and everything suspicious to his team. Today was another afternoon when they received a tip from a public cleaner at the park about some mysterious men walking around, as if scanning the area.

By the time Yuta had arrived with some allied faction leaders (who by chance were visiting this day), they noticed many people leaving the park in fear of these strange men already causing a ruckus. A young college boy saw Yuta, and came up telling him he saw their tattoos, confirming they're from a rival yakuza. Yuta thanked the boy and sent him to leave along with the other people, not wanting anyone present for what might just happen.

Now he sat in his chair, one hand up as Renjun cleaned up his slight knuckle wounds, the only injury he had. He watched with eagle eyes as they were pushed to sit on their knees, their hands tied up behind them. Once his knuckles were cleaned, he waved Renjun off to leave, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees as his eyes practically bore holes into their souls.

"Should I even bother asking why you were sent here?" he asked coldly, his voice holding almost no emotion other than authoritative. Suddenly he stood up, grabbing a long piece of cloth from his pocket and wrapping it around his fingers. "I hope you don't mind, I just don't want my wife to figure out I've bloodied up some people today." he grabs the man sitting closest to him by the collar, staring into his eyes with a psychotic smile, and with no warning punches him in the face.

The rest of the members quickly stand aside, making way for Yuta to walk up to a second man, this time standing him up and punching him in the gut. By the time he had finished with all five of them, he takes off the cloth from his hand, and throws it into the bin before sitting back in his chair, as if in thought.

"Sending you back is too easy, and useless as I noticed with your people." he sighed, craning his neck back before looking in front again. "Maybe I'll-"

"Yuta!" all heads turned to the door where they heard his name, from a woman's voice. And just as some of the members expected, Sooyoung had stepped into the room, except whatever she had planned to say was thrown out the moment she saw the situation. "What's going on? Who are these men?" she asks her husband walking closer to him.

Yuta immediately stands up and turns to her, face slightly less scary. "They're from the yakuza up northwest, I was about to find out why they came." he explained. Sooyoung turned to the men and noticed they had been bruised up, before turning back to her husband and cocking an eyebrow. "OK I may have had to fight them a little, but they were scaring off the people."

This tone of voice, plus his sudden defensive behaviour, caught the ears of the rival members. They looked up and saw how soft this leaders demeanor had become, in the simple presence of who they assumed was his wife. They watched as she rolled her eyes and turned around to leave, when he suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, whispering something into her ear.

"Wait outside, we'll go home together." it was simple things like that which made her happy. Sooyoung didn't care how much money he could (and would) spend on her, she was more than happy whenever she could just spend some time alone with her husband.

She turned back to him and smiled, giving a quick kiss to the cheek before finally leaving the room. And the moment she was out, Yuta turned back to the crowd with those same cold eyes.

Except, he had something else in mind.

"Matsushima, get them taken away. I'll send someone for interrogations later." he goes back up to the front rival member, crouching down to his eye level. "Not one is freed until I figure out what the f*ck they're planning."

Shohei nodded, motioning the others to follow along, and dragged the men out of the room to a different level of the building. Yuta sat back in his chair, turning on his intercom to Renjun.

"Send her in Huang." he was answered and then leaned back against his chair, when the door opened again showing his wife. He smiled at her, motioning her to come to him, and to no surprise she went ahead and sat on his lap sideways.

"Poor my husband, you must be exhausted." she coos at him, her fingers playing with his hand while her other hand cupped his face. Yuta smiled at her, knowing that's her tone of ridicule, but he didn't mind it. He was just happy to have her in his arms, which now wrapped around her hips tight.

And Sooyoung knew how exhausted he really was, and was quick to move on from the teasing and hold him close to herself as well. She pulled his head to lean against her chest, resting her own on top of his, and massaged his scalp with her fingers. He smiled feeling the soft kisses she'd leave on his head, as if they got rid off all his stress.

"I want to stay like this forever." he whispered to her, making her chuckle.

>>>

"Where is she!?!" Yuta's voice echoed loud throughout the building. "WHERE IS MY WIFE!?! I will kill whoever fails to find her!"

They knew he wouldn't actually kill them, but the entire faction were on their toes as they did whatever they could to show him they were all at work at finding Sooyoung. He should have known why the rivals kept sending people, only to easily get caught before being sent back to their place. They weren't here for nothing.

They were spying to find Sooyoung.

And now Yuta is at gunpoint by himself. If anything happens to his wife, he would never forgive himself. If she doesn't come home, God forbid, he already planned out his death letter.

All this power meant nothing without the love of his life next to him.

"KIM JUNGWOO!" he yells entering the IT department's main office, turning around the chair of their main hacker, his close to the scared man's. "Did you find anything?" he gritted through his teeth.

Jungwoo was too scared to answer at this point, even though he had one. Noticing this, Jeno and Shohei gently pulled them away, calming down either men, until Jungwoo was good to answer.

"Yes sir." he turned around and typed away, until a map with a red dot showed. "That necklace you gave her had a GPS tracker right. I know you didn't open up it's tracking to us, but I hacked into it because it seemed the only way now. Her phone's been found at the edge of our borders towards the west, so we could only tell so much as to which direction they went."

Yuta's eyes remained on the screen, his heart full of panic and fear seeing the dot blink. The map showed unknown territory, far from their lands, and it scared him even more.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice so broken it left an impact in the others. They have never in their lives seen him this close to a breakdown, and it only made them more motivated than ever to find Sooyoung.

"She's up north, Toyama territory." he zoomed in on the dot, and after a few more clicks, suddenly all the screens showed footage of CCTV cameras from the building Sooyoung was supposedly in.

Only now Jungwoo regretted it, as the other also mentally face palmed themselves at his bad idea. Knowing and seeing how Yuta was right now, the live footage of his wife tied up on thr floor and her mouth gagged with a napkin would have definitely sparked a rage within him.

And it did.

"I don't care who dies." he spoke through gritted teeth again, his nails digging into the headrest of Jungwoo's seat. "I don't care who you kill, what you destroy, what is lost." he turns around to the rest of the team. "If I don't get her back by tomorrow, consider this the end of the Osaka faction."

That send shivers down all their spines, even Taeyong who was visiting from Seoul. He had a wife himself, and yet he couldn't fathom how he would react if this ever happened to her. All he knew was Yuta was the perfect example of his inner rage.

Yuta walked out in long strides, his attackers following him throughout the building down to the cars, all their GPSs set towards the same location. His phone continued to show the live feed of his wife, every second of it only enraging him more and more.

There was a call in his spare phone, which he connected to the car and answered, his anger through the roof as if it wasn't already, when hearing the voice. "You know what we want, and we won't hold back on her until we get it."

"F*CK YOU!" he screamed, almost crashing the car as he swerved it, Shotaro praying he doesn't die before they at least reach the prefecture border. "YAKUZA MORALS STATE NO HARM TO WOMEN AND CHILDREN!"

He could only hear sinister laughs on the other side, his keen hearing not missing the faint sounds of his wife's whimpers. He cut the call abruptly and speeded even more, the other cars following in suite. It didn't take as long as usual for them to, and the moment the car stopped, Yuta ran out.

He headed inside the building with just a small pistol, not even using it to its full purpose as he simply hit away whoever blocked him, and ran on leaving the members to deal with it. He watched his phone as he neared the red dot, and finally reached the door which behind he'd probably find his wife.

Just as he was about to kick it down, a hand held his shoulder to stop him. He turned and saw Jeno, finger to his lips, indicating the leader to be quiet as he pulled out his phone and showed the livestream footage.

There was only one man in the room, the man they could tell was the boss behind everything, and Jeno gripped onto Yuta to stop him storming in knowing it could lead to something worse.

The man had a knife, and toyed with it against Sooyoung's skin.

"I wonder how long it takes for such a powerful man to come save his wife?" Sooyoung stared at the man in disgust hearing his words, feeling the knife tip against her thigh. "Maybe he won't give me what I want, wouldn't that make you so useless. Don't worry, I have a much better position for you, darling."

Sooyoung felt him suddenly untie her feet, and then her hands, grabbing her by the hair and raising her up to stand, knife now pointed at her neck. "Don't try anything smart." he kept the knife at her neck while his hand moved down to the hem of her shirt.

Only, there was one thing the man had yet to realise.

Yuta was feared for his brutal fights and strength. Yet, Yuta feared Sooyoung more than himself. There was a reason he fell in love with her, other than the many other attributes he loved about her, there was one that he very much decided to marry her for.

Yuta was a brutal fighter, but Sooyoung could easily pass him as a brutal killer.

Just as Yuta's famous sinister smile, Sooyoung produced one just as shivering, and the man stood confused as to why the damsel in distress was suddenly looking at him as such.

And Yuta watched as his wife swiftly twisted the man's arm, snatching the knife from his hand, then kicking him down to the floor. Now Jeno let's him go, knowing he had to intervene or his wife would have gone too far.

Sooyoung stared down at the man who held his private parts in pain. She kicked him once more in the stomach, making sure he's weak enough to not grab back at her, then holds the knife by the blade, blood clearly dripping from her hand, and uses the grip part to smack his head. Once she knew he wouldn't be getting up any time soon, she holds the knife the right way, kneels om the floor, and raises it up, aiming to his chest.

"BABY NO!" Yuta grabs his wife from behind, one hand holding her wrist, hand holding the knife, while his other wrapped around her from behind holding her close to him. He pulled her away sitting on the floor, while Jeno and some others came in to take the man away.

But Sooyoung was already in her fight mode, and he knew it with the way she screamed and struggled to get out of his hold. Yuta didn't let go no matter how hard she tried, hugging her tighter with his arm and both his legs. "Sooyoung please." he spoke into her ear. "Baby it's alright now. I'm here." she stopped struggling, and he held the knife by the blade. "Let go love, it's OK now."

Sooyoung softened up hearing his voice, her hand letting go of the knife that was by now covered in both their blood from holding the blade. But they didn't feel it. A knife cut was nothing compared to the pain they felt of the constant worry of losing each other like they did now. She heard the knife being thrown aside, and Yuta's legs unwrap around her as he used both arms to turn her around in his hold , then hugging her tight.

And for what seems like the first time in their lives, his yakuza saw tears in his eyes as he nuzzled into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry... so sorry Sooyoung..." he mumbled, his hands gripping her shirt tight, blood stains from one obviously left on her back. "I won't let this happen again. Never."

Her mind was calmed now, and she hugged him back immediately, her eyes teary as well. She didn't say a word, feeling as if her voice was gone from all the hours she wasn't able to speak. All she wanted was to be in her husband's arms, her comfort zone. Those few hours of being tied up took a toll on her mind, having had several dark thoughts cross it as she wondered how everything would end.

Yuta pulled out of the hug and cupped her face, seeing her in tears also, which only broke him further. He pulled her close and rested his forehead on hers for a while, before kissing her passionately.

>>>

The couple silently laid in bed, nothing but the sound of wind from outside being heard. Yuta hugged his wife tight to himself, his bandaged hand playing with her own as his fingers traced her bandage. She was already asleep while he held her from behind, too afraid to fall asleep after everything that happened.

Sooyoung was scared too, especially when they passed by the exact place she had been kidnapped from, she broke down in the car. But her body finally relaxed once she was in bed in her husband's arms, feeling protected.

She woke up feeling a hand in her hair, and turned to see Yuta still awake. She smiled at him and turned her body completely, still in his arms. She felt bad seeing his face, he was still in worry and fear, and she felt worse when seeing his injured hand. Sighing, she cupped his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away whatever sadness he had left.

"It's OK now..." she whispered. "You can sleep too. I'm right here, hugging you." she moved closer and hugged him just as she said, her face in his chest. "Sleep Yuta, we can't have the best yakuza leader being tired during work." he heard her slight chuckle.

He could only sigh, kissing her hair. "I wouldn't be one right now if it weren't for you, my love." he hugged her tighter, finally resting his body. "If anything happened to you... I wouldn't be here now. Without you, I'm nothing."

This time Sooyoung stayed awake. Once she could tell he fell asleep, she looked up and cupped his cheek again, leaning up to give him a soft kiss. "Rest well oyabun, you deserve it. I love you." she whispered, playing with the strands of fair that fell on his forehead.

She thought of how strong he is. He didn't only run the strongest mafia across countries, but she knew he loved his group and would hate to see anything happen to any of them. She was more than happy to have someone like him as her husband, strong and powerful, yet loving and caring.

>>>

so yea I watched Yuta as Suzaki Ryo (finally heheh) the moment it came out on netflix & got inspired for this, hope you all enjoyed it!!!

oyabun: absolute leader of yakuza clan (“boss”; literally “parent status”)

#nct #nct 127 #red velvet #nctvelvet #nct fanfic #angst #fluff #yuta #nakamoto yuta #joy #park sooyoung #yakuza #mafia au #nuoyipeach completed

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